Caitlin's Self-Care Weekend Pt. 03

(This is the third installment in a series, the other two can be found on my profile.)

I sit there, looking at the subject line of the message that has just appears in my reddit inbox "I'm the woman in room 712." My fingers trembling. Someone is fucking with me.

I go back to my own post and scan through it. Never once did I mention my own room number. I didn't even mention the hotel I was in. My pussy throbbing around the 8-inch dildo still inside me as I relive the hot moments we share through the wall and as I realize that this message truly has to be coming from the room next door.

There has been quiet from that side of the wall since shortly after we all came. Him in grunting spurts deep inside her. Her in multiple rolling waves riding his cock. And me, straddling the dildo over the rolling chair, pressed against the wall, listening...urging...begging them both through the wall to cum for me as I rode myself to an intensely hard orgasm. I have also been quiet, letting them think I've fallen asleep.

But here I am, still awake. I open her message.

--Subject-- *I'm the woman in room 712*

--Message--"I hope you sleep well. My husband will be golfing tomorrow and I'll be by the pool around 10am. I'll save you a chair if you want. I'll be in a red one piece. Thanks for tonight. You were amazing."

I don't reply. I've been pretending to be asleep since posting, and so I let the message sit, unanswered in my inbox. She'll get her answer when I meet her at the pool tomorrow.

But, even though I don't reply, my fingers are back between my legs, sliding over the dildo inside me and dragging my own juices back up around my clit in slow circles. I close my eyes and try to remember the details of what she looks like.

I only saw her briefly, passing in the hall, as I entered my room while they left for dinner. She had been mostly obscured by his 6'2" frame as he exited the room first. I had been preoccupied with thoughts of pleasuring myself senseless, and so I hadn't paid close attention to either of them.

I stroke my clit gently, eyes closed, trying to remember what I had seen of each of them. Piecing together in my mind the couple who had just fucked hard, loudly, 10 feet away from me. The couple that came for me. The woman who invited me to meet her tomorrow. A shudder runs up my torso from my clit.

I remember he looked like late 30s with his shaved head and a graying beard. I assume her to be of similar age, though I didn't get a good look at her face. I know she is dark blonde, and looked naturally so. Her hair had been pulled into a loose ponytail, the lighter highlights around her face hanging, framing it.

She had been wearing dark jeans and a low cut top, that emphasized her full breasts. The kind of size and fullness that had to be held up by a good pushup bra. Slightly shorter than me, her frame also carried the extra thickness of motherhood, and in my brief memory of her, she carried it well.

My breath quickening as I imagine her riding him. Her big tits, free from their bra, hanging as she leaned over his hairy, broad chest. I imagine her nipples dragging lightly against him, rock hard, as her breast swung with the rhythm of her humping. Her soft belly jiggling as she rode him to mutual orgasms while I listened.

I need to meet her tomorrow. I need to see this woman. Lay eyes on her details. Absorb them. I want to saturate my memories with as many of her beautiful features as I can drink in.

My own pussy, soaking, as I pull the dildo from me. Noticing for the first time, the fullness in my bladder overriding the aching of my cunt. The half a bottle of champagne having moved through me. I open my eyes, the clock reads 1:30am. Still quiet from next door. I wonder if she's fallen asleep or if she's waiting for a reply.

I step out of bed to grab and walk lightly over to my bag, pulling out fresh underwear, a black cotton tank top, and gray sweat pants. I lay them on the bed and walk softly to the bathroom, still wearing the white hotel robe.

Instead of sitting on the toilet, I step into the shower. I let the robe hang open as I lean my back against the tile wall in a wide stance. I slip both hands between my legs, each massaging my inner thighs and up against my swollen, red, engorged outer labia. I push them apart, applying pleasurable pressure as I hold them. I use the index finger on each hand to peel open my inner labia, slick with hours of arousal, and my thumbs to pull up my clit hood.

Even though my bladder is insistent in its urge to empty, the engorgement of my whole cunt makes it difficult to release my pee. I thrust my hips forward into my hands, urging my stream to start, but it doesn't. I bring the fingers of my right hand around the entirety of my cunt, I imagine it's her hand holding my whole pussy open. I move my left hand above my pubic bone, above my pink c-section scar, and imagine her pressing my bladder through my tummy, encouraging my release. Urging me to pee, right there for her, standing in the shower.

