The Holiday Cottage

The cottage was the perfect discreet bolthole, hidden in the trees, invisible from the lane that led from the distant main road. This was one of the reasons people like Lea booked it for a weekend break. In fact the cottage was a former gatehouse at the entrance to an estate. The owner, Joe, had inherited it and decided to turn the small place into a holiday let to help pay for the upkeep of his house nearby.

Lea had booked it for a long weekend. As far as he knew she was coming alone, which was unusual but not rare. A single woman down from London, wanting to 'get away from it all', he suspected. From her profile on the booking app he had seen she was an attractive mature woman with long fair hair and a seductive smile. He wondered what she imagined a weekend here would be like.

Typically he left his guests alone during their visit, meeting them only once, on their arrival, to show them round and give them the key. But he lived close by in case they needed anything. He could not help wondering whether this solitary woman would want anything he could provide. The cottage was cosy, quiet, isolated. So if a woman wanted to be alone it was the perfect refuge. But if she wanted any company, well, he would be happy to provide any personal service she desired. It wouldn't be the first time he had been invited in to the cottage by guests who found themselves craving some company in this most isolated spot. He still had the pair of knickers the last single woman had left!

She was due to arrive any moment. It was late evening on a warm Friday in early summer. Dusk had not yet fallen. The trees cast warm shadows around the cottage. The last rays of sun lit up the small windows. Joe had prepared the fireplace -- guests always wanted a 'real fire' with logs. He had left a complimentary bottle of red wine too. Would she want to drink that on her own?

Anyway, he thought, let's see how things go. I'll show her round, let her settle in, make sure she has my number. If she wants to be left alone, fine. Otherwise, anything is possible. It gets chilly at night out here, she might want someone to stoke the fire for her, keep her warm. He felt a thrill of lust as his imagination roved.

Having finished preparing the cottage, he was now just outside the door when he heard a car slowing down, turning in from the quiet lane. He stood waiting, dressed in black jeans and a blue denim shirt, untucked. He ran his hand through his hair, smoothed down his shirt and faced towards the lane. An Audi appeared, approached, stopped in front of him. He smiled as he saw the woman through the windscreen. He was pleased to see she was alone. She turned off the engine and stepped out. He took a step towards the car, trying to imagine how he would appear to her.

'Hi, you must be Lea. I'm Joe. Welcome!' He smiled again as she looked him up and down.

What was she thinking, feeling? What would she desire?

It wouldn't be the first time Joe Leman (his professional persona, though not his real name) had fucked one of his guests. Far from it. In fact he had lost count of how many women he had seduced, or been seduced by, during all his years in the hospitality industry: at business conferences he had hosted, in those identikit hotels where clients relished being away from their partners for a night, invariably drank too much, and ended up fucking each other all night; at Mediterranean holiday resorts, where sex-starved bored wives would take him to their rooms while their husbands were out playing golf; or at the small country house hotel in the New Forest that he had run until recently (in which he still owned a controlling shareholding), where women came for a girls weekend or hiking or riding, all of which made them uncontrollably horny and easy prey for their handsome host.

One of his most treasured memories of these numerous encounters was a night spent with a stunning and filthy executive from some marketing firm that had its annual retreat at a remote country hotel in Hampshire. He had been the hotel's lead facilitator, to make sure the client firm got what they were paying for, in terms of facilities, refreshments, evening entertainment. She, a slim fit blonde in her forties, had chatted to Joe in the hotel bar on the first night, having slipped away from her increasingly drunken and boorish colleagues.

After draining her Nth cocktail she had fabricated some excuse to get him up to her room, claiming something or other wasn't working and asking him to help her with it. As soon as the bedroom door closed behind them she had snogged him up against the wall, sliding her hand into his trousers, rubbing his bare cock, then stripped him and led him to the king size bed. There she undressed, lay on the bed and insisted that he tie her to the bedframe with his tie, then fuck her while she pretended to resist (not the first woman he had known to want a forced sex fantasy).

After he had emptied himself into her she demanded that he turn her over and whip her bottom with his belt. She had squealed with delight, feigned terror at this 'punishment', then insisted on taking his cock into her mouth, expertly licking and sucking him hard until he came again. She had swallowed every drop of his cum, had him untie her, left him her knickers as a souvenir, then rejoined her party at the bar.

And now he had inherited the secluded house and its quaint Orchard Cottage which got regular Airbnb bookings. It was usually couples having a dirty weekend, sometimes dirty enough to invite him to join in. Occasionally women craving a romantic escape or meeting their secret lovers; they too would sometimes let themselves be seduced while he helped them settle in or got the fire going. Ah yes, the old fireplace, guaranteed to conjure up the desire to be naked in front of the flames, drinking and fucking through the night -- what action that fireside had seen!

Joe found that his height, dark eyes, chiselled looks, fit body and smart clothes always gave women a good first impression. But he knew his most powerful secret weapon was his sexual aroma. He had learnt early on that he gave off a rather powerful manly scent, strong pheromones and sweat that had a peculiar effect on women. For this reason he never wore aftershave, never used deodorant, and rarely wore underwear. He kept himself clean and well groomed, sure, but he allowed his body to give off its natural sexual aroma. He trimmed but didn't shave his pubic hair, aware that this too accentuated the sexual attraction by holding the scent around his loins. Sometimes he would even run his hands inside his trousers, up and down the shaft of his cock, between his arse cheeks and around his balls, just to get his musky scent onto his fingers, meaning it would waft around him and make it even more likely that any women he met would unknowingly detect it and find herself sexually stimulated. It usually worked a treat.

And now here he was about to fuck this stunningly attractive guest, Lea (or whatever her name really was -- guests often used an alias) who had either been turned on by his sexual presence, betrayed surely by the bulge in his Levi's, or who was just extremely horny, one of those women with an insatiable appetite, a primal lust to fuck and accustomed to getting what she wanted.

