Paradise in the Stanley Hotel

This story is a continuation of "Maggie in the African Bush." The story describes an idyllic moment in a hotel room as a young man and a MILF discuss their pasts and envision their futures. And fuck - joyfully.

*****

"How many men have you fucked?" Brian asked Maggie. They were laying on their backs, naked, in a luxurious bed in a room in the Stanley Hotel in Nairobi, Kenya.

"That's a personal question, you impertinent twerp," answered Maggie tartly, but with a smile on her face.

"I'm interested in the sex life of a MILF." He kissed her on the cheek.

"Am I your surrogate mother?"

Brian smiled back. "No, I've not yearned to fuck my mother - although I would be interested in what she could tell me about her sex life." He continued after a pause. "I've told you about all five women I have had. What do I know about you? I know you live in a place called Kansas, somewhere in the vast United States."

"I have to be careful. I'm married and have two children in college, and I work for a fundamentalist religious organization."

"I'm interested in you. In your life and what you feel and what you've done and everything. This is a romance between us. You're not just a fuck buddy." With exhaled breath he continued. "I love you."

Maggie teared up with emotion. He had never said that before. She put an arm around his neck and pulled him to her and they exchanged quick kisses. "Let's not talk about love. We'll both be going home in a few months and we'll never see each other again."

"I'm not asking you to marry me. I just want to be in love with you - even if it's temporary. Can we do that?"

Maggie digested that question. "Yes, we can be in love. For now and in Africa." She thought for a long moment. "The answer to your question is thirteen. Counting you."

"Thirteen men? A quick response. You didn't need to count on your fingers."

"I'm an accountant. I like numbers. And two women."

'Oh, you are evil," Brian answered with a laugh. He pulled her to him and their bodies locked. "Now, I want to fuck you again."

"Only if I can just lie here. You've worn me out."

He rolled over on top of her and probed with his penis and slipped it inside her vagina. "This is my birthday present to you." Maggie had just turned forty. Brian was twenty-three.

"It's better than a box of chocolates," she said as they began to move their bodies in unison. "It's also the anniversary of our first night together. Three months now."

He joked, "It seems like we've been together forever." He paused. "Back to the subject at hand. Who was your first man? And how old were you?"

She mused as he pulled his penis out of her and lowered his head to kiss her breasts. "I was eighteen and just out of high school and my boy friend stuck his cock in me. I panicked and made him take it out. I was an awful prude in those days and sexually repressed."

"I don't count him as a sex partner," she added . My first real sex partner was my husband when I was nineteen. It was my wedding night. Nine months later I had a daughter."

Brian moved his head from her breasts downward to her crotch and flicked his tongue against her clitoris. She gasped. "Does that hurt?" he asked.

"No, but be careful. I'm a little tender. You've fucked me three times today."

"Always counting, aren't you?"

"Sweetie, let's postpone sex for a while." She picked up the telephone beside the bed. "I need some food. Let's order something from room service. And a bottle of wine. Maybe after that I will be a little more responsive."

"Order something we can eat in bed. Pasta Alfredo?" He spread her legs wider and inserted his tongue in her vagina.

She gave the order over the telephone to the kitchen. "How about a shower while we're waiting for the food?. We smell like sex." She sniffed the air. "This room smells like sex. I guess there's nothing we can do about that."

"The perfume of true love."

"I love you, too," she said suddenly. She followed that declaration with a joke. "Even though I think I'm a surrogate for your mother." She got out of the bed and to her feet. She extended a hand to him. "Come on. Take a shower with me. This is the first fancy bathroom I've seen since I got to Kenya. .

"Honestly, I've never had a desire to fuck my mother." He followed her into the shower. "My sister? Maybe." He laughed.

"You Englishmen are all twisted perverts." She turned on the shower and adjusted the heat of the water and the two of them stepped inside. They kissed standing up, her hand around his penis, his hand running up and down her buttocks.

"I want to fuck. Right now." He put his hands under her hips and sought her vagina with his penis.

"No," she said. "We have to get dressed. The food will be here in a minute." She pushed him gently away.

Brian picked up a bar of soap in his hand. "I'll scrub your vagina and that wonderful butt." His soapy hand found her crotch and ran up the crack in her buttocks.

"Enough, please. I'm not going to greet the waiter naked."

Brian complied. He rinsed the soap off her and they both got out of the shower. He toweled her off from head to foot, stopping to spread the lips of her labia and plant a kiss on her clitoris. "I'll get dressed to greet the waiter. You get in bed. Just like you are now. I want him to know - I want everyone to know - that we are lovers."

"I hope that he doesn't think that I'm your mother."

"I'm proud of you. Proud that people know I am fucking you. I want to show you off. I love you."

She didn't answer, but sat down on the bed with pillows behind her back, pulling up a sheet to cover her breasts. He put on a pair of trousers and a shirt and paced, waiting impatiently for the room service waiter. Shortly, he arrived, pushing a stainless steel cart with two plates on it, an unopened bottle of wine, glasses, and silverware.

