I’m not one for staying in hotels,since they usually involve flying and I’d rather walk! Across oceans if necessary! But when I do stay in hotels, they are far from the hotbed (literally) of over-sexed room maids and room service porters that the porn industry seem to wish us to believe, but now and then…just now and then…..
It’s rare, I find, to encounter an English girl born and bred, in the hotel service industries. They seem to only want to employ young teenagers who will slave away for next to nothing, relying mainly on customer tips for money to send home. That makes me skin crawl. Show me a poor hotel chain.
But a month ago, I found myself in London, staying at a well-known hotel which had the expected flock of Eastern European girls tending rooms. Except mine. To my surprise, I had a girl born, she said, in London. She was, I admit, a sweet little thing, about my height, blonde hair, blue eyes, and clearly wanting sleep. She later l]told me her shifts can be 16 hours with a short break in the middle. “Not long enough to catch up on some decent sleep.” She said
Well, of course I fancied her. I was away from home, horny as fuck, and well, yes, I would. But I didn’t. Instead, I used Miss Brain, my eyes, and my hyper-nose to create some rather yummy masturbatory fantasies.
We got on very well, and she always seemed to want to chat if she had time. My room, I admit, she kept immaculately…
…until, that is, the morning of the third day. I ran a bath. Unusual for me since I prefer showers most of the time. Only when I relaxed in the gently bubbling water (it was one of those jacuzzi tubs) that I looked round and discovered no bathrobe and no towels either. So I buzzed for room service and said there were no towels.
But where to hide? I figured the disturbed waters of the tub were my best bet. I didn’t know who they’d send, but in the end it was my girl, Amy. She blustered in bright red in the face and full of apologies. “Oh my God! I’m so sorry. I got disturbed doing your room yesterday and I must have forgotten. She hung towels and two bathrobes, still muttering her mortified apologies. I told her not to worry. Actually, I was rather enjoying her seeing me naked…or rather, almost naked because of the bubbling jacuzzi…..which chose that precise moment to stop. (They’re on a timer in this place. I suppose it keeps the costs down.) The waters stilled and she caught me fair and square, knees spread and hand between my legs. She glanced, focused on my hand and said “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t realise you were….” Another of those awkward pauses. “Masturbating? Well, yes, I was….er….am. Do you mind if I…carry on.?”
She sat on the bath stool and shook her head. “I don’t get much time even for that. Too tired most of the time.” Then a thought obviously hit her. “Are you….umm that is….do you ….”
“Like girls? Yes. And boys. But don’t worry, I’m not trying to seduce you.” (Huh? What’s wrong with you, Anna?)
“I’ve thought about it sometimes. When I was a teenager, but, I guess it never happened.” Then she added hastily “I like guys, but…” I was starting to find her inability to complete a sentence a little irritating, but then her eyes hadn't left my crotch.
She watched for a few moments as I unashamedly fingered myself, and gave my right boob some attention too.
“What do you like most about sex with girls….and how did you start?”
Easy questions, easy answers. “The scent of a girl’s sex. I started by skipping PE at school so I could stay in the changing room as a so-called ‘punishment’” I told her the two nuns said I had to reflect on what I was missing. “While I was in there, remember I’d already seen the girls naked in the showers, so I chose girls I fancied, and found their panties and smelled them while I rubbed myself off. At the very beginning, I wasn’t 100% certain that, if the opportunity presented itself, that I could actually, you know, taste another girl, so I practiced on their panties. I found I loved it. I had so many orgasms with another girl’s panties to my face, licking her cum stains. I also loved it when I saw visible wet patches on other girls’ undies. Still do.”
“You look like you’re close to cumming.”
“Yeah, I am I think.”
“So, if I did this?” She just opened her legs. Just that, nothing more. And there it was, a lovely moist spot, easily visible. I came long and hard.
And that was that. She left to get on with her day, and I with mine. I figured if she had wanted more, she would have intimated as such.
A day later, and I hadn’t seen her again. But there was no little chocolate on my pillow, just a paper napkin with a small arrow on it. Under the pillow a note….and those same panties.
“I was in a real mess when I left you. I felt myself leaking for the rest of the morning until my break. Then I legged it to my room and wanked off in my panties thinking about watching you. I thought you might enjoy these. Xx”
And so I did….everything from smelling and licking her to wearing hem to dinner that night. I never saw her again unfortunately. I find myself wishing I had. I believe she was just on the cusp of finding out whether she has feelings for girls or not. She would have found, in me, the perfect sounding board, one who would happily show her everything she could possibly imagine and more, or one who would let her so]top at any point and not make her feel bad about it.
Maybe I’ll see her again.
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