Author’s note: “inspired by” and “based on” are applied to fiction. This is Fiction, meant to be read with a willing suspension of disbelief. Comments and votes are the way I know if I am pleasing you, the reader. Thanks..
So it’s zero-two-hundred (I know… 2am, okay?), my laundry is running in the hotel machines conveniently located near the pool, there isn’t a person in sight and I’m relaxing in the Jacuzzi. Sans suit. I figured what the hell? Nobody’s around.
Anyway, I’m off in the ether, somewhere a little left of Nirvana, and I hear “excuse me, dude. You don’t mind if we join you, do you?” That guy’s voice is enough to bring me crashing back to the here-and-now. The girl’s voice following his, saying “oh, cool! A no suit zone!” drove my adrenaline through the roof. I froze and opened my eyes.
Two college kids, the guy holding a bottle of Bacardi mojito premix and the girl getting out of her suit. Part of the swim team that had descended on the hotel earlier in the day. Apparently a Winter Break tradition that was going to totally upend my serene retreat from the chaos of the consulting gig I was doing.
They didn’t wait for an answer. The girl finished getting out of her suit, flashed me a big smile, among other things, and eased into the hot water. The guy handed her the bottle and stepped out of his trunks, then he, too, got in.
To say I was frozen with indecision would have been putting it kindly. The bubbles from the jets might do a decent job of obscuring my nethers for awhile, but eventually I was going to have to get out and go change my laundry over into the dryer. And my suit was on the patio table, about ten feet away.
That’s when four more of their friends showed up with another bottle, two hetero couples. The girl that had first showed up decided to announce that the Jacuzzi was a suit-free zone. The new couples had no problem stripping off and joining us in the water. There were now seven in a Jacuzzi designed for eight, twelve if you were really good friends.
So of course, seven more had to show up, two guys, five girls. And it got rather tight. Tight enough that some of the girls started sitting on their boyfriends’ laps. At least, I presumed they were girlfriend-boyfriend from the familiarity. What blew me away was when one of the “solo” girls sitting next to me, a shapely, athletic chick with short red hair streaked with blonde, turned to me and asked, “do you mind?”
She didn’t wait for an answer. She just eased up into my lap, sorta half-sideways, and told me “thanks! Want a drink?”
Right about then, I needed one. Several, in fact. Enough to inhibit the erection that was about to make its presence felt.
One of the problems with being geographically single a lot of the time, because of travel for work, was not getting laid much, married or not. My wife and I had an arrangement we called semi-permeable monogamy. Partially, it came about because of my travel, but not for the reasons you’d think.
I was okay with masturbating to relieve stress on the road and having sex with my wife – a lot when I was home. It wasn’t my preference, but I would do whatever it took to keep her happy. She was the one that pointed out that masturbating was lonely and wondered about opening our marriage up to include select friends.
When I thought about it, it went a long way to alleviating the guilt I felt over not taking care of her needs. So I agreed. She pointed out that if I picked up someone on the road, I’d have to be really careful, because it wouldn’t be like a friend we’d known for a long time.
I agreed with that, too, although I didn’t think there’d be much reason to worry about it, because my work schedule and basic shyness didn’t leave much room for socializing. And now I had a very attractive young woman sitting naked on my also naked lap and a cock that didn’t have the good sense to stay soft. Unfortunately, I’m built healthy enough there was no way she was going to miss it.
Believe me, she didn’t miss it. She felt me getting hard and very surreptitiously reached down to play with me, all the while chatting with her friends. When she had me rock hard – it didn’t take long – she “adjusted” herself to slide me into her very hot, very lubed pussy. The bubbles were hiding what she was doing and the banter with her girlfriends helped distract them.
I, on the other hand, was focused on about an 8″ part of my body if you didn’t include the balls. My brain was starting to resemble those fried eggs in the anti-drug commercials. I had never, ever, had a woman be that aggressive with me. I literally had no idea what to do except sit there, try to keep a straight face and let her ride me.
I noticed some of the other girls who were sitting on guys’ laps had started rocking slightly, which was effectively keeping the guys out of the conversation – glazed looks, heads laid back… a novel take on a hen party. The one on my lap started aliağa escort doing the same and I had the sudden realization of what the other couples were doing. And why the guys looked the way they did.
