My name is Nicole Amorino. I am 20 years old and by my judgment, just an ordinary girl. I have no special talents or skills; nor am I a beautiful woman. I have always been 'full-figured' as the nice old ladies say. In fact, I'm a bit on the chubby side. Offsetting all this is my love of life and the dream of every young woman, to meet her prince and be whisked away to the life of bright lights in distant places. I can be a bit goofy at times, and I find nothing more satisfying than a good laugh, often at myself. I am not the graceful swan; rather I am more the ungainly goose.
I am in love with a man who in past visits, hardly noticed me. He visits our town and stays at the hotel where I work as a desk clerk. I have known him casually for almost two years. His last trip here several months ago changed all this. We had a chance to talk on several occasions on my day off. I found him to be warm and witty. He made me feel completely at ease. His name is Wilson Herbert, and he is 48 years old. He could be my father. For some reason, I don't know why, on that last trip he told me a great deal about his unhappy personal life of the past few years. I was honored that someone of his maturity would talk to an inexperienced person such as I. Mostly I listened. I believe that is what he wanted.
Now I look for his name on the reservation list every week. I still feel the warmth of his handshake, the wetness of the small goodbye kiss we shared on his last visit. It is difficult for me in my hometown. I need someone to value me, make me feel like a woman. Among my few boyfriends and even with my parents I feel like I'm still considered as a kid. Mr. Herbert changed all this for me, even though, our ages are far apart. He is a man of the world, and I am the homebody. But now somewhat of a confidant.
He speaks so sweetly to me when he is here. His eyes are sparkling blue, deep, yet playful at the same time. He tells me his past. The hurts, the betrayals. His life is pierced by wounds from former lovers. I need to help him, love him with my body, to be the soothing balm that creates for him loving peace. Does he see me that way? Would he ever love me?
I am so plain, just a small town girl. But I want to learn, to escape the doldrums of life rooted in my uneventful past here. No man has ever taken me; none has sought my virginity nor have I offered it willingly to any. But, I think of Mr. Herbert, his sweet smile, and soft face. He radiates warmth that makes my breasts respond, my body warm. He is a strong, successful man in business. Accumulation of wealth has been easy for him. But the wealth of loving relationships has eluded him. I could make him so happy. My body is his for the taking. My virginity, my soul, is so ready to love him. I will show him.
I see his name on the reservations list for the last week of March. Oh God, will he see me for the loving woman I am? I am not the trophy woman, my hourglass figure is heavy, my pendulous breasts are large. But I know I can love him in a way he has never been loved. How can I be so bold? What do I know? Nothing. But there is an instinct in every woman that is primal, not learned, but in her mind at birth. I can make him happy. I know what my breasts are for, to feed him, to nourish his lust. I know what my legs are for, to wrap around his body as he fills me deeply with his thrusting cock. I know what my vagina is for, to squeeze him, massage him, to grasp him in ways he knows not. I will show him.
If he takes me, could it be more? Could I live a life with him? I am untutored in the ways of a gracious society, but I can learn. I am smart in many ways but not tried in his world. I have not seen the environment of elegance and grace. I don't know cocktail parties, great celebrations of his triumphs, intimate gatherings with the rich and powerful people he congregates with every day. If he lets me teach him what my devoted love could be, would he then teach me to be a woman of grace? Could I do it? I am simple in my tastes and needs. Fine food, music, clothes of silks and satins have not been mine. But I know I could learn, be a woman he could trust and confide in, to be gracious as a hostess, to love him in every way. I will show him. Even more, he could trust me to want nothing more than his love, his essence, his being.
I was jolted awake as the Gulfstream bounced down on the runway. There must be strong crosswinds again. This place has complex weather events. Rudi does a helluva' job. Time for a raise for a good pilot. We rolled to a stop at the General Aviation Terminal. I grabbed my bag, briefcase, and laptop and exited to the tarmac. The cab was waiting to take me to the hotel.
"Welcome again, Mr. Herbert. Very nice to see you," says the cab driver.
I am nervous. I want her to be there today, I want to see that sweet smile, hear her sultry voice, watch her graceful moves. Her richly endowed figure freezes me in time. I do not see other women any longer. Since I kissed Nicole on the last trip, something has tripped in my head. Other women are now invisible to me. What is under that starched blouse? Are her nipples large on great dark aureoles, as dark as her eyes? I've seen them protrude when I stand at the desk in front of her. I can't help but look, and she catches me. For me only have they peaked? Or, perhaps, for a lover I don't know? Damn, I hope not.
