Best Women's Erotica 2011 (6 page)

I stopped at the concierge desk. “Your website mentioned
that you have a spa,” I inquired of a vapid-looking young woman, interrupting her not-so-discreet conversation with one of the porters about her last booty call. She glanced my way, clearly inconvenienced by my pesky desire to be helped. “I’d like a massage. Can I make an appointment here?” I asked her directly.

She sighed and told the guy she would give him the rest of the details later. I wondered if that tactic would be successful for her; dangling the fruit on the tree to show off how ripe it is. From the look on his face, I’d have said that it was working. “Do you want a male or female therapist?” she asked finally, staring at the computer screen.

“I’ll take whoever is available first. I know it’s short notice, but I was hoping to get a back rub in about an hour.” I tried to make a joke: “You know, it’s like an emergency.” It went completely over her head, and she tapped at the keyboard, sucking her teeth in annoyance. “If it’s not too much trouble,” I added sarcastically, becoming annoyed a bit myself—confounded that a four-star hotel could have such a two-star employee working for them.

“It’s not a problem—it’s just this dumb computer. It froze on me again. I’ll have to reboot it.” She tapped impatiently on the enter key a few more times in exasperation. “Just tell me what room you’re in; I’ll send someone up.”

“Up?” I asked, with confusion.

“Yes, up to your room. The spa closes at six during the week.” She finally gave me some eye contact. “It will cost you thirty-five dollars more an hour for in-room service; you okay with that?”

She was really pissing me off with her fucked-up attitude, but not having to leave my room again for the night sounded great. Hell, yes, I wanted to pay the extra thirty-five dollars. “What
time can I expect someone?” I asked simply.

“Soon,” she answered, with no promises for specifics.

Luckily, room service was more responsive, and in a half hour I was sequestered in my temporary hideout with a grilled-chicken salad and a glass of wine, eager for my pamper session to begin.

 

Around eight there was a knock on my door. Already showered and nude under my fluffy white hotel robe, I checked to confirm that my masseur had arrived. When I opened the door, I suddenly realized that I certainly did care whether I had a male or female therapist. In fact, I couldn’t have asked for someone more perfect for my needs that evening. He was delicious looking with longish sand-colored hair and a cleft in his chin that was only a bit deeper than the dimples advertised in his warm, pleasant smile. Suspended effortlessly in one hand was a folded massage table; in the other, a large bag with towels spilling over the top. I stood there a moment, drinking him in.
That idiot at the concierge desk actually got something right,
I thought and returned the friendly smile with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m Sean,” he said. “Have a seat; it will just take me a moment to set up.” I sat in the middle of the bed watching him keenly, examining his fluid motions as he went about unpacking his equipment. He seemed to notice that he had my undivided attention and made sure to meet my eyes with a wink. “You look like you could use a little TLC,” he said securing the legs of his table. “Long day?”

“Long enough,” I replied coolly, pondering whether this was something he said to break the ice with all of his clients. He tilted his head and let his gaze travel into the shadows of my open collar. If he weren’t so beautiful, I’d have instinctively pulled it tighter around my neck. Instead I found myself biting
my lip in consideration of his angled jaw and amber-colored eyes and stretching backward onto my elbows, certain that my robe would fall slightly off my shoulder. Just as he was finishing setting up there was another knock on the door. Assuming that room service was retrieving my tray, I answered with it already in hand.

The rather muscular guy standing in my doorway was just as hot as the one already in my room, but a bit darker—both in hue and in spirit. He stood there with his cherry red lips offsetting his white teeth, grinning ruefully. “Hi there, are you ready for your massage?” he asked in a smoky tone. As I took note of his identical spa-issued white shirt and pants, he spotted his colleague prepped to begin an overhaul of my tired body. Entering my room, he said with a frown, “What are you doing here, Sean? This is my call.”

“I don’t think so, Mike, you’d better check with the desk.”

“I have the room number right here.” Mike moved closer to him with an official-looking piece of paper in his hand. Continuing under his breath he muttered, “This gig is mine and so is the tip that comes with it,” and he nodded in my direction.

