Room For Three

The first time I saw you was right after I'd checked in to the hotel, road weary from a six-hour flight and thirty-minute cab ride, looking hard-ridden and just as ready to be put away wet. But fuck all if I didn't need a drink before heading up to my room. And fuck all to how I looked. My predictably navy business travel slacks, blouse and smart little blazer had weathered the storm well enough, and who's gonna care if I kick off my heels and swing them in my hand as I cross the lobby: it's happy hour somewhere. I had the desk send my bag up, kicked off my shoes, and sauntered across the lobby to the bar.

"Gimlet, please. With something nice, if you would." I put the money down and left it, deliberately avoiding my reflection in the mirror behind the bar, instead taking a slow spin in my chair to observe the clientele. And there you were, across the room in a booth, sitting feline, languid, and alone behind some sexy up-glass, staring outward with slightly parted lips and not a care in the world. My tummy was in knots instantly, but I was too tired and uneasy to figure out if or even how to approach you, so I just sat there half spun from the bar, feeling my pulse race. I know I must have been staring at you, and I feel lucky my filthy mind ray didn't, or couldn't, penetrate what I hoped were your own smoldering thoughts as you fingered the rim of your nearly empty glass and subconsciously moistened your ruby lips.

I turned back to the bar and took my drink, sipping a little too long for a proper lady, but hey, fuck all, right? The liquor wriggled and cooled its way down beneath my chest , and I felt my nipples stiffen and my tummy tighten even further as it made its warm welcome within. Manna from heaven, I thought, and took another long draw of my icy lime fire. I found the courage to look behind the bar, and there I was: not so bad looking after all. A little tired maybe, but radiant if I could manage a smile. I tried out one or two as practice, then spun back around to see what you were up to.

Your drink was gone, but across from you now sat a most handsome gentleman. Too far away to scan for rings, and too unfamiliar to watch for body cues, but my heart dropped just a little, disappointed that you weren't by yourself. Two more drinks arrived, so I turned around to finish mine and play catch up while I watched as surreptitiously as I could. Eventually I picked up my glass and moved further down the bar to move into your peripheral, and to get a better view of Mr. Competition. Damned if he wasn't a fine looking man, but nothing seemed to be happening between you. No hands across the table, no lingering eyes, no leaning in, or back. Just plain sitting, and yet there was something about you two I couldn't suss. Too proper maybe? Hiding in plain sight? Cheating? My dirty mind began to race with tawdry tales of lubricious wrong-doings.

I must have been telegraphing all this, because he suddenly looked over and directly at me, and I found myself staring back at him before I realized it. Being busted, I just held his gaze and raised the vodka to my lips, until he turned his eyes back to you and gave a little smile. As I turned smoothly back to the bar I caught sight of you looking over your shoulder at me from the corner of my eye. Luckily I could just see your booth in the mirror, your bodies, but not your faces, and I could tell you both took a moment to watch me before resuming your conversation.

After a drink and a half in only ten minutes I was too tipsy to trust myself to turn back and face you, but just tipsy enough to let my hand slip between my legs and give my aching button a fervent hello. I felt myself melting under the pressure of each little circle, and I knew I was fully flushed, but in my mind I was blaming the alcohol. I looked up and saw you making motions to leave behind me, so I quickly put another twenty on the bar and knocked back the remainder of my liquid courage, hoping to get out to the lobby before you, with no plan at all.

I scanned the marble expanse looking for inspiration. Should I sit in the overstuffed couches and try to make eye contact, or linger by the desk? I was almost at the elevator enclave when I realized I'd left my heels in the bar. When I turned around to go get them, there they were, twenty paces out, dangling from the fingers of your friend, the two of you walking slowly towards me with hot, steely expressions that set me on fire and melted me to the core.

I laughed out loud and tried to smile one of my practiced smiles, but words escaped me, which I suspect would have been lost anyway since you both came forward in your easy gait, saying nothing, barely smiling. I had my eyes on my shoes when he stopped with them two paces away, and when I raised my eyes to inquire you were standing right in front of me, your finger to my lips.

"Shhhh."

