Walt and Rhonda

Chapter 02 - Mini Skirt Girl

It started pretty much by accident. Walt was sitting on the bench with his wife, Rhonda. They were enjoying the quiet evening, the weather was still warm, and the grounds of the hotel complex were so wonderful, you could just sit outside and enjoy it. It was around seven in the evening, and they were talking and sharing each other's company. Rhonda had to leave soon; she had packed, and they were spending their last hour or so relaxing before she headed for the airport. Walt would drive her there in the rental car, drop it off (he's have no need for it for the next few days) and grab a hotel shuttle back. Her flight was at nine-thirty.

They had been at the hotel two nights already. They'd arrived early Thursday, creating a mini-vacation around Walt's business meetings that would start the next day. They'd spent their time just being together, relaxing, and having great vacation sex. When they were away from home Rhonda just seemed more relaxed, more open, and her desires tended to rise, to be more compatible with Walt's. She'd even teased him about having sex with another man, a fantasy that had fueled their passion, talking about it while fucking, and when she sucked his cock. At the pool, and at the bar, she'd starting pointing out women to him, asking him he'd like to fuck any of them, describing their attributes, teasing him to horniness that made their sex hotter, more frantic, more urgent. But tomorrow was work for him, and home for her, and they were just enjoying the last of their time together.

Being a Saturday night, there were plenty of affairs scheduled at the hotel, and Walt knew that there were others, like him, who had used the business trip to take a few days before or after as personal time. Many people, from other companies as well as the vendors they worked with and the organization that arranged the meetings, took advantage of the opportunity to spend an extra night or two away.

What Walt didn't expect was to see someone he knew from prior meeting. So they were sitting on the bench, talking, watching the comings and goings of hotel guests, commenting on the notable ones. It was no surprise to see a young woman in a miniskirt emerge from the wing of the hotel, headed for the main building where the bars and clubs were. What he saw approaching was one girl in a miniskirt and two others in slightly longer dresses, club clothes, likely on their way to a night of fun, and he tried to divert his eyes, trying not to let Rhonda see him looking at them. He tried to talk to Rhonda, distracting her and himself from the view of the three hotties as they approached, chatting with each other animatedly, as young women do.

"What time do you land," he asked her.

"After midnight," she answered, "I'll text you when I land, and then when I'm back at the house."

"Hi, Walt," he heard before he could answer. He turned to the voice, and it was the miniskirt girl. She'd stopped in front of them. He looked at her, tried to place her face, but felt like he was seeing it for the first time, and struggled not to look at her long, slim legs stretching out beneath her skirt. The face was familiar. He struggled for a name, then found it.

"Vanessa?"

"Good, you remember!"

The sight of her made him uncomfortable to be talking to her in front of Rhonda. She worked for the organization that had arranged the convention, and he knew her slightly from past events. But he'd never seen her like this before. He only knew her in jeans and a loose company polo shirt, with her hair pulled back in a ponytail. His imagination went into overdrive as he drank in her appearance and tried to form words.

"Yes, of course, but I almost didn't recognize you, you know, dressed. Dressed up." He swallowed. "You look nice." She was wearing a white spaghetti strap top that allowed some cleavage to peek out between her firm young breasts, with a black miniskirt that, while sitting, was almost at eye level, raised by strappy sandals with a four-inch heel. Her hair was done up, and she wore makeup that changed her pretty face to strikingly beautiful.

"Well, thanks," she said. "My friends and I are going to a Company event, a party before the real work starts tomorrow." She motioned with her hands. "This is Rachel, and that's Brenda."

"Oh, hi," he managed. "Nice to meet you." He heard a sound next to him, felt a squeeze on his arm. "Oh, sorry, Vanessa, this is my wife, Rhonda."

"Oh, hi," she chirped.

"Hi," Rhonda said, with a friendly tone, "I thought for a second there that he might forget I was here."

Vanessa laughed. "Are you staying? The weather's been great."

"Actually, no, I'm flying home tonight," Rhonda told her, "on a late flight, but we've been here for a few days already." Walt's eyes wandered over Vanessa slyly as she and Rhonda conversed. He was very conscious of Rhonda at his side, as she pulled his arm closer while she talked. "It was great, it was the first time we did this, coming down early and taking a few days together."

"It's too bad you're leaving, you could come to the party."

