Walking into the hotel bar I rubbed at my eyes and considered my life on the road, and just another hotel bar room. I barely gave a glance to the other patrons, but slumped on the stool at the bar and waved vaguely at the bottles on the wall. My old battered briefcase, that had once contained paper files now contained an equally old laptop, that my staff occasionally called The Kettle, when they thought I wasn't listening. What they did not know was that only the outer case was old, its insides had been regularly changed out by me, but the big old keyboard suited me, and it presented less of a target for thieves, looking as old as it did. I sat it beside me on another stool. The barmen asked politely, I named a brand of whiskey I liked and he wandered off, and I called after him, "No ice!" This American fascination with watering down perfectly good whiskey had passed me by.
Waiting for the drink I glanced around the room out of pure boredom. There was a couple looking over the bar menu card, a group of business people all listening to the one in the center, probably the boss, talking. It looked like he'd been going for some time, and was in no danger of stopping. I felt for them, I had attended a few after hours drinks parties like that. Then there was the hen party, in the corner. I assumed that was what it was because one of the girls was in a bridal veil. Most of this party though weren't all that active. At least one of them had fallen asleep, and several others were on the verge of same, only the bride-to-be herself seemed to be still drinking, or talking, or possibly both. The whiter than white cocktail dress, with the plunging neckline that seemed to finish somewhere around her naval, and the hemline that finished somewhere around her ass, matched her white heels, and dark brown curly hair that splashed over her shoulders, and after a quick second glance I decided that she was wearing barely nude nylons, probably pantyhose, given how tight and short the hem was.
I heard the approach of the barman, turned around, and just before the glass hit the counter, he slid a coaster beneath it. Even as I rattled off my hotel number for the little keypad he held, I saw his eyes look over my shoulder towards the girls, and he faintly smiled. In a conspiratorial whisper he said, "They came in about an hour ago. She's been up three times for something to drink, but her friends have barely moved. Quite a looker, isn't she?"
I did not look back over my shoulder. He must have seen me looking at them as he approached me, but I grunted an assent, and left it at that, and pushed the machine back with the whiskey added to my room tab. One of the business crowd came up and the barman moved off to take another order of drinks for all of them, before it was necessary to provide him with a conversation. I decided I was glad I wasn't with the business crowd, or the hangovers that they were going to have in the morning. I took in the TV above the bar and while my eyes watched something my brain didn't bother too, it slowly cycled down from a busy day. I took in the burning liquid in three gulps, and made to grab my briefcase, now slightly behind me on its chair, and my hand hit something soft and yielding and then curved around something as it tried to gain my briefcase.
Even as I turned I had a premonition of what the "something" had to be. The bride was standing between me and the other stool upon which rested my briefcase, and my hand for a brief moment was resting on her ass. I pulled it away, and started to stammer out an apology, but she gave me a look and then partially slumped on the bar counter, her face only a couple of inches from mine. "Hello cowboy," she said. "Do you know my best friend snores? I'm supposed to be sharing a room with her tonight. I'll never get any sleep if she's going to snore like that!" and for the briefest of moments she glanced back at the group of sleeping girls. Then she slapped the counter with the flat of her hand, and said, "Do you snore?" bouncing the little white purse that hung off her wrist.
She never gave me a chance to respond though, because her attention moved from me to the barman, her arm waving, the little white purse dangling, a prisoner to gravity. She was failing to attract him because he was deeply involved in a problem with the business men, and had moved out from the bar to talk to the head honcho, in what appeared to be a very animated conversation. No one else behind the bar tonight. I put my own empty glass down, pushed away from the bride, and moved around her to retrieve my briefcase. But as I moved she suddenly became unsteady on her feet, and I grabbed her under the elbow to steady her. for a moment we were frozen there, and then she leaned her weight on me, and with one hand resting on my shoulder, her mouth came up to my ear. The slow drawl in my ear made all the hairs on my neck prickle.
"I bet that that bastard of my soon to be husband is fucking whatever stripper they have got jumping of his cake right now, even though my brother told me he'd make sure he was well drunk before the stripper arrived. How come girls never get that?" Her voice stopped, but with her weight now leaning on me as I took a step away she followed me. "You seem nice" she said, "ever been a stripper?" I tried to take a couple more steps, but by now her other hand had grabbed for me, and she had shaken off my hand on her elbow to grab for my forearm. I had snagged my briefcase, but if I broke her grip on me she'd fall flat on her face.
She suddenly seemed to come too her senses. Balance returned to her and her weight was off me as she tottered in the heels. Without thinking I said. "Take the shoes off, it'll be easier to walk." She studied me for a second and then leaned back on me as she proceeded to remove each shoe, handing them to me in turn. I held them with my briefcase hand, since my other arm was being pulled from its socket. She took a couple of steps, and began pulling on my arm as she moved away from, and out of the bar. And while I did not see it, I was pretty sure that the barman, and a few of the business guys looked after me with something akin to jealousy. None of the girls noticed her dragging me away.
I did try to disentangle myself from her as we approached the elevators but her hands were like snakes gripping my forearms, and hands. As we entered the elevator together, and before the doors had slid shut, she leaned into me and kissing me hard, pressing my back to the elevator wall. I got a dazzling array of aromas from perfume, to alcohol, and sweat. Her mouth was hot on mine, and for a moment I resisted, but it was only a moment. I wasn't seeing anyone, she seemed pretty drunk but not without some rational thought, and I was alone in a strange city. A strange young woman in a tight white dress, the veil by now on her back, I wondered briefly what God I should thank for my good fortune, and then eagerly responded to her kissing. Her hands and arms were still holding onto to me, and trying to get get under my dress shirt and into my pants. With what passed for a free hand I waved the keycard at the elevator keypad and punched the number of my floor.
