She stood, looped her bag over her shoulder, and replied, "7:15. Room 518B. See you then!"
Intentionally or not, she walked away without the cover-up from earlier that afternoon. I was once again unable to look away. And unable to stop the flurry of impure thoughts that ran through my head.
---
I was excitedly nervous as I walked to her room. I knocked on the door, and after a brief moment, she stepped out. She looked fabulous in her white tank top and simple wrap skirt. After watching her nearly nude body for much of the day, somehow seeing her dressed, concealing more, made me want her more. Her teal, silk skirt draped to below her knees. As she walked, the fabric covering her ass slowly tightened and then relaxed with each step. Her mere act of walking was alluring. The short heels she wore accentuated her legs and butt all the more. Nothing was hidden by the sheen of the fabric, and I wondered what I would find if I were to run my hand up her delicious thighs. Her tanned skin contrasted with the black tank top which tautly held her breasts, making even her small figure show a hint of cleavage. The evening was still warm and humid, and sweat glistened at the top of her chest, calling my attention upward. Oh how I wanted to push back her hair and lightly kiss her delicate neck, to taste the salt of her skin.
We walked leisurely down the street her hands holding my folded arm. Her perfume wafting to my nose. I felt like a nervous high school kid going on my first date. The combination of the excitement caused by her beauty and the fear of my desire becoming all to apparent. Not much was said, I think we were each engrossed in our own pleasant thoughts. When I left home, I could never have imagined that I'd meet such a perfect woman.
We walked the five or six blocks to the restaurant. It was dark outside as we walked down the street, but most of the tourists were at home, still showering and getting ready for their evening activities. When we got to the restaurant, we discovered that it was open air, but perched a bit above the rest of the beach, so it took advantage of the evening breeze. It also provided a gorgeous view of the nightlife below. Our table was next to the window, but only one direction faced the skyline, so I subtly directed her toward the seat with the view. After all, with her across from me, I was sure that my view was better. The restaurant was nearly dark, with just oil candles on each table and a few colored lights for illumination. The food was what could best be described as Asian fusion, but the trance music softly playing on the speakers helped establish the rather eclectic nature of the place.
"A bit odd to have an Asian restaurant in Mexico don't you think?," she said. I told her that I'd seen a Mexican restaurant during my trip the previous year to Thailand, so perhaps it was all just a trading of gestures. We ordered drinks and conversation, slowly wandered from the general, from our past trips to our favorite foods, to the specific, remodeling plans for her home and her cat's undesired weekend wake up calls as she tries to sleep in. It was comfortable, but we were each still a bit nervous in the others' company. She was regularly tucking her hair behind her ear and I was a bit too fidgety with my cocktail. Make that cocktails. As dinner went on, we had each had refreshed our drinks a couple of times. After dinner, we went to the restaurant bar where we had a few more. By the end of the night, we were pleasantly happy, though not drunk. The bar gave us the chance to sit closer and exchange casual touches.
The music grew louder and within a couple of hours, the restaurant had transformed itself into more of a large bar than a restaurant. The crowd grew a bit more casual and younger as well. It grew more and more crowded and the bumps from passers by more and more frequent. I took it as reason to ask if she wanted to head somewhere a bit quieter. She happily agreed.
We walked about a half block up the street to a martini bar and sat down. She evaluated the menu, then gave it to me to peruse, and as the waiter approached us for our order, grinned and ordered a key lime pie martini. I admit, I tried a bit and it was incredible, though my machismo didn't let me drink much. By that point in the night, we were very relaxed with each other, and after just one drink, it had the feeling that she was ready to head back to the hotel.
"Had enough?," I asked.
"Let's get out of here," she replied. With that, I grabbed her hand and we writhed our way toward the door.
As we walked the two blocks to her room, the staccato of her heels helped remind me that this was real. The daze of anticipation and alcohol left my mind in a surreal state. She seemed equally delirious, as we each made feeble attempts at small talk while knowing what was to come. I watched the her key enter the lock of the door with such intensity that the milliseconds it took felt like minutes. Any formalities of asking me if I want to come in were dispensed with -- she simply opened the door, took my hand, and nearly yanked me through the doorway. No lights were on, but the glow through the open windows at the back of her room lit the scene. The room still smelled of shampoo and perfume from when she had readied herself a few hours before. She took two steps to the bureau and pressed a button in the darkness. Apparently, she had memorized the hotel's radio because the click was followed by the sounds of Latin jazz.