"I thought it was a company thing," Walt asked, trying not to sound like he was ogling. "For employees."

"Yeah, but everyone brings friends, it's okay."

"Sorry, but I have to bring Rhonda to the airport soon."

"Maybe you could come at the end."

"I'll be back around ten, I think," he told her, and felt a squeeze on his arm. Was he in trouble?

"Oh, it ends at ten," she said, frowning. "They don't want everyone up too late and tired and hung over when the work starts!" Her face brightened. "But if you get back early, stop by. At least you can get a free drink!" She turned to Rhonda. "It was nice meeting you."

"Same here, have fun," Rhonda answered, and the girls turned and left.

Walt sat in the silence, trying not to look as they walked away.

"Look at that tight little ass on her," Rhonda said. Shocked, he turned to face her, and she pointed at the girls. Turning the other way he saw Vanessa walking, tight little ass indeed, and wondered why Rhonda was pointing it out to him. He turned back to her when the girls were out of sight.

"Do you think she's hot?" she asked.

He sputtered. "Ahh, well, yeah, I guess," he managed.

"Oh don't be an ass," she grinned, "Of course she is, and I know you noticed." She grasped his arm with both hands, leaned into his shoulder, face up close to his. "I bet you'd like to fuck her," she grinned teasingly. "Does she make you hot? Does she make your dick hard?" One hand slipped from his arm and brushed across his crotch. He glanced around quickly to see if anyone had noticed, but they were alone. She looked too, saw no one, and grabbed at his dick through his pants. "I think she wants this," she told him, her voice lowered. "She wants you, she wants you to give her this." She squeezed him and he felt himself getting hard. She noticed. "Oh, so you do want to give it to her!" She squeezed again, grinned and fondled his growing bulge. "I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Like what?"

"You can say it, go on. Tell me you'd like to fuck her." He hesitated. "Go ahead, say it. You'd like to get this dick into that young, tight pussy, you'd like to fuck her brains out like you fucked mine out yesterday. Admit it."

"Yeah, I'd like to fuck her."

"You want her to suck your dick too?"

"You better believe it!"

"Would you eat her pussy? I bet you would." Her hand left his crotch, and moved to his face, touching his lips. "I bet you'd like to get these sweet little lips on her cute little pussy and lick her till she cums," she whispered.

Walt gasped, and turned to her. "What -- what's got into you?"

She laughed then, a fun, jovial bright sound that tingled his ears and settled in his heart, and he fell in love with her all over again. "Oh, Walt, you are so transparent, I love that about you." She kissed him. "I was just teasing, you know, to get you excited. I'm sure she's a nice girl." She changed her voice to the mock-seduction tone. "But she probably can't control herself around a handsome older man like you, so you stay away from her." She stood up. "Come on, let's go get my stuff."

"It's still early," he told her, rising, trying to hide his erection.

"I know, but I want to suck your cock before I go, so I can remember the taste while I go home."

"Oh, you say the nicest things,"

"Besides, that way you won't need it as bad," she snaked her arm into his as they walked. "Or, if you do fuck her, you'll last longer!" They both laughed.

"Maybe I won't be able to resist her," he chuckled. "She be so overwhelmed by the animal nature of a man who's twice her age, that she'll throw herself at me, and I won't have any choice," he chuckled.

"Yeah, that's what'll happen," Rhonda joked.

Back in the room, Rhonda went in first, and as Walt closed the door she dropped to her knees, facing him. He turned and saw her there, sitting back on her feet, and she looked up at his face, and reached for his belt, pulling him to her.

"Come on, get it out."

"Really? I thought you were kidding."

She began unbuckling him. "I am not kidding, I want to suck you off before I go," she said, her voice coarse and thick. She unbuttoned his pants, pulled down the zipper. "I want your dick in my mouth, and I want to suck it until you cum," she said, pulling his pants to his ankles. "And I want you," she said, looking up at him, her hands poised at the waistband of his briefs, "to cum in my mouth. I want to taste it, and swallow it, so I can think about it all the way home." She pulled his briefs down over his hard cock, and it sprang up into her face. She grasped it in her hand and said to him, "You think about me doing this after I go home," and opened her mouth and wrapped her lips around his dick, taking the head into her mouth. She licked around it, wetting it, and then began bobbing her head up and down the shaft a few times, before she pushed her head down as far as she could take it, her lips reaching about two-thirds down his shaft. Then she sucked hard as she pulled back up.