Now the thing about heavily chlorinated water is it effectively strips away a woman’s natural lubrication, so you can only do that kind of screwing around for a little while. This girl apparently knew that because she was all the way down on me and just rocking, not stroking.
Let’s see… college swim team… probably had more time fucking in pools in her young life than I had in all of mine. She turned where she was sitting, smiled again and said, “by the way, I’m Jodie. Room 513. I’m sharing with Liz, there.” She pointed in the direction of the girl who had first shown up and decided it was a suit-free zone.
“James,” I told her, holding out my hand. She took it and shook hands with a laugh, which made sense since I was then balls-deep in her. “710. And you’re going to be very sore, very soon.” She laughed again.
“I know,” she smiled. “Partly from the water, and partly… Jesus, you’re big!” My turn to chuckle.
“You’re welcome,” I told her. “And I need to go deal with my laundry.” I had figured out that the only way I was going to get out of the situation with any shred of self-respect was to brazen it out. Jodie eased off of me and I thought, well… here’s to it… what the hell…
I stood up and told the group, “sorry, folk… gotta finish my laundry.” And I climbed out of the water with my bobbing flagpole leading the way to my suit. My walk was accompanied by various whistles and catcalls, but a couple of them stood out, notably a Whoof! and an Oh, yeah! from a couple of the girls, and a Not bad, old man! from one of the guys.
I got my suit and towel, waved farewell to the party and particularly Jodie, then headed to the laundry room. I opted not to go back to the Jacuzzi, but did swim some laps before hauling myself and my laundry back to the room.
* * * * *
Work was double-S/double-D. Same shit, different day. Installing, configuring and testing mainframe security software. I had a routine worked out, though, to my advantage. The client always had meetings in the morning, so I didn’t go in until noon. That gave me time to catch some rays poolside. Then I’d work with the client team until they all left at seventeen-hundred. Once they were gone, I could get some real work done, until twenty-hundred or so.
Then back to the hotel, grab dinner and swim until I was tired enough to sack out. I was getting a nice tan and losing some weight in the process. I even had it down to where I could call the hotel restaurant when I was leaving work and tell them what I wanted, and they’d have it waiting for me when I got there.
When I swung through the bistro to get my order, I noticed Jodie sitting at the bar, nursing a mojito and chatting with Gus, the bartender. Gus was pretty careful about ID’s, so it was a good bet she was over 21. Nice to know.
“Hey, Mr. Ford!” he called to me before I even got a chance to open my mouth. “Yasmin’s got your order ready at the hostess station.”
“Thanks, Gus,” I told him, then turned to Jodie. “Hi, again,” I greeted her with a smile. “You old enough to drink that?”
“That’s funny,” she answered, digging in her purse. “He asked me the same thing.” She handed me her driver’s license. “Twenty-two tomorrow.”
I took it and looked at it, and it looked legit. But I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to jerk Gus’ chain. “That’s a damned good forgery,” I told her as I handed it back.
“That’s what???” Gus damn near came over the bar. He knew some of my history, and that I had experience from the “old days” with fake IDs, and he took my opinions seriously. It made it that much easier to reel him in. Jodie was frowning, too, getting ready to launch a protest.
“Take it easy, guys,” I told them. “Just messin’ with Gus. She’s legal.”
“For that, mi amigo, no free booze tonight!” Gus scolded me.
“That’s okay, Gus,” I smiled. “The look on your face was worth it. Besides, you know I don’t swim drunk.”
“So you’re going swimming tonight?” Jodie popped up.
“Probably,” I told her. “Right now I’m going to get my dinner, take it to my room and relax for awhile. Maybe later I’ll get some laps in. Rumor has it, though, that it might not be so safe… that there’s a band of voracious, sex-crazed water creatures lurking around. Best not to be out and about when they’re on the prowl.”
“That’s too bad, Mr. James Ford,” she smiled. “You shouldn’t let a bunch of silly monsters interfere with your regular exercise. But if you need a bodyguard…”
I leaned down near her and asked, sotto voce, “how do I know that you are not one of them?”
“You don’t…” she whispered, then pulled me into a quick kiss. On the lips. Quick, yes, but still on the lips. I obviously looked surprised izmir rus escort as I stood up. Gus was smirking..
“I think I’d better go get my dinner…” I temporized. “See you around.” I beat a hasty retreat to the hostess’ station, collected my food and headed for my room. I had a phone call to make.