I took my own steps toward her and with hands on her waist, pulled her toward me from behind. My face was soon tickled by her hair. She instinctively moved her head to the side so that I could nuzzle the bottom of her neck. She reached behind her to my hips and pulled me even closer. I softly kissed her neck and to her shoulder as she exhaled with a moan. I was almost instantly hard and I know that she could feel it. As I thought of my hardness, I wondered if it was matched by her own wetness.
She now turned around and looked up at me, doing our best to look eye to eye in the dim light. But we knew what the other was saying, even without words or sight. This time she reached toward me to kiss. Our mouths coming together softly at first, then with more and more ferocity. Our tongues emulating our bodies on the dance floor earlier that evening. We each grabbed each other harder and harder, as if trying meld two bodies into one.
My hands had slowly slid beneath the bottom of her tank top so that they could feel her warm skin. I slowly slid my fingers into the tighter constraints of her skirt, wondering what I might find. As if teasingly, the fabric was too unforgiving and it made me wait to find out. I moved my hands higher, up her back and to the bare warm skin of her shoulders. I ran my palms across the soft straps and slid lower again to her sides. This time, my thumbs guided my way as a ran my hands upward. Her firm stomach provided a clear difference from the softness of her breasts. I ran the tips of my fingers along the rim of her tank, one hand on each of her firm mounds. I pressed upward, feeling the subtle hardness of her nipples. I moved my fingers to rub them.
Her breathing clearly reflected her enjoyment and with a gentle squeeze of the points of each of her breasts, she began her own journey. One hand grabbed my neck, pulling me harder into a kiss. Her other hand grabbed my ass, pressing my hardness against her. After releasing the pressure of her groin against mine, the hand on my butt slowly moved toward the front of my trousers, so that her palm pressed slowly down on the length of my cock. Her other hand moved down my back so that she could use her other hand to rub my member. The teasing was nearly unbearable. I briefly worried that I might cum before we even had our clothes off. I was now in a state of nearly uncontrollable lust. I had to have her.
With an eye to the bed, I grabbed her hand and twisted her around so that she now faced the bed. Her instant of confusion was processed as we fell toward the bed with me carefully falling on top of her, our legs dangling over the edge of the bed. I briefly rubbed against her ass as I positioned my hands on the bed. I pulled myself upward and lay on my side before helping her move upward beside me. Side by side on the bed, we began kissing again, our hands each wandering up and down the terrain of the others' body. I slowly moved my hand lower and lower on her leg. The bottom of her dress now lay just above her knee, giving me an opportunity to feel the bottom of her firm thigh. The heat of her skin was incredible. As we kissed, my hand slowly rubbed higher and higher, the pace of her breathing accelerating with it. I intentionally held of on touching her most precious spot trying to build up the kind of tension that she had already created in me.
God her skin was flawless! The wrap of the skirt slowly split away as I reached the hard bump of her hipbone. And there I found the answer to the question I had been asking myself all evening -- she had been wearing underwear that night. The straps on the side were so thin that I'm not sure how they did not snap as she walked. It seemed that they must be for decoration as much as function. I moved my hands around her backside and felt the strings come together at the top of her ass before disappearing down her cleavage. My mind was filled with thoughts of what she must look like in the light and wondering what the front side felt like, knowing that I was about to find out. I slowly retraced my path back to the sides of her hips and she rolled to lay on her back. She was clearly as wanton as me in this moment. Then she slowly slid her feet up until her knees were slightly bent, and with a light tug, she unloosed the tie of her skirt. She was anticipating my touch as much as I desired to touch her.
Now using the tips of my fingers, I softly floated long the front of her panties. Lightly tracing the front as if I were a butterfly skimming a pond. I could tell that she was shaven. Then I touched harder and lower. She was completely soaked. The silk did little to absorb her wetness and and the heat from her pussy was radiating from her panties. Just as the fabric was unable to contain her desire, my mind was nearly unable to control my need to have more of her -- all of her. I felt as if there was nothing I could do to stop from spending the night simply pillaging her. And it seemed that she wanted to be used just the same.
I pulled the fabric of her underwear to the side and began to explore her wet recesses with my fingers. The soft peak of her clit, the damp valleys on each side, and then downward toward her hot core. I slipped inward with no resistance. She was so hot that it felt as if my fingers would be burned -- as if the only thing preventing fire was her own wetness.
