New Year's Kiss

Some of the best times in life are completely spontaneous. There really is no way to plan for these moments or anticipate them. What you can do, though, is make yourself open and ready.

Through a completely unexpected set of circumstances, during the Christmas season a few years ago, I found myself alone in Frankfurt, Germany. A co-worker took pity on me and joined me at my hotel, along with his wife, for a party on New Year’s Eve. 

The party in question happens to be one of the largest in the city in one of the best hotel ballrooms with some of the most notable guests. But I felt completely alone. With all the music and the noise of the crowd, having a conversation was impossible. At some point I realized that I just wasn’t up to faking joviality and no amount of champagne was going to make a difference. Before midnight, I excused myself, telling the couple I was with that I was leaving and wishing them a happy New Year.

I wandered the hallways and the lobby of the hotel, which were mostly empty, and then took the elevator to the spa floor. To my surprise, it was open. Even better, I was the only one in the locker room when I went in. I went through to the pool area and walked around in its quiet emptiness, the water smooth and still. There was a row of windows high on one wall and I could see people walking by on the sidewalk at the street level above. I had to have a swim.

I quickly washed my face to remove as much makeup as possible, undressed in the locker room, wrapped myself in a large, warm spa towel, then returned to the pool. It wasn’t my first time in the spa and I knew from previous visits that nearly everyone went completely nude while swimming or enjoying the sauna. 

It was considered good etiquette to cover up with a towel when walking to and from other areas, but otherwise clothing free was the norm with respectful distancing and absolute politeness to others in the spa. That usually translated into few, if any, social interactions with strangers. I knew if anyone came in while I swam, we’d probably just give each other plenty of space and not talk, which was fine with me.

Getting into the warm water of the pool felt completely freeing. I love doing breast stroke when naked like this and feeling the play of the water on me as my legs part and return together…open, closed, open…yum! Then stopping to stand, I could see people on the street through the unbroken wall of windows just seven or eight feet above me as they walked by, fully clothed with jackets and long coats as they hurried along in the cold.

Some glanced in and noticed me, but no one stopped or stared at me. I was alone. 

After about twenty minutes, I decided to go into the sauna for a nice New Year’s treat to myself. Another woman came into the pool area just as I was covering up with my towel. Without ceremony, she neatly place her towel on a lounge chair and entered the pool nude just as I had done. With just a quick glance and exchange of polite smiles, I had noticed her age, that she was maybe a bit older than me, and a bit heavier than me, but fit enough.

I left for the sauna hoping that she would enjoy her swim as much as I had mine.

The sauna was large enough for twenty people and had three tiers of benches in a “U” shape facing the glass door. It was already at the right temperature and I had the whole space to myself. Luxury. I spread a towel on the lowest bench at one end along the back wall, rolled up a second towel to use as a pillow, and laid on my back, naked, closing my eyes and soaking in the heat.

A fine sheen of moisture covered my body and I rubbed my warm, wet stomach and breasts, my hands sliding with ease and making me aroused. I started to caress my thighs with thoughts of doing more. Then the door opened and the woman from the pool came in. She settled in on the bench above me, lying on her back with her head toward the other end and her legs near me.

She had probably noticed me rubbing my legs through the glass door before she came in. Thankfully, my fingers had not yet made it to where my thoughts were leading. Why was she here alone? She was close enough for me to reach up and caress her smooth thighs in the same way I caressed my own. Then, as if my hands were thinking for me, I found myself doing exactly that. She remained motionless. I rolled onto my side, the length of my body now facing her, so that I could reach both of her thighs. 

For what seemed like half an hour, but was really only a few minutes, I tended to her surprisingly firm thighs, never venturing too close to the finely trimmed patch of dark brown hair, the sensitive spots nearby, or the insides of her thighs. I heard an occasional sigh of pleasure, but not a word passed between us until I stood and said I needed a shower. She asked if she could come with me and my heart jumped inside me, the feeling of excitement spreading up from deep inside me. 

“Ja, of course,” I said answering partly in English, in case she didn’t already know that German was a second language to me.

We retreated to the shower area, a large tiled room with several shower heads distanced well apart. We shared a single shower head and took turns washing each other with soap, touching and caressing each other, not missing any part below our shoulders.

“Ich kann deine muschi beruehren,” she whispered.

“Ja, bitte, ja.” 

My heart was pounding. I wanted her to touch me, yes! We stood for a few moments masturbating each other, more like foreplay, really. Then we held each other and kissed. Our New Year’s gift to each other. A second kiss followed, this one much longer and deeper. We stood embracing each other, the warmth of the water blending with our own for a few joyous moments.

Then she asked if I could come to her room.

We turned the shower off, and went I went to dry off and dress. She simply threw on a robe and a pair of sandals, then I was alone again.

I took the elevator to her floor and walked past her room, not certain of myself, not sure she wanted more, either. I turned and walked by again, the door elegant, silent and indifferent, but the act of knocking on it so full of meaning. I returned and knocked twice, checking the room number she had written for me on a business card. 

No one answered. The moment had passed. We both understood its meaning.