* * * * *
“I’m serious,” I told my wife. “It was 2am, I was alone and then all of a sudden, I wasn’t. This Jodie girl is the one that impaled herself on me. I didn’t start anything. And now I think she’s angling for a repeat performance. Per our agreement, I’m checking with you before I let anything get out of hand again. You say ‘no’ and I’ll avoid her like the plague.”
I had gone to my room and called home after dinner. I’d already semi-blown our agreement, even though I wasn’t the aggressor. It was a grey-area kind of thing. So I wanted to check.
“Is she cute?” my wife wanted to know.
“Yeah, pretty much,” I admitted. “Athletic. A swimmer, you know? Do you need a picture?”
“It would be nice,” she told me. “But not necessary. Is she bi?”
“Who knows?” I answered. “Aren’t all kids these days?” I heard the chuckle at the other end.
“If you do her,” she told me, “remember, no pregnancies, no diseases. Who knows who’s been into a college cunt.”
“Roger that,” I told her. “I think I was the latest.” Again, a chuckle at the other end.
“Bets, are you laughing at me?” I didn’t like the idea of being laughed at.
“No, delighting in you scoring a college kid,” she told me. “When was the last time you got laid?”
“Three weeks ago, with you, when I was home for the long weekend. Not counting getting sheathed for a few minutes by a girl in a jacuzzi.”
“Then don’t you think you’re about due?” she asked.
“Bets, she’s half my age! She’s only a couple of years older than Sarah…”
“And your point is…?” Sometimes my wife can be irritating. Like now, when I didn’t want her to leave the decision in my lap. The lap that was going to vote with the hormones.
“Honey, just do what you want to do and don’t do what you don’t want to do,” she went on. “Just send pictures… castles, rain forest, baby pussy… I like a variety of things. And if one of those male swimmers is hung and bi, send pics of him, too…”
“Okay,” I sighed in resignation. “What’s gonna happen is gonna happen. When this gig is done, though, you and I should take a cruise or something.”
“I like the way you think, Mister.” I could hear the smile. “Maybe that’s why I married you.”
“I love you, too. I’m going to finish dinner, relax a bit then do some laps. It’s your fault if I’m seduced by a Naiad.”
She was laughing when she told me, “Goodnight, luv” and hung up.
* * * * *
It got to be about 2230 hours… okay, 10:30pm… and I figured most of the sensible people would be in their rooms and I’d have the pool pretty much to myself. Nobody ever said college kids were sensible.
I got down to the pool to find most of the kids from last night in the pool, this time with suits on. Including Jodie, who waved and called out to me, “Hi, Mr. James Ford!”
“Hello, Ms. Jodie Brandt,” I greeted her as I eased into the water. I eyed the kids playing some kind of cross between water polo and keep-away. “Am I going to be able to get a lane?”
She didn’t answer me. Instead, she turned to her friends and yelled, “Yo! People! Keep it over there! Serious laps going on here!” Unconventional, but it had the desired effect.
“There you go,” she turned and smiled at me. “May I join you?”
“Sweetheart, there is no way I’m going to keep up with you,” I told her. “You’ll drown waiting for me to catch up.” She laughed and it did sound nice.
“What do you swim?” she asked. I presumed she meant what style.
“These days it’s just breaststroke,” I told her. “Nothing fancy. Twenty-five to thirty laps in a pool this size. Just minor exercise to relax before heading to bed. What do you swim?”
“One hundred and two hundred breaststroke and butterfly. And two hundred and four hundred medley relay, if they need me.”
I stared at her. She was way too proportional to have that kind of power in her arms.
“Would you excuse a familiarity?” I asked.
“Sure,” she shrugged. “You’ve already been in my pussy.”
I ignored the comment and reached over to feel her bicep, tricep and deltoid muscles. She may have looked soft on the outside, but she was a rock inside. I withdrew my hand and muttered “wow…”
She smiled, grabbed my wrist, pulled up her top and put my hand on her breast.
“You may as well check out the pectorals, too,” she told me.
What I was feeling was a very turgid nipple in the palm of my hand. And a nice, squishy tit behind it. She let go of my hand and I retrieved it.
“Impressive,” I told her.
“Shall we swim?” she asked. “You set the pace.”
I figured what the hell? and took izmir escort off at my normal, unhurried pace. She stayed right with me. I stopped after twenty laps.
“I’m not sure I want to push it any more, tonight,” I told her. “Thanks for the company.”