“I have the same work order, so I guess we’ll have to go with who got here first.” Sean was holding his ground and made no moves to disassemble his table.

I held my up hands, interrupting them with my tendency to take control of a situation. “Why don’t you both stay and split the time that I’ve paid for; if you do a good job, then you can split the tip.”
No need to let either of you go to waste,
I added silently, pressing my lips together in anticipation of their response. I figured I might as well find a way to take advantage of the mistake and enjoy both of them for the price of one. They nodded and seemed to think it was a fair solution,
so I peeked into my purse to see how much cash I had.

Unfortunately there was only a crisp fifty dollar bill. “You’ll have to break it,” I told them apologetically, waving it in the air.

It was Mike who came up with an alternative. “Maybe we could let you decide who deserves it more,” he said and glanced at Sean. “We’ll each take turns working out your kinks, like you said, and the one who does the best job wins.”

I had to admit, the notion of two ridiculously hot guys rubbing their hands over my body in a competition for my approval made me cream a little. I played the moment out, tapping my finger on my bottom lip and looking each of them up and down before responding. “Let’s find out which one of you has the magic touch,” I said finally, and after they turned for my privacy, I disrobed to let the games begin.

Facedown, I settled on the table, while Sean placed a towel over my bare bottom and Mike arranged my hair to expose my neck. Simultaneously their fingers danced lightly over my skin, giving me goose bumps even while performing these common tasks. Cool oil dripped over my back, and the first set of hands took hold of me from above, kneading each of my shoulders. I melted into the table as Sean worked through the pent-up tension there. Instantly, I felt the residue of my delayed flight, my missed meeting and the unsavory comments from my disappointed client fall away among his circular impressions in my flesh. His touch was definitive, yet not overly firm, and I wondered if he intended to be turning me on with his warm breath softly beating on the back of my neck.

When I was completely loose, his fingers slipped down the edges of my shoulder blades and briefly grazed the sides of my breasts. My skin lit with sensation as his hands continued down my torso and under the towel concealing my rear end. This
endless stroke proceeded in one long motion to reach my inner thighs. Once there, he softly caressed the supple flesh, before gently spreading my legs apart. Cool air swept past the silky wetness developing in my most tender spot.

“How are you enjoying it so far?” he asked, his two fingers experiencing the slickness firsthand as they swept casually over my soft folds. I had to wonder if it was an accident. Either way, my hips rose off the table to find his hand again. It was reflexive—a subconscious response to the bliss he was granting me with his talented fingers.

My reaction wasn’t overlooked. His fingers swept back over my ass and to my waist, then down again under the towel and in between my legs, where this time they lingered in the elixir gathering there. “Is this the spot that has been giving you the most trouble?” he ventured boldly, and I asked myself the same question. I had been working like a dog for the past year and could count on one hand the occasions I’d found the time to invest in my sex life. Career minded to a fault, my drive for success had left me impatient with small talk and bored with first dates, let alone second ones. Worse still, I hadn’t even made a single fuckbuddy since my last boyfriend. This thought caused me to think about the dumb chick at the concierge desk and her obvious advantage over me in that category. I realized that most of my tension was right in my underworked vagina. It was high time that I let someone help with that, and he seemed perfectly up for the task, not to mention his hunky colleague waiting patiently on the bed. I decided to answer Sean with a long sighing moan while he slowly dipped his two fingers inside of me, and then retracted them with expert precision.

A smile tickled the corners of my mouth, and I openly let my hips play puppet with his fingers, like a marionette on sticky strings stretching from my cunt. In and out he sent them slowly,
and my entire body began to gyrate with his controlled timing, my moans increasing in frequency. He leaned forward, his shirt tickling my back as he placed his mouth only inches from my ear. Sean’s words were heavy in his throat, moving over his lips as smoothly as his fingers entered my wetness. “Ah, yes. That’s the spot…isn’t it?”

It was really not a question, and I left no room for misinterpretation as I purred a syrupy, “Yes.” His lips did not leave my ear and his breathing, hard and smoldering, spoke of his own enjoyment.

