A Quickie In A Country Hotel

Maybe it was her eyes. Large, blue and set in a face of purest innocence. The kind of face that you take one look at and simply know how she looks when she makes herself cum. Instantly, I had a vision of her, lying in bed at night, her legs spread and her hand in her panties. Across the room, her roommate either lying fast asleep or listening to the tiny breaths as she fought to keep her climax under some semblance of control. Oh, how I love providing the situation where such girls can, for once, simply cum…as noisily as they wish. 

Maybe it was the gold necklace she wore with her name on it. Clara. Or maybe, Miss Brain already knew that necklace would provide my first opportunity to touch her. 

But then, how did I know….really 100% know, that she would be at all interested in another girl? How did I know she didn’t crave cock? That, my lovelies, is a secret known only to bi-sexual and lesbian girls. We simply know if another girl is, or, more excitingly might be amenable to a little girl/girl action. Personally, I think it’s in the way they return our gaze. Oh, I don’t kid myself. In the few seconds I locked eyes with her, I was radiating pure, unfiltered lust. I could almost imagine how her firm body would feel, and how it would be to feel inside her panties. Fuck! 

No. I didn’t go straight to her and relieve her of a glass of bubbly. I went to the girl standing next to her….but I did flash a really sweet smile at her as I passed by. The champagne was an excellent vintage. Don’t tell me these big breweries are short of cash if they can splash this stuff about at corporate functions. I underlined my mental note never to allow myself to become one of their slaves, running venues and pouring tens of thousands of dollars worth of drink down the drain each month. Fuck that.

A rather pretentious, deep-sounding gong was struck and our host for the evening made a brief, and totally unnecessary speech. Meanwhile, I went to stand beside Clara. That is, more accurately, I went to take up a position whereby I could see down the top of her black uniform dress. On my way to my vantage point, I played a brief game of 'bra or no bra’. I lost. I thought she would be wearing a bra, but it would be almost a trainer, but no…no bra. She shifted position to put her tray down and I fought sight of one perfect boob with an erect nipple perched cheekily on top. Mmm. Very nice. 

Mein Host droned on for about five minutes and all the time Miss Brain was hopping up and down yelling “Make a move! Make a move!” She knows what I want and take a direct route…a route that can land me in trouble…or even potentially in court these days. Patience, Miss Brain, patience. 

And so…..speech over, we all began drifting into the dining room for what turned out to be a really first rate meal. Clara was now serving food and by nothing other than pure unadulterated luck, I was one of the people she was serving. Oh, happy days! Starter, fish course, mains…..all followed with perfect Silver Service accuracy, but when the pudding arrived, it was Eton Mess. The only thing I can’t stand, so Clara had to take mine away. Coffee followed…or rather should have followed, but I’d already decided I might skip out early. You see, after dinner, there was a mix ‘n’ mingle whereby and wherein several of their executives would move among us and try to rope us in as “partners”. “Partners” being defined as ‘we will sell you stuff at cost for three months with no minimum quotas. Thereafter we will jack the prices up, starving you of any profit, and make infeasible demands as to how much of our products you will buy from us each month’. Fuck that! 

So, coffee (Fair Trade, and bitter as fuck) I left the table. It really was pure, 100% luck that I bumped into Clara in the hallway. I thanked her for her immaculate service and admired her gold necklace. (A Christmas present from her dad…note, not boyfriend!) And, joy of joys, I got all the right signals. Her pupils dilated when I touched her chest where the necklace lay, and she began a definite flush. I even noticed her nostrils flaring. 

Sometimes, there’s neither time nor need to contrive anything like “where is the restroom”, or, is there somewhere private I can freshen up?” Instead, Miss Brain got it perfectly on the money when I found myself saying, “Where can we go.” Bold! Outspoken! And definitely not my usual seduction path. Clara said, “Follow me.” 

She led me down a corridor, off into another one, then right into another until I was well and truly lost. She pushed a door open and we found ourselves in an ordinary, if very small, guests bedroom. No en-suite, just the basics. These were rooms used only for drivers and the like. The heavy door closed behind and Clara flipped the lock. 

I wrapped my arms around her firm waist and moved in for a kiss, but she stopped me. “I…..I’ve never……not with another girl…..not with anyone, really.” 

Now there’s having sex with another girl and (guys, please listen to this) there’s being someone’s first experience ever of something. The former is ‘business as usual’, while the latter is a privileged beyond price. You are being trusted like you have never been trusted before. It means, potentially, everything is on the table….including the word “Stop”. No..I take that back. Including ANY indication that might, even remotely mean ‘stop’. 

