The Ottoman

"Strict rules of the Inn, ma'am. No clothes during breakfast. It's naked breakfast Friday, a long tradition at the Inn. No exceptions, no ifs, and, or....." He turned and slapped himself playfully on his nude buttocks. "........butts. Don't make me call the enforcement Gestapo on you. They're brutal here in La Conner. The KGB sends their operatives here to train."

Catherine did not even try to disguise her happiness at seeing him. She kissed him deeply, taking his tongue in her mouth and sucking on it enthusiastically. She reached down to grope him. She had every intention of squatting and absorbing his manhood in her mouth right then and there.

And John sensed it, but he had other plans. He wasn't necessarily resisting her idea, just deferring it for a bit.

He took her by the hand and led her back to the main room. It was her turn to ogle his bare backside this time, watching his cock dangle between his legs as he walked. The image made Catherine instantly wetter. God, she couldn't get enough. She assumed her time with this man was waning, so she was going to be selfish and go for all the cock she could, to put it very bluntly.

As she re-entered the room, Catherine inhaled the delicious scent of apples, apricot and other more exotic fruits. She looked at the ottoman where she had found his note and where her dress had been neatly folded just a few moments before. The dress was now hanging over the post of the bed and replaced by a silver tray on the ottoman. The tray held several bowls filled with an assortment of fresh delicacies.

"Mmmm, that smells simply delicious. I'm famished. Someone fucked me beyond hunger last night. May I?" asked Catherine, reaching for a blueberry.

John rushed in front of her, blocking her path. "Not so fast, lovely lady. Be patient. Allow me, please." John removed the tray and placed it on a nearby table. He then took several towels and placed them on top of the ottoman as an impromptu place setting of sorts.

"Where did you get all those towels?" Catherine asked, curious. They surely hadn't come from her room.

John smiled, arranging the towels on top of the ottoman fastidiously. "It pays to make friends with the housekeeping ladies. I told them we were having an in-room picnic. They were more than happy to help."

He motioned for Catherine to sit. So, she did, lowering her butt to the edge of the ottoman, her legs still on the floor.

He knelt in front of her, placing the tray of fruit next to him, within arms reach. He kissed her eagerly and ran his hand leisurely over her breasts. Her nipples distended from her small areola like the stems of an apple. He tenderly cupped her pussy and grinned when he felt her incessant heat. He then gently pushed her back on the ottoman so that her back lay on the soft towels now covering the upholstery.

He pulled Catherine's legs apart slowly so that she was splayed on the ottoman, her luscious oyster fully exposed and glistening, still wet from the shower and of course, her perpetual arousal since early last evening.

John gently straddled her, his legs on the outside of hers so that his weight would not be borne by her torso. Leaning forward, he held down her forearms while he swept her face, breasts and arms with a veil of feathery caresses.

Then his lips followed their journey, laying a trail of kisses across her soft skin like light footprints in snow. He released her arms, sucking and nibbling on Catherine's fingertips, then stroked her softly, grazing his own fingertips down her body until her nipples felt as stiff as little pebbles.

She groaned and writhed at the sweet torture. Her cunt felt as if it would combust spontaneously. Her hips bucked involuntarily, aching for attention in her nether region. "Please," she whimpered. "I need you inside of me." Tongue, fingers, cock, anything, she thought. Just put SOMETHING in my cunt. Now.

John sat up straight and laughed at her provocatively.

"So, you don't like fruit, lover? I'm learning about you every minute. What about this?" He leaned across and picked up from the fruit bowl a ripe peach.

He rolled it across her cheek and then his own. It was cool and round and soft.

"See how ripe it looks," said John, rubbing the fruit over a patch of her skin on the side of her breast. "As pink as your lovely nipples."

He held the peach against each nipple, comparing and admiring them. Then he ran it across her breasts and over her flat belly. Dragging it down her body, he brushed its fur against her own.

"Mmmm. How round it is," he muttered. "And look at its cleft," he said, drawing her finger down its groove. "As luscious as your ripe cunt." He hissed the last word, letting it linger in the air. "And you know what I'd like to do to that, don't you?"

He closed his eyes reverentially and bit into the peach. Its pungent perfume filled the air. The juice ran down his chin and his throat, dripping over Catherine's belly like a Springtime rainfall. He rubbed it into her pussy and then lent her his fingers.

She sucked and licked the rich syrupy juice off them thirstily. She was so excited and desperate for him. He bit again from the peach and then offered it to her and she did likewise.

Now, he'll go down on me and put me out of this agony, she thought.

"I need you inside me, John. Please, God, eat me or fuck me now," she ranted. It was always good to give a man some options, and Catherine wasn't picky. She just needed her cunt sated before it ignited.

"But you've hardly eaten any of your fruit yet, have you?" he chided.

John took a banana from the bowl. Teasingly he peeled back the skin very slowly and deliberately. By now Catherine could only imagine what he was going to use it for. The anticipation made her stomach churn.

Unpeeled, the flesh within looked hard and pale.

"Hmmm," he murmured as he traced its length with his fingers. Slowly and laughingly, he turned it from the horizontal to the vertical as though the banana was becoming aroused.

"You like it thick, don't you?" he whispered teasingly.

"Yes, yes, please. Here," she spluttered, indicating downwards.

Instead, he drew it temptingly across her mouth. Catherine licked at it hungrily as it passed her lips but he pulled it quickly away. Then he drew it down her neck to her perky breasts. He pushed them together and John stroked the banana between them as if her breasts were tit-fucking a man's long, thick cock.

