Amanda's Gifts

"Yeah, you were pretty rude to me," I said, adding a playful, pouty face, hiding a smile, but letting her know we were speaking frankly, while trying to hide my nervousness - I didn't want to offend her, and watched her reactions intently.

"I know. I'm sorry ," she was quick to apologize, with a little smile.

"...and rude to others," I added, with more pouting.

"Yes, I know."

She wasn't trying to defend herself, so I took a risk and pushed a little bit. "You're a meanie!"

"Yes," she said meekly, but still with a little smile. I figured she felt a little guilty, which was my intention.

"I tried to be nice to you on the plane. I tried to be kind to you in the hotel. You said some things in front of people I know in the hotel."

"I know," she said, with her smile dissipating, not sure if I was still teasing. "I'm sorry. What can I do to make it up?"

"You owe me," I said. "And its going to take more than chocolate to fix this."

Her smile started to return. Then she said, "What can I do to make it up to you?"

"If I let you stay in my room, you will really owe me." My words surprised me - I wasn't sure where I was going with this.

"I'll pay for your room. I'll do anything to make it up. What can I do?" she inquired, seemingly willing to make amends.

"Be careful what you promise. My employer pays for my room so that doesn't make it up to me," I said, and paused to think. "So what shall we do?" My mind was going to a place it should not.

"I'll do anything," she repeated, opening the door to a bolder line of discussion.

"If you stay with me tonight, how do I know you won't accuse me of raping you in my room?"

She looked surprised that I returned to the dark truth. "I won't," she promised. "You can rape me. I don't care. I'll do anything." Whoa, this suddenly went to where I was thinking, but maybe too fast for me. What was I doing?

"'Anything', you say?" I verified. "Then how about you paint my house," I said, playfully looking at her out of the corner of my eye.

"What?" she asked, clearly confused.

"It's a joke. A woman comes up to a man and says, 'I'll do anything for $300.' The man tells her, 'then paint my house.' The woman was a prostitute! I guess it's not funny right now," I said.

She smiled, not sure if it was that funny.

"You know, you should really be punished for what you did to me. You tried to embarrass me on the plane, then again in the hotel. Perhaps it might be fitting to embarrass you," I said. Her eyes got big. "You said 'anything.' What if I told you to take off your clothes and walk back to the hotel naked. Would you do it?" I asked. My heart was beating a little faster at what I had just said, unsure which of the two of us was more surprised.

She stared at me for a few seconds with some shock in her eyes. Then she put her head down for a moment, then looked up and quietly pleaded, "Please don't." It took me quite a little while to realize that she seriously thought about it, and didn't say ,"no".

"You are twenty years younger than me. You're practically a kid compared to me. Perhaps I should bend you over my knee and spank you for your childish behavior." She just looked at me, and I waited, both of us thinking, wondering where this was going, and if we wanted it to go there. I thought I saw the essence of a smile on her face. Maybe it was just my imagination.

"I'm not interested in punishing you for the sake of punishment. You owe me. If I give you a place to stay tonight, how can I benefit from this?" I asked. Even though I thought I was just playing, the words made me think I was beginning to sound like one of those predators that I hated.

She looked at me and quietly said, "I don't know."

"You know what? I'm being mean, and I don't like it. You don't owe me. I'm just playing with you. I'm sorry for being mean. I don't have any right to scold you like that. I'm sorry," I said.

"Its OK," she said, obviously thinking hard about it. Then she gave me a little, forced smile, which I hoped meant, "no hard feelings."

I finally said, "Let's get our of here." I paid the bill and we started walking back to the hotel, mostly in silence. It was cold, and at one point, she grabbed and clung to my arm as we continued to walk.