By the time we reached my floor, that hand had played all too briefly with the breast beneath her dress, my mouth going to her nipple, as it had moved down her front and underneath of the hem of the skirt to rub through her pantyhose and knickers onto her slit, I could feel her wetness through the material. Her hand was caressing my cock, alternatively squeezing and pulling on it through the material of my pants. We somewhat straightened up, her breast barely covered by the dress as we exited. No one waited, and her hand returned to my penis, and mine to her breast, caressing it, as my lips kissed and nipped at her neck.
It seemed to take forever to get to the door, a wave and the click and then I had the door open and we were going through the doorway together. I kicked the door shut, and pulled the catch over to find that she was already at the bed, hare hands on the elastic of her pantyhose, pulling it down to her ankles, bending down, the dress unceremoniously rucked up over her ass. I nearly ran up behind her, unbuckling my pants, letting them fall, and pulling my cock out from under my boxers seeing how wet her panties were as her ass wiggled, as she freed herself from the pantyhose hose, and i slid the panties down to her thighs and presented my cock to her pussy and slid inside her, my hands coming up to hold onto hips.
The bed was higher than usual, so she was able to rest her head on her arms, and it tilted her ass wonderfully up to me so that from the first thrust inside it was an easy stroke. She opened her legs a little further, and I was able to slide all the way inside her. From that moment on I just fucked her, forgetting everything, the pants and boxers around my ankles, the flying tie, still wearing most of our clothes, and from beneath her, her muffled voice kept repeating, "Fuck me, fuck me like he's fucking his whore stripper tonight!" So I fucked her until she came, her pussy suddenly pulsing on my shaft giving me the extra incentive to finish off inside, my cum pulsing out of my cock as I held her hips and holding my cock deep inside her, motionless.
I'd like to say common sense returned to me at that point. To both of us. It didn't though because even as my now semi-flaccid penis fell out of her, she arose off her arms and turned to face me, one breast now hanging unceremoniously out of her dress, her panties around her knees, and gave me a very thorough look. Her eyes were still wide, her speech still a little slurred, but I could see that she was sobering.
"Where the fuck," she said, "have you been all my life? Miles cums in about two seconds fucking flat. I have to finish myself off nearly every fucking time." She gave me another hard stare, and then in a little gentler tone asked. "What else am I missing out on?"
I just stood there for a few moments. Part of me was thinking, Shit shit shit. Another's mans wife, well, as good as, but the other part of me was looking at her properly now. She had to be at least fifteen years my junior, so that made her about twenty five, deep blue eyes, wide and alert. she was not skinny, but that was ok, I never had enjoyed skinny women much. I probably knew more about sex than she did, maybe, but she wasn't trying to run away, and I knew I'd be up again in a little while. I put my hands on her shoulders and turned her around and pulled the zipper down. Is there a sexier sound than a zipper on a woman's dress? Maybe the rasp of nylon as stockinged thigh rubs against stockinged thigh? Maybe. I helped her out of the dress, pulling it over her arms and away, I took the purse off her wrist at the same time. She wore no bra, the dress had cupped her breasts nicely, and then slowly pushed the panties to the floor.
She stood there, looking at me, looking at her. My eyes tracing the lines of her body, enjoying her nakedness in front of me. I put my arms back, and said, "Undress me." For a moment she seemed to be frozen in place and the she came to me, pulling the jacket off me, and hanging it over the only chair. I had heartlessly cast all her clothes aside, she was neat, precise. She undid the tie by pulling the knot open which slightly pulled me forward, so I kissed her again, and the tie went over the chair. She pushed me back, and her hands went to my buttons, and she undid every single one, kissing my bared nipples as they were revealed but never stopping unbuttoning the shirt. The shirt went over the short and jacket. The pants I would have kicked away, but she bent and retrieved them, another neatly folded package, but my boxers she ignored. I kicked them away.
When she was done, she stood there in front of me, the cocktail of aromas, including now, the aroma of sex mingling together. I put my hands to her face, and kissed her again, but I held her there, in my hands and pushed her slowly to the edge of the high bed. "Up you go," I told her and she sat, and moved away from me to the center of the king bed, never taking her eyes off me. I got up after her, on my knees, and I took her foot up in my hand, kissed the instep, and begin a slow progression up the leg, over the heel and ankle, along the line of the calf muscle, the inside of her knee. Partly licking, partly kissing, but taking my time. The time I needed to become hard again, but as I looked up her eyes were wide watching the slow progress along her thigh, and as my head dropped between her legs, she opened them ever so slightly as if she wasn't sure what I was going to do. I remembered me at twenty five, oral sex, no thank you! I stopped to raise my head slightly, smiled at her, and took a long slow lick of her slit.
Her clitoris was still slightly swollen, as my fingers parted her lips, I drew her sensitive little pearl into my mouth, stretching out the delicate little organ, all those little nerve endings, and the skin held tight within my mouth and I licked across it with the blade of my tongue. Her back arched back as I did and she made the smallest of possible moans as I began licking her faster, inside my mouth. I let her clit go, slipping past my dry lips, and then back again, and rapidly licked her taut clit in my mouth. Over, and over again. At some point she hunched forward, grabbing my head and trying to pull me tighter to her pussy. And I never stopped, she came on my face and I did not stop, I gave her one orgasm after another there on the bed. I lapped at her thighs to take up her and my need, tongue fucked her, straining my tongue to its roots. Finger fucked her tight pussy, and she came again.
