A Hungry Traveler

"Okay….In my office, I spend some time surfing adult chat rooms. Like, cybersex chatrooms. I find women to chat with and talk intimately with them. Some of them are there to get off, and I type stuff to help them….I'm very good at it…"

He looked at her. She was searching inside him. She had a tiny smile that was hard to read.

"You're good at it huh," she said.

"Very," he said.

"Give me a for instance, please," she said, grinning.

His heart began to pound. This was it. He would start this conversation, and she would either be repulsed by him or she would drag him into the ladies room.

"You sure you want to hear this?"

"I'm positive."

He sighed deeply and plowed ahead.

"Well, if I have a good sense that the woman is intelligent and has a good imagination, I ask her if she is excited by the notion of being watched while she masturbates. If she says yes, I suggest a little game she might like."

"Do you find many who say yes?"

"There are a lot of women who say yes," he confessed. "Would you say yes?"

"Keep going," she smiled.

"I suggest to her that I can see her, right then, through her computer screen, and if she would like, I'd like to give her a body-trembling orgasm."

"How intriguing!" she enthused. "Details, now."

Encouraged by her enthusiasm, he explained to her that he would speak to the woman as though he could see everything she was doing, even correctly observing that she had a tee shirt and panties on (knowing from experience that most do) and, gauging that this observation would cause any woman in an aroused state to engage in some form of nervous body language such as biting her lower lip, say "do you know you bite your lower lip?" and the hook would be fully set. Then he would tell her the rules of the game – he did all the typing, she was to type nothing because both of her hands would be busy, just do what she was instructed to do; when she began to build towards her moment, she was to type "ooooooooooo" as a signal, and then "ccccccccccccccc" when she reached her heavenly reward. With the rules laid down, he would ask her to get some skin cream, talk her out of her clothes, and walk her through an exercise in auto-eroticism that left her with trembling limbs, exclaiming to him that that was incredible.

He could see that her look had changed.

"Does that strike you as bizarre?"

"Entirely," she said. "And incredibly exciting."

"Uh-oh Sabrine. Have I got you aroused?"

"I'm afraid so. But it's not the first time."

"When was the first time?"

"When I saw your picture."

"My picture!? It's just a head shot."

"You're smile is gorgeous," she crooned.

His heart was racing now. He'd gotten to that point, when lust has so consumed one's body that speech becomes intuitive, spontaneous, reckless. He leaned forward and whispered to her.

"Sabrine," he hushed, eyes open wide, smile broadening,"I have another secret for you!"

She played along, whispering back.

"What is it," she hissed.

"I have masturbated to you," he whispered. She did not flinch, but reflexively answered.

"Oh! Me too," she said, "where?"

"In the shower," he said.

"Me too!!" she cried, eyes laughing, face beaming. "How was it?!"

"Awesome."

They clutched hands like eager children awaiting the arrival of Santa.

"Sabrine, let's go home and get in the shower," he whispered.

"That's a great idea," she replied eagerly.

She went to the ladies room, he paid the check, and they began their walk to her apartment. They were passing through a small park, her apartment building visible at the end of the walkway. Approaching a bench, he stopped her and invited her to sit a moment.

"Sabrine, you need to know…" he began, but she cut him off.

"Shhhh," she said, putting her finger to his lips. "It doesn't matter what it's about….We've come together by fate, it doesn't matter what for or whether it's right or wrong. I just feel as though we've been in love for centuries, and I want to live in this moment and be consumed by it. It is what it is, just let it happen, okay?" And she smiled her smile again. Just like a California girl, he thought.

"That's something like what I was going to say, but you've captured it beautifully."

She pecked him on the lips and pulled him off the bench.

"Come on, shower's awaitin'," she drawled Western-style, and they hurried down the walk and across the street to the door of her building. She fumbled with her keys, he scolded her to "hurry up, dammit!" and they scampered in the door and up the stairs to her apartment on the second floor, fumbling with keys again until the deadbolt clicked, the door flew open and they barged into the tiny apartment, breathing heavily and laughing like fools.

As the door closed and the deadbolt was thrown, the swirl and clatter abated, and they stood in silence looking at each other and smiling. They stepped closer, and his hand went to her face, gently caressing her cheek. Her fingers tugged his shirt, pulling him yet closer, until their faces were inches apart, and they kissed, slowly, gently, lips grazing, each savoring the sense and smell of their intimacy.

