I awoke to a slight sound, unknown in it's execution but enough to assure that I was no longer alone. My sleep fogged mind was jolted into awareness of this fact, and wondered at the strange bed I was laying on. Dimly, after a few moments, the memory of being showed to the room by Jerry late in the evening forced it's way into that awareness. I had removed my boots, and dropped my leather jacket and gloves on the floor next to them, but beyond that there was nothing.
Exhaustion was what overcame me. Riding for more than sixteen hours tends to do that to a guy, even on the relatively smooth and motorcycle friendly roads that I had chosen. Oh, I had stopped now and again, but I had pushed the pace to get here before midnight. Almost 900 Kilometers since the last time I slept, and that in a dilapidated hotel of dubious quality. I slept with my SIG for a pillow there.
How many hours had I slept? I checked with my capricious internal clock and guessed six, or maybe eight. It could have been three. With the curtains pulled and my eyes closed the room seemed as dark as it was when I collapsed. Without moving I stretched a bit to get the kinks out, and I found I was still dressed. I hadn't even managed to worm my way under the blankets. Who was in here?
One of my arms habitually lay near my head, and I made an unobtrusive yet unsuccessful check under the pillow for my SIG. My fingers found only crumpled linen, not the deadly curve of polymer and steel. Sure this was a relatively safe place, but how had I forgotten to place my pistol there? Forcing my still stiff muscles to relax into something resembling readiness I risked gently opening my eyes.
The room was dim, but not dark. Something prescient to daylight was filtering through the slightly curtained window, enough light to differentiate the contents of the bedroom and the unrecognized girl closing the door to the hallway. The hall itself was dark, and probably the rest of the house was still asleep. I seemed to recall that most of them were awake when Jerry led me stumblingly away from the gathering. Who was she?
Probably she couldn't tell I was awake in the gloom. I could barely discern her either, but I could tell that she was probably shorter than I am and dressed in a short shift or a long shirt of come kind. It was vaguely pink in the dullness but could have been anything from white to red. Her hair was dark, and probably black since most of Jerry's relatives had the straight black hair so common in his Irish ancestors. It danced about her shoulders in a way that suggested it was only medium length as she placed a knee on the edge of my bed.
Who is she? Jerry's daughter, or his sister? Probably one or the other, but there are so many of them. Why is she here?
A brief thought that she's come in to check on me and perhaps throw a blanket over my prostrate form was interrupted. Without warning she jumped lightly onto the bed, pinning me to it. Her sudden movement brought her knee over and onto my shoulder, while her hands were placed on each of my thighs. Almost as fast her other knee landed on my opposite shoulder so that she sat inverted on top of me. I felt her feet cross behind my head.
"OOOOMPHH!" was all I could say as I felt the hem of her garment fall about my ears.
"Quiet, you!" she said in a soft but authoritative voice that was almost familiar. That voice was recognizable enough that the jungle defensiveness that I had awoke to retreated, even though I was now effectively trapped. It's not that I couldn't have escaped, but that to do so would have possibly hurt her. I decided to play it as dealt.
My estimation of the time must have been more or less correct, because the light outside the window was rapidly growing. As a consequence the illumination of the room also increased and my companion's garment was revealed as a long pale pink t-shirt, and almost translucent. I found myself confronted with the barely visible underside of a woman.
She wore no undergarments and even in the dimness I had a clear view of her cunt, it's fleshy lips extruded and bare. I could smell her clean arousal and see the slight glow of wetness coating the entrance. Down deep below I felt my own reactions begin like the twitching of a small animal. She knew exactly what it was that she was doing, and there could be no mistake on my part what she wanted.
For a few seconds I studied her closely. There was a kind of joy to simply observe the tight folds and inviting slit hovering over me. It took little imagination to see them parted by the head of my cock and watch them dilate as it slid gently inside. Already the slit was separating invitingly, welcoming, and in anticipation of the game between us. I decided it wasn't any pussy I had seen before, but in spite of my exhausted state I no longer cared who it was. I don't think I've turned down a freely offered piece of tail in my life.
Glancing down towards my feet I could just see up her shirt where her slight breasts were hanging marble tipped, and below them I caught a glimpse of her features. Upside down her pixie face grinned at me, then she slowly brought her hips and cunt down to my waiting lips.
My world was filled with a fresh woman scent as she stopped just millimeters from my nose. She was close enough that I could no longer see clearly, but that no longer mattered. I reached out with my tongue, lightly brushing pussy lips enough to taste her growing sweet spot and get my bearings. Everything was clean and smooth, trimmed to perfection. No hair or other unpleasantness distracted me, only her sweet and salty sex. Shivering at my breath as much as my touch she backed ever so slightly away, but not in hesitation. A moment later she let me touch my tongue to it again to find the wetness had grown noticeably.