I froze, my heart now pounding, my head reeling. My mouth opened and shut, but said nothing as I swayed against the delicate pressure of your finger. I even tried smiling again, but I'm sure it came across as the sort of grimaced grin a child makes when forced. A child, frozen in an inescapable moment, when mommy and daddy come home and catch you, when you want to make them happy, and you try so hard, but you've so much more to learn, and all you can do is hope. I'd never felt so small and exhilarated at the same time in my life. Giddy. Electric. And so immeasurably wet. Then you put those ruby lips to my ear and pulled my heart right out of my chest. The words came in a deep soft contralto that felt like warm, dark molasses.

"What," you paused, letting your fragrance wash me. "The fuck," your warm breath pours into my ear. "Are you doing?" You lingered, and the soft saliva click of your tongue punctuated the seriousness of your inquiry. I was still wondering how to answer this when your hand began to trace up my thigh, invisible to anyone in the room not looking specifically for it. Your man took one step forward.

"We have your shoes," he said. I nodded, and the corners of my mouth curled up at the absurd transparency of the moment. "You'll want them back." He didn't ask, he didn't offer. He just told me so. The doors behind us chimed, then opened, and in we went, you holding my hand, he standing at a servile distance, gently clicking my heels. Me dripping down my legs.

In the spacious car, Mister stands at the back, and you face me with your back to the doors, effectively sandwiching me.

"Is there something you wanted to ask me?" Your voice is firm but friendly as the car begins its ascent.

"I-, I thought-," You lean forward and smile, your hand back on my inner thigh, half way up.

"What were you thinking? Tell me." Your grip gently squeezes my flesh, and I nearly swoon. "Use your words."

"I thought," the emotion and lust begin to crest over me, and I try to stem the tide. "I thought you looked so wonderful across the bar, and I wanted you." It's almost as if tears are welling, I'm so turned on. "I wanted you to notice me. I wanted to call you over, or come to you." Your hand arrives at my mons and presses up, and in. "I wanted to come to you and take you upstairs!!"

You squeeze my aching cunt with a surprising empathy, moving your hand just so over every eager aspect: my lips, my clit, my opening, all of it. I buckle back and fall directly into the arms of Mister, who gracefully warps one arm around my waist as the other cradles my head. I smell his rich masculine aroma, and lay back onto his strength. Somewhere way in the back of my mind the trust registers that this man will take care of my shoes. And of me.

You press forward now, your body against mine, and the sandwich is complete. I am enveloped in the warm lust of both of you, and your lips meet mine in a warm embrace. Soft and determined, wet and longing. Perfect. Your tongue becomes my point of focus in the sea of sensations in which I bathe: his hand around my waist, between us, yours on my hips; his body pressing against me, beginning to stir against the base of my spine; the softness of your breasts, the urgency in your thighs, your lips cradling mine. Through it all your tongue holds me captivated, a lifeline to cling to as it plays over mine and consumes me. The bell chimes and the doors open, and you walk straight backwards into the empty hallway as Mister releases me from his grasp. I follow you out like that same little child from the lobby, bobbing along in your wake as Mister walks past me, taking your hand as he escorts you down the hall. At your doorway, I watch from a few paces back as you give him the same kiss you've just given me, his hand reaching behind you to unzip your dress which falls easily to the floor, revealing you to be completely naked save for your heels. Slowly you descend to your knees, open his pants, and carefully release his full, firm cock, holding it gently for a moment before wrapping your lips around it. I just stand there, out of place in my rumpled business attire, as you savor his length for several moments before he finally reaches into his jacket for the key. With the door open he just walks you back into the room, glancing my way at the last moment to say, "Bring her dress." The dutiful child behaves.

Inside he's got you all the way over near the bed. The room is huge. Not a suite, but ample room for the king size bed, a seating area opposite that near the dressers and console, and another set of chairs by the window, which faces west, allowing the lowering sun to fill the room. You're still on your knees and his cock is still in your mouth; an impressive piece with plenty of slick veiny length visible even with his trousers still on. You're enjoying it thoroughly, stroking him in and out of your beautiful mouth with your other hand pressed against his thigh. And when you're not looking straight up at him, you're looking directly at me, still standing near the entrance, observing.

You release him for a moment and take a deep gulp of air, and string of pre-cum and saliva dangles between your lower lip and his turgid head before dropping to your breasts. You stroking hand slows and squeezes another ample drop that slowly lengthens from the tip.

"Have you been with a man?" You ask, holding his dick motionless.