His fingers ran across her cheeks, down her jaw line, circling around her ears down her neck, along her shoulders, down her arms.

"Undress me," she whispered.

He slid his fingers to the buttons of her vest, just three of them, taking in the marvelous skin of her throat and clavicle, until they were all undone, and he slowly slid the vest open and off her shoulders. She laid her arms back and it fell to the floor.

He stared at her bare breasts, her beautiful tanned tummy, fingertips of both hands meandering across her neck, her chest, down circling her breasts, giving each nipple a gently flick, down across her tummy. He looked in her face. Her eyes were open slits, looking at him dreamily, smiling.

"You look like you're high," he whispered in her ear.

"You're my drug," she droned huskily.

He slowly dropped to his knees, full hands caressing her sides, down the outside of her legs, around back and up to her ass, burying his face in her tummy, inhaling, kissing her navel. He hooked his fingers inside the waist of her black stretch pants and pulled. They slid over her slim hips and down her thighs, and dropped to her ankles. She stepped out of them, her hands going to his face, pulling his chin to look up into her eyes.

"Make me naked," she hissed.

His eyes roamed from her face down her body, stunned by its flawless lines and skin, only the flimsy black thong left to hide her treasure. Like he was handling a 16th century silk tapestry, he gently took the strings of fabric in his fingertips and slid them off her hips, revealing a small patch of golden silk. He brought his face to her, burying his nose in her hair, and inhaled. He looked up again at her; she smiled and pushed him away.

"My turn," she whispered.

She gently prodded him backward, across the hall and through a doorway into her tiny kitchen. A mellow orange light shone from the ceiling, and he could see through the doorway into her bedroom. She pushed him against the kitchen counter. Grasped his lapels with both hands and kissed him deeply for the first time, pushing her tongue into his mouth, playing with his tongue, sucking it into her mouth, biting his lip.

"GOD you make me feel good," she said, as she began to unbutton his shirt.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Yeah," she uttered, from deep within her throat.

She opened his shirt and ran her fingers through his mat of black hair, circling his nipples, flicking them, using her nails to gently scratch his skin. Her fingers found the gray patch between his pecs and she tugged gently.

"That's incredibly sexy," she said, burying her face in it.

She slid the shirt off his shoulders and it fell. She traced the lines of his muscular shoulders and biceps, squeezing them approvingly. Her fingernails traced a path across his chest, swirling lines in his belly hair, stopping at his belt buckle. He leaned back against the counter, arms at his side, watching her hands.

"Want some help?" he moaned.

"Move and you're a dead man," she breathed.

She pulled at the belt, slipped it through the buckle, flicked his jeans button and tugged his zipper slowly down. She slipped her hands inside the waist at his hips, sliding them down, bringing the jeans with her, helped in her task by the black silk boxers. Dropping to her knees, she helped him step out of the jeans, and free of them, she ran her hands back up, from the back of his calves to his firm athlete's ass, and around to the front, tracing a fingernail along the length of his very obvious erection.

"Enjoying this, are you?" she inquired, rich with irony, looking up at him, admiring his sublime smile.

"Emphatically," he moaned.

She looked up into his eyes with a grin of immense mischief, hooking her fingers under the waist of the boxers, pulling the front open to be free of his erection, and letting the silk fall effortlessly to the floor. She beheld him, his strong, solid manhood, his strong athletic thighs, his deep dark body hair.

"Such a powerful man," she said, standing, turning, taking his hand, "and now I am going to make you weak," pulling him toward the bathroom. He did not resist.

She led him through her bedroom toward what he thought would be a modest bathroom, but entering, he saw a spacious area nearly the size of the bedroom. Tiled from ceiling to floor, it held a large glassed-in shower with three shower heads – one above and one on each of two sides. Inside, there was a tile bench. The wall opposite the shower was all mirror. He looked at it, seeing the full view of the two naked bodies.

"Quite a bathroom," he mused, slipping his arm around her shoulder from the back, the other around her waist, hugging the back of her to him, kissing her neck.

