At last, freedom. What a day, so glad its over and I can finally relax. I open the hotel room window, throw myself on the bed and open my legs to the gentle breeze now softly blowing into my room. All that sitting has made my crotch quite hot and, probably, a tad sweaty. And tingly. Its that old feeling again. The one that says ‘Go on, touch me. Have a stroke, just a little one, just for a minute’. It always happens when I’ve been sitting too long then walking. The friction of my thighs rubbing slightly damp panties always sends that little buzz through my groin. I’ve been known to find a cubicle in the Ladies before now for a quick ‘Rub’ and silent orgasm when the feeling becomes overwhelming. As it feels now. The cool air blowing under my dress, my legs open wide, send thoughts of lust through my synapses. Thoughts of desire mixed with despair. Remembering how things used to be and knowing that those days of abandon are pretty much over.
The breeze gently massages my cooling groin, my hand has slipped down to my mound during my reflections of the past. The familiar pattern of soft, gentle stroking reprises and those voices still egg me on. My fingers move between my open legs and begin a soft stroke from my vulva to the top of my cleft, lingering on the little button that is slowly growing and back. Over and over. Soft fingertip strokes, the material of my panties my shield and protector. I feel the dampness return, my bud swelling with anticipation, my legs straining to open wider. My mind wanders to past lovemaking, the touch of a man’s fingers and mouth. The warmth of his breath as he leans to kiss me as he touches me softly. I make slow circular movements with one finger over my now swollen clitoris, round and round, ever teasing, ever pleasing. The dampness has now grown to something far wetter, my juices flowing freely, the sign that I am ready. Ready for the feel of a mans hardness gradually enter my lubricated chasm, stretching and filling me. The head of my clit has popped out of its protective foreskin and is throbbing to my touch, shockwaves of pleasure shooting inside my lower belly with each touch. Ohmygod, my legs clench around my fingers as a blast of warm juice squirts from me and into my gusset, my back arches as a tsunami of pleasure and lust rockets through my abdomen as I orgasm. Not the subdued ‘quicky’ type but a flood of spasms that rock my entire body, flashes spark through my brain as ripple after ripple, becoming wave after wave of wanton relief. I relax. Slowly my body dissolves back to ‘normality’, my breath regaining its control. I lift my fingers to my nose, then to my lips. I don’t know why I do that, but I enjoy the scent and taste of what Eamon used to enjoy. My knickers are sopping, my groin a mess of my fluids, my pubic hair matted and taangled. I’ll shower in a minute, I’ll just lie here for a while savouring this moment, the breeze once again cooling my pussy.
My phone rings. I must have dozed.
‘Hi Paula, we’re all having a drink. Come along, have some fun’.
I quite fancy a drink but shower, dress, make-up, can I be bothered??
‘Hi Sue, think I’ll give it a miss. I’m pooped after today. You youngsters have some fun. Thanks for asking’.
But I really fancy a glass of wine but not noise and commotion. I could pop down to the snug area and just have a quickie. Relax, do some people watching, sip my wine slowly. No need to change. I might change my knickers though. They’re a bit ‘claggy’ with my orgasm juices and the odours from a long days wearing. No, sod it, I’ll be on my own. No-one will know.
I buy my wine and find a nice quiet seat in the corner. Its a good position. I have full view of anyone coming and going. I look around. Not many people here. All pretty ordinary folk, tbh, nothing of any real interest. So, my mind wanders to things more interesting. My groin is still buzzing slightly from my previous ministrations and that infernal tingle still evident. That familiar warm glow returns. I’ll finish this, go back to my room and have some more self love before a shower and bed. I should have brought my ‘womaniser’ with me but I can easily manage without.
Thats settled then.
Whats this? A geeky looking guy has just literally stumbled into the bar. Is he pissed? Stands at the bar, straightening himself, orders a drink then goes through a compendium of motions. Tapping pockets, reaching into his jacket, looking under his armpits until he finds, presumably, his wallet. Very agitated. I grin, this could be some entertainment after all. The noise of a phone calling sends him into a flurry of further agitation, repeat pocket tapping and searching until he finds it. Then, just as he has it ready to answer it, it slips out of his hand and he commences a juggling act trying to retrieve it and answer the bloody thing. This is classic. A clown at a kiddies party. Finally he answers but then drops it. My amusement has turned into fully fledged laughter. The silent variety where your lips are sealed but your upper body starts to quiver with glee. He picks it up but then bangs his head on the bar counter. My lips clamp tighter and my eyes now screwing up with delight. Can this be happening. With one hand he reaches out to the bar to steady himself but proceeds to knock his pint flying. OMG, what a wanker. What with trying to talk on his phone, wipe the bar and otherwise try and compose himself is a pure delight to watch. By now I am visibly racked with laughter but still containing sound although its an effort. He looks over at me, stares and with his arms flung out mouths ‘What’. Uncontrollably giggling I point to his groin. He looks down to see if his flies are undone, all good. This is priceless, I cant believe I’m seeing this. He looks back at me and mouths a louder ‘WHAT’ flinging his arms wider but this time slapping the tit of a woman passing behind him. That’s done it. A loud snort of laughter from me and my physical collapse into convulsions seals my fate. I’m helpless, trying not to attract attention but in the embrace of a fit of the giggles I cant remember ever being in. I fold my arms onto the table and rest my face, sobbing with laughter, waiting for the convulsions to subside.