He had made every effort to stay cool when he first saw her arrive, not to let his eyes pop out like a cartoon fox, or his tongue drool like a lusty hound. Instinctively he must have looked her up and down (he wasn't always subtle) as she stepped from her sleek Audi, taking in her surprisingly high heels, slim legs, a glimpse of stocking top, shockingly short skirt, blatantly transparent blouse, her striking platinum blonde hair and pretty face. She had a look in her eyes too, like a woman with great hunger, used to feeding her wild appetite at will.

Joe wondered whether she was really staying alone. Often the person who booked didn't tell him who else was going to accompany them. Lea seemed like she wasn't going to spend the weekend alone: he imagined that she was well capable of giving herself a lot of solitary pleasure (no doubt she enjoyed a wank at least daily, as he did), but equally took the opportunity to use a man whenever she felt like it. Was her lover going to arrive later? Or lovers, plural! But for now it was just the two of them in his cottage.

He made the usual fuss of showing her where things were, leading her round the place. A couple of times he caught her checking out his backside or crotch. He kept in shape and had been told he had good legs and a firm well-shaped arse, so he wore jeans that fit him well, accentuating his physique and showing the bulge of his cock. As he gave the tour he admired her too, noticing with delight the erect red nipples straining against her silk shirt, and her shapely legs, leading up under the tiny skirt.

The best view was of course when he followed her up the stairs, a few steps behind, just the right distance to see up her skirt (surely she was aware of that!). The curve of her inner thighs led to a shapely double crescent of lower buttocks, unencumbered by panties, as she wiggled her way up the narrow staircase. In fact, was that a glimpse of bush he saw? That was when he was sure he could smell her too: an unmistakable scent of cunt, causing an involuntary licking of his lips and a strong twitching of his cock, now straining against his jeans.

He also admired her petite figure and generous boobs as, when she reached the top of the stairs and turned, she seemed to show off her cleavage to his wide eyes. The top few buttons of her shirt were undone so he saw the upper slopes of her smooth globes and again the outline of pert nipples against the flimsy material. That was when she stumbled, catching her sexy heels on the loose rug then slipping forward across the bare floorboards and into his embrace, as he thrust his body forward to catch her from falling to the floor. And that was when he pounced, fairly sure that her flirting and blatant showing off of her body indicated her desire to have him there and then.

He lifted her up and virtually threw her onto the bed, on her back, her legs parting as she lay there. She made a gesture of protest, but it was obvious she wanted fucking, despite their brief exchange of words. And he wasn't going to refuse. Customer service was his forte! He could definitely smell her now. He imagined her bare cunt under that skirt, already oozing juices. He parted her legs, exposing her pussy, naked as anticipated. He was pleased to see she did indeed have a fine bush, the hairs already wet along the vertical slit between her lips. He just had to taste it!

'You smell gorgeous. Bet you taste good too!'

He plunged his tongue between her thighs, forcing her legs apart so he could lick right up under her crotch, briefly rimming her asshole then sliding his tongue back under her pussy, across the sopping wet slit, and up to her swelling clit, which he then flicked with the tip of his tongue, side to side, harder, softer, faster, slower, before tracing a figure of eight across her smooth lips and pushing his tongue inside her cunt. She tasted gorgeous. He lapped eagerly. He heard her moan and utter "mmm" and "yes!"

He had always loved the taste of a woman, loved to tease and stimulate, feeling her pussy becoming wetter, hearing her moans. He could bring a woman to orgasm with his fingers and tongue. But he knew Lea wanted cock now. He played with her a little more, with his fingers, until they were sticky with her juices. He lifted his hand to his mouth and licked them keenly. He saw from her eyes that she wanted it, but asked her to be sure. Her response left him in no doubt.

So he clambered up onto the bed, onto her body, moving up over her, briefly kissing her smooth tummy, exposed as her shirt had ridden up, then biting her nipples through the translucent material. That did the trick. He heard her gasp, felt her arching her body up against his.

'You like that, do you?'

She pulled him closer: 'Shut up and keep going!'

She quickly undid her top, revealing her bare breasts, magnificent firm orbs peaked by stiff red nipples. She slid the shirt off then reached down to his crotch, urgently unbuttoning the metal fasteners of his jeans. He licked and kissed her tits, causing more moaning and writhing. He felt her hands pulling down his jeans by the waist. Felt his cock springing out, flopping onto her thigh. She must have felt the trace of precum it immediately left on her soft skin and the firmness of the smooth head and long shaft. He slid his shirt over his head and had kicked off his shoes, so he was now naked. She wore only her skirt, pulled up around her waist.

He saw her look down at his cock. He was circumcised, so the head was fully exposed, prominently rearing up like some obscene mushroom, the hole in the centre of the tip glistening. He saw her lick her lips. His shaft was thick and solid, his balls swollen around the base, framed by his patch of body hair. She smelt him for sure now: not just his sexual aroma but a scent of spunk as he oozed and throbbed above her opening. No question of a condom! She was aching to be fucked and to feel his cum inside her. She had somehow unhooked her skirt and it fell to one side, leaving her nude under him.

He continued licking and biting her nipples, occasionally kissing her neck. She was writhing with lust, legs parted ready, arms reaching round his body to pull him into her, clasping her hands on his buttocks to pull him down. His cock was poised over her wet slit now, the head rubbing against her wet lips and swollen clit. Would this stimulation, together with the biting of her nipples, bring her to orgasm before he even entered her? He was aching to thrust into her, to feel his firm cock pushing its way into her wet slit and up inside her. All she had to do was pull him in and let him fuck her.

'Now?' he asked.