Room Service in Germany

One of the most common questions I get from my readers is if I ever cheat with younger men. Those of you who have read my other work, know that I have a strong preference for older men, for all the reasons I've mentioned there. To be honest, I don't really see too many younger men during my escapades, and I don't seek them out ever. However, I have encountered a few younger men over the years, always unplanned, and always underwhelming, but since the interest is so high, I thought I would take the time to describe one of those encounters.

Another frequent question I receive is, "what causes me to give in and accept a man's advances?" How does an interested man take me from flirting, to behind closed doors? I've mentioned often that cheating means different things to different people at different times. I'm really no exception. Something as innocent as a stern look, the perfect turn of phrase, or a touch that completes a circuit can draw me out from the casual to the intimate. Other times its completely situational, which is a polite way of saying, I'm just feeling really horny. It could be the weather, it could be some sort of anxiousness, it could be the intoxication of a situation, it could be regular intoxication, it could be nothing in particular. Horniness isn't always a decision, and because of that, most of the time I don't give it too much control.

This is one of the times I gave it control.

I remember reading a quote somewhere from some Italian renaissance thinker, something to the effect of: "the purpose of all travel is sex." Which, while I understand conceptually, it never made perfect sense to me. I've traveled a lot, and I enjoy travel, but the majority of the time I manage to complete the travel without any sex, or feeling obliged to have sex. Sometimes if I'm lucky, my husband brings me along on his work trips, but most of the time I'm traveling by myself. I'm not such a wanderer that I travel just for the sake of it. I'm often visiting an old friend, doing some sort of specialty shopping, or attending to some family obligation.

The destination for this occasion was Germany, more specifically Frankfurt. The occasion was a visiting a friend, more specifically, supporting a friend during her father's recent passing. Erica's father had met a German woman after divorcing Erica's mother, and chose to live in Germany with that woman. He was never close during Erica's upbringing, and I remember only seeing him once in the small town we were from. Like many military dads, Erica's father endeavored to be a better grandfather once he retired, but fell ill before he was able to make a real effort at it. He'd spent the last few years languishing in and out of German hospitals, before the family received the long expected, but still unhappy call.

Funerals are not fun occasions, but I felt very strongly that I needed to support Erica. She is a good friend, and she was there for me when my grandfather passed just a year before. I otherwise had no reason to go to Germany at all, which was what I was thinking as I packed the night before flying out.

I met Erica at the hotel, which was stony, and had a sort of insecure grandiosity to it, like it couldn't decide if it wanted to be classical or stylish. She opened her arms, like one does for a child who just got hurt, and gave me a hug as I ascended the stairs with my bags. Her expression was that mixture of shapeless sadness that comes with an expected loss, the joy of seeing an old friend, and the awkwardness of having those feelings blending so obviously in public in a strange place. Her eyes were reddened and puffy, doubtlessly from evenings spent in confused sadness and staggered sobbing. I held her tightly and long in my arms, trying to show her how much I was there for her.

A pair of heels came tapping down the stairs towards us, and a blonde woman in mourning dress reached out her hand towards me:

"Let me get your bag please dear," she said in a German accent, her face also red with recent tears, but nothing so much as Erica's.

The blonde woman waived over a bell boy, who surprisingly enough, actually looked German. A tall, skinny blonde man in his early 20s arrived, wearing all black, poorly fitting clothes that I could tell was a uniform. He gestured as if to ask if he could take my bags for me. I agreed, and my bags were whisked away while I helped Erica and the blonde woman, who turned out to be her stepmother, up the stairs into the hotel.

The days that followed involved the usual and sad work of funerals. I stood as quietly and supportively as I could in my black dresses and pearls. Seeing Erica handle the burial of her estranged father served as a sort of memento mori for me, and it wasn't long before I began to wonder if living life was, as they say, "vanitas vanitatum omnia vanitas." After the reception, I let the family be with each other, and retreated to the hotel.

On my way to the elevator, I saw that the hotel bar was busy that evening, filled with laughter and golden light. Life was still going on, and people were still living it. I wanted to be one of those people, so I decided to slip on something more lively and join them.

Upstairs in my room I rummaged through my suitcase for something more fun to wear. I wasn't expecting anything other than attending this funeral, but I usually keep a little outfit around just in case. I found a black cocktail dress, cap shoulders, mini length, with a v-neck that ended right above my belly button. I found some black thong panties, and some more casual heels. I swapped my pearls for gold, put my hair up in a bun to show off my neckline, and put just the tiniest amount of mascara in my eyelashes before inspecting myself in the mirror.

