Voice from The Past

"You look great - have I mentioned that?"

"You did, but don't let that stop you from repeating yourself," she said, handing me a glass with some ice and a lot of scotch in it, just like the other one she was holding.

"But you're all dry! The wet t-shirt look is now a mere memory, albeit one that I intend to keep for some time to come."

"Yeah, well, I'm the toweler, and you're the towelee - let's not get the roles reversed - proper nonmilitary etiquette and all that."

I had no idea what she meant by that, but it sounded like fun, and I chuckled for the umpteenth time in our conversation. She stood there, sipping her drink, eyeing me over the glass, and looking better than I've managed to convey.

I was dripping on the rug outside the bathroom door. She pushed me back into the bathroom, stepped behind me and came up with another fresh towel - I was going to have to compliment the management on their liberal provision of towels - I was liking this hotel chain a lot.

"Now, let's get you dry before you catch your death of cold. I see you put your tent away while I was gone. I guess you're not planning on camping after all?"

"You never know when a camping opportunity will arise - hence the preparedness focus."

"Well, I'll keep an eye out," she said, moving behind me. Reaching up, she toweled off my wet hair, then rubbed the towel over my back, then wrapped it around each arm in turn, doing a brisk and effective drying.

"Mmm... I used to watch your back, you know," she mused.

"No, I didn't. Was I in peril that you were covering for me?"

"Oh no, I just liked to watch your back. I'd just sort of check you out. Those uniform pants do nothing for men's backsides, you know - too blousy. And those flight suits - they shouldn't be sexy, but somehow they really are - they always looked like you guys just might be naked under them, and all those zippers led to who knew where."

"I had no idea, but I sure watched your back - those dungarees you wore had to be painted on some days, and on the work details when you did the t-shirt with the dungarees - yow, you looked fine!"

"There you go again with the flattery - too bad there's no way I could get back in those dungarees now. I'm big as a house, which is making your nice talk that much more appreciated."

Saying that, she dropped to one knee and started drying my legs, from the ankles up. Her thigh emerged from the skirt, right up to her hip. It was tanned and smooth and looked great. As she reached above my knee, her hands, still holding the towel, were getting the tent going again although she hadn't reached anything critical, and she smiled while watching it return. I jerked as her hand snaked up my inner thigh on one leg, then the other. She had gotten marvelously close to my balls, but had stopped just short. I was amazed that my towel had not fallen open, and I knew that she had me growing again. We were both having fun, going with it, seeing where it would take us.

"You are not big as a house. In fact, I noticed immediately that you look better now than you did then, and you looked great then. You look like a woman, and you look like a woman who loves life and does it well." I gotta admit, it's a lot easier complimenting a woman when you believe it, and I certainly believed that.

"I do love a lot of things about life, and I hope I do them well." She went on, "But I constantly battle my weight. It's fun to have bigger boobs, but the bigger ass that goes with it is hardly attractive. You, on the other hand, haven't put on a pound! That's so unfair."

"Uh, thanks, it's more like five pounds plus, but before it gets away, let me say that I have not had much chance to view you from behind today, but you look great from in front."

"Nope, you've got the in front territory staked out today, Mr. Boy Scout Redux. Just what am I going to do about that?"

"Is that a problem?"

"Well, from the way you jerked when I dried your thigh, I was beginning to wonder. But it doesn't seem to have suffered from the touch. I think it's not a problem - certainly nothing we can't deal with! Now about that shave."

Guys, those of you who've ever been shaved know it's a treat if well done. I can confirm that if it's an attractive woman, it's a great experience well worth it. Then, if you've ever had it done by a babe when you're pretty much undressed and she's doing it in private and you both know it's a sexual thing, it's pretty stupendous, and a guaranteed memory for life.

Leaving the bathroom for a moment, she returned with the office chair from the desk and bade me sit, back to the sink, where she had a stream of hot water flowing. "This won't be as good as having a barber's chair, but we'll make do." she chatted, as she drenched a hand towel in steaming water from the sink (note: include the plentiful very hot water supply in that thanks to hotel management). Tilting my head back, she wrapped my face, the heat just a nanodegree this side of searingly hot, but after the initial shock it felt great.

"I much prefer a brush and cake with straight razor, but I see that you have this can of foam and injector type, so I guess I'll compromise my principles, just this once. At least it's not electric!"