After a while, I asked, "do you know what a gift is? A gift is something one gives without the expectation of payment. When I first offered you a bed in my room earlier today, I did so without expecting anything in return. I figured you would either turn me down, which you did. Or we would be just two people passing in the night, hopefully not bumping into each other. You were someone in need, and I like helping people who need help, when I can. I don't want you to feel like you owe me anything, because you don't. And it isn't my job to punish you. I'm not your father. And you are plenty old enough that you don't need me or anyone else correcting you. I bought you dinner, partly so I wouldn't have to eat alone, partly to enjoy the pleasure of being in the company of a beautiful woman, and partly because I figured you needed a shoulder and I wanted to give you a chance to vent, which you did, and I'm glad you did. And the offer still stands. I'm offering you a free bed. But you owe me nothing. Don't get me wrong. You are a beautiful woman, and God knows, I'd love to ...well, how do I phrase this... ...hold you in my arms and hug you for a very long time. But you owe me nothing, and I'm not expecting anything in return. So if you want a hug, I'm happy to oblige. All you need to do is ask. In fact, when and if we are alone, you don't even need to ask. So I will respect your privacy and let you do what you need to do without you worried that I'm going to invade your personal space. I promise, I will not rape you. I won't touch you. What do you think?" I asked.

She looked me in the eyes and we stopped for a moment, facing each other. After some thought she said, "OK. I'd like that," and smiled at me.

I smiled and said, "Great! Let's go." I wrapped her arm around mine and escorted her to my room, after retrieving her luggage, wondering, excited about, or perhaps scared of, what was going to happen this night.

Upon arrival, Amanda nervously said, "I need to use the bathroom." Then she gathered some things from her luggage and went to the bathroom.

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"I can't believe I'm doing this," she said to herself. "What am I doing here? I have my own hotel room, and now I'm about to shower in the hotel room of some man I don't really know?" She removed the little makeup she had left from the start of her trip and washed her face as she thought about it. Initially, she wasn't sure why she approached him in the lobby. She didn't ask to stay with him. She just explained to him her concerns about not wanting to sleep in the lobby all night. He assumed she was asking to stay with him, since he didn't know she had a room now. And the dinner invitation was a surprise. Why would he be so nice to her after all that she did to him? As she undressed, she looked at herself in the mirror. She wasn't bad looking, and many men had been nice to her when she was bitchy, probably because of her good looks. But her hair was a mess, and she didn't really look all that pretty right now So she wondered what he saw in her.

She tuned on the water and climbed in when the water turned hot. It was cold outside, and the liquid warmth flowing through her hair and down her body felt good. Finally! It had been almost three days without a shower. She then realized that she must stink. She lathered up the soap in her hands and began to caress her body. It began to dawn on her that she didn't want to be alone tonight. Her boyfriend that she loved, and thought he loved her, had not only rejected her, but already found a replacement - the same day she left on this trip! She needed to feel wanted, to feel desired. And desire soon began to infiltrate her as she began to caress and massage her breasts. She had to squeeze her hard nipples, rolling them firmly between her fingers. She moved her hands down her body and across her flat stomach. She reached behind and squeezed her ass cheeks before moving her hands around and gave some attention to her pussy. She realized that this older man in the room next door liked her, talked to her, showed her respect with simple acts, like holding open the door for her, like a gentleman. He wasn't bad looking. He had an older look, like that of an accomplished man. He acted like someone who would not only treat her like a lady, but wanted to please her.

He didn't play games. Well, maybe he did. At dinner, he was direct, and called things as he saw them. But he didn't really do it in a mean way. Even though he said she didn't owe him, she felt like she did. And not because he made her feel like she did, but because she wanted to. She wanted to please him, for all she did to him, and how well he treated her.

He surprised her when he started asking her personal questions, and reminding her of her bitchy attitude. But the way he did it made her think he was actually interested in her, as a person. He listened to her. He cared. She would normally deny it and defend herself, but she didn't feel like she needed to do that this time, or wanted to. But then he showed a mysterious dark side. Even though he started talking dirty, he didn't seem dirty. He seemed like he was just exploring some sexy ideas to make things interesting with no intention of hurting her. It seemed like he was maybe teasing her, just to get a rise out of her. But the things he said got her, well, a little horny. She began to envision the two of them doing some things. They were exciting, and she could feel her desire building as she listened to him in the restaurant and walked with him to the hotel.

