“I thought they got soft after,” she whispered, and I positioned myself behind her and slipped easily up into her. She crossed her arms on the counter and put her chin down on them, watching me take her in the mirror. Unfortunately the angle was just a bit off, and I couldn’t get a comfortable rhythm going.
“Did you bring heels?” I asked her, and when she nodded I told her to go get them. She was gone for a moment, and I heard the zipper on her bag. When she returned she was carrying a pair of black strappy sandals.
“Put them on,” I said, and she looked confused for a second, and then sat down on the toilet and did as I said. When she stood I noted the wet smear on the toilet lid with satisfaction and positioned her on the counter again.
The shoes made the difference, the modest three-inch heels thrusting her ass high enough for me to get a good rhythm going. Amy seemed to get really turned on by watching me pumping away behind her, but she was going past exhaustion and she laid her face down on her arms.
I grabbed her hair and pulled her head back and hissed, “Watch!” as I pounded away. With my free hand I slapped her ass, then backhanded the other cheek, alternating this way as she watched in the mirror.
I felt her pussy contract again around my cock, and saw her eyes roll back into her head. I thrust deep into her and groaned, pretending to come, and then pulled out and quickly flushed the condom.
“Take off your heels,” I said as I turned and started the water running in the tub. When it was hot enough I climbed in and turned on the shower, enjoying the hard, hotel-showerhead spray.
“Come on,” I said, “Get in.”
Amy stepped into the tub and I guided her under the steaming spray. I worked my finger through her long, blond hair until it lay limp and brown against her head and shoulders. I squeezed some of the cheap hotel shampoo into my hand and started working it deep into her scalp with my fingertips, then stroked my fingers out through the length of her hair.
Amy was shivering, her eyes closed. Her whole body was relaxed, and I could see by her sway that she was close to collapsing. I rinsed her hair, working my fingers through her wet, silky hair, squeezing the suds out.
When I finished, Amy turned to me and rose up onto her toes and kissed me deeply, passionately. I put my arms around her and kissed her back with just as much tenderness and passion.
When we parted, I handed her the tiny bar of hotel soap and a washcloth and said, “My turn.”
Amy rubbed the soap onto the washcloth, and then tentatively rubbed it against my chest. After a few swipes I saw her focus on my chest, and she started to play with the hair there, wiping this way and that.
She lovingly rubbed lower, washing my belly and then sides, before lowering to her knees. She soaped and washed my legs, again becoming playful with the hair, and then gently cleaned off my balls and then my cock, finishing the latter with a tender kiss.
I turned and she washed my legs and my ass, taking my ass in her hands and squeezing. She stood and washed my back, and then my arms.
I had been washed by women before, but never so thoroughly, so sweetly, as that afternoon. When she finished I turned off the water and we toweled each other off before going to bed. I pulled back the covers and turned off the TV (the movie having expired at some point earlier), and we lay wrapped in each other’s arms and fell to sleep.
Dinner with Amy
I woke first, and seeing it was night I crawled from her soft, sweet body and wrapped a towel around my waist. I went out onto the balcony and smoked a cigarette, leaning against the railing. When I finished I went back inside and pulled the covers back, exposing her naked body.
I woke her gently with a soft kiss, and when she responded I became more passionate. I stepped back just as she was putting her arm around me to pull me down and said, “Get up and get your clothes on.”
Amy sat up and pulled the sheet up to her neck. “Are you kicking me out now?” she asked, a hint of panic in her voice.
“Yeah,” I said seriously, and then I smiled and said, “I’m kicking you out of bed so we can go get something to eat.” Putting on my socks, underwear, slacks, shirt and shoes took the same amount of time as it took Amy to get out of bed, stretch, and walk naked to her bag. I lit a cigarette and sat on the bed, ready for a show.
Amy picked up her bag and was turning toward the bathroom when I said, “Stop. I want to watch you get dressed.”
She blushed, and set her bag down. She pulled out a few things from her bag and tossed them onto the bed next to me. From the assortment of white cotton panties there I chose the single pair of red bikinis and handed them to her. She pulled them on and stood in front of me, posing innocently as I handed her the matching bra. Once she had that on I asked her what she planned to wear.
She took out a black skirt and a red blouse, and when I asked she showed me an unopened package of black tights. I was disappointed, but she was young and inexperienced, so I let it go.
