The New England autumn rain had stopped by the time I drove the rental south on Route 95 back toward my hotel. It was late and the taillights of the few cars on the highway shone on the wet pavement ahead of me. I had traveled back to my hometown to visit family, not a particularly happy visit, a funeral, in fact. Despite the sadness that brought us together, it was good to see people who I hadn’t seen in so long. It was over though, and I would fly home the next morning.
Those thoughts occupied my mind as I drove, and I guess I wasn’t paying close enough attention as I got a little too close to a black BMW in front of me before swinging around to go by. As I slowly passed, I looked over, the bright overhead highway lights illuminating the woman behind the wheel. She looked over, too. I thought she’d be annoyed at my close approach to her back bumper, but she seemed to smile as I accelerated away. I pulled back into her lane with her headlights in my mirror.
My mind drifted off, again, until I got to the Airport exit and eased off the interstate. As I waited at the light at the bottom of the off-ramp, I noticed that the Beamer had pulled up behind me. When I made the left onto Post Road, so did she. She followed me onto the street next to the hotel, and then into the parking lot, pulling into a space about fifty feet away. Kind of a coincidence, I thought.
I gathered up a few things, got out of the car, and walked across the wet asphalt to the entrance to my wing of the hotel. I heard the clicking of the Beamer Woman’s boots following me, and as I opened the door to enter the hotel, she broke into a little jog to catch up. I held the door for her and walked down the corridor to the elevator.
She was still right behind me.
The elevator door opened, immediately, and we both entered. I hit the button for the third floor and asked, “Which floor would you like?”
“I’m going to three, also.”
As the car rose, I glanced over at a fairly stunning woman. Early thirties, I’d say. Younger than me by a ways, wearing glasses, a very stylish overcoat, and shiny black boots, she stared straight ahead until the door opened on the third floor.
“Have a nice evening,” I said and turned down the hall to my room.
When I stuck the card in the slot and opened the door, Beamer Woman was about ten feet behind me. Before I let the door close, I turned to sneak one last look as she went by.
She didn’t go by.
She stopped right in front of the door. We stared at each other, silently, for about five seconds. Her overcoat was open at the top, and I didn’t see anything underneath. I stood aside and allowed her to brush right by me as she walked slowly into my suite.
She turned to face me in the semi-darkness, her hands in the pockets of her coat. I felt a moment of stupidity as I thought about what could be in her hand. However, her hands were empty when she took them out of her pockets, removed her glasses, and untied the belt which closed her coat at the waist.
My tie was loose and my jacket unbuttoned, but I was starting to feel a bit overdressed as the soft street light streamed through the window and revealed the lovely, naked woman under the overcoat. Her nipples were like pink Hershey’s Kisses on her cute little boobs.
“My name is Ben,” I said.
“Good evening, Ben.”
“And you?” I asked.
“When I do this, my name is Shayla.”
“Why me, Shayla?”
She looked me in the eyes and said, “The why of this is none of your business. It’s about me.” She stepped close to me and whispered, “I think you’re gonna like it, though.”
Shayla gently put her hands on my chest and leaned in for a kiss. It was the sweetest kiss I’d had in a long time. When our lips parted, she ran her hands down my body, pressing her fingers into my abs before unbuckling my belt and opening my pants. As my cock flopped out she looked up at me again and slowly went to her knees.
Two strokes and I was stiff in her hand. Shayla smiled, took me in her mouth, and started a beautiful, wet blowjob. I threw off my jacket, lost the tie and shirt, and stood there with my hands resting on the sides of Shayla’s head as she bobbed on my dick.
She squeezed her breasts and massaged her clit as she no-handed the blowjob, all the while staring straight up at me. She came up for air, and murmured, “So…fucking…hard.”
I pulled her up to her feet and kissed her again. No sweetness this time, our tongues fighting for possession of the other’s mouth. Shayla broke away, breathing hard, and shrugged off her coat as I kicked off my shoes and socks and jumped out of my pants.
When I glanced at her legs, she said, “The boots stay on. I’m not gonna be here that long anyway.”
Shayla turned and climbed onto the bed, and I got my first look at her gorgeous, perfect ass. I reached out and gave her a playful smack, and she spun around quickly and said, “I hope you can hit harder than that, Ben.”