"Of course I have," I answer.

"Do you enjoy men?"

"I've enjoyed some of them," I say as you lean in to catch the second glistening drop on your soft, wide nipple. "But I wouldn't say they're my primary area of interest." This makes you smile.

"Please sit down somewhere," you say before surrounding his cock with your lips, resuming your exquisite blowjob. I walk around behind him to the larger seating area, turning one of the chairs to face the bed, and I sit down to enjoy the show, happy with my strangely subservient roll.

You begin to undress him with both hands as he rocks his hips against you, idly fucking your face as one by one his clothes are removed and cast behind him. The mix of cologne and his masculine aroma waft past me, and I find it oddly stimulating. He's remarkably fit for a man his age with a strong, broad back accented with patches of hair, barely laced with traces of grey. His arms are strong and his chest still proportionate, and his abs are flat though no longer sculpted. And all of this supported by his thick, powerful legs. And his cock, now revealed, is every inch the sort of cock a fine gentleman should possess. I can't fault you for spending so much time on it, and the walls of my vagina are telegraphing their curiosity of what it must feel like against the inside of your mouth. I cross my legs and lean on one elbow, striking my best analytic pose from my view not four feet back. At last, you lean back from him, and with your arms behind you pull yourself up onto the edge of the bed.

"Perhaps you'd like to see what enjoying a man is like." You lift your knees and angle yourself up to him. For the first time I get a glimpse of your neatly trimmed bush, smooth about the lips and underneath as you spread yourself to him. With one hand he guides his full big cock put to you, his shining tip sliding up and down your slit as he teases you open without too much ceremony. It's plenty obvious you both want it in, and he's pressing forward in no time, sinking deeper and deeper as your eyes roll back and you drop your head, letting out a long satisfied groan. I've never watched a woman being fucked by a man up close before, and you look amazing as you open yourself entirely to him. Your hands find your breasts, and those wonderfully wide areolae are now just taught little skirts at the base of your marble nipples, caught between your fingers, rolling between them.

I am so wet for you. Not envious, but proud and pleased to see you taking such pleasure from him. I want to touch myself, but somehow I feel like that would be inappropriate to your moment, perhaps even disrespectful to the glory of your sweet, sweet fuck. So I sit and watch, soaking myself and feeling it ooze around my panties to my thighs. I'm sitting in my owe puddle of sex, trying hard not to squirm.

You're bringing him along quickly, encouraging him, pulling at your tits and grabbing your hair. "Fuck me!" you tell him. "Fuck me harder, goddammit! Fuck my sweet hot cunt with that huge fucking cock!!" And he obliges completely, nailing you like a stallion. Nothing gentlemanly left about him now as his balls slap hard against your ass and he drills his full length into your pink, wet depths. You were right; this is what enjoying a man is like. This is what fucking should be. Nasty, brutish and so, so hot. He's making you cum now, and you're holding onto his thick forearms for dear life as he pounds your beautiful body like a rag doll. Like the sexpot you are, legs in the air, feet flying back and forth, your ass glistening and your chest flushed and beaded with tiny droplets of sweat. You're moaning and shouting as your body shakes with pleasure, and still he rails on like a relentless machine. When your senses slightly return you look him straight in the eye.

"Cum, you fucker," you command through clenched teeth. "Make that cock cum. Fuck my weeping wet pussy until your balls burst. DO it!!" His entire focus is on watching himself disappear into your hole, and his marvelous glutes are flexing magnificently with each drive. "That's it, baby! That's it. I can feel you getting harder in me." He begins to grunt as his control wanes and his hips move on their own. "Give me that cum. Take it out and cover me in it, baby. Shoot that big thick massive load all over me. Come on, baby. Come!"

With one final shout he withdraws and you reach down for him with both hands, immediately pumping him furiously as he moves up between your legs over your hips. The first quick jet fires straight up to your chin, catching the edge of your lower lip with a brilliant opalescent glob that trickles downward. After that he's almost like a fucking fire hose as plumes of cum erupt across your chest, your tits, your belly. Four, five six of them in a row, then again. And again. An impossible amount of semen has covered you like somebody's nasty little bitch at gang bang. You keep squeezing him until finally it just oozes onto your fingers, then your hands release him and move to your body, smearing his cream all over yourself, painting your entire torso with cum.

