The Factorey Hotel

The two of us were driving to Boston from Western Canada all day since sunup. We bought gas. We ate breakfast, lunch. We stopped for just a break. The end of the Canadian Rockies had given way to the flat, monotonous, plains, and we were exhausted from the routine. Even holding hands, or a little massage, and even awkward mutual genital rubbing couldn't keep us fully alert, so we decided we'd take a motel in the next town, spend the evening and night, and get an early start the next morning.

We spotted a sign at a tiny town on the highway "The Factorey Hotel, 2 blocks right next intersection" and decided we'd try it.

The clerk explained the name. A factory had long since closed, leaving an empty shell.

Some locals bought it for next to nothing, partitioned it into rooms, and fixed it up as a motel, with an odd name spelling to attract attention. It had gotten ours.

When we warily examined the room we were offered, it looked surprisingly clean, fully furnished, with a nice bathroom, shampoos, hair dryer and the like. The rate was small town too. We took it.

By the time we unloaded the car, we just dropped into bed fully clothed, and, zombie like, fell into bed.

We awoke a couple of hours later, first groggy, then happy we made it this far, and started exploring our room. The TV had no interest for us. I finally looked up and noticed the ceiling. It appeared to be an industrial type, the kind made up of 2' x 4' rectangles, suspended by thin strips running wall to wall. So what, I thought, out here in the boondocks they used whatever they had.

There were no original Van Gogh's on the wall either, but they did have large reproductions of what must have been local cattle ranches and mountains. The walls were some neutral color, and bright bedspreads made up for the otherwise lack of color.

"Ya wanna finish what we started in the car?" I murmured after we toured the room. She did not reply, just started undressing. "I'll race you to get ready," I teased. "Only if you insert the diaphragm." She beat me to bed, as I struggled to get my briefs over my erection.

I let her win, opened her case, got the diaphragm, put the goo on it, bent it in the middle. She lay there, on the clean sheet, with the covers pulled off, wide open to me as she could. With my left hand I parted her nether lips, and with my right fingers slid the gooey protection in. It always was extra fun when she let me put it in her.

It didn't take long. She grabbed my penis, rubbed it on her clit to make sure it was as slippery as could be, while I stroked her clit with the tip of my middle right finger. In about two minutes we both exploded, me first, then she came on top of me and lasted about one minute. She grabbed my shoulders and neck, "Faster, faster," she said of my finger, and she collapsed. We rested a while, showered and went out for a relaxed dinner. Being summer, the sun still was well clear of the horizon when we got back to the room.

"Whatcha doin?" she lazily looked up from her magazine. I had taken a chair, placed it next to the dresser, and climbed on the dresser. "I remember my younger days, when I had to stash something quick, I lifted a ceiling panel like this in my office, slid the stuff on top and closed the panel. The stuff stayed handy and invisible." I told her the story, lifted a panel and looked. No loot left by anyone else, just a lot of crumbly material left over from construction.

I did see something else. To my astonishment, the solid wall around our room did not go all the way up to the factory ceiling. In one direction, it was just a few inches above the room ceiling. "C'mere, hon," I whispered conspiriatorially, "stand where I am. I'm going to move.

You'll enjoy the view." I went into the bathroom, lifted a panel and saw my wife's head, and she saw mine. "So?" "Look around! Next door's bathroom is just inches from my head, and their bedroom is just a foot from your head! Quiet. See if you can see in." She craned her head, and said, "There's a little space here. I can just peek in I think the room is not rented. Let me push the panel a bit. That's better. If you came here, we could both see, but the room is empty."

I slid their bathroom ceiling tile a bit, too. Pitch black. Their bathroom door must be shut.

I climbed down and helped my wife down. We were both amazed and disappointed. The idea of peeking seemed so tantalizing.

She went back to her magazine, while I went out to the car, once my pants subsided, to clean up for the next day's drive. Dumped the trash, checked the tires and fluids, cleaned the windshield, just before sunset.

Then it happened. Cars pulled up; couples emerged wearily, went into the office, and shortly began to unload into the lobby, register, and one couple evidently was assigned the room next to ours! I zipped to our room to share the news with my lover. She continued to read her thick magazine. ""If you see anything interesting, call me," she winked.

I figured they'd use the bathroom before the beds, so I made sure the only light in our room was focused on the magazine, went to the bathroom, climbed on the tub once again, and peeked over. The young guy was sitting. His companion called from the main room that he should bathe before coming to bed. As he sat in the tub, I could see he was a handsome fellow, in his late twenties, probably, dark black hair, about six feet filling the tub. He washed, rinsed, brushed his teeth and hair, as he dried off. Before he was done, the girl entered, pulled down her bottom attire and sat. I could a momentary tinkle as her stream hit the toilet water, as she stared at her companion's tight, clean ass, and, presumably, the back of his balls. She tore off lots of paper, wiped herself, and flushed. As she stood, I could see she too had a tight ass. "Go get distracted, watch TV or something. I want to soak a while," she told her man.