"This is a condominium unit – the owner is a friend of mine. He is a marathon runner, he loves bathrooms. He's in Europe until next summer and he rented it to me until he returns," she said, rushing to get it out before giggling at his neck-tickling kisses. She looked at him looking at her in the mirror. "That's a nice looking picture, don't you think?"

"Indeed it is darling, but shall we steam it up?"

"We can try, but it doesn't steam! The shower unit is enclosed and has its own exhaust. And the glass is steam-proof."

"You mean…"

"Yes, we can watch ourselves in the shower," she beamed, opening the door and turning on the master valve.

The jets began spewing rivers of water, hissing loudly, and she pulled him into the shower. They were enveloped in a cascade of warm wetness from head to toe, and fell into a full-body embrace. He felt her breasts pushing against him and his hardness pressing on her tummy. Her hands caressed his back and fell down to squeeze his buns.

"You really are my fix," she crooned, and she put her lips to him to be kissed. And they stood in the pulsing spray, locked from lips to hips, moaning their elation to each other.

She pushed him away, and pointed the heads to the side walls and shut the top head, leaving them standing in the middle of the steamy heat, out of the spray. She took a bard of soap from the tray and began to soap his chest, moving to his belly, creating a rich foam lather in his hair, and finally dropping both hands to his erection, soaping his balls and the length of his cock, giving him several gratuitous strokes and squeezes before bring her hands back up to his chest, taking his hand in hers and slapping the soap bar into it.

"Show me what you got, big boy," she growled.

He put the soap to her chest, turning her sideways to him, and holding her back with one arm, ran the soap from breasts to tummy and back, and down to her golden bush, rubbing the bar against her in quick strokes to create her own happy foam. He turned her around, his stabling arm now to her front, and soaped her back, slipping his stabling hand up to caress her soapy breasts and tummy as he worked. Done with his preparation work, he put the soap away and using both hands, began to massage her front and back, running his hand down across her buns and into the crevice, running his fingers deep down into it until he felt the tiny hole and pushed gently. She swooned and brought her open mouth to his, and he sucked her tongue and played with her anus as she clutched his forearm and breathed hard.

She turned in his hands, now facing him, almost side to side like a loveseat, so that each had a hand fall naturally to the other's aching privates. She put a foot up on the bench, opening herself to him and placed her fingertips on the head of his cock, slipping them in circles like she was working a knob, sliding her full fingers down the length of it, all of it spilling out of her open palm as her fingers closed on his testicles and worked them.

"Is this what you dream of when you think of me in the shower?" she whispered.

"My imagination could not make up such a sweet thing," he whispered back, and slid his fingers through her bush to the top of her hood.

"Make me cum, Alex," she hissed.

Eyes locked on each other in a mutual erotic trance, their fingers went to work.

His middle finger slid down across her hood, over her lips to her tiny hole, pressing and sliding back to the bottom of her slit. With a gentle wiggle, it found the slippery entrance. With two fingers, he opened her slit and slid both fingers along the inside of her wetness until they found the hard pearl and she gasped, her legs twitching.

Her fingertips danced around the head of his cock, her thumb and forefinger running the ridge, closing in a ring around the shaft and jacking him in strokes until he groaned; and she would stop, massage his balls, pulling his scrotum playfully.

Their entranced eyes never left each other, as their faces went from smile to wantonness to smile and back.

"Watch," she whispered, and they looked through the glass wall to see the naked bodies caressing each other. He watched the mirror, saw the fine hand attached to the beautiful slender body grasping the erect penis and working it with lust and expertise. He saw the strong, dark-haired arm reach up, fingers going to the soapy breast, pinching the perfect nipple, and he heard a woman gasp and whimper. He saw the other strong arm down between the woman's legs, hand out of sight but working hard from the look of the arm movement, and he felt his two fingers deep inside the hot silky wetness of her, curling up to rub her wall against the inside of her pelvic bone; and he heard an exalted cry.

"Oh God yes!" She shouted in his ear, quickening the pace of her hand-piston, "keep it up," and he withdrew the fingers, slid them up to the pearl, and applied a quickening strum. Her legs almost failed and she grasped his wrist with her free hand, moving it back and forth like his hand was her own masturbatory tool. He strummed the cherry, slid the fingers down again inside her, out again, in, circling them around the walls, curling them against her bone. They slid out again and went down to her anus, pushing the sphincter, the middle finger slipping inside. She cried out again, firming her grip on his wrist, pulling it into her, wanting to feel more of the finger. He slipped it in further, and her piston hand worked faster on his shaft. He looked at the mirror, saw the woman's hand jacking off the male's cock, and admired how pleased the man must be.

