I was moving across the country and staying at cheap roadside motels. Not the franchised ones, either, even cheaper and sleazier. The ones where you pay the check-in desk through bulletproof glass. I’m a single man and can take care of myself.
One night I pulled over in Tucumcari, New Mexico, to a motel that looked like something out of No Country for Old Men. Whatever, it was $35 a night. Really. Can't beat that. I backed my car up into the parking space right out the front of the door and brought my go-bag inside. It was about 10 p.m.
After taking a shower and watching some ESPN I tried to get some sleep, but it was impossible. Some couple was in bed, fucking very energetically, in the room next door. Hell, from the looks of the place, it may have been a hooker and her john.
Their muffled grunts and cries, and the headboard slapping the wall, were too much to take. I was actually getting hard listening to the sounds of their sex. Dude had a lot of energy; I’ll give him that. They went for what seemed like forty-five minutes but in reality was only ten before I got up, pulled on a pair of gym shorts, and went out to the swimming pool with my pillow. I hopped the low fence and tiptoed to the diving board, placing my pillow at the end of it, then lay on my back, looking up at the stars on a clear New Mexico summer night.
I could still hear the couple fucking in Room Twelve. Jesus Christ, that guy is getting his money’s worth. Her moaning was so hot, though. Fuck it, I thought, and wriggled out of my gym shorts. There was a floodlight shining on the pool area, but I didn’t care. It was close to 11 p.m. now. I spit into my left hand and started jacking off, listening to the two lovers bang away through the cheap stucco walls and plexiglass windows.
Then I took the pillow, placed it at the end of the diving board, and straddled it, enjoying the springy motion of the board as I humped away in rhythm with their ministrations, pretending I was the one doing the fucking.
As my naked ass was bouncing up and down I heard a gentle splash behind me, and it made me freeze.
“Hi there,” a woman said.
Mortified, I scrambled to get off the pillow and the diving board and find my shorts, but ended up tumbling into the deep end, ass over teakettle, with a comical splash.
I surfaced, spluttering half-assed apologies, and prepared to get the hell out of there, if not out of the motel altogether. At my age, I might be arrested.
“Sssshh! It’s OK!” she said, laughing. “It’s fine. Mind if I swim with you?”
Clearing my eyes I saw her: stark raving gorgeous, still had her makeup on, wet hair. Older woman. She later told me she was fifty-nine. Incredible body. Like me, she didn’t have a swimsuit. She was swimming in a bra and panties that went completely transparent once wet.
“Hi, I’m Maria,” she said. “Nice night for a swim. What’s your name?”
“Muh-my name is Owen,” I said tentatively, not knowing how to play this scene.
“You have a nice ass, Owen,” Maria said saucily, putting me at ease.
Now it was OK to make a move.
I swam over to her and then steered her to the ladder at the deep end. Pushing her up against it, I started kissing and sucking along her neck. Maria reached behind her back and got rid of her bra as I held her by the cheeks and kissed along her jawline. We stopped kissing as she drew her knees up and shed her panties, letting them float away to the bottom of the pool. Then she pulled me back in, both hands behind my neck, for a deep, exploitive, tonguing kiss. I could taste her lipstick as we kissed.