This girl has me by my balls, my cock quivers. Every night for weeks I have lovingly thought of her as I masturbated myself to sleep. In Rome, Amsterdam, New York, for weeks I jerk myself off in pools of cum. Hotels everywhere have cum stained sheets and pillows as I shamelessly humped them, fucking them until I came again, saying, "Nicole, be my woman, oh fuck me, Nicole."
Why did I stay away so long? Am I still afraid of rejection? I have an uncanny knack for picking the bimbos and money-lusting MILFS, who fuck me into submission. When they discover there is no money on the table for them, they leave. I try to shake it off, but it hurts. She is not like this, is she? I cannot believe she is that way. I must be patient with her, talk, seek her soul, press on slowly. I want her.
My friend Tim calls me from the airport Mr. Herbert's plane has just landed. Tim and I are friends from high school, and he knows my interest in this man. I leave the desk to my associate and go quickly to the employee's locker area. Nervousness is attacking my confidence. The hotel has recently got us new uniforms, nicely tailored, gray tweed, pantsuits with a waist length jacket, tapered legs, and a white, form-fit, scoop necked blouse. Comfortable low-heel, patent leather pumps complete the new, very businesslike appearance. I quickly walk over to my locker. There is another blouse hanging inside the same as I am wearing, except one size smaller. It is the one that produces a deep, sexy cleavage. My "little girls" are shown to best advantage in the smaller size. Am I too forward? Would he think I am a bit cheap, the town punch-board?
I start to change and pull off my jacket. The top slips over my head but catches in my left earring. Damn! Don't cause a pull. I fiddle with the earring, it loosens and then I am out of the blouse. I adjust my breasts to sit up a little higher in my 38 D bra and then reach for the other top. Damn again! I drop it on the floor in my haste. Bending over I whack my head on the corner of the chair hard enough to cause stars. For Christ's sake, Nicole, get your shit together. Calm down. He will never pay any attention to a clumsy oaf. Finally, I put myself back together, and though I was still nervous, I march out to the counter. As I walk, I realize my pussy is wet. I can feel it in the crack of my thighs. My nipples are growing against the smooth blouse fabric.
When I reach the front desk the outside door opens. Oh Jesus. Easy Nicole, breath normally. Put your hands at your sides nowhere near your crotch. Don't tease yourself under the counter. He'll smell you. I can smell my crotch, I'm flowing I'm so wet. I was blushing, I knew it, even though my Italian skin is a lovely olive hue, I feel the heat on my cheeks. I quickly glance down. Yes! World Class Cleavage on patrol! I pull the air slowly into my lungs to raise my bust. My nipples now poke tightly against the fabric. I had no bra to screen their arousal. The friction on my blouse from the lining of my jacket is kissing my nipples at every turn. Friction between my legs from the tapered cut of the pant legs is rubbing my lips. I am perilously close to cumming as I stand there. No! I'm so embarrassed
She's here. Thank God. Is she not beautiful? She is a goddess. What if she is angry because I kissed her last time I was here? I was going to kiss her on the cheek when I left then, and then emotion ran away with me; I kissed her on the mouth. I even slipped my tongue into her mouth a little. I must be a pervert. I'm old enough to be her father! I have to move from the doorway. I can't stand here all day. I pull my jacket shut to hide my erection. I'm walking a bit sideways; it is so huge, and my boxers are as wet as if I peed in my pants. I am mind-fucking her with every step I take. Will I cum in my trousers? I don't care.
He's in front of me. I can't talk. My lips are frozen. My eyes are a blurry, teary mess. I am tearing. Why? I need him so badly. Does he even see me as I see him? Then I notice his jacket, the bulge sticking out beyond, thrusting forward. I can't stand it and start rubbing my thighs together. Oh fuck! I'm cumming. I'm cumming. I grab the counter top and lean into it; my knuckles white with the strain. I swallow little gasps and gulps of the air. It rolls up into my breasts, through my pussy, into my ass, down my legs. My thighs are drenched in my cum. I can smell my sex. I don't care if he does. I want him to know!
Is she OK? What's the matter she's so flushed? He looks at her inviting cleavage and can't believe his eyes. Her chest above her breasts is fiery red, the red of sexual excitement. He looks into her glistening eyes; the pupils are wildly dilated. He leans in toward the desktop and then catches the bouquet, the aroma, the unmistakable smell of a woman in climax. Oh fuck! He pushes his cock up against the desk front, catches his breath and says, "Hello, Miss Amorino, it's nice to see you again. Have you been well?"
Her voice is high and thin, not what he remembers as her usual throaty, sultry sound.
"Uh...Why, why, Yes sir, I'm very well." Her heart is beating frantically.
