I stared at the fabulous, gyrating ass for forty-five minutes. Exactly forty-five minutes, to the second.
I watched it gyrate, rotate, and wiggle; I watched it go through every possible motion that a beautiful female posterior can execute, over and over and over again. My eyes never left it, for three quarters of an hour.
How can I be so sure of the exact duration of my staring session? Because I was riding an exercise bike in the hotel health club, and that was the duration I had set on the timer. And while I pedaled that damn bike, sweating and panting and trying to stave off the spreading waistline that comes with middle age, she was just across the room on a stair climber, climbing and bouncing and wiggling that beautiful ass for all the world to see. Especially me.
After my forty-five minutes on the bike were done, I got up, wiped my sweat off the equipment, and, now horny as hell, headed back to my room in the Dallas Marriott Solana, my favorite Dallas area hotel.
I had landed at DFW this morning, for an afternoon meeting with a client company, Cogswell Cogs, in Arlington. My company and Cogswell were engaged in a complex contract involving various technology transfer agreements, and it was all fouled up. Somebody had screwed the pooch, and I had drawn the short straw to come out here and try to sort thing out. My higher-ups had sent me here with no uncertain instructions: resolve this problem, to our advantage! And just to make sure I didn't fuck things up, they had also sent out one of our accountants from our Richmond office. She and I had landed at DFW about the same time, and shared a rental car to Cogswell's Arlington office. After our preliminary meeting this afternoon, we had come back here to our hotel, to prepare for tomorrow's all-day meetings, hopefully to wrap things up.
The accountant's name was Chloe. She was short and mousy, a bit on the plump side, with short dark hair and a round face. But she was kind of cute, in her way. She had big brown eyes, a sexy, pouty mouth, and the cutest little dimples. And she had this adorable southern belle voice which was very fetching, and made her seem younger than her true age, which must have been at least in her late twenties. Although we had never met before, we hit it off immediately, and made a good team at the meeting. I looked forward to working with her. She seemed like a sweet kid.
Our meeting had been with Cogswell's Chief Technology Officer and their head of accounting, plus other minor functionaries. I found that I had to do most of the talking; Chloe, although good with numbers and figures and printouts, had barely said a peep at the meeting. I gathered that she was rather shy, and not used to speaking in a group setting. But she seemed competent, given her short answers to specific questions that came up. I liked her, but I needed her to get a bit more aggressive.
More than that, even though she was on the short and plump side, I found myself constructing elaborate sexual fantasies about her during the meeting. In my fantasy, we rolled romantically and screwed tenderly on the grass in a field of clover while fluffy white clouds drifted overhead in a bright blue sky. Hey, so sue me, sometimes I'm a romantic!
Not that that made her special, of course; I tend to have sexual fantasies about all the women in meetings that I attend. I also had fantasies about Cogswell's Director of Operations, a middle-aged woman with gray hair and glasses, and about their corporate counsel, a brusque brunette in a power suit. Before the meeting had ended, I had screwed them all in my mind, each in the manner that suited them best. Not to mention the busty secretary who brought in coffee several times. I had fucked her, urgently, in the men's room during one of the presentations, up against a tile wall. Ah, the power of the imagination!
In the car after the meeting, on our way back to the hotel, I had told Chloe about my impressions of the meeting. "Chloe," I had said, "I'm going to need you to be more aggressive tomorrow when we press our position on this contract dispute. Can you do that?"
"Sure, Jack, I think I can," she had told me, in her adorable little accent.
"Are you sure? You were pretty quiet this afternoon. You are our accounting expert, and I know that you know your stuff, but I need you to show that you know what you are talking about to our friends over there. We need to project an air of confidence, or we are not going to win this negotiation."
"Oh, I think I can do it," she had said. "I know that I have a tendency to be on the quiet side. But that's just my professional nature. It comes with the territory, working with numbers and all. But I have an aggressive streak in my private life, trust me. I think I can bring it out in the negotiations, if you think it's appropriate."
"Yes, it is," I told her. "More than appropriate; it's essential. You should start bringing that side of your personality out now, if you can. We are going to need it."
"You got it, Jack," she said. "You can count on me. I'll step up. I want this project to succeed, too."
We had gotten to our hotel and checked in. She had a room on the twelfth floor. My room was on the twenty-eight floor, in the area reserved for frequent guests. We had said goodnight, and agreed to meet at 9 am in the lobby for tomorrow's meetings at the Cogswell plant.
Anyway, my workout on the exercise cycle now over, I rode the elevator back up to my room on the twenty-eighth floor of the Marriott, dripping with sweat, and with a semi-erect cock in my gym shorts from the sight of that beautiful, wiggling ass on the stair climber, which was still going strong in my mind. I dipped my key-card into the lock and swung the door open. One step in the door, and I stopped, jaw open, and stared.
There was Chloe, buck naked, sitting cross-legged on my bed.
"What the fu...," I started, before I ran out of things to say. Shy, quiet Chloe? Naked on my bed?
"Jack, it's about time you got back," she said, in her cute southern belle voice. "Take your clothes off and come over here and fuck me."
I stared at her. She was getting up off the bed, standing with her hands on her hips, and waiting for me with the air of a CEO accustomed to getting what they want, when they want it.
"Chloe?" I began.
"You told me I need to be more aggressive, and you told me I need to do it now. So here I am. I want your fat cock in me. And I'm going to have it. Now." She jerked her head toward the bed. "Get your clothes off and get your carcass ready to fuck. Your cock is all mine, as of NOW."
My mind was reeling. Not that I have a problem with the thought of a naked woman in my hotel room; hell, it's one of my favorite concepts. I don't even mind fucking a co-worker now and then. But sweet little Chloe? And how did she get in my room, anyway, I wondered?
"How did you get in my room, anyway?" I asked.
She rolled her eyes with impatience. "Child's play. I went to the front desk and told them my key card had come unprogrammed. When they asked my room number, I gave them yours. Get with the program, Jack. And get that fucking cock of yours out where I can see it."
Mesmerized, my hands fumbled with my belt buckle and worked on shedding my clothes. But my mind struggled with the ethics of the situation. Little Chloe? The kid from the Richmond office? Is this right? Had I created some sort of monster? But now she was laying back on the bed, with her legs spread, her knees up, and her glorious pussy open for business. The glistening lips, the creamy thighs, and the smoldering look in her face all served to evaporate any moral misgivings I might have had. I wanted her. And I would have her.
"Eat my snatch, Jack. Jam your tongue in my wet fucking slit. I want to feel your tongue fucking the shit out of my cunt." She liked the dirty talk! Not normally my favorite fetish, but if done well, I can appreciate a good line of blue chatter. I dropped to my knees and started licking at her swollen pussy lips.
"Yeah, you animal! Lick that pussy! Work that cunt with your fuck-muscle of a tongue! Eat my slit till it's as raw as an open wound. I want to cum all over your face. I want to see my cunt juice running down your fucking chin!" I put my hands on her knees, spreading them wider, and redoubled my efforts on her moist slit. I lapped at her labia, clawed at her clit, slurped her secretions. She put back her head and howled in pleasure. My tongue danced on her nether regions like Fred Astaire on a ballroom floor. Her body shivered and shook.
Finally, she struggled up. "Okay, enough tongue work. I want you to fuck me with your big fucking cock. Jam that fuck-stick up my cunt, you beast." She shimmied up the bed a bit, still on her back, still with her pussy near the edge. I came close, my cock raging.