"I do love it when a woman compromises her principles, I must admit, especially when it involves my injector," I said through the hot towel.

"You have the filthiest mind of anyone I've ever met as well, Mr. Clean Boy Scout. Who knew there was such thinking even possible in the officer corps!? Was it always so?"

"It certainly was in your case - you made it hard... to leave work at times!"

"Well, that kind of difficulty I guess I'll take as a compliment as well." she answered, smiling.

I watched her as she removed the towel and applied the foam to my face. It felt great as her fingers stroked my cheeks and chin, and I smiled as I saw the look of concentration on her face.

She shaved me, twice, and I looked into her eyes, focused on the blade. Although nothing was going on, the effect of being so served by this babe was keeping me tented, and I was simply and thoroughly enjoying the entire scene.

"There, I think you're done," she said, wiping the remaining bits of foam away, and running her fingers over her handiwork, checking for any still-rough areas. There appeared to be none, and amazingly, I was all smooth-cheeked yet not scraped raw in any area, something I've never been able to do on my own.

"One final check, though," she whispered in my ear, and bending close, she lightly kissed my cheeks, first one, then the other, then continued on, not on the lips but all around the shaven area, testing, and raising full body goosebumps. Finally, she gently kissed my mouth, so gently that although our lips were parted, neither of us involved our tongues yet, but just reveled in the lovely, quiet, lingering kiss.

"Mmmm..." she murmured into my mouth, then pulled back to standing before me.

"Aaahhh," I think I answered as she stood. "That was precisely incredible. I'm dazed."

Smiling, she took my hand and led me into the bedroom, pulled the covers back to the basic bed sheet, then nudged me to lie face down on the bed. "I still see some wet spots, I think," she reasoned. I lay down, backside up, and waited.

"Now, to thoroughly and properly perform the drying maneuver, we need to attend to all the areas, not just those most apparent." She said, in mock-instructor fashion.

Tugging at the towel, she pulled its wrap free and then pulled it out from under me. I'll admit, I rose up to help, and quickly adjusted myself as I lowered again. She noticed.

"Now, now. No tampering with the equipment, young scout."

"Just keeping it from getting bent, ma'am."

"Oh, ok, then. We certainly don't want any damaged poles!

"Mmmm... Your backside is every bit as cute as I always thought it would be - your wife is lucky to have such nice sights around the house!"

"Now you're the flatterer, and you're getting the results."

"We'll see about that," she said, and proceeded to dry my lower back, not that I thought it was still wet, then ran the towel up my calves and then along the backs of my thighs. I instinctively spread my legs a bit, and she knelt between them, leaning over me as she rubbed. I was definitely hard and wondered how we'd handle the finale. She methodically ran the towel down the crack of my ass, eliciting a jerk of surprise. Almost roughly, but not quite, she dried there, and I could feel the towel under my scrotum as well.

"What, you thought I'd neglect the details?"

"Oh, no, just appreciative of the thoroughness, thanks."

"You're welcome. Now, you'd better turn over. I don't want to miss anything."

"Well, if you insist," I said, and rolled over onto my back. Naked, my erection cheerfully bobbed in the air as I lay back and looked up at her. She was teasing, not watching my cock at all.

"Oops - a drop still here and there!" she mocked, and did the ankle to thigh drying thing again.

Then she shifted to chest and then belly, and finally, when there was nothing in the least big damp except cock and balls, she sat next to me on the bed, still teasing, as she ran the towel between my thighs up to my balls, and stopping there, the pressure distinct and distinctly pleasurable, "hmm, and what do we have here?"

"Less than we'd like to have, but I guess it is what it is, as they say."

"Oh, I think there's plenty! And it seems so eager! There's nothing quite so flattering to a girl's ego as an eager, let's see, what do you call it?"

"Uh, maybe a penis?"

"Well, yes, it's certainly that. But what do YOU call it? I was expecting more along the lines of Dick, or Wang, Peter, Thomas, or even Dong, although you don't look Oriental. There are so many choices for men's equipment, while women's seems to be narrowed down to two or three. I still haven't come close to exhausting the possibilities - Glory Pole, Mr. Happy, or Prick, or - Cock. Yes, from here, it's cock."