I couldn't say how many times I had gone through this ritual: dressing up and then scrutinizing my body to make sure I'm sending the signals I want to send. At 34, I was still as exacting of my looks as I had been at 22. Forgiving myself for being short at 5'2" I was happy with my curving hips, flat tummy, and perky yoga-sculpted ass, but it was really my round 34DD titties that were making the outfit on this particular evening. One could forgive a man for not noticing my blue eyes or light brunette hair, when my breasts were straining against the thin black fabric of my cocktail dress, threatening to leap out of the v-neck. Being such a deep v-neck of course, I could not wear a bra for fear of looking awkward, but I understood that this dress was meant for less busty women than I. My nipples were already poking through the fabric, and I knew that I would need to be careful not to oversell the look. With this in mind, I grabbed a clutch and headed downstairs.

When you are as tiny and as busty as I am its easy to make friends, but also easy to get into trouble. This evening I was hoping to get a little life energy, but I didn't imagine any trouble would come of it, despite how sexy I was looking. My confidence was high, and my need to see something happy going on even higher.

I walked into the room, and sat on one of the gold accented barstools, a chair away from a group of men in business casual attire. The loudest of the group looked over his shoulder once he realized his companions were no longer meeting his gaze. He gave me a quick once over with his steely German eyes, and resumed his talking, trying not to stare, but couldn't hide a smile as he turned back around. He had a square jaw and graying hair on top of strong shoulders, so I didn't look away as quickly. There were various other groups around the bar, some middle aged women at a table, a pair of business men over by the window, a few solo travelers on their phones here and there. The bar had a sort of golden palate to it, with brass and copper highlighting the interior. The bartender made sure my old fashioned was garnished with a blood orange wedge, after making a show of letting me know they had them. I put my nose in the drink, and gave a glance over to the men next to me, catching their eyes again.

The energy in the room was high. Everyone was smiling and half shouting to people who were right next to them, even though the music was at a polite volume. Drinks were flowing freely, and it wasn't too long before the man who had his back turned to me was sitting next to me, beer sitting idle as he made his overtures. I laughed politely at the same battery of jokes that I'd heard variations of at every hotel bar I'd ever sat in. I averted my eyes when he put his wedding ring in his pocket. I let his hand linger on my thigh when he leaned in to whisper something that didn't need to be whispered into my ear. I gave this man as much room to charm me as I could, but by the time I was at the point where it was time to fuck or leave, a group of some people from the funeral came in and sat down at a table. Not only had the specter of the day returned to my mind, but I realized that anyone in that group might be prepared to describe to Erica how I was dressed and what I was doing, and she knows my husband's family well. I smiled and hastily signed the bill, ignoring the man imploring me to stay for one more drink.

One more drink would have been one too many. I was feeling a bit woozy in the elevator after my two old fashions. I wasn't drunk, but I was very much out of my usual awareness. I made it back to my room and started taking off my outfit and jewelry. While taking my thong off, I noticed there was a little bit of slickness on them, and I realized that I was fairly horny. The realization made me consider putting my outfit back on and leaving the hotel, but it was already after midnight, and I was already naked. Frustrated, emotionally exhausted, and tipsy, I decided that the best thing to do is order some room service to help take down some of the alcohol in my system, and have a bath. I used the little menu on the in room TV to put in my order, then got in the tub.

Getting into the bath was a tiny reminder that I was still a little drunker than I wanted to be, as my balance wasn't quite as reliable as I would have otherwise reported. Once the hot water was at my neck level I started letting my thoughts wash over me. I reflected on the day, the grim business of death, and the rarely attended joy of life. The hot water did little to sooth my horniness, and I started thinking about what the man at the bar might have had in mind. I closed my eyes and remembered his hands on my legs, his gaze on my breasts, the smell of his after shave as his breath warmed my neck, his...

My thoughts were interrupted by a knock at my room door. Had it been 45 minutes already? I snapped back to life, and waited quietly in case I had imagined it. The knock came again, so I got out, still clumsily, and found a towel to cover myself. I opened the door just a slight crack, and standing with a tray in his hand was the young man who took my bags when I first arrived.

"Room service," came the German boy's voice, his accent letting me know that English was not his favorite subject in school.

I let him in and told him to wait a second. I saw his expression turn from "bored on night shift" to a level of social awkwardness that only a German face can express. I got a good look at him for the first time. He was tall, blonde, and blue eyed still. His black dress shirt, black slacks, and black shoes looked about a size too big for his thin frame. His skin was clear, but soft and boyish. After looking at him for a moment, a wickedness seized me, and I feigned restricted movement in my towel before asking him,

"Do you mind?" I asked as I let my towel fall to the floor, not giving him an opportunity to answer.