He sits back onto his heels, panting, looking down at you, your legs wide apart, your pussy a deep wet, sloppy pink, and your lovely pale skin covered in the glistening sheen of fresh cum, its aroma filling the room with its musky clean scent, riding on bottom notes of your sex. It was an incredible show and my panties are drenched, but I'm just waiting to be told what to do next. You're looking up at him, smiling as your hands continue to rub his slowly drying cum into your skin, then you lift your head a little to look over to me.

"Go get me a nice warm towel, please." I get up and walk back toward the entrance to fetch one from the bathroom, letting the thick hand towel soak in the sink as the hot water flows over it. When I wring it out and walk back to give it to you, I'm passed by Mister who walks in behind me and quietly closes the door. I find you further up the bed, your hands behind your head, resting on the pillows.

"Clean me up," you smile. "With the towel first." I climb up next to you on the bed and spread the open towel across your abdomen, smoothing it over your skin, mimicking your hands as when they made this mess. Down your sides where his copious fluid has dripped, to your hips and over them, to where you've rubbed it into your sex, and your thighs, then upwards, turning the cloth over to cleanse your sweet, resting breasts, around them, over them, between and above, then one long final drag with it spread across you entirely with a hand on each side, from your shoulders all the way down to your knees. I fold the damp towel twice and drop it to the floor.

"Mmmmm," you purr, "So luxuriating!" You writhe a little, stretching this way and that with your hands still above your head. "Now with your tongue, please. Starting with a kiss."

I lower my face to yours, and am at last a participant. Your lips are wonderfully soft and your tongue light and playful as it dances with mine. I close my mouth around yours for a full taste of you, and breathe heavily as my excitement starts to overwhelm me. I want to wrap my arms around you, but still playing the child I don't dare go where I haven't been given permission. After one more long deep kiss I pull away from your lips and move across your cheek to your ear, licking and tickling with tiny nibbles before moving down the nape of your neck. Then past your shoulders to your full breasts, kissing across your chest from one to the other. I can taste the remnants of him on your skin, and the sweet mixture of your perfume and his funk fill my nostrils. So I lick your skin until no trace of the salty essence remains. Inch by inch I'm working my way down your body, lingering for far too long on each of your deliciously firm nipples, yet receiving no reproach for my hesitation.

I lap at the soft fleshy mounds of your tits, cleaning them entirely once I've torn myself away from their buds, then along further over you tummy, flat and yielding. It is incredibly erotic to take the time to lick every inch of your skin as an introduction to your body, and I'm savoring the opportunity even as if forces me to the indirect subservience of tending to your man's spunk. You're worth every taste of it, and if it means I have to go through him to get to you, then so be it.

Finally, I begin to reach the topmost wisps of your fur, and I'm lapping hungrily now, quickening my pace to get to your cherished treasure. From my kneeling position beside you I've twisted my body around so that my face is inverted between your thighs, cleansing the delicate skin of each in turn, before at last, at last, I put my lips to yours. Your pussy is still open and engorged from the punishment inflicted upon it, and your labia are soft and limp. I suck on you until the last traces of him are gone, and the only flavor remaining is of the most personal you. When I get to this point, I sit up and crawl down the bed to kneel between your legs, so I can give you proper service.

I sense the return of Mister, and I hear you tell him to take off my clothes, even as I'm obsessing over the sweet wet nectar of your cunt. I feel his strong hands on me, and comply when he maneuvers my arms and body as my jacket comes off, followed by my blouse, then my bra. I'm surprised by how gentle he is, given how ruthlessly he fucked you only moments ago. When his hands lift my hips to undo my pants and work them down, I shift onto my knees per his direction, lifting one leg, then the other as my slacks peal away, and my panties roll down my thighs. All the while I'm engrossed in your delicious pussy, responding to the moans you're making. I don't even notice that my ass is still hanging in the air until I feel his fingers tracing up my slit. And while I shiver at his unexpected but not entirely unwanted touch, my focus now is on your stiff little clit between my lips as I'm sucking you to orgasm, listening to your deep, lusty groans as your back arches and you press your pussy to my face, shuddering. And when it subsides, and I keep my mouth over you, caressing your opening with the flat of my tongue, my eyes look up and hold your gaze, and I wonder if you can feel me smiling at you.