He left. I heard their TV blare, get settled on a lower volume. She flipped off her sandals,

removed the clothes from her ankles, and stood up. Yep, her rear looked delectable as she bent over to let out the old water from the tub and then again as she let fresh hot water in. I was able to see the red hairs on the backside of her genitals, and her anus fully exposed.

I carefully, very carefully got off the tub, slipped out to my partner, and filled her in with the details. She was a lot more interested in him than I was. She put down her magazine, shut off almost the last light in the room. We left on the little night light we always take with us, so we wouldn't fall or trip. She climbed up on the chair and then the low dresser, as she had done previously, peeking into the bedroom, while I went back to the bathroom tub rim. "Please, climb down before you ejaculate, or you'll break something." I agreed. "Don't use both hands to rub yourself, hold on with the other." She agreed. We assumed our positions. The woman was in her tub, lazily soaping herself. She appeared to be perhaps twenty-five; difficult to tell with her face washed and red hair messy. She slid the soap around her smallish breasts, the nipples sticking up under the massage. Very little in the way of areolas, but the nipples were sure there. She lifted her rear and slid the soap between her thighs and backwards and forwards. Suddenly she started rubbing the little soap bar more forward, and she thrashed for a minute, before calming down. For a moment I was afraid I had been seen, then I realized she had peaked, and was incapable of seeing anything at that moment. She didn't quit. She slid herself forward, lifted the plug, turned on the tub faucet again, adjusted the temperature and turned the volume to medium. I watched as she proceeded to lie way back with her feet spread wide up the wall above the controls. She let her completely exposed genitals take the splash. After what seemed forever, but was probably just two minutes, she suddenly pushed back in the tub, stuck her right forefinger in her vagina, rubbed the clit, and shook violently. Then She relaxed on the tub bottom, and soaped the area she had attacked, rinsed, and started to get up.

I reported the details to headquarters, barely restraining myself from ejaculating all over the place.. Lover girl told me that was not the way she would do it, but went back to her magazine, with her male target just watching sports. My commander kissed my erection, and had fun spreading the emerging goo around my erect member. "Are you clean in back?" she asked before taking a big glob of my goo, sticking her hand between my buckling legs, and stroking my anus area. I almost came on the spot.

But the best of coming was yet to come. Climbing back, I saw the woman put a towel under herself on the oval toilet seat cover, and dry herself. She stood at full height, admired herself in the full length door mirror, squeezed her breasts lightly, took a bit of saliva to each nipple, tweaked them gently. "Twins, you're going to get a workout tonight" I thought I heard her murmur to herself. She picked up her bunched clothes, straightened them, and opened the door but left the light on.

Soon I stood on the dresser. I told my wife what had transpired, and she remarked, "I don't think we're going to get much sleep tonight," in her understatement of the year. She had an idea. She got a large hand mirror from her suitcase, and asked me to brace it up where she could see what was happening in the next room without her having to climb up next to me. The guy in the next room was still watching his sports program, and their room light was on, too, so it didn't take long for me to prop the mirror just right. Just a sliver of light reflected from their bed, but it was enough for my wife to get a glimpse of any action to occur.

Meanwhile, back at their bed....I heard her ask him if he wanted to make out before she hit the sack, and his reply that after the sports he wanted her very much. She took that as a challenge. She dared him to see if he could hold out if she worked on him. There he was lying in bed nude, and there she was, tempting him.

I climbed down to tell wifey what was in the offing. She got up, lay me down, sat on my erect, dripping penis, and whammo, I came. After all the stuff I had seen, and was expecting to see, it was a wonder I hadn't ejaculated sooner, all over the bathroom wall!

"That's two for you," she quietly smirked, "You owe me one, and the night's just begun." I slumped in the bed, mopped my shrinking cock, and nearly fell asleep, exhausted. Who needs them, I thought, I've got a firebrand right here, after all these years. "Hold me close, honey, I don't have the energy right now even to stroke you with one favorite finger." She snuggled, opened her legs, and took my shriveled penis between her labia. "I'm not worried. I can even resurrect the dead," Of course she did.

Eventually I got up and resumed the dresser peering. The fellow was sitting in bed, and the woman had her head in his lap, sucking and fellating him. His penis was only half erect. He was really enjoying the TV more than the sex. She licked, and sucked. She stroked his balls. She tried stroking him with her right nipple on the sensitive spot of where his head joined the shaft.

Lucky for her, a commercial came on the TV during a time out. He noticed what she was doing, she sensed that and stood over him, "Lick my clit," she ordered. Obediently his tongue came out full length, and began finding its way there. "Good. Do you want to see how I do myself when you're not around?" as she started pumping his now involved cock with her left hand. Shut off the TV and get the best sex you've ever had" she hissed at him. CLICK on the remote. She won. She took two pillows and swivelled her head to the foot of the bed, all without letting go of his dick. She was facing me as her head lay on the pillow mound, her shapely legs bent at the knees, her genitals wide open. The curly red hair clearly meant that she had no need to dye her tresses. I gulped, and my flagging cock stood out from me. I resisted the temptation to leave a spot on the wall. One hand gripped the solid part of the partition, my other hand alternately mopped my dick with a towel I had taken up with me and sometimes wiped my face as I shook with anticipation. I had never witnessed goings on like this before.

