Chapter 3 Evening and Conclusion
Ten-thirty found me in evening slacks and crisp shirt at the door of Room 43 in the Plaza Hotel. Jim was in the bar – I had seen him and he had seen me. He had not acknowledged me. Down in the bar he would be imagining what I was doing to his mistress. I could not see him buying me a drink afterwards.
I knocked and the door opened and it was clear straightway that Sandra was a bit tipsy.
"Hello Robin, fancy you coming here." A giggle, "Cumming!" Another giggle. "We've been out and I think I had too much wine."
She was still in a little yellow dress, the sort that do not take up too much weight allowance on the plane.
"If I pass out, you just carry on Robin. Would you like that? I could pretend," giggle. "Drinking always makes me feel more sexual. I'm a bit anybody's when I've had too much."
She sat down rather suddenly on the bed and for a moment I wondered if I really was going to have to fuck her whilst passed out. Of course there was no requirement for me to do so but it was unlikely I would pass up the opportunity. She flopped back on the bed and looked at the ceiling.. "You'll have to take my panties off to fuck me."
Sandra raised her bottom and looked expectant. A nod is as good as a wink to a blind man and I took the hint and put my hands up inside her dress and tugged.
"You could'a just pushed them to one side I suppose and had a quickie but..."
Indeed, but not really my style. I pulled the white panties all the way down then reached up and touched far up under the dress. Sandra's sex was wet.
"...I fancy a long slow fuck on your big... oh, I shouldn't say that. Jim wouldn't like it but..."
She sat up and reached for my belt. "Show me. Show me your big cock."
Sandra fumbled a bit and, of course, could not yank the trousers and pants down as one – not with my erection poking upwards and preventing it!
Easiest for me to perform the task. I pulled and dropped them around my ankles and stepped out, my already erect penis poking out from under my shirt. Sandra grabbed and wanked it fast.
"It is big Robin, bigger than Jim's or my husband's. A great big mouthful of a dick."
Sandra lent forward and absorbed the knob. "Mmmmm." She was slurping.
Frankly I had not expected this. Quite a character change. Perhaps if she was drunk back home – at an office party or evening leaving do or even on some conference or other visit – might I get the same reaction? Perhaps if I escorted her back to her room she would reminisce about my 'great big mouthful of dick.
All at once she threw herself backwards, "Go on, fuck me!"
Pornography is want to describe cocks as like iron. I knew what was meant. Despite two ejaculations that afternoon it was as strong as ever. Sandra's drunken wantoness had got to me. There she was, dishevelled on the bed, her yellow dress rucked up showing her lovely curly hair covered mons veneris, her legs splayed in an attitude of availability emphasised by the way her arms and hands were stretched above her back towards the pillows as if she was tied like that.
All it needed were the buttons undoing on her dress to release her breasts and then my cock inserted in her moist sex.
"Fuck, don't I look and feel the whore!"
"No, Sandra, not that."
"I am, you know, you've fucked me today, Jim's fucked me too; you're going to again; tomorrow Jim'll fuck me, you'll fuck me and I expect, when I get home, my husband'll fuck me. That'll be three cocks in my vagina in a day – who but a whore..."
Sandra began opening and closing her legs, i could hear the wet sound her lips made as she did it. She really was very wet.
"Come on Robin, fuck me with that big cock of yours."
It was time to pull off my shirt as well. I had asked Sandra to be enthusiastic but had not expected her actually to ask to be fucked. Was she just play acting or really turned on? Getting on the bed with her I reached and undid the buttons of her dress and pulled out her boobs. Her nipples were as hard as my penis and I bent and suckled. Sandra's moans seemed real enough.
Sandra's hand came and squeezed and fondled the penis pulling it towards herself. I went with the flow, let her rub the knob on her clitoris – or at least that's what I thought she was doing – she was wet all right!
"Mmmmm big," she whispered to herself, "will it go in?"
The answer was a clear 'yes,' it had been 'in' that afternoon!
As my penis slipped in, Sandra pulled me to her and said, "Fuck me now – hard."
Naturally I obliged and was rewarded by the sounds, shaking and overall feeling of a woman orgasming. Remarkably I had actually made my boss come! I fucked enthusiastically. Under normal circumstances my penis would have fired quickly given the wet heat all around it and the overall eroticism of the encounter but it had already come twice that day and had more staying power.
I became aware Sandra was not responding – she had passed out! Too much sex or too much wine? I pulled out, stood up and looked down on the dishevelled, recently fucked girl. In the foreground my erection looking like it was actually dripping with lubrication. It was beautifully shiny and slippery when I stroked it as if I had poured oil all over it. Beyond the shiny knob the passed out girl.