Dressed, Amy went into the bathroom and fixed her hair and makeup while I looked through the hotel guide for nearby restaurants. My biggest obstacle was the fact that it was nearly nine-thirty, and everything seemed to close at ten.
When Amy came out I made her march back into the bathroom, and I was right behind her. I made her wipe off most of the lipstick she had smothered her sweet lips in, and her eye shadow as well. “I’m not taking a hooker out, you know,” I remember saying.
We went down and got into my car, and we drove to a little Italian place nearby. It was nearly empty, and I had to tip a twenty just to get them to seat us so close to closing.
I ordered veal and ravioli for both of us, and Amy looked a little put off. Again we didn’t talk much, but I didn’t have much need to say anything with such a beautiful young woman to look at.
When our plates arrived I dug in, not having eaten since the previous day, and I saw Amy take a few bites of ravioli, ignoring the veal.
“Is something wrong with it?” I asked her as I sipped my wine.
“No,” she said, not looking at me, “I’ve just never had it before and I’ve heard about how they treat the –”
“Take a bite,” I said softly, and then leaning forwards a bit, “Now.”
Amy quickly picked up her knife and sawed a piece from the cutlet. She held it up, looking it over, and then seeing my eyes she put it in her mouth.
“How do you like it?” I asked, smiling. Amy shook her head and started to bring her napkin to her lips.
“Listen to me closely,” I whispered across the table. “I want you to swallow what you have, and then you are going to eat every bite of what you have on your plate.”
Amy swallowed and took a sip of water. “Why? Why do I have to eat it?” she asked me, her expression pained.
“Because it will please me,” I said, and I took another bite. I watched her face as she looked at me. Her lips moved as she sucked them from the inside, considering, and then she dropped her eyes and began to cut another piece from the cutlet.
I took a celebratory drink of wine and watched as Amy forced herself to eat the veal. It was really quite good, but for some reason she just wasn’t enjoying it. Still, she finished every bite.
After dinner we ordered coffee and Amy had a large slice of chocolate cake. I paid, leaving a generous tip, and we got back into the car. We had been driving for a short time when Amy looked around and said, “This isn’t the way to the hotel.”
“I know,” I said, patting her perfect knee, “I thought we could take a little drive first.”
The Drive
We drove through the darkened hamlets and out along a country road. Amy had settled into my shoulder, her hand on my thigh, and I had a clear view down the front of her blouse at her full, pale breasts within their scarlet enclosure.
“Amy,” I asked quietly, and she was startled. “Why are you with me this weekend?”
She seemed to think about it for a few minutes, and then said, “I don’t know.”
“Tell me,” I said, more firmly now.
“I just wanted, I mean, you are so cool, and so hot,” she began, rambling. “I like you. I like you a lot. The things we wrote about on the computer made me so hot and horny, and I don’t have a boyfriend. It’s a special weekend for me, and I wanted to be with you, totally.”
“What do you want from this weekend?” I asked her softly.
“What I planned for we’ve already done, and then some. I feel like this morning I walked out of my house a scared little girl, and I want to go home and walk back in a real woman.”
She had begun to stroke my cock through my slacks as she spoke, and when she finished she lowered her head to my lap, unbuckling my belt. I did the familiar scoot back against the seat to give her some room, and I paid close attention to the road as she took my hardening cock out of my pants and proceeded to blow me.
I wouldn’t have recognized her as the same girl. She was loving my cock with her mouth so expertly, I would never have believed this was the same girl who had only a few hours earlier been sucking me with no tongue and slack lips.
“If you make me come in your mouth I’ll expect you to swallow every drop,” I warned, and then said, “After showing me your prize, of course.”
Amy giggled and sat up, stroking me with her hand. “I don’t want you to come,” she said softly into my ear just before nibbling. “I want you to be hot so you’ll want to fuck me.”
“Move over and lean on the door,” I said, lifting my arm so she could move. She looked confused, and I noticed she locked the door before leaning against it.
“Put your leg up on the seat and pull your skirt up so I can see you,” I said. My voice sounded sharp to my own ears, and I wondered what her reaction would be. She put her leg out across the seat, her heel pressing against my leg. Lifting her bottom, she gathered her skirt up around her waist.
“Rub your pussy for me,” I said, my eyes on the road. “Rub your pussy and tell me what you want me to do to you.” Amy started to lightly rub her crotch. I could make out her little red panties through the black fabric of her tights.
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