Oh sure, I had watched porno, with and without my wife. But never firsthand, in person, not without a VCR and TV screen; not unpaid, unaware people.

The woman began sucking her right pinky. She had on bright red anil polish, that was redder than her hair. She had combed her shoulder length locks and arranged them on both sides of her neck so they seemed to point to her breasts. She brought her wet fingertip on to her right nipple, and began circling the nipple, without touching it, stroking her barely visible areola. She did the same wetting and circling with her left pinky.

Kinky pinky, I thought, and watched as his (and my) penis swelled. She stuck out her tongue and wiggled it at each nipple in turn as she cupped her breasts in an effort to lick them.

She said to him, as an aside, "I love to pretend I could lick my nipples, just once, just like you'd like to lick your prick and taste your own fluids." Well, I thought, that's something I've never had an interest in, but I don't know about him.

I whispered to my wife that she was showing him how she likes to masturbate. She mouthed back that she'd wait til it got hotter, and I could always tell her what the woman had done with herself. So I watched in absolute silence as the woman got up, and brought back to bed a small black pocket comb. Puzzled, I stared. She began combing her pubic hairs, making a neat part in the middle. She told him she hated shaving her pubes, that afterward it tickled and the stubble that grew back stuck her uncomfortably. She liked having the hair neat, before all the juices would mess them.

Then she again straightened up, reached over and kissed his erection, saying she couldn't do THAT alone. She arose again from the bed, and got a small mirror, and again combed her genital hair. "There! Now that everything is neat, my anus and pubes washed, dried and combed, I'm ready to begin. Listen, my husband, sex is really in your head, and my head likes things in order." She proceeded to disturb the order. As her left thumb and middle finger parted her labia, her right index finger pushed into her vagina, and came out with a sucking noise. Nice and wet, and glinting a little in the subdued room light, she pulled it to her nose, smelled it and approved, passed it under her husband's nose, and went back for another dip. After it emerged, she took the mirror and checked a little farther front, and saw a drop there. "My real stuff" she explained, and started to rub her labia with the collected moisture.

So I had learned they were married, though I thought for not more than a couple of years.

"See," she said to her husband, I don't like to touch my clit until I'm really excited, because it is so sensitive, but I love, just love, pulling on my labia, stroking my labia, thinking how wonderful it will be when you finally enter me, and genetly, all slicked up, toch my most sensitive spot." She proceeded to demonstrate the stroking and pulling. She used mainly her right index finger and thumb. Her left hand squeezed her nipples in turn. She moaned softly.

Suddeenly she spoke sharply. "Get up. Get me the smallest clean washcloth from the bathroom" He complied, a puzzled look on his face, a huge erection on his body, heavy breathing from his chest.

I summoned my wife to get up on the dresser with me before it was too late. She got up into position next to me just as the guy returned, holding his florid penis tip in a pincers with his left thumb and forefinger, and the requisite washtowel in his right palm.

"I was afraid I'd come before getting back to you" as he handed the towel to her.

"And I'm wrapping this cloth and putting it between my teeth, because when I come tonight, I might otherwise wake everyone in this damn joint," she explained. "Now turn out the bed lamp, but after you enter me. I like seeing you so erect. I know it is all my doing, and its all my pleasure." She turned form the bed to his penis, rubbed it, took the towel out of her mouth, inserted his prick, sucked for a minute, put back the towel in her mouth, faced away from him, and told him to climb in behind her, and stick his shaft in from the rear, and very gently to stroke her sopping clit. By the time she finished her instructions, he was inside her, with his right arm around her, her legs open. His hand found her spot. With all the teasing and preliminaries, they both came. He never had a chance to shut off the light. He shuddered, jammed himself forward three times, collapsed. She shrieked once, even through her clenched jaws and towel; her body thrashed. "Oh, WOW, wow, that did it," she mumbled. They both fell asleep nearly in the position they came, his shriveled penis flopping in the air as he fell asleep on his back.

We closed the panel gap, slipped carefully and noiselessly down and back to bed. "Let me show you how I like to do it," said my wife with a wicked smile. I refused. "I can't hold out any longer, I'm drippy and erect and I'm going to come all over the place if I don't have your vagina again." "Be my guest, dear, but I warn you I'm just as horny."

I came in, came for the third time, and she too came, (both of us silently), and she came and came again, more violently each time, more than making up for the times she had said I owed her.

In the morning, as we dressed, she asked me if we could spare the driving time to stay another night in this cozy Factorey Hotel.