She must have figured out some of this in her sub-conscience, because when they got to the hotel a few minutes ago, she knew she not only didn't want to be alone, she wanted to be with him. So they retrieved her luggage from the concierge and she followed him to his room. As she ran her hands over her body here in the shower, she realized she wanted it to be his hands on her body. He wasn't forcing her to do anything. She felt like she could trust him. So she made up her mind as to what to do.

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I heard the shower and let my mind imagine her with water washing across her breasts and dripping past her pussy. I was curious as to what she looked like under all that clothing, and let my mind explore the possibilities, disappointed I didn't make some sexy demands of this sexy woman. I probably could have, but I would have felt guilty whether she ran away from me or not.

I had never cheated on my wife. I decided when I was young that I would love my wife and always be faithful, even though I had not yet met her. OK, so maybe I slipped a little when I succumbed to the charity of a couple of girls who offered me their bare breasts to explore, and I accepted by worshiping those soft mounds with massaging fingers and a thorough cleansing with my tongue. My fingers have even explored the creamy insides of a couple of velvety love tunnels, which I did my best to stimulate until their spastic trembling matched their gasps. I hoped their compliments were truthful. But for just about every other girl, I was a gentleman and quickly relegated to the friend zone. We could talk about anything, like I was one of the girls. Often, one on one, some of these girls would really open up their hearts to me, and sometimes tell me they were telling things they have never told anyone else before. I was happy that they felt comfortable enough with me to share some inner most secrets, yet concerned to learn about some of the horrible experiences they had endured that only pretty, young girls would be exposed to at the hands of young men. But I loved my future wife, and I looked forward to exploring the physical side of intimacy with her after I married her.

My wife and me, we love each other very much, and have done so for over two decades. But she has resisted my touch for many years, and her rejection drives me to high levels of frustration. She would never explain why. She wouldn't really discuss it. So I was left without a path to fix whatever was wrong. I knew she always cared about me, and always treated me extremely well, with great respect, but more like a brother than like a husband. She always wanted me to be happy, but I'm not. I want a woman that wants me, sexually, without giving up the rest of the affection I have gotten from her. I avoid bars and other places to meet women. That's not me. Now I walk around completely frustrated and angry every day of my life. I hate even looking at another woman, thinking each one has a man that loves her, and she wants his touch, knowing I'll never be that man. Not only does the only woman I love not want me to touch her, but I have no woman that has expressed any desire for me. It has been, now, something like 15 years since the last woman ever made any kind of pass at me. At age 55, I feel like a horny teenager that has never left sexual puberty. There are many more younger women each year out there, and I get older and less desirable for any woman. The last time I confronted my wife about this, just a few months ago, she gave me a hall pass, meaning I could do anything I wanted, if I found a woman who was interested, as long as I didn't tell my wife anything. Despite having that hall pass, I didn't have the drive to go looking for anyone. And although I had a beautiful woman in my bathroom at that moment, getting ready to sleep in her own bed just a few feet from mine, I figured I was still hopelessly in the perpetual friend zone, which kept my expectations plenty low.

When she emerged from the bathroom a while later, I had already dressed in my pajamas, which consisted of some loose-fitting shorts and a tee shirt. I popped into the bathroom, did my thing, and headed for my bed to play with my phone before it was time to turn out the light.

I tried not to let her catch me looking at her, but I did enjoy seeing her in a long tee shirt that was long enough to cover her bottom. Being loose fitting, it didn't reveal much of her outline, but it did seem that her two nipples were hard and pushing against the material, which, of course, caused my dick to grow a little more under the sheets. She put away some items, then stopped and stood in front of me. I looked up from my phone and she began to speak.

"I was thinking..." she said to me, "I think I 'do' deserve punishment for how I treated you, and the others. And I think it should be you to punish me. So it is your decision about what punishment I deserve. You can do anything you want. I'll even let you spank me."

Her words went to my heads; both of them, and I saw a mischievous look in her eye. Shock prevented a prompt reply. But I eventually opened my mouth and asked, "are you sure? You already apologized, and I forgave you. You don't owe me."

"Yes, I'm sure, " she said confidently. "This could be fun." Then I realized the punishment was meant to be more fun than punitive.