"I do love it when a woman talks dirty! Actually, hearing a woman call it a cock is about the best!"

"Then a cock it is. And it definitely needs drying off," Becky said, finally (finally!) wrapping it in the towel and gently drying the pubic hair, then the balls, reaching under as well, ensuring no private part was left unturned-on.

Enjoying this as much as I was, I also wanted to reciprocate.

"I definitely think it's my turn now, don't you think?" I asked, starting to sit up.

"Oh, there's no need for turns - I'm just getting acquainted here," she said, pushing me back on the bed, and laying the towel aside, she grasped my shaft in her hand and gently squeezed it, then ran her finger around its tip - always a winning move. I could feel the slickness of my lubrication being spread around the head.

"I've always been a talker, so just tell me to shut up if I start babbling, ok?" she explained, then continued, "Well, hello there, how are you? All swollen and stiff, and you keep rising up and down in my hand, like you really like this. Do you really like it?"

"Oh yes, he and I both really like it," I managed, the sensations being just wondrous.

"Oh, good. I do like making men like what I'm doing. Now, you just enjoy this. First, I'm going to check out your balls - hmm... they're nice and full, and they're all tightened up, like something's about to happen. We'll just have to see about that, won't we?" She had a ball in each small hand, and was rolling them around lightly, not hurting them at all, as my cock twitched in the air. Bending, she examined them, so closely I could feel her breath, as if she were memorizing them carefully, and then slowly, slowly she licked first one, then the other, then took one, then the other into her mouth and pulled ever so little on each. There was no pain, just a lovely sensation of being attended to.

"And they taste all clean and fresh - I like a man's taste sometimes, but this after-shower freshness is nice, too. Now, let's see about this part." With that, she took my cock in both hands, her face only inches from it, and squeezed, stroked and generally investigated it.

"Now, you said, what, that it's less than WE'd like to have? I think not, Colonel. No, I think this is just what WE'd like to have. Are you one of those size-hung-up guys, after all the experience you must have?"

"Maybe a little, I guess. I just wish I had a bit more - maybe another solid inch and a similar boost in girth - something to make a girl's eyes sparkle on first seeing it."

"Well, I'm sparkling here, if you haven't noticed, buster. It's a great size, by the way, and we can test its suitability for several functions today!"

With that, she lowered again and very slowly, kissed the tip, then keeping her lips pursed, sank down on it. I watched it enter her mouth, and she watched me watch it. Her eyes were indeed sparkling, and she really seemed sincere. Of course, I'm not sure what insincerity looks like when my dick is being sucked, but that's not what this was, for sure.

She took about half of it in her mouth, then started rising and lowering on it, pulling more and more of it in on each stroke. I was already so excited, and had been for some time by then, I wanted to give her some options. She was exquisitely slow - not torturously, but more languidly, as if she wanted to miss no sensation, no detail. It was far better than the more frenzied pace to which I'd become, rarely, accustomed.

"That feels great, but I may not last long - between the shaving and drying and wonderful conversation, I may... " I didn't know quite how to tell her that if she wanted to back off either to avoid my ejaculate in her mouth or to make me last longer, she'd better back soon.

"The idea is not to make this one last a long time, although this is a treat for me, you know." she said, stroking me as she lifted her mouth away. "How do you really want to come? Because I really want you to come, you know. If it's okay with you, I'd like you to come in my mouth - this is a dance for me, with each of us having a part, and for this one, I want to taste you, and I want to swallow your coming, and I want to feel you soften in my mouth. But if you want to come another way, just let me know."

And with that, she lowered her mouth on me again, sinking down so that I was fully engulfed, and staying there. I could feel the cock head pushing against her throat (what, did she have no gag reflex at all?), and then her tongue moving up and down the underside, and then a firm suction as she drew back up.

Holding still, I could feel her tongue continuing to stroke frenulum as she rose, then down again as she repeated that at a pace that was slow enough for me to savor each detail, starting to piston at maybe a waltz pace - certainly not a jitterbug or even a foxtrot. I had never, ever, had such a luxurious surfeit of sensory pleasure, all concentrated just... exactly... right.... there!

