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My heart was thumping as I left the hotel. I walked
up the road, turned left into the high street, headed for the newsagent's
at the far end of town.
I was seventeen, and on holiday with my parents. How uncool can you get?
It was as though my entire life had been leading up to this point. I was
alone, and I was going to buy my first porno mag. I had feigned illness
that morning to avoid going on the bus tour, and my parents had left the
hotel for the day.
You see, I had had a very strict upbringing. Mother had made it plain that
pornoraphy was bad, and that sex was something married people did to each
other in private, but what it actually entailed, you didn't find out until
you were married yourself. Consequently I had developed into a very shy
seventeen year old who had had next to no physical contact with the
opposite sex. (In fact, the nearest I had come to actual physical contact
with a girl was having my backside felt during a "which sixth-former has
the squeeziest ass" competition between the girls.) My misery was
compounded by the fact that I was overweight. Mother said it was puppy
fat, but my contemporaries teased and jibed mercilessly.
My sex life (such as it was) was limited to my imagination and my
black-and-white portable television in my bedroom. I would spend night
after night surfing the various channels in the pursuit of female nudity.
Each glimpse of breast or uncovered buttock was carefully stored away in
my memory, and a fleeting glimpse of pubic hair was enough to send me into
rapture.
I had never seen any live female flesh save for my mother (and I wasn't
that kind of seventeen year old), and an actual porno film was like
Halley's comet - you know it's out there, but you don't expect you'll ever
see it. I'd recently come across a few tattered remnants of an old porno
mag on the school playing field, and, having secreted them away in the
lining of my coat, took them home and pored over them for many nights.
I would never have dreamt of buying one for myself at home ( - my mother
might find out, and the risk just simply wasn't worth it, believe me), and
I had resolved that on holiday I would, by some means or other, get my
hands on a porno mag of my own.
So there I was in the newsagents, doing the four-eyed-cross-eyed shuffle -
trying to see the porno mags out of the corner of one eye whilst
pretending to look at the car mags with another, and keeping one eye on
the door and one on the counter. Judging the moment to perfection, I made
a desperate grab
and made for the counter with my purchase. My heart was definitely making
an escape attempt. It was hammering so hard against my chest, that I was
convinced it would break free with the next beat. It didn't, and the man
behind the counter hardly took his eyes off the picture on the portable TV
he was watching as he took my money. I hurriedly concealed the magazine in
my coat, and hurried back to the hotel, convinced my mother must surely
somehow on my tail.
Once back in the hotel, I started to relax somewhat, no longer convinced I
was about to be arrested or grounded for eternity, though my excitement
was building. I was shortly to experience pornagraphy first hand (if
you'll pardon the pun), and I practically floated up the narrow stairs to
my small room at the rear of the hotel.
Once inside my room, I divested myself of my coat and collapsed onto my
small bed. My heart was now back up to jackhammer pace as I picked up the
magazine and started to drink in the contents. So many breasts! I never
imagined there could be such diversity. Large ones; small ones; ones with
small nipples; ones with large nipples; upturned ones; saggy ones. And all
these beautiful women were naked for me! And real life, actual cunts! Some
had shaved their pubic hair off completely, and their labia were visible.
I'd only just begun, but I was in heaven.
At this point, I undid my trousers and slid them down to my knees to give
some relief to my stiff, aching prick, which was harder than I had ever
felt it, and poking through the fly of my shorts with yearning, demanding
to be caressed, to be teased, and to be jolly well wanked. I curled my
clammy fist around my straining pipe, and began to joyously masturbate. I
was lost in my own little world, and that's perhaps why I didn't hear the
discreet knock on the door that preceeded its opening.
Horror-struck, and convinced my mother was about to discover me in
flagrante masturbatio, I frantically tried to make myself invisible, cover
my embarrassment and die, all at the same time. None worked, and I was
mentally preparing to meet my doom when I realised that the head poking
round the door did not belong to my mother, but to the hotel manageress.
There was a split second of silence as we looked into one another's eyes
before we spoke.
"Oh!..I...umm...er..." I began "Oh, excuse me!" she said. "I was coming to
clean the room. I didn't realise you were......". She tailed off,
realising what I'd been doing. She looked from my face down to my cock, to
my jazz mag and back to my face. "you were....busy."
It's funny, but I had often imagined a similar scenario when wanking -
that of being discovered whilst in the act of masturbation, and I had
always found it a big turn on. The reality appeared to be somewhat
different. My cock appeared to be succeding where I had failed - making
itself invisible. My fright and embarrassment had contrived to cool my
ardour, you might say.
I was wishing she would go away so I could just kill myself, when she
stepped into the room, shut the door behind her and spoke again.
"You know, it's such a shame to waste yourself like this. I could show you
a much better way to pass the time". And without further ado, she turned
to face me and with infinite slowness began to unbutton the front of her
blouse. I watched transfixed as her black lacy bra was revealed to me with
its globes of delight.
I have to say I hadn't taken much notice of her during my stay at the
hotel up to that point. I had been aware of her, but she would have been,
I suppose, about thirty, which to me at that time was quite old. However,
I was rapidly beginning to change my perception of her, and to look at her
in a new light.