Suddenly she pulled his hand out of her, brought it to her mouth, sucked on his fingers, and fixing her stare on him, hissed, "fuck me," turning the back of her body to him. He brought his arms around her body, hugging her from behind, rubbing their soapy bodies back and forth together, his turgid cock sliding across her cheeks, coming to rest neatly planted between them, his hands around her torso, massaging her breasts and playing with her nipples.

She pushed her bottom against his cock, glanced over her shoulder. She bent over, hands resting on the bench, reached between her legs, grasped his cock and guided its head to her door, wiggled tenderly, and feeling his head enter her, pushed back hard, sending him deep into her. He grasped her hips and watched as her bottom pulled away from him and his cum-glistened cock slid out of her and back.

He saw her looking sideways into the mirror. He turned that way. He saw the big strong dark haired body, muscular legs flexed, body hunched in that decidedly obscene carnal way; the strong arms grasping the female hips, pulling them into him. He saw the swollen cock entering and withdrawing. The woman's body bent over, her hands grasping the bench, head down, breasts swinging rhythmically with his powerful thrusts. And he heard the muffled, rhythmic "flup flup flup" of wet female bottom smacking wet male pelvis echoing through the shower, looked down and began to feel the building inside him as he saw their bodies moving so flawlessly together.

He did not have to say anything. As he quickened his pace and she instinctively stayed with him, he felt her body begin to shudder and she moaned long and low. She pushed herself up, stooped now, hands on her thighs, then reaching back to grasp the hands on her hips, turning to him, a sidelong glance speaking without words. In an instant, she turned, slipping him out of her, turning back to face him, leg back up on the bench, and guiding him back inside her.

Now bodies pressed firmly together, hips bumping in urgent thrusts as they climb the wall of their ecstasy together, he saw her look of unbridled lust, breathing huskily; he saw her firm breasts pressed against his chest, the soapy foam throbbing with each thrust. Her fingers gripped his buns, pulling him into her, thrusting her pelvis into him hard, the "flup flup flup" now a trebelous "smack."

Her head fell back, eye slits signaling; he buried his mouth on her neck and bit, grasped her bottom with one hand and thrust into her with all of his dwindling strength, faster, faster, faster until his body exploded and he heard the woman in the mirror shriek, groan; and the body in the mirror tremble, twitch and shudder as the essence of his being spewed inside her. He felt the body he was holding do the same, its voice whimper and moan; the muscles of her body that held his cock grasping it in spasms until it calmed and her body grew limp. Her whimpers came rhythmically with her breaths, beginning loud and plaintive, slowing and quieting to melodic peeps as her breathing slowed.

He lowered her to the bench, slipping from inside her, and fell to his knees, his head in her lap, hugging her waist, closing his eyes, feeling their bodies breathing together, slower, slower still until nearly sleeping; and he could hear only the water hissing against the tile and her gentle heartbeat from his ear on her tummy.

It could have been a day that passed or a minute, but they stirred, stood, silently and with delirious happiness, they adjusted the jets, washed each other with gentle care, toweled each other dry, and went to her bed. They lay in each others arms on top of the bed, naked in the moon showing through the skylight, cool California air breezing in the window. Soon they faced each other, kissing gently, and caressing faces and playing with hair, shared their elation with few words.

"You sir, are a magnificent lover," she peeped, unable to stifle her tears of glee.

Her words went to his heart like the sweetest arrows and opened him up. Staring at her, her face became blurry as tears flowed out of him, and he wept.

She wiped his tears away, repeating, "I know, I know, I know," until it was out of him and he calmed.

After a long moment of silence, they rose together and went to the kitchen, naked, fixing peanut butter sandwiches and ginger ale. They said goofy things and made each other laugh. They hugged often. They turned on the television and watched a late night comedy show. They talked about Red Skelton and Milton Berle, Jackie Gleason, Rodney Dangerfield.