‘You found me kinda funny?’ A voice, not deep but mature, Still unable to talk I point to a chair while wiping tears from my cheeks. He sits, slow chuckles starting to form in his chest until he, too, is joining in the laughter. Eventually I’m able to speak. Reaching my hand across the table, ‘I’m Paula. I’m sorry to laugh but all that just set me off. I’ve had a crap day and you just lightened it up for me. Sorry’,
‘Its ok. I can be a bit dyspractic at times but generally I’m pretty normal’.
So, for a while we chat, compare our days, compare inconsequential nonsense, maybe intimating at more personal things, just generally having an interesting time together. A few more drinks, a bit more chat, just relaxing and unwinding. Enjoying our time together.
I keep noticing one thing though. He has this habit of suddenly going ‘vacant’, closing his eyes and tipping his head back, sniffing. Then resuming conversation. Weird. Curiosity gets the better of me when he does it again.
‘Are you ok? Do you have tummy cramps or something?’
‘No, no, sorry, sorry if I seem distant sometimes but I have this annoying affliction’
‘Oh, OK. Is it serious?’
‘Oh, God no. Just an annoying but very acute sense of smell. Its annoying. Whenever something strong is in the air, I just cant help myself and try to work out what it is.’
A thought crosses my mind. My knickers. They’ve been on me all day with added cum and now I meet someone with the olfactory abilities of a sniffer dog. Or am I just being self conscious?
‘So, what are you smelling right now?’
I notice that my legs are open as they must have been at several intervals during the evening.
‘Well, I’m kinda shy to say, really. I’m probably wrong and I’ll end up making an arse out of this evening.’
‘No, go on’. I’m a bit tipsy. No, very tipsy and a bit provocative. ‘Say what you’re thinking’.
‘You sure?’
‘Yes, go on, I’m interested’.
‘I don’t really know how to put this but are you ‘on heat’?’
My jaw drops and I colour a little. It must be my knicks.
‘Erm, no. Not that I’m aware of. I mean if you mean fertile then no, not particularly’
‘OMG, I’m really bad at this. I’ve caused you offence. Forget it, I don’t want to spoil things. Just me being odd!’
‘No, its fine. Probably my fault, tbh. I didn’t know I’d be meeting a St Bernard this evening, lol’.
Now he blushes. ‘Its always been an issue with me. Whenever I smell something strong my brain just takes over and I have to identify it.’
‘OK. Close your eyes and tell me if you smell it again.’
I open my legs, Yes, off he goes into his ‘rapture again. So, it is me after all.
‘Is it you?’, he says.
‘I thinks it must be’.
‘Holy fuck, Ive not smelled anything quite so strong for a very long while.
He fidgets a bit. Crosses his legs. Concealing something. I wont embarrass him. Or maybe I will.
‘Jack, I’ve had these knickers on all day. I had a wank in them before coming out. I was going to shower and change but I couldn’t be bothered, had no intention of meeting anyone. I had no intention of arousing you. I can see you have a stiffy. Dont be shy. Its a compliment to me that I can make a man feel that way.
‘I have a small confession’, he croaks.
Here it comes. Hopefully. Fuck, I’m feeling like a Tart. A real HO right now.
‘The smell of a woman’s knickers after she has worn them just drives me wild. I used to smell my Mums, my sisters, my girlfriends, all of them. I cant perform without that smell. Its hopeless. I have to have a sniff before I get turned on other wise I’m just dud. Very awkward trying to sneak off for a sniff before I can even manage to get hard never mind fuck.’ He blushes again.
‘Hey, no worries. Its a strange world, we all live in it each with our own peculiarities. Its not harmful, so what the heck.’
‘Thank you. For being ok about it. I’ve never admitted this to anyone before, just dealt with it as best I can. Its refreshing to speak to someone who accepts it.’
‘Do you want them’. I hear myself speak without thinking.
‘Really? I can have them?’
‘Yeah, why not. They’ll stink out my laundry bag anyway, and they’d go to a good home, lol’.
He’ looking for the ‘how do we do this’ bit. I’ll make it easy.
‘Just follow me to my room and I’ll give them to you’.
So, here we are. Just the two if us.
‘Excuse me if I slip out of this dress, its beginning to annoy me now. Sit down, be back in just a mo.’
I nip to the bathroom and unzip and slip it off, toss it into the corner then back to the bedroom. I’m tempted to put on a ‘performance’ but that wouldnt be kind. Just give him the knicks, shower then bed.