What man has not fantasised about the sleeping and available girl? The classic idea of the baby sitter or girl next door becoming a possible subject for all sorts of things. Either the girl revealing that nothing wakes her or else being just too drunk to know much at all.
Whilst looking after a too drunk eighteen year old and sitting by her bedside to make sure she is all right, who could resist a peak at a breast or resist lifting the hem of her dress? Might one be tempted to get her into her night attire, she is in or on the bed after all, or perhaps just make her comfortable by removing her party clothes? Might one, reasoning that such things are, after all, rather restricting, also remove her underwear and fold them neatly as well?
Might one, to pass the time as it could be a long night watching her to see she is OK, consider a little wank would be in order? And might that, after a time, develop into the idea that a little feel here and there would be a pleasant thing to do? Hands reaching to feel the sleeping girls breasts, perhaps stroke the smooth skin of one's glans across the nipples. Would one not wish to part the legs and inspect – perhaps even lick; would the penis not be pressed against lips both labial and facial and, if the girl's mouth was open, perhaps go so far as to make an attempt to penetrate – perhaps a successful attempt. And what would be the harm?
And the thought of feeling just what a young girl's vagina would be like all around one's penis. At the moment it is too dry for any such thing but surely there must be something in the room, some lotion or cream which would lubricate! Pleasant in itself to do the lubricating but even more pleasant to actually penetrate. And it is not just the feeling: possible even better the sight of knob nosing at soft flesh and then actually disappearing inside.
The girl would never know what had happened; you would not be so foolish, after all, as to come inside: rather, instead, pleasantly decorating her tummy and breasts with a magnificent ejaculation. A bit of clearing up of sticky patches to her tummy and breasts and all would be fine for the morning. She, the next morning, then so grateful to you for looking after her as she nursed her sore head whilst you know you have had more than adequate recompense even without those grateful thanks!
Such thoughts did cross my mind. I smiled and began to completely undress Sandra. In a way she was less sexy undressed than when dishevelled in her dress but it was rather fun to pretend I was indeed 'looking after' my boss in the way one might imagine 'looking after' a drunk teen. What an idea. Sandra and me visiting clients or going to conferences and she regularly needing to be helped to bed from too much wine and never knowing what her colleague did with her body whilst she was passed out.
Fun moving her unresisting body. Fun rubbing my knob across her lips, resting my balls on her face, sticking my tongue inside her sex. Doing really rather naughty things with my hands, tongue and, indeed, erect penis. I could take her any which way I chose – even anally probably! Despite the choice I went for missionary – just the same position I had fucked her to orgasm. Lovely to re-enter and begin fucking again. Sandra had urged me to fuck 'hard' but now I could go at my own pace. Lovely to bring myself almost to climax and then pull out and rest and then start all over again.
When I saw Sandra the next time in the office I would know not only had I fucked her but hI had had my tongue inside her vagina and felt for her clitoris with it. Lovely to watch me re-enter Sandra and see my cock going in and out of her moist place until the inevitable happened.
I left Sandra 'ready' for Jim. Knees bent up, feet on the bed, thighs splayed and her sex so on display and leaking. I saw the leaking as very important. Jim had seemed to really dislike seeing my cum in Sandra – well he was not just going to be seeing it, but seeing it leaking out of her and, moreover, artistically positioned on her thighs as well. It had been rather fun dipping his fingers in and applying it to Sandra's inner thighs as if my ejaculation had been quite enormous. Sandra certainly looked fucked when I had finished with her!
Would Jim recoil in horror on entering the bedroom at the sight which greeted him or, in privacy, and with Sandra passed out might a different Jim appear. I knew some men fantasised about eating 'cream pies' produced by other men in their wives and lovers. The idea seems a little odd to me though, frankly, had Sandra suggested sex with her back in England on the proviso I did that to Jim's cream pie, my desire to fuck her would have easily overcome any such scruple.
It would have been good to have been a fly on the wall and seen Jim's reaction. All I could do, though, was saunter into the bar and hand the room key to Jim giving him back possession, "Sandra's all yours – better go straight up. She's passed out. I think I gave her too big an orgasm!"
Jim's face – priceless.
A week of sex with Sandra would have been so good but that was not to be. The next morning left me with, really, one or two more chances only. Another chance or two on other days alone in a hotel bedroom with a tipsy Sandra would have been good could it have happened; perhaps even better if Jim could have been called home and I had taken up with Sandra in her room, sharing it together.
Even with Jim around what might we have done in the week? Perhaps I could have insisted he was wanked only or simply just did the wanking. Sandra and I could have done the sex things and had him simply watch and ejaculate when I told him to. The power thing again, you see.