“You’re welcome,” she smiled again, then spread her arms. “Do you mind?” I figured she meant a hug and stepped in.
She meant a kiss. A kiss I was drawn into without realizing it, and then didn’t want to break. Damn, she tasted and felt wonderful!
It may have only been fifteen seconds, thirty max, but it felt like hours. And I started to respond, pressed up against her. Enough that she noticed and ground into me a little. And had a wicked little smile when we broke it.
“Later,” she told me as she reached below the water and gave my “package” a squeeze. “We don’t want to tire you out too much.” Then she laughed and sculled back a bit.
“Have a great night, Mr. James Ford…”
“The same to you, Ms. Jodie Brandt,” I told her, then climbed out of the pool, grabbed my towel and headed for my room.
I had a rather restless night. Dreams about a college girl with blonde-streaked red hair and an awesome body kept waking me up.
* * * * *
The next day was relatively quiet. I guess the swim team was off doing whatever training or competition they were there for. I had the pool mostly to myself for sunning and the few families with kids were no bother. I lazied for awhile, grabbed a bite and headed into work. SSDD… again.
I called the hotel and put in my order per usual, and headed on back. When I got there, there was no sign of Jodie, which was kind of too bad because I wanted to buy her a birthday drink. There was also no sign of my food. When I asked Yasmin what happened, she told me they’d gotten slammed and it was still being put together. She said she’d have it brought up to my room when it was ready.
I thanked her and headed for my room.
I’d set up my laptop and changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt when there was a knock at my door and a muffled “room service” – so I went and did my usual look-out-the-peephole… and just about shit.
My dinner was there, alright. So was a large bottle that looked like champagne. And both were being held by Jodie. Naked. I opened the door.
“What the hell?” was my less than elegant response to her standing there, smiling at me.
“I brought up your dinner,” she beamed. “And a beverage…” She lifted the bottle. “And dessert…” She did a kind of flare meant to display her body and thrust her tits at me.
“Geez, girl! Would you get out of the hallway?!?!” It was the best I could do on short notice.
“Thank you!” she said as she brushed by me. She took a look around the room and walked over to the dresser, putting the food and bottle down.
“Sweet…” she commented.
“That would be ‘suite’,” I told her. “As in, this isn’t. It’s the businessman special, bedroom and bath. No kitchen, so I make do with a microwave and a mini-fridge. And why are you naked?”
“To seduce you,” she answered simply. “So this is how the jet-setters live? Gus told me you’re some kind of globe-trotting security guy.”
“No, this is how the guy on a long-term gig lives when the client has a preferred rate at this hotel,” I informed her. “It’s comfortable. Serviceable. Seduce me?”
“Yeah. I like how you feel. I figure you’re my birthday present to me. Aren’t you interested?”
“I’m very interested,” I admitted. “I’m just not used to being the fresh meat for the lioness. And what makes you think you could seduce a married man? I am married, you know.”
“I know,” she smiled. “You don’t make a secret of your ring. I also know you have a very strong libido, and according to my sources, you are ‘geographically single’ and have an arrangement with your wife.”
“Remind me to wring Gus’ neck,” I told her. “Right after I remind him of the Barman’s Confidentiality Creed.” I was going to have to have a serious talk with that man. She just smiled, walked over to the bed and sat down.
“At least you don’t have to share a room with a Murphy Bed and a chick that snores like a Kenworth starting up.” She bounced a little on the bed. “How would you like me?” she teased.
“Disease-free and not pregnant,” I told her. “Before, during and after.” The smile disappeared.
“That’s a good point,” she nodded. “I’m disease-free and not pregnant, but how to prove it. I’d have to run across the street to the supermarket and get a pregnancy test kit and let you watch me take it. For the STD’s, I gave blood three weeks ago and I have the receipt for it in my purse. They screen all donations. Since then I’ve only had sex with two friends – one guy, one girl – and they both gave blood at the same time I did.”
“I suppose I could call them and ask them to bring their receipts. And their sexual histories since the tests. As for not getting pregnant, I’ve got an IUD. You can feel the string with your finger, if you want. For disease prevention, there’s condoms… but I’m not a big fan of them. I don’t have any. I’d have to pick some up when I went to get the EPT.”
“Okay, that’s pretty well thought out,” I acknowledged. “Let’s say I trust you. What about me?”