‘Ok Jack. Here they come.’
What’s wrong with me? I said no performance.
‘You fancy taking them off?. Paula, you dirty little slut. You just had to, didn’t you.
‘Come on, they’re all yours. Have a sniff first, then take them and remember me’.
I stand in front of him, open my legs again, my scent rushing into his face. He sniffs, long and deep. His face is so close to my crotch. I can feel his breath. He wants me and I’m pretty sure I want him too.
Looks like I’m going to have to take the lead. I pull his head to my crotch, open my legs and force his face onto me. ‘C’mon Jack, here it is. What you want. Take it, all of it. Lick me me, tongue me.’ I slide them off and open my legs wide to his face, pulling him close.
‘Do it, Jack. Lick me, smell me, tongue fuck me, finger me. Its all yours, now. Just do it’.
His mouth is on my vulva, drinking the juice which is liberally flowing from me. But I want, need more. I pull his face to my pubis. ‘Here Jack, lick this’. I thrust my pubis into his face, stab my clit into his mouth. ‘Go Jack, lick me. Taste every bit of me. This is only the once, make the most of it’. I grab his head and force his face hard against me. He licks and licks, my juices flowing free, feeding his mouth with the nectar he needs. Enough. I need cock. Now. I pukk him to his feet, turn him around and throw him onto the bed. I jump onto his face, my vulva smothering his mouth. I am now in control. His mouth is my plaything. I slide my pussy over his mouth, slowly. From my perineum to my clitoris. My bud is firmly bulging from its hood, demanding service, demanding a warm finger or tongue. Not mine, this time, but my servant. For thats what he is. My sub. He’ll do anything I want just to eat my pussy. And, by heavens, he is good at it. My flow keeps coming, no cessation, into his mouth and over his face. I rock m y hips, sliding my pussy along his mouth, my clit then slowly along my labia to my perineum. And slowly back. I push down, letting his tongue open my labia to fully enjoy the sensation of that tongue lapping and tasting, taking my juice and my scent. Its too much, again. I sit hard on hs mouth and cum. Long spasms of pleasure flood my loins and \I gush and gush cum into his mouth. He eagerly licks and laps it, swallowing my lust, feeding himself with my pleasure.
The poor fucker. His bulge is enormous. Do I leave him with just my knicks to wank with. Or give him a treat. I’m tired, sweaty but unfulfilled.
I lean forward and unclip his waistband and unzip him. I ease his trousers and pants down, allowing his cock to spring free. The poor guy. He is nearly as wet as me, his not unsubstantial cock is freely pouring his own love juices into his pants. He must have blue balls from all the arousal. I need cock. His. Right now.
I lean forward, his hard wet cock quivering in front of my face. A little wank, more precum leaks out. Mmmm, I love the taste of a mans lust. My mouth softly encloses him, my tongue teasing and tasting. His groans, the slight buck of his hips, he wants this nearly as badly as I do. I move over him, my groin over his. I don’t need to use my hand to guide him, I can feel his hardness pushing against the place I need it to fill. I lower myself slightly. I am so wet and lubricated that the head of his erection easily parts my labia and snuggles against the entrance to my vagina. A bit lower, enough to just take his cockhead inside me. And I squeeze. My muscles tighten around him. The ‘kegels’ exercises from pregnancy rejuvenating. I slide down and up, holding him tightly. This is only for him. I rock like this for a while then relax. And sit hard onto him, taking hos full length deeply inside me. I gasp, that old familiar feeling of being totally filled with that warm hardness, deep enough to tickle my cervix but nit enough to cause pain. I’m in total control. Speed, depth, intensity, grip. Its all mine. His face is a picture. Torn between pain, torture and pleasure. I ride him deeper and faster. I lean forward to lick his lower lip.
‘Mummy is in control now. Just relax and be a good boy. Enjoy your Mummy. I want you to fill me, fill me with your warm sticky spunk. All of it. Every drop. Mummy wants it, deep inside her. Can you do that Jack, fill me with your cream? Just cum hard deep into me. I open his shirt, stroke his nipples, saying ‘come on, come on’.
His body goes rigid, his legs draw together, his hips thrust hard upwards. And he cums. Hard. Deep. Fully. What seems like an age his cock pulsates deep inside me, squirting every last drop of his cum into me. I fall forward onto his chest to kiss him. He cuddles me. No words. They are not necessary. Whats done is over. I reach across and find my knickers. I lift myself up and out of his still hard cock and quickly place my knickers under my pussy. The sudden gush of creampie floods into them. Then the slow drip drip of the residue deeper inside me. I wipe myself.
‘Thats it Jack, here’s your knickers, time to go.’
I hate the aftermath. Apologies, compliments, recriminations, excuses.
‘Just go, we’ll never meet again but remember me’.
He silently left.
I lie and think. Always a bit guilty, maybe regretful, but wholly satisfied. I am a Tart.
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