A long string of pussy juice drools out of me, hanging between my legs as I buck, desperate to pee. I catch it with my middle finger, dragging it up across my swollen urethra as I push harder on my bladder with the other hand. I take a deep breath in and bear down, trying to force the piss to flow, but it won't. I breathe in again, spreading myself wider, pushing harder on my stomach, and bear down, this time with a low, humming groan. I feel my pelvic floor relax and hot, golden urine streams from me as I aim it toward the drain.

I keep groaning as I push my pee out. Now that it has started, the stream strong, splattering against the shower floor. Electrifying my whole body as the relief of emptying myself gushes from me. Thrusting as I imagine her holding my body by my cunt and compelling me to piss. Flooding the shower floor, the warmth of hit blooming around my feet, before the flow subsides and the last trickles dribble down my leg. I'm empty.

I reach for the detachable showerhead and turn on water. Not bothering to let it heat up, I rinse my pussy and my thighs, then my feet. Shivering at the contrast of the cool water compared with my hot piss. I step out of the shower and dry my legs and feet with a towel. I move quietly back to the bed and slip on the underwear, tank top, and sweatpants I had laid out.

I walk over to the wall and lift the glass one more time. I hear nothing but his light snores. If she's awake, she's silent.

I slip into bed and wake my laptop back up. I pull up the video that made me ruin my first orgasm in the hot tub and start it again. I squeeze a pillow between my legs and grind gently, watching the two women kiss completely enthralled with each other as the man standing over them jerks his hot load onto their faces. The video ends, and I click another "FFM" video. Then another. Grinding into my pillow, edging my desperate clit. Imagining each time the women are her and I.

I edge myself to these video, more cautiously this time than earlier, not wanting to tumble over into orgasm until I am ready. Not until she's awake and she can hear me doing it for her.

I maintain total control. No toys. No vibrations. Nothing to send me over the edge but my own self-control. I take myself to the brink ten times at least. Never over. Controlling my breath each time, halting my hips, unclenching my thighs. Thinking about baseball. Calming myself until I have enough control to resume my grinding. Then I do it all again.

Hump.

Edge.

Her.

Her.

Her.

Stop.

Don't cum. Don't cum. Don't cum.

Breathe.

Relax.

Control.

Again.

The next time I look at the clock, it's when I notice the sky outside my still open balcony doors is lightening. 6am. Dawn.

I've been edging for hours since that last orgasm at the wall, every nerve in my body ignited, but exhausted. Realizing the time, I close my laptop, and set my alarm for 9am. I get out of bed and close the curtains, leaving the door open, but blocking the light.

I slip back into bed and place the pillow back between my legs. I am asleep within minutes, and if I dream, I don't remember. My body sinking into exhaustion.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A vice grip around my head throbs as I am torn back to the conscious-world by the alarm I had set just 3 hours ago. Any other day, it would feel like misery, but the duller, but no less present throb of my pussy reminds me what is happening today.

10am. The pool. Her. I cup my hands over my pussy and give it a light squeeze, shuddering.

I listen for sounds in the next room, but it's quiet. I slip out of bed, pressing my ear to glass and the glass to the wall. Nothing. No movement. He's gone. Golfing she said. But where is she? Breakfast? Early to the pool?

I move to the phone, lift the receiver to my ear, and dial for room service. Eggs Benedict. Fruit. An oatmilk and lavender latte.

While I wait, I pull my swimsuit out of my bag and slip it on. I stand in front of the mirror, appraising myself in the forest green one piece. The contrast of the green against my pale freckled skin looks nice, I will say that. I don't linger my gaze to long on the ample dimples in my thighs, nor the pearly stretchmarks on my ass cheeks that fill out the suit and then some. It is a high necked swim suit, with 8 snap buttons at the chest that when unbuttoned open the front of the suit down to the base of my sternum. I had purchased it thinking I would likely wear it at least half way snapped, but could unsnap it to nurse. Now, with all the buttons undone, the modesty of the high neck and full back coverage was balanced by the ample cleavage of my low sitting breasts.

Standing at the mirror, I finger comb my dark blonde hair. The natural waves tangling around my fingers a bit, tugging sharply at my scalp. The aftermath of letting it air dry, and then sleeping on it. I bend over, flipping it all loose, and fluff the roots with my finger tips, before standing back up. I weave it into one long braid that wraps around my head from just behind my right ear, around the nape of my neck, and over my left shoulder where the tail end hangs down to just past my erect nipple.

A knock at the door makes me jump, but then I remember, breakfast.