"Well, you win... now...!" I stammered, as I felt the boiling start way deep and rise up. I raised my hips as I felt the liquid spurt forth, and true to her word she continued to suck deeply, swallowing as I came, and came. I think I may have cried out or moaned or whatever. The truth is, I was pretty much oblivious to anything except her mouth on me and my coming in her. I blasted and thrust and jerked and finally collapsed back, momentarily exhausted by the intensity of it.

She never missed a beat, continuing to suck me dry, her tongue swirling around the head of my cock as it relaxed and shrank. When I was fully soft, she crawled catlike into my arms and kissed me, her tongue seeking out mine, the taste of me barely but distinctly being shared. I held her close and she nestled into my arms.

"Now, a nap for you, and we'll see about those other functions," she whispered. I watched her stand and without ceremony, unwrap her skirt, letting it fall. The shoes had been discarded some time ago. Then the shirt, leaving her standing before me in a mesh, transparent demi bra and matching string bikini panties.

Damn - when and how did the bra get there? I thought back to the backpack, to the amount of time when she went for ice, and smiled that obviously, she'd planned out a couple of options for the evening, all flattering to me. Back to the view, I had a glimpse of her spare pubic hair through the thin material before she crawled back into bed with me, pulled up the covers, and snuggled close, her fingers finding my wilted cock again and gathering it and my balls into a handful.

"Mmm, yes, a nice size indeed. Now, sleep. Actually, I'm tired myself - it's been a long week. Let's both refresh with a nap, and we'll awake and continue."

I wanted to ravish her right there, and I wanted to sleep in the aftermath of that astounding orgasm, and I didn't want to disappoint her, but understood it was ok, and somewhere in there I drifted off.

I awoke after about 45 minutes, power nap refreshed and quickly recounting the events of the early evening. Checking the clock, I saw that it was almost 8, and just getting dark. There was plenty of time left.

Becky was asleep beside me, my dick no longer in her hand, her back to me, and the sheets somehow having been kicked off. The room was a pleasant temperature for that, and I mentally added thermostat to the hotel management thanks. She had an ass not unlike Scarlet Johannsen in "Lost in Translation." Full and female, not girlish. I watched it for a moment, then arose and went to bathroom to take a leak. Standing there peeing, I reflected on that tremendous fellatio - far and away the best I could recall ever being favored with.

Then I quietly, with barely a stream of water, carefully washed myself, wanting to be fresh again for her, whether or not she cared or we got in a position for her to register that. After that, I rummaged through my shaving kit and found a tablet of Viagra and popped it, just in case - I wanted to be able not to concentrate on anything but paying her back for such a wonderful time, and certainly not to come up wanting when the occasion would arise. Empty stomach, 20 minutes, no sweat.

Tiptoeing back into the bedroom, I wondered how far I could get in making love to her before she awoke. As if inviting my advances, she murmured and rolled onto her back. I slowly crawled up onto the bed, lowered my head and nudged her pubis lightly with my nose. I took in the scent of her - it was mixed with vanilla and maybe cinnamon - very nice and not overwhelming at all.

Nudging further down, I was thanked with another murmur in her sleep. Kneeling next to her, I traced a finger over the mound in her panties, trying to induce a sexual dream that she would enjoy even unconsciously. I may also draw her cooperation in my next moves, although I didn't foresee much opposition in that regard.

Her panties were damp, and as my finger pressed a bit harder, I discovered she was well lubricated already. I flattered myself that our earlier exchange - ok, earlier activity - had made her wet. The panties were thankfully tied at the sides with strings, which I loosed. Oh so slowly pulling her legs apart, I managed to get them fairly well spread, and laid the fronts of the panties down on the sheet, exposing her pussy to me.

It was trimmed, and waxed to a bikini line, and it attested to her blondness, the light brown hair barely curling, the lips revealing no inner lips, nothing of the internal marvels that I knew awaited. I did note that I was hard again, and was glad of it, and knew that it was too soon for the Viagra boost as well. This time I'd last longer, and this time I'd be able to return the favor and more, I hoped.

Again slowly and as gently as I could, I lay between her legs and started lightly tonguing her. Just kisses at first, all along her mound, then my tongue gently parting her lips, curling in and raising up, coaxing her clitoris into the game. More kisses on her vagina, more tongue, a bit deeper, finally getting to where I could taste and feel her wetness. The condition of her pussy made me want to fuck her then and there, but I was determined to deliver the same patience and pleasure to her that she had to me.