"OK," I said, trying to decide if the idea I had in my mind would be a mistake, or a lot of fun. Then, I put down my phone on the dresser and centered myself on my bed. "Come and lie down across my lap." A little smile crossed her lips and she climbed onto the bed, and laid across my lap, aligning her pussy with my dick. I'm sure she could feel my penis through our clothes, as it felt like it might be pressing against the top of her vaginal opening.

I looked down and just took in the fact that I had a beautiful woman, in her pajamas, willingly lying across my lap, waiting for my touch. I laid my two hands on her back, unsure of all the next steps. Leaving my left hand resting on her back, I began to caress her legs with my right, gradually moving my hands up under her night shirt to her bottom, and eventually caressing her cheeks through her panties. "So," I said, not sure of what I should be saying; should I talk dirty to her, or should I scold her like a father would to his daughter, or should I stay silent and keep her guessing? Too many options. If it were just me, I might just be silent and enjoy the prize before me. But since I hoped this would be fun for her, I decided to try something, hoping I didn't say the wrong thing.

"So, daddy's little girl was in a bad mood today." I ran my left hand across her back, and my right hand caressed her covered ass, but she didn't say anything. I ran my fingers down the leg furthest from me, and up her leg close to me, and under her panties to caress the smooth skin under the material. "Daddy's little girl was a little cranky." I pulled out my right hand and placed it on her far hip, slipping my finger into the elastic waist band of her panties, and moved it down her buttocks a couple of inches before sliding my fingers, under the band, across her smooth-skinned fanny back closer to me, lowering the elastic band as I did, revealing the top of her ass crack. "Daddy's little girl said some things she should not have. Is that right?" She remained silent and I moved my right hand up under shirt and up her back raising the shirt off her ass as I did, revealing her beautiful back, and confirming the absence of a bra. I brought my hand out, raised it, and slapped her ass as I said firmly, "Answer me!"

The material of her panties dampened the sound, but the sudden impact startled her, and she whimpered out, "Yes, Daddy." She had obviously adopted her role in this little fantasy.

I slipped my fingers down between her legs, rubbing her slit through the material. I couldn't really feel anything except warmth, but apparently she did, because she slightly jumped, with a sudden, brief intake of air through her mouth. I slid my fingers back into the top of her panties and slowly lowered them down to the bottom of her ass cheeks. "Daddy's little girl said some mean things." I continued caressing her ass cheeks, occasionally slipping my fingers into the gap between her closed legs, sliding my bare fingers along her slit, with her acknowledging their presence by a change in her breathing. "Daddy's little girl said some things that hurt people." Again, I raised my hand and SLAP, this time with no dampening the sound from her bare skin. I raised my voice slightly and said, "Answer me!"

"Yes, Daddy," she whimpered again.

"So what should we do about this?" I asked. I continued caressing her skin, but frequently visited the area between her legs, eventually lowering her panties down to mid-thigh.

"I don't know, Daddy," she said with her little girl voice, opening her legs to give my fingers better access.

"Ya know, something has to be done. We don't want to encourage bad behavior, now, do we?" I said. I began pressing my fingers slightly harder near the entrance to her pussy, looking to lubricate my fingers before searching for her clit.

"Yes, Daddy," she said, with a little more breath.

"Bad behavior is discouraged by discipline."

"Yes, Daddy."

I nestled one, then two fingers, between the lips of her pussy, which were beyond moist. And as I continued to maneuver my fingers at the entrance, moist went to damp. I slipped my fingers along her lips in search of her clit, confirming my discovery with a little spasm from Amanda. As I moved my fingers between her pussy lips, which seemed a bit wetter upon each encounter, and bumping into that sensitive nub, which incurred a light grunt each time, I began to move faster, eventually focusing on her pussy, and reaching with my left hand under her far leg and up to her mound of fur, to find and spend some quality time with her clit, hopefully without overstaying my welcome.

"Perhaps a spanking will help you understand and remember that being rude and mean to people is inappropriate behavior. Do you think that will help?" Before she had a chance to answer, I withdrew my fingers, and brought my hand down back on her ass with another slap.