I open the door to a very cute young guy--early twenties maybe--in his slacks, white button up, and hotel vest standing there with my tray. He looks me up and down in my swimsuit, his eyes dragging a moment longer at my thighs, and then another at my breasts. His approving gaze, chasing away some of the self-doubt that had been creeping in as I had looked at myself. "Come on in," I tell him. Suddenly, acutely aware of how hungry I am.

But as he steps into the room to place my tray on the table, I immediately realize I haven't put any of my toys away. On the bed, in plain view, is everything I dumped out of my bag last night. The dildos. The clit suckers. The butt plug. Before I can stop him from entering the room further, or divert his attention, his stutter step and the brief parting of his lips to inhale tell me it's too late. But he recovers and continues in to the table where he places the tray, without comment on the cache of self-pleasure objects he's obviously seen. He turns back to the door, and me, "I hope you enjoy your breakfast. Please let us know if there's anything else you need, or anything else we can do to improve your morning."

I know he's repeating the company line, but I the way he smiles and drags his eyes up and down my body one more time, I can feel he's aroused. I glance quickly at the front of his slacks and confirm it.

I smile, and thank him as he moves to the door. "I will let you know."

He pauses, before exiting. I can sense he wants to say something. He thinks this is his opportunity to live out his porn fantasy. Sorry, buddy.

"Thank you," I say, cutting him off before he can speak. The bulge of his crotch even more obvious in side profile.

He nods, "My pleasure." And slips through the door, pulling it shut behind him.

I imagine him moving quickly to a service hallway, or staff bathroom, or even just a stairwell and pulling his cock out of his pants to pump it, thinking of me in my green swimsuit with all my toys.

At least, I hope that's what's happening as eat my breakfast. Taking a sip of my latte, and then biting into the English muffin with ham, hollandaise, and a perfectly poached egg. The rich, yellow yolk bursting between my teeth as I let out a little moan of approval, it tastes so good. A thick dribble of salty, creamy sauce and yolk dropping down my chin onto my chest, glazing my cleavage. I scoop it up with my finger and bring it to my lips, licking it clean. I finish my breakfast. Sipping my latte and a glass of ice water. And wonder for a moment more if he has made it back to the kitchen yet. Then I look at the clock.

10:03. Is she down at the pool yet? Do I go right now? My pussy, who had been quieted by my hunger, throbs again. Go, it urges.

I pull my sheer cover up on over my suit, slip on my sandals, and pull on a baseball cap and sun glasses to shield my eyes. I grab my room key and a towel. I hang the "Do Not Disturb" sign on my door, I'll forgo cleaning, not needing the entire hotel staff to see my sex toy stash.

I ride the elevator down to the ground level. The thwacking sound of my flip flops echoing the rhythmic sound of the skin on skin that I heard through the wall, last night--listening to the woman I'm about to meet get fucked by her husband as they listened to me masturbate. I let my hips sway as I walk down the hall, the pressure of my thick white thighs squeezing my swollen pussy lips together in my swimsuit as I walk. I'm certain there's already a wet stain between my legs as my cunt leaks in anticipation.

I push open the door to the pool deck, the bright morning temporarily blinding me as my eyes adjust. There are already several people out here, some eating breakfast poolside, others just soaking in the morning sun. As my vision recovers, I scan the pool deck for her red swimsuit.

Then I see her. On the other side of the pool. Red swimsuit. Thick, full, gorgeous body. A wide brimmed hat and sunglasses blocking the sun. And I realize, that she is also looking at me, maybe wondering if I am the woman from 711. When she sees me stop scanning and pause my gaze on her, she smiles. Lifting a hand, she waves, gestures me over...and I swear, parts her thighs just a bit.

I can hear my heartbeat in my ears, and wonder if you can see it pounding in my chest, as I walk around the pool toward her. She watches me walk toward her the entire way. As I close, she flashes me a gorgeous, friendly--almost familiar-- smile, and my nerves quiet. I regain control of my heartbeat, and I smile back. I can feel my nipples harden. I'm sure she sees. It's warm already, even for 10am, so she must know what it means.

She sits forward from her reclined position, and gestures to the chair beside her, "I saved this for you."

"Thanks," I lie my towel down across it and sit myself down.

"I'm glad you came," she says.

"I'm glad you did, too," I reply. And then, like that, we are both laughing as we realize the double entedre.

"I'm Jess," she says.

"Caitlin," I reply.