"Serve the lady in bed," Brian told the waiter. Maggie struggled to keep her breasts covered as she accepted a plate of Pasta Alfredo and a napkin wrapped around silverware from the waiter. The waiter uncorked the wine bottle and poured her a glass and set it on the table beside the king-side bed. He put another glass of wine on Brian's side of the bed. Brian tipped the waiter extravagantly as he left.

"Did you deliberately flash that waiter a little side boob?" asked Brian as he took off his clothes and sat down beside her on the bed and got under the sheet beside her. She dropped the sheet from her breasts.

"I most certainly did not!" They sat side by side companionly, eating pasta and drinking wine. Maggie had never been happier.

"Thirteen men," Brian mused. "And your husband was the first. Who was the second?"

"It was almost seven, years ago. I had been married 14 years. He was a preacher, like my husband. I had just begun my accounting business and I traveled from place to place in Kansas to audit the books of churches and religions organizations. The sex wasn't very good," she said. "He was scared and so was I and it was all over in two minutes."

"Did you cum?"

"No, although I pretended to. And afterwards he told me how guilty he felt cheating on his wife. I didn't like that. I didn't feel guilty. I wanted to be loved. "

"Your husband doesn't love you?"

"He does in his own way. I make him a comfortable home. I'm a good mother to our two children - or rather I used to be before I took this job so far away from them. I make more money than my husband does. And he fucks me every night. Always the same way. Missionary. Quickly. No formalities. No wine and pasta. I'm a receptacle for his sperm." She looked down . "Oh, shit. All this reminiscing and now I've dropped pasta on my tit."

"I'll lick it off." Brian put his plate of pasta on the table beside the bed and turned to her and licked the sticky pasta off one of her breasts, and then moved his mouth to her erect nipple. "Have I told you that I love your tits?"

"There's not much there to love. But, they don't sag. Yet. Thank God for that."

"The nipples are puffy. I've never fucked a woman with puffy nipples. Very erotic."

She looked at herself critically. "My nipples used to be pink. Bright pink. But, children and age, I guess. Now, just brown. I wish I had fucked you when they were pink. You would have liked that. They were pretty."

"I wish I had been fucking you ever since I first got an erection. I think I was three Does your husband know about your affairs?"

"I don't think so. Although I suppose he suspects. I spend a lot of time traveling to service my clients." She laughed, "Well not 'service' in the way you may be thinking. I'm very professional in my work. The men I have fucked are not my clients."

She mused a moment. "My husband likes the money I make. We were poor until I started working."

"What does your husband think about you working in Africa?"

"He doesn't like it - but I send one-half my salary home to him. And he likes that. The children are both away at college. They don't need me much anymore. So, here I am, a wanton woman, having an affair with a young man in Africa. And loving every minute of it." She put down her empty plate on the table and they kissed.

"Will your husband visit you here?"

"No. Colorado is the most exotic place he's ever been."

He thought a moment. "My girl friend back in England wants to visit me. Should I tell her not to come?"

"This is the girl that you've been fucking for two years? And probably will marry?"

"I don't know about marriage, but yes, she and I have a long term relationship."

"Do you love her?"

"Do you love your husband?"

She poured them each another glass of wine, emptying the bottle. They sipped the wine, the two of them sitting side by side, naked, their hips touching, a sheet half-covering their legs and pubic areas. "I don't know whether I love my husband or not, but I probably won't leave him. I am what I am. A woman from small town Kansas with modest aspirations. Once in a while I get to do what I'm doing now. Experience love and passion and excitement."

"I don't know whether I love my girl friend. We're comfortable with each other. She's good in bed - although not as enthusiastic about sex as I am. As you are." He kissed her on the cheek.

She returned the kiss. "I'm one of those people who live a life of quiet desperation. Except in bed." They both laughed.

"I'm getting quietly desperate to fuck you again." His hand sought her vagina. "But going back to my girl friend. I could tell her not to come."

"Would that end your relationship?"

"Probably. She's attractive and she has other options. We're a couple our parents approve of. England, you know. Right class, right school, a little bit of old money. An appropriate relationship. Bugger appropriate."

"You would come to hate me if I told you to tell her not to come. I don't want that. I'll be jealous and miserable while she's here, but I can endure that. I'm a master of deception. I deceive my husband, my children, my friends at home, the God I used to believe in. I would like to meet your girl friend. To see what she is like. To see what you're like when you're with her. I can pretend there's nothing between us. I hope I like her."

"She will perceive there is something between us. But she won't say anything. She's English. Very, very polite."

"Promise me something," she said.

"Anything, my brown nippled goddess."

"You're my first real boy friend. The first man not my husband that I have had a lengthy relationship with. I know this is temporary. But when we end it, let's do it well. When I'm an old woman I want to look back and remember that I loved a young man and he loved me and that we parted loving each other." Tears were running down her cheeks.

"I love you. Now and forever."

They coupled in passion, he lying between her legs, she wrapping her legs around him, his penis going deeper and harder inside her that it ever had, or so she believed, and she, climaxing, once, twice, three times - and then it was him, his body stiffening, his breath coming hard and fast, his penis quivering in her, and a hot rush carried them both forward into a few seconds of oneness.