Although my shoulders were pinned to the mattress and her arms held my thighs equally imprisoned, my own arms from the elbow down were free. I reached up gently, hoping to touch the pretty cherry nipples I had caught so brief sight of. She saw what I was doing and without concern shifted her hands from my thighs to my wrists, stopping me in the act. "Get on with it," she commanded again softly.
There was little to be said to that, so I returned to the pleasant task in front of me. Again I licked her now soaked pussy lightly up and down, beginning and ending on her tight little clit. Each time I touched it she hissingly sucked air between her teeth. "Yes," she murmured much more quietly but with no less authority, "Now you're getting the idea."
I stopped with my lips parted and waited, the tip of my tongue placed centrally and loosely inside her slit. Predictably she moved her excellent cunt down until it pressed against my lips, and my tongue slid gently up inside the well lubricated passage. "Hmmm," was her accompanied comment, "that's another good idea."
Trickles of her sweetness ran down as I encircled her lips with my mouth and lightly sucked. The girl's reaction was to press herself down more firmly against my face and grind herself up and down on my active lips. Happy sighs and muffled sounds of contentment worked down to me busy between her thighs.
Down below my ready prick was constrained by tight leather, so useful for it's intended purpose yet so frustrating in this situation. There was an ache in it to be touched that approached pain. Probably she couldn't see it through the thick material and padding of my riding pants, but surely she knew what her actions were doing to me. She seemed uncaring or understandably distracted, but such was my situation that I would be damned before I would ask for her assistance in that regard. Fuck it, if I had to whack off after she left me I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of pleading.
Instead I continued to lap gently while she moved her hips around, positioning my tongue for her maximum benefit. It was a curious battle for control, where I as a willing instrument could deny that which I wished to do, and she who could direct me to do what I was going to do anyway. My lips met, and retreated from the battleground of her labia, only to do it again while I eagerly accepted the liqueur she dropped down to me as payment for my efforts. Words lost their meaning.
Her ever accelerating breath and the contented sighs that came out with it were proof I was doing right. Something resembling pride, but what could also have been vindictiveness set in. Instead of slowing to coerce her to release my own mounting frustration I stimulated her more rapidly and focused my attentions on her clit. If I could I determined to make her cum, although it was clear that this wouldn't be any real difficulty. My efforts were rewarded with even faster and deeper breath.
Perhaps a second sense, or just an awareness of the right rhythm caused me to switch techniques. Abruptly I removed the contact between my mouth and her sweet lips, but maintained a rhythmic tongue motion on her swelling clit. A quick intake of breath followed by by an exaggerated exhaled "...yes..." accompanied the sudden motionless of her body. Encouraged, I gave all my attention to that sensitive organ. For a few timeless moments only the occasional twitch in her body reminded me that I was still on the right track, until a general stiffness indicated something was accomplished.
First the lager muscles in her thighs on either side of my head lost their velvet softness, becoming in a moment rigid and quivering without gaining solidity. Her fingers dug into my wrists like claws while her feet tightened around the back of my head, pressing her awakened pussy once more tenderly into my mouth. Wordless her breath escaped in a long staccato release of pants as the rest of her body convulsed, until her arms lost their strength.
She fell forward, embracing my legs and pulling herself down from my face, shivering in the cool air of the bedroom. I took the respite to breath more easily and bring my released arms up and around her delicate waist. Softly I caressed her ass, and ran my hands up under her shirt to the small of her back and the tempting curve of her sides. Each of my touches brought a wiggle, or a twitch of echoed orgasm. In slow lethargic stages she found the most comfortable place in her position and relaxed in my arms.
"That was lovely, Simon," she said to my knees. From our orientation I couldn't see her face, but her voice reached me breathless and dreamy. "I suppose you want to fuck me now?" she asked as a punctuation mark to her first comment.
Of course I did, but I wouldn't let her know that. "I'd much rather know just who the hell you are." I continued to stroke her body. It was a pleasant task in it's own right, though one that I should have avoided in the tact I was taking. The soft pressure of her modest weight on my torso and the erection below made it impossible for me to rebuff her. "Any fucking to be done can be negotiated later."
In a single fluid movement she rolled off to sit upright on the bed next to me, an altogether delightful operation to observe. I had to admire her flowing muscles and huntress grace. Then I saw the look of indignation crossed with distress coloring her features in the morning sunlight.
"You don't remember me?" she asked, incredulous. Then she turned thoughtful, and spoke almost as if to herself, "Well, I suppose I have changed a lot. I'm twenty-two now. That's a hint."
From shining eyes, to the bare shoulder where her shirt had slipped down, to the tangle of shapely legs that poured out from under that same sleeping garment, I examined every part of her that I could see. Some familiarity was there, as if I had known her in a dream. And yet, I couldn't bring her name or lovely face up from the depths of my memory. "If you've changed then it can't be anything but for the better." Always butter them up. Always.
"You think I was ugly before." It was a statement, combined with an exaggerated frown.