She popped off long enough to say, "As much as I want to deep-throat you, I just can't, sorry," and then opened her mouth wide, tongue out flat, and looked at him as she rubbed his cockhead on her tongue. He groaned, and clenched his hips. Then she vigorously licked the sensitive underside, just below the crown, felt him squirm, and then took him back into her mouth.

When his shaft was slick with saliva and his pre-cum, she circled his shaft with her hand and moved it closer to her mouth, creating a long wet sheath that enveloped his cock, ending in her mouth. She began bobbing slowly, stroking him with her mouth-hand combo, checking the depth to make sure she wouldn't suddenly gag. She started picking up speed then, bouncing her head up and down, sucking as she pumped his cock into her mouth. He was grunting almost constantly now, she felt his hips jerk, and felt his cock suddenly swell, harden. She continued pumping, and when she heard him growl she felt him twitch, and the first hot jet of cum splashed into the back of her mouth. She pulled back till his cockhead was at her lips and opened her mouth wide, tongue flat, and allowed him to see his cum shooting into her mouth, a second blast, a third, and then the remaining spurts coating her tongue. He mouth was filled with the hot salty batter of his cum, it pooled in her mouth, coating her gums, her teeth. When he was done, she smiled, allowed a little to drool out, and licked her lips at him, before swallowing nasty mess. It took two swallows to get it all down.

Walt looked at his wife, smiling up at him, her lips slick with saliva and semen, and little drip at each side of her mouth, running down to her chin. God damn, she was wonderful! Beautiful, sexy, and fun, and still surprising after all these years. His legs were still weak when she stood up, and kissed him on the lips, lightly.

"You remember that," she said. "Think about me, on the plane, still tasting your cum. When they offer me a snack on the plane, I'll tell them, 'no thanks, I had something before I left'."

He pulled his pants up, and they loaded her bags into the car, and headed for the airport.

Two hours later he was back. The hotel shuttle dropped him at the main building, and as he turned to head back to the outer buildings, where his room was, he glanced at his watch. Only nine, he saw. He had assumed he'd be back much later, but they'd left a little early, and returning the car had taken no time at all. He had planned to get back to his room after ten, watch some TV, and go to sleep. Maybe read a little. He always brought books when he went away, but he and Rhonda hadn't done much reading the past few days.

And so he stood in the lobby, suddenly with a choice. He could go back to his room early, read more, watch more TV, and go to sleep. Or he could try and find the room where the party was, the one Vanessa had invited him and Rhonda to. Will I be hanging out with children, he thought? Not likely, as it was a party for the entire organization, the people running it were all mature, even if the staffers were just out of college. Going to his room made sense, it was the sensible, mature decision. He turned to walk, and thought, it's the old decision. It's the stuffy, I-forgot-how-to-have-fun decision. It's only an hour. I'll have a couple of drinks, say hello, and go home when I originally planned. He turned back and headed up the hall, looking for the sign outside one of the ballrooms. As he hunted, he wondered if he'd be allowed in. Vanessa had said people brought guests. But alone? Well, he'd size it up when he found it, he thought, searching. If he found it.

Passing a side hallway, a sign at the end caught his eye, and he stopped and headed down. As he approached he heard club music thumping, and he started to think he'd made a bad decision. It was the last hour, and likely only the younger folks were left, and the music had changed to suit the remaining crowd. It didn't seem anyone was at the door; he wondered if it was okay to just walk in. Maybe he'd just peek inside, and take a look. Maybe he'd go to his room after all.

As luck would have, as he approached the door swung in, and he was greeted by a loud blast of thumping bass, way too loud, as an older couple, though slightly younger than him, exited. He heard the woman say something about the 'kid's music' as they passed. He stood in the open doorway, looking inside. The room was mostly dark, and as his eyes became accustomed he saw groups of people, one mixed, clustered near the bar, another, the older folks, clustered away from the center, and the third, the younger ones, on the dance floor, dancing in groups and twos and threes. He felt suddenly uncomfortable, like he was crashing a party. Well, technically, he was, he thought. He didn't back out, but he didn't go in, just stood there, indecisive, until he thought he heard his name called. He turned to the bar crowd, and there was Vanessa and her two friends, what were their names? Rachel, he remembered, and Bonnie? No, Brenda. They were headed for the door. One of the girls, Rachel, he thought, looked a little over-indulged.