Curious to see how my other masseur was reacting to this scene, I lifted my head to find Mike rubbing his rather large bulge through his white cotton pants. Meeting my gaze he boasted, “Just get ready for what I will do for you next,” and I thought he looked too good for words.

I was enticed. “Why don’t you show me what you have in mind?”

He needed no further encouragement, and in an instant he was in position at my side. Sean’s fingers, which had pleasured me so effectively, retracted one last time, and Mike instructed me to turn over. Holding a towel up for privacy in the traditional fashion, he allowed me a moment to arrange myself comfortably, face up. When he placed the folded towel over the very zones I was hoping to have attended to, I wondered what he could possibly have in mind to surpass Sean’s performance.

Once I was settled, Mike asked quite plainly, “Where is your vibrator?” His mouth curled slightly in a teasing smirk, and he blinked in a leisurely way, confident of his presumption.

I crinkled my brow, hating to be read so perfectly but thinking his cockiness was sexy as hell. Indeed, his instincts were correct—I am seldom without my favorite toy for any extended time. “It’s in the night table,” I confessed, and he retrieved it
with a bit of a swagger. As he slid the humming staff under the folded towel, I considered how erotic it was to be so modestly concealed while he shamelessly fondled me with it.

Though I made no secret of my eagerness to experience the tricks he had planned, he only gently tapped my vibrator on the surface playfully, making me squirm and whimper for more. I cooed at its touch and fought the urge to open my legs for him, challenging myself to maintain the same amount of composure that he exhibited with his calculated maneuvers. My eyes, which had been closed, refocused to find him staring at me, intently studying my expressions and recognizing every occasion when he discovered a sweet spot. Finally, when I could wait no more, he moved it inside, while his index finger began to rub my clit. Both hands performed their tasks with remarkable skill. His eyes were locked with mine as he smiled back at my beaming grin. I gripped the sheet on the table, lying there, enjoying every stroke. He had a gentle and subdued technique, with a slow and desirous rhythm that left me consumed with lust. I cried out for more and he upped the pace and vibration, his finger continuing to sweep against my swollen bud. Nearing the point of no return, I felt that familiar tingling pressure build, and I was sure that I would erupt any minute.

My teeth clenched behind pursed lips, and Mike, who was completely in tune to the flood that was nearing, whispered, “That’s it, come all over my hand,” while squeezing his fingers into my thigh. I pulled the towel away to give him a better look, allowing him to delight in his accomplishment. He took full advantage of the view, and his mouth fell open, tasting the air between us.

Sean, who had maintained his position at my side, was enjoying the spectacle just as much. He crouched next to me, skimming the surface of my torso with the palm of his hand.
“You are so incredibly sexy,” he said and placed his fingers into my parted lips, reminding me of where they had been. Then he added with a nibble on my ear, “I don’t even care about the stupid competition. I just want more of you.”

I answered both of them with a throat-rasping, “Yessss,” and I turned to kiss Sean, shuddering, still in orgasm. It was the sweetest release I’d had in long time, so selfishly received for my enjoyment alone. Sean lifted me off the table and carried me to the bed. I waved for Mike to join us and grabbed him by the collar. “I think we would all like some more,” I breathed, and he nodded in agreement, taking his first taste of me from my collarbone. Sean promptly followed, licking my breast and suckling softly on my nipple. I arched my back and stretched myself long against the plush down comforter beneath me, reveling in their wet mouths as they trailed over my skin.

Sean slurped on my hip bone and Mike grazed his teeth against my jaw, teasing me and driving me wild. Next he solicited my tongue to dance lightly with his, and Sean slipped his lips onto my sopping vagina. The room was spinning, as I lost myself in the heart-pounding whirlwind of pure ecstasy. Sean kissed at my pussy carefully at first, tasting me, savoring me. And when he plunged his undulating tongue into my silky cavern, I moaned into Mike’s open mouth. Our delicate kiss ignited, while Sean bathed my clit with saliva and sipped on my juices until the rush of satisfaction began to fill me once again. I tore my lips away from Mike only to cry out, “Don’t stop!” But Sean did stop nonetheless, rising to his feet and speaking with glistened lips.