I leaned in and kissed her on the lips. That flush deepened and she sighed into my mouth. My tongue aches to explore hers, but that isn’t the way of this. I kissed her again, more open mouthed and for longer this time and felt her tongue gently reach into my mouth as it contacted my tongue a shiver went through her. She moved her head alongside mine. Two words. Simple in their form, yet profound in their meaning. “Touch me?” That slight upward inflection at the end. Two words that actually meant, “I want you to finger me, but I won’t finger you in return. I don’t think I want you to lick me out….that's too much for right now….but….I want to be touched…down there.” 

Why? Maybe she thought it would be safer than with one of the guys on the staff who may not understand the word “stop” or who may pressure her into doing more than she wanted. Maybe she knew she could ‘return the favour’ so-to-speak. She might well have known how cruel it is to get a guy horny and not follow through with some form of relief. I don’t know. All I do know is that she wanted my hand…my fingers. 

And so, we returned to our gentle kissing. No urgency. No deep passion. Certainly no dirty talk. I gently worked her dress up the side of her thigh using my fingers one after another as if I was playing the organ. Soon enough I felt bare skin under my fingers. Even so. Look, Anna. Listen. Look and listen for even the slightest sign of tenseness. It wasn’t there, so slowly I eased my hand across her thigh to her panties. Why, I wonder, since I had never seen them, did I absolutely know they were plain, white cotton undies….like the sort I wear? I ran a finger slowly down the leg elastic, moving backwards and forwards, each forward stroke getting closer and closer to my goal. Still no warning sings. If anything, her kissing was getting more pronounced.  She was most definitely in charge here, even though I was the experienced one, which was exactly how it should be.

Soon, I was cupping her crotch. I felt her heat, and her dampness too. She was undoubtedly really aroused. Moving up now, I sought her waistband, again, indicating my intent, but also communicating that she could stop me if she wished. Her arms tightened around me and one moved down to my bum. Well, then. Ok to proceed. 

Millimetre by millimetre I eased my fingers down her firm, flat tummy until I came  to where her pubic hair should have begun. There was nothing except the tiniest amount of stubble. I knew instantly that, right now at least, she shaves but purely for hygiene reasons. She doesn’t like sticky pubes. (Who does?) I knew this was not done for reasons of sexual fantasy or role play, merely practicality….at least for now.

Further down until a sharp intake of breath told me I had found her clit, and lower still, her vulva and holy cow, this girl was a mess down there. More slippery than even me after a good squirt. I actually wondered if the anticipation alone had made her cum already. 

The next issue was whether to finger her or not….in other words, was her hymen still there? A brief exploration revealed that at least I didn’t have to worry about hurting her. One finger slipped inside her and she moaned. I took the opportunity to remind her that we were alone, miles from anyone else and she needn’t be quiet. If anything, any noise she made might come from me! I found her g-spot and began stimulating it with the heel of my hand on her clit. 

As I said, there was nothing except vulgarity. Just the occasional “faster” or “firmer on my clit.” Before I had really got going, she broke a kiss to whisper, “I’m gonna cum.” In a series of loud moans, and contractions around my finger, I felt two things. One was her cumming, long, hard and gloriously loudly. The second was a flood of girl cum. It soaked my hand and overran into the crotch of her panties. 

I held her until her orgasm subsided and then, bless her, she said, “Er…what can I do for you?” If ever a statement was made out of politeness rather than desire, this was it. Oh, I’m not saying that if we did this again we wouldn’t have gone further or been more mutual about things, but every instinct told me that now wasn’t the time. I have no doubt that if I had asked her, she would have fingered me off too. I equally have no doubt that had I asked her to do that, it might well have put her off further experimentation, so, I politely declined. 

As she reached the door, she stopped and turned round. “There must be something….” Miss Brain joined the party. “Well, you really don’t have to do anything at all. It was a privilege to do that for you in and of itself…..but….if you felt like it, you could leave your panties with me.”

“My panties?”

“Yes. Your panties. We both know how wet you are, and I suspect you’re going to change right now. Leave the wet ones here, with me.”

“Why?” Oh…one word….such wide-eyed desire to hear the answer. 

“Because I’d very much like to lie here, on that bed, and masturbate while licking your cum off your panties.” 

She reached up her dress and pulled her panties down and off. It was like watching a girl in the locker room at school, she gave them to me and once more went for the door. Pausing there she turned and said, “Thank you. I really wanted that.” Yes, I knew she did…and more besides.

Well, of course I did. I had two delightful orgasms inhaling her and allowing my nose to dissect the various scents. Then I put them on and wore them for the rest of the evening. I saw Clara again from time to time during the evening, and when it was finally over, (I had received four offers to do business, and an invitation to bed from one of the execs) I said goodbye to a very tranquil-looking Clara. 

My nose told me before even my brain suspected it. I shook her hand, palming her my card as I did so and glanced down at her tummy. My unspoken question being are you wearing panties? Her grin and, “No, I’m not,” was payment enough. 

I wonder if she’ll call?