Author's note:
"inspired by" and "based on" are applied to fiction. This is Fiction, meant to be read with a willing suspension of disbelief. Comments and votes are the way I know if I am pleasing you, the reader. Thanks..
~*~*~*~*~
So it's zero-two-hundred (I know... 2am, okay?), my laundry is running in the hotel machines conveniently located near the pool, there isn't a person in sight and I'm relaxing in the Jacuzzi. Sans suit. I figured
what the hell?
Nobody's around.
Anyway, I'm off in the ether, somewhere a little left of Nirvana, and I hear "excuse me, dude. You don't mind if we join you, do you?" That guy's voice is enough to bring me crashing back to the here-and-now. The girl's voice following his, saying "oh, cool! A no suit zone!" drove my adrenaline through the roof. I froze and opened my eyes.
Two college kids, the guy holding a bottle of Bacardi mojito premix and the girl getting out of her suit. Part of the swim team that had descended on the hotel earlier in the day. Apparently a Winter Break tradition that was going to totally upend my serene retreat from the chaos of the consulting gig I was doing.
They didn't wait for an answer. The girl finished getting out of her suit, flashed me a big smile, among other things, and eased into the hot water. The guy handed her the bottle and stepped out of his trunks, then he, too, got in.
To say I was frozen with indecision would have been putting it kindly. The bubbles from the jets might do a decent job of obscuring my nethers for awhile, but eventually I was going to have to get out and go change my laundry over into the dryer. And my suit was on the patio table, about ten feet away.
That's when four more of their friends showed up with another bottle, two hetero couples. The girl that had first showed up decided to announce that the Jacuzzi was a suit-free zone. The new couples had no problem stripping off and joining us in the water. There were now seven in a Jacuzzi designed for eight, twelve if you were really good friends.
So of course, seven more had to show up, two guys, five girls. And it got rather tight. Tight enough that some of the girls started sitting on their boyfriends' laps. At least, I presumed they were girlfriend-boyfriend from the familiarity. What blew me away was when one of the "solo" girls sitting next to me, a shapely, athletic chick with short red hair streaked with blonde, turned to me and asked, "do you mind?"
She didn't wait for an answer. She just eased up into my lap, sorta half-sideways, and told me "thanks! Want a drink?"
Right about then, I needed one. Several, in fact. Enough to inhibit the erection that was about to make its presence felt.
One of the problems with being geographically single a lot of the time, because of travel for work, was not getting laid much, married or not. My wife and I had an arrangement we called semi-permeable monogamy. Partially, it came about because of my travel, but not for the reasons you'd think.
I was okay with masturbating to relieve stress on the road and having sex with my wife - a lot when I was home. It wasn't my preference, but I would do whatever it took to keep her happy. She was the one that pointed out that masturbating was lonely and wondered about opening our marriage up to include select friends.
When I thought about it, it went a long way to alleviating the guilt I felt over not taking care of her needs. So I agreed. She pointed out that if I picked up someone on the road, I'd have to be really careful, because it wouldn't be like a friend we'd known for a long time.
I agreed with that, too, although I didn't think there'd be much reason to worry about it, because my work schedule and basic shyness didn't leave much room for socializing. And now I had a very attractive young woman sitting naked on my also naked lap and a cock that didn't have the good sense to stay soft. Unfortunately, I'm built healthy enough there was no way she was going to miss it.
Believe me, she didn't miss it. She felt me getting hard and very surreptitiously reached down to play with me, all the while chatting with her friends. When she had me rock hard - it didn't take long - she "adjusted" herself to slide me into her very hot, very lubed pussy. The bubbles were hiding what she was doing and the banter with her girlfriends helped distract them.
I, on the other hand, was focused on about an 8" part of my body if you didn't include the balls. My brain was starting to resemble those fried eggs in the anti-drug commercials. I had never, ever, had a woman be that aggressive with me. I literally had no idea what to do except sit there, try to keep a straight face and let her ride me.
I noticed some of the other girls who were sitting on guys' laps had started rocking slightly, which was effectively keeping the guys out of the conversation - glazed looks, heads laid back... a novel take on a hen party. The one on my lap started doing the same and I had the sudden realization of what the other couples were doing. And why the guys looked the way they did.
Now the thing about heavily chlorinated water is it effectively strips away a woman's natural lubrication, so you can only do that kind of screwing around for a little while. This girl apparently knew that because she was all the way down on me and just rocking, not stroking.
Let's see... college swim team... probably had more time fucking in pools in her young life than I had in all of mine. She turned where she was sitting, smiled again and said, "by the way, I'm Jodie. Room 513. I'm sharing with Liz, there." She pointed in the direction of the girl who had first shown up and decided it was a suit-free zone.
"James," I told her, holding out my hand. She took it and shook hands with a laugh, which made sense since I was then balls-deep in her. "710. And you're going to be very sore, very soon." She laughed again.
"I know," she smiled. "Partly from the water, and partly...
Jesus
, you're big!" My turn to chuckle.
"You're welcome," I told her. "And I need to go deal with my laundry." I had figured out that the only way I was going to get out of the situation with any shred of self-respect was to brazen it out. Jodie eased off of me and I thought,
well... here's to it... what the hell...
I stood up and told the group, "sorry, folk... gotta finish my laundry." And I climbed out of the water with my bobbing flagpole leading the way to my suit. My walk was accompanied by various whistles and catcalls, but a couple of them stood out, notably a
Whoof!
and an
Oh, yeah!
from a couple of the girls, and a
Not bad, old man!
from one of the guys.
I got my suit and towel, waved farewell to the party and particularly Jodie, then headed to the laundry room. I opted not to go back to the Jacuzzi, but did swim some laps before hauling myself and my laundry back to the room.
* * * * *
Work was double-S/double-D. Same shit, different day. Installing, configuring and testing mainframe security software. I had a routine worked out, though, to my advantage. The client always had meetings in the morning, so I didn't go in until noon. That gave me time to catch some rays poolside. Then I'd work with the client team until they all left at seventeen-hundred. Once they were gone, I could get some real work done, until twenty-hundred or so.
Then back to the hotel, grab dinner and swim until I was tired enough to sack out. I was getting a nice tan and losing some weight in the process. I even had it down to where I could call the hotel restaurant when I was leaving work and tell them what I wanted, and they'd have it waiting for me when I got there.
When I swung through the bistro to get my order, I noticed Jodie sitting at the bar, nursing a mojito and chatting with Gus, the bartender. Gus was pretty careful about ID's, so it was a good bet she was over 21. Nice to know.
"Hey, Mr. Ford!" he called to me before I even got a chance to open my mouth. "Yasmin's got your order ready at the hostess station."
"Thanks, Gus," I told him, then turned to Jodie. "Hi, again," I greeted her with a smile. "You old enough to drink that?"
"That's funny," she answered, digging in her purse. "He asked me the same thing." She handed me her driver's license. "Twenty-two tomorrow."
I took it and looked at it, and it looked legit. But I just couldn't pass up the opportunity to jerk Gus' chain. "That's a damned good forgery," I told her as I handed it back.
"That's
what???
" Gus damn near came over the bar. He knew some of my history, and that I had experience from the "old days" with fake IDs, and he took my opinions seriously. It made it that much easier to reel him in. Jodie was frowning, too, getting ready to launch a protest.