"Hey, Walt, you made it back. Is it ten already?" Vanessa asked as they approached him. He could barely hear over the music. He found himself almost shouting his response.

"No, a little after nine, I got back earlier than expected," he told her.

"I'm glad you came, I didn't want to leave, but I didn't want to stay alone. We have to take Brenda back to her room," she said, leaning in to him to be heard over the music. So the other one was Rachel, he thought. He said hi to them. Vanessa turned to Rachel and asked if she could handle getting Brenda to her room. Rachel laughed and said yeah, again, and they all chuckled, and Vanessa kissed her friends and they left, and she pulled Walt by the arm towards the bar. "Come on, have a drink," she said, leaning into his ear. "Brenda is a lightweight who thinks she's a heavyweight," she laughed. "It's not the first time we had to take her home early."

They got to the bar, and Walt ordered a Vodka Collins; Vanessa ordered a white wine. They moved to the side, and sipped, chatting.

"I'm glad you decided to come," she said in his ear, so close he could feel her breath. She had to raise herself up on her toes to talk to him, and steadied herself by holding his arm. He was aware of her closeness, and felt just slightly uncomfortable. He thought of Rhonda's assessment that she would want an older man, and dismissed it as ridiculous. They were just talking.

"Well, I almost didn't," he told her, "I didn't want to be the oldest guy in the room," he joked, "but I didn't want to admit I was so old that I couldn't have a drink." She laughed, and slapped his arm lightly.

"You're not old, you're just mature," she told him, and then he laughed.

"Yeah, mature," he said. "I'm so mature I haven't recognized a song yet."

"I hear that," she told him, "I'm not a fan myself, but it's just for the dancing, not listening,"

They chatted about work, about what he does, about what she does for her organization at this show, about what they liked and disliked of their jobs. They got another drink, and he wondered how many she'd had before he arrived. She didn't seem too sloshed, so he guessed not too many. He hadn't had much to eat and was starting to feel it, loosening up.

Eventually a song came on that he'd heard before, something by Outkast, he thought. "Hey," he told her, "I actually know this one. Rhonda likes it, she always turns it up when it comes on the radio."

"Oh, so she's cooler than you?"

"I guess, at least on this," he admitted.

"She seems really nice. Too bad she had to leave." She ginned at him. "She'd probably make you dance!"

"Yeah," he agreed, "She probably would!"

"Come on, dance with me," she said, putting her drink on a nearby table, and pulling his arm. He held back, but she resisted, and he finally put his drink down and let her drag him out to the dance floor.

He danced casually, befitting his age but she would have none of that, and danced the way the rest of the younger folks danced, circling around him, touching him, touching herself, and occasionally rubbing up against him. His cock began to stiffen against his will as he watched her. Her young, nubile body moving, flowing so easily, her slim figure broadcasting sexuality. She couldn't really be coming on to me, he thought, a little embarrassed to be dancing with such a young, pretty woman, but his ego told him different, and his libido followed, leaving his reason behind. He began following her lead, dancing like he was fifteen years younger, and not caring what others thought. He let himself go, moving his hips, his shoulders, and she let out a whoop for him, and picked up her pace. Soon she was pressing into him, then pulling away; when her body pressed against him he felt the heat from her through his clothes. His dick was betraying him, and he wondered if she would notice, glancing around to see if he had a clear moment to adjust himself and hide the bulge that was beginning to form.

Before he had the chance the song ended, and slipped into a slower song, and the DJ let them know this was the last one. He froze, thinking that she might press herself against him, and want to dance slow with him, and he nearly panicked when she took his arm, but she led him off the floor. She held his arm and they returned to their drinks, and she was laughing lightly, thanking him for a great dance. He blushed, to be complimented by such a young, pretty girl, and she noticed, and told him how cute it was. He blushed more, and felt his face heat up.

"I gotta get some air," she told him, and guided him to the door, "come on with me." She headed for a side door that opened into the night air. He felt the cool evening greet him as they exited, and was thankful for her idea. As the door closed behind them the quiet was immediate, and he hadn't realized how warm he'd become while dancing. He felt his body cooling as his ears welcomed the lack of volume.