Her hair, which hung down to just below shoulder height was black. I mean
jet black. Her skin, more of which was being revealed to my incredulous
gaze each moment was pale, almost white. Her breasts, still in their lace
confinement were full, and swayed very gently as she moved. Her waist was
slender without being thin, and her hips, clad in blue denim were
delightfully flared. She removed her blouse from the waistband of her
jeans and began to unbutton the jeans, revealing to me a pair of matching
briefs. She pushed the denim down her thighs, and stood before me, a
vision in black lace.
"Well, are you going to stay down there, or shall we make you a little
more comfortable?" she said. I sprang from the bed, preceeded by my
re-tumescent organ, which now felt long enough to pole vault with, and
hard enough to cut diamonds. I stood before her, still unsure how to
proceed. Sensing my naivety, she began divesting me of my clothes. I
stepped out of my jeans and shorts, and my shirt joined them on the floor.
Taking my trembling left hand,
she placed it on her right breast, and oh joy! . For the first time, I was
feeling female flesh! I watched as if from outside my body as my right
hand met and moulded to the shape of her left breast through the lacy bra.
I slowly massaged her bosoms, enjoying their firmness, yet somehow feeling
unreal, worrying that I might wake up at any moment.
She turned around without speaking, and presented me with the fastener to
her bra. After a momentary fumble, I released it, and eased her bra straps
down off her shoulders. The garment slid to the floor. She turned back to
me, her breasts swaying gently from side to side with the motion. I stood
staring at them, transfixed. In fact I would probably have remained like
that for ever, had she not taken my trembling hands and placed them on her
hips at the waistband of her panties.
Coming back to the present, I took her gentle hint and slowly rolled the
panties off her hips until they joined the rest of our clothes on the
carpet.
She stood before me naked. Naked for me! This couldn't be true. Surely I'd
wake up at any moment.
My eyes were now drawn to the thicket of her jet black pubic hair.
Incredulously I moved my hand towards it, convinced that she must be a
mirage, that my hand would go right through her, but it didn't. She must
have wanted things to speed up a little, as she encircled my wrist with
her arm and placed my hand right between her legs, so that I could feel
the warmth there. I could also smell what I now know was the fruits of her
arousal.
Meanwhile, she took hold of my throbbing erection, rubbing my foreskin
back and forth over its cherry tip. Her palm opened and then shut over the
full girth, and she began to slowly pump me. She hadn't given above a
dozen strokes when my orgasm was upon me, as if from nowhere. I had
precious little warning, and as I started to say "hey! hang on!" my first
globule of semen splashed onto her belly, followed by several more, making
a pattern on her midriff and thighs. A cum-collage, you might say. I
bucked at the knees as she milked the last few drops from my penis.
I expected her to be angry, or at the very least disappointed that I'd cum
so quickly, and I didn't dare look her in the eye, for fear of seeing her
disproval painted there. But she simply said "never mind. It'll make it
better next time", and with that knelt before me, and with both hands
cupped my genitals. One hand gently kneaded and massaged my balls, while
the other took hold of my penis and delivered it into her mouth. Reason
tottered on its throne, then fell off. My first hand job, immediately
followed by my first blow job!
My penis fitted completely in her mouth at first, though under her tender
ministrations it swiftly began to swell and enlarge once more, at which
point she stopped what she was doing, lay down on the bed, looked me in
the eye and said "now, fuck me please".
My earlier hesitancy was more or less a distant memory as I joined her on
the cramped single bed. I began to suck greedily on her pink nipples,
which responded by tightening and lengthening within my mouth. She once
more was slowly wanking me, but with my recent ejaculation, the danger of
a repeat performance of prem-ejac was not so great. Presently she nudged
me into a position so that I lay on top of her, my penis jammed between
our bellies. After a few fumbling attempts on my part to reach her cunt,
she helped me our, taking my glans in her fingers and placing me at the
head of her tunnel.
She was very well-lubricated, and I more or less slipped inside her. My
rapture was almost complete. Here I was actually fucking someone other
than my teddy bear! Instinct more or less took over, I suppose, because
within seconds I was pumping in and out of her like a veteran (or so I
supposed). Soon I recognised the signs that I was about to cum again, and
told her so. "Go on, enjoy it" she said, so I did. I increased my pace to
warp factor 9 and within seconds was at my peak again, jamming my spurting
penis deep into her vagina.
Utterly spent, I now slumped against her, and tried to utter my thanks.
All that came out was a stream of garbage about my mother and god knows
what else. I think she sensed my jumbled up feelings, because she simply
said "that was lovely. Thank you. We won't say a word of this to anyone,
and it won't happen again." With this, she swiftly put on her bra, blouse
and jeans and was gone.
I hardly saw her again, and three days later it was time to leave, the end
of our holiday. Nothing was said between us, nor did it really need to be.
I do feel a little guilty that I never officially thanked her for what she
did for me. She'll never know how much she actually did for me on that
rainy afternoon in an English hotel room.
She left her knickert behind - did I tell you that? I don't know whether
that was intentional on her part, but I chose to believe that. I still
have them today, 10 years on. Even now just looking at them turns me on a
little, and all I have to do is close my eyes, and I can see her
beautiful, mature body. Naked. For me. |
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