By now the banana felt smooth and wet on her chest from their saliva. He rolled it across her belly, leaving a thin trail of slippery wetness, like a man's juice.

John parted the lips of Catherine's saturated pussy and ran the length of the fruit between them. Now it was slick with her own wetness. With his left hand he parted the lips further and slipped in between her impossibly swollen labia.

It was like having the rabbit within her but softer and smoother. He pushed the banana in maybe an inch, drew it out and slid it back in, slowly fucking Catherine with it. It felt so good, but she wanted more.

Then he drew it out completely and, staring at her intently, offered it to her mouth. She sucked hard on the end, her tongue and lips performing deft fellatio.

She nipped off the tip with her lips, licked the end smooth. Smiling, then John lowered the fruit and pressed the next inch into her, fucking Catherine for a little longer this time. Again, he withdrew it. They each took it in their mouths, and he invited Catherine to bite off the end.

They carried on like this, first enjoying her fruit fuck, then taking turns to lick, suck and eat the banana, until it was all gone. When it was finished, John climbed off her and, crouching between them, spread her long legs wide.

"Now, would you like me to taste your fruit, Catherine?" he whispered.

"Yes ..... yes ...... now ...... please," she pleaded.

Acquiescing finally, John's lips glided up and down the insides of Catherine's thighs, slick and sweet with both peach juice as well as her own natural fluids. He sucked at her soft, giving lips. Each little motion of his tongue sent spasms through her. Her stomach heaved and waves of delicious agony whirred from her pussy and stomach through every nerve in her body and radiated back to their source.

By now John had buried his face completely in her "V", bathing himself in the different juices. She could feel his chin and nose and forehead rubbing against every intimate crevice.

She was on the verge of delirium, as he brought her nearer and nearer the orgasmic cliff, until she surrendered herself completely to her release. She spewed milky foam all over his mouth, and John swallowed the warm ejaculate greedily.

He pulled himself up next to her and they lay together kissing on the soft surface of the ottoman, savoring the taste of the juices of the peach, banana and Catherine on their lips.

"You know," said John, "Doctors recommend at least one good portion of fruit each day."

"Healthy eating to start the day," Catherine replied, "Very important. I understand some circles recommend a good energetic aerobic exercise, also."

By the time their workout was complete forty-five minutes later, Catherine was bent over the edge of the ottoman with John's heavy balls slapping her ass, his cock slip-sliding relentlessly through the slippery contours of her cunt. She was wailing muffled obscenities into the fabric of the ottoman, and John matched her decibels when he enunciated his own orgasm with a primal grunt.

His hot sperm flew all over Catherine's back and buttocks. She whirled around to finish and clean him with her mouth, sucking every last drop of his cum. He literally had to beg the insatiable 'inventor of cocksucking' to take a merciful break, lest his cock fall off from her eager oral administrations due to the ultra-sensitivity in his nerve fibers.

He held her head gingerly, gazing into those seductive eyes, the color of autumn leaves. She nuzzled her face into the curls of his pubic hair, not wanting to hear what she knew he was going to announce.

"I have to go," he said quietly, reluctantly.

"I know," she responded, still kneeling at his feet.

"My plane...at Sea-Tac," he stammered, awkward for the first time since they had met last night. "Well, I can't miss it."

"I know," she said, understanding that real life had collided with their fantasy time together.

"You were absolutely incredible," he said softly, trying not to display his emotions. He didn't want to leave this woman, but knew she was married, and well...it would get complicated. Better to just leave it this way. Cut it clean.

"I know," she said, grinning. "I was absolutely incredible, wasn't I?"

They embraced and laughed until she sobbed softly into his shoulder. He hugged her and then went to find his shorts so he could return to his own room, the bed there still unused, to gather his things and drive down to Seattle's airport. Philadelphia was a long way away. He wouldn't be back here until..............

He eased into his shorts, blew her a kiss, and then he was gone.

Catherine slipped on her robe and looked out the window for the better part of an hour, until she was sure he was indeed gone. She didn't want to risk running into him in the lobby and becoming emotional in public.

She spent the day walking through the town alone, enjoying the shops and sitting on the marina and watching the boats come and go. The gulls squawked and seemed to call to her as they dove for their meals in the channel.

Her return ferry ticket wasn't until tomorrow morning. She tried not to think of him. That was over, she told herself. She'd be returning to her husband and her life tomorrow. She didn't know John's last name, his phone number, his e-mail, or anything personal. Nor did he know hers.

Yes, it was safer this way.

By mid-day, she was feeling some fatigue and decided to go back to the room for a short nap before dinner. When she walked into the lobby, the innkeeper called to her.

"Oh, Ms. Carroll, a delivery package arrived for you. The gentleman that was our guest last night sent it and called and insisted that it be placed on the ottoman in your room."

She almost skipped to her room, fumbling for the key when she got to the door.

There was a large picnic basket on the ottoman, filled with fruits, and a large bottle of chardonnay in the center. The basket was surrounded by a bouquet of Western Washington wildflowers, a kaleidoscope of bright hues.

Tucked inside of the floral arrangement was an envelope with "Catherine" scrawled on it in handwriting she recognized instantly.

"Catherine," it said. "Exactly one year from today, book this room again. For two. There's a BYOO festival on that date........."

Catherine scrunched up her nose. BYOO?

Only then she realized that the note continued on the other side.

"......Bring Your Own Ottoman. And I'll need to borrow yours, since you keep stealing mine. See you then?"

"xo"

Catherine tucked the note to her chest and sat on the ottoman.

"It's a date," she said to herself. "And only 365 days away. It'll go fast."

Before checking out the following morning, she had already confirmed her reservation.