I quickly made a show of myself digging through my stuff looking for cash to tip him with, giving him a full view of my nude body, and bent over ass. I took longer than necessary, as he stood with the tray in his hand, still petrified. Once I found the cash, I walked up to him, our seize difference more pronounced now that I was under his chin, far too close for German social boundaries. I looked at his eyes as I put the cash into his left pants pocket, letting my fingers dance around in there until I found it.

"Oh did you bring this for me too?" I said squeezing it slightly.

Again, before he could answer, I started stroking it in his pants, never once breaking eye contact. He inhaled deeply, feeling my little fingers rubbing his length. I stopped, took the tray from him, and placed it on the nearby desk table. He didn't make a peep nor move an inch. I dropped to my knees, and started undoing his belt while pulling down his zipper. I kept my eyes on his, the shocked expression on his face growing as I found his cock. I squeezed his pink uncircumcized penis, which was thin, and about one and a half hands long. The fact that he had shaved his pubic hair smooth was only antagonizing my wickedness. I pulled his foreskin back before giving his cock a lick, watching his jaw drop just a little as he realized what was happening finally. I started sucking it slowly, getting acquainted to its shape and taste. I proceeded to suck the bell boy's cock, on my knees, giving him a view of my ass poking out behind me.

After a minute or two, I stood up and took him by the hand to the bed. I started unbuttoning his shirt, and he kicked his pants away. Once he was naked, showing me his skinny body, I made him lay with his legs off the bed, as I resumed my place on the floor. I got between his legs as he lay, and started sucking his cock again, as it stood tall at the edge of the bed. I gently tugged on his young nutsack while running my nails down his abdomen, keeping eye contact with him as he strained to watch me suck his cock from his laying position.

Once I was ready, I stood up and pushed him further up the bed before climbing on myself. I turned around and moved my calves under his knees, before grabbing his hard young cock. I rubbed his cockhead up and down my pussy lips, lubing his cockhead with my wetness before sitting back on it slowly, giving him a good view of the process in reverse cowgirl. He made some sort of German noise, probably something about a condom, but I began riding his cock with my pussy gripping him into silence again. I rode slow and deliberately, letting my ass crash and bounce on him, giving him the best view of my butthole while my cream coated his shaft.

After a while of him squirming under me, I decided to give him an opportunity to reassert himself. I looked backwards him, and took his hand while looking in his eyes, pulling him forward while putting his hand on one of my tits. He gave me the squeeze I was looking for, and I pulled him up more. Once he was sitting up, I leaned down onto my elbows, inviting him to take me doggy style. He obliged, and placed himself behind me, his cock finding my pussy with ease. He placed his hands on my hips and started to push into me, his balls tapping my clit as he began to develop his rhythm.

Once he started to get a good stroke going, I finally felt my orgasm building. He surprised me by putting his thumb in my mouth, turning my head so I would look at him while I sucked his thumb, all while fucking me from behind the whole time. Once his thumb was wet, he took it back and started rubbing it around my asshole, which brought the orgasm within a few inches. I started pushing back and panting, encouraging him to go harder. He obliged, fucking me hard, hearing his balls and hips crashing into my thighs and ass. His young cock was finally stirring my orgasm up well, and I moaned as I started to cum from the pounding. My orgasm was long and pulsing, but a bit flat. I could feel the head of his cock swelling as he started to cum. He pulled out just barely in time to shoot his load onto my back, warm semen landing in long ropes up to my shoulder blades.

Like the ending to most hook ups of this variety, I glanced over at the clock as we both came back to reality. It was a little after one thirty, and this German kid's cock was still resting on my ass. I stepped off the bed, and picked up my towel, putting it against the cum on my back before it could slide to the floor. He sort of froze there, his cock wet with my cream. I tossed him his shirt, which seemed to snap him back to reality as I went into the bathroom, closing the door behind me. I peed, hoping he would take the hint and be gone by the time I was done, but when I got back he was still there, but dressed.

"Ok, well goodnight," I said, looking towards the door.

"Uh goodnight," he stammered, looking at the floor as he left.

After the door shut, I stood where I was, sort of letting the realization of what happened wash over me. I wasn't hungry any more, but I was feeling something that I couldn't quite patch together a clear picture of. I could still feel the taste of his cock in my mouth, so I had a bit of my now room temperature champagne to get it out. I started to piece together little details of what just happened, and I decided I would be better off asleep. I simply shut the light off and collapsed on the bed, willing myself unconscious.

The next morning as I was being driven to the airport by a handsome young chauffeur, whose eyes gave me a glimmer of interest. I couldn't help but feel a little queasy about it, so I made sure to let the feeling pass unaddressed. Whatever wickedness had made me let a younger man have me was too rare to be understood, but I knew that because I didn't understand it, it could always show up and embarrass me, despite myself, if I'm not paying attention.