Debutante Sex

I have certain visual memories that cycle through my dreams. I hope they never go away. One of these recurring visuals is about a lover who liked to be naked wherever and whenever she could be. Our first "date" lasted just less than a week and the location was a luxurious suite in a five-star hotel in Boca Raton.

The bathroom was big enough to hold a band rehearsal. I lay in the tangled king bed recovering one morning, in wonder of this woman, and I watched her through the doorway brush her teeth at the vanity. She smiled coyly at me in the mirror. She was a "long-brusher" anyway, but she stretched it out as she grinned through toothpaste foam. She slowly pressed her ass toward me, arched, and leaned over the sink. Her body was at a slight angle, so both her ass and right breast were on display. They both moved with her brushing motion. Contrived? Maybe. Provocative? Certainly. And she was deliberate, focused, and practiced at all things sex.

I was mesmerized and made no signs of getting out of the bed. So, like a praying mantis on valium she lifted her right leg and slowly put her ballet-flexed foot on the counter. Her ass, her tanned legs, her open lips... were mesmerizing. She never stopped brushing. A part of me just wanted to stay where I was and revel in her sexual beauty. However, other parts compelled me to lock eyes on hers, swing my legs off the bed, stand up, and get pulled to her. Before my hands were on her hips, she had already departed the station. I had to catch up. "Oh-my-God, how-is-this-even-possible?" rapidly went through my head about ten times. Small sounds of pleading were spilling from her lips. She was so fucking hot and wet. On the first thrust I went as deep as I could and held it. Giant mirrors are awe-inspiring. Her eyes slowly rolled up to mine like a second-hand as if to say, "you better be serious". She silently signaled that she had been responsible for the mood-set and it was my turn to deliver.

So, the visual that comes to me is a three second clip. Lydia is just beginning her typical three-minute orgasm as I plunge into her, the tooth brush is in her hand still, and both arms are bracing for impacts at 1 second intervals. My god she was powerful. Tooth paste froth is breeching her twisted lips and her eyes are loving me. She announces her orgasmic crescendo with a long loud moan and loses her composure to convulsions and eventual collapse. The vanity top supports her weight and my grip on her hips holds her in position as I explode.

This is part of a story about an incredibly erotic affair that takes place over several unforgettable days and nights. The desire and lust we poured into each other is in itself a story of remarkable sexual exploration. It was illicit time we took for ourselves thousands of miles away from our respective lives- I from New York and she from New Orleans - in Boca Raton where our opposing cultural experience found common ground in an erotic love fantasy. We were in a utopian neutral zone where only our hunger for each other mattered. The best of these times, as it often is, was the very first night we hooked-up.

In the years when IBM's sales force was at its peak headcount, new sales recruits would study course material at their home office for months before attending their first four-week training school in Dallas, Texas. It was a high-pressure boot camp and people were regularly shamed and sent home. There were about 100 new IBMrs enrolled in our class and about 20 of them were women.

This is where I first met Lydia. With a few exceptions, we were all recent college or grad-school graduates and therefore in our mid-twenties. In general, IBM hiring managers hired attractive people who often had something extraordinary on their resume or they hired people with connections. I'm a fairly good-looking guy and I also had a connection.

Our class had a sprinkling of college, Olympic and side-lined pro-athletes. We had a couple of military officer veterans and progeny of semi-famous people. We had a few people who were former fashion models, we had a Miss Georgia, and we had a high-society registered debutante from New Orleans. In my experience, I don't recall that IBM was hiring geniuses to sell their machines.

If you don't know, deep-south cities raise daughters of wealthy families to be formally presented to "society" in their late teens. Everything a girl does, the way she walks and talks, the way she looks and dresses and what she has on her resume is intended to be put on display for an army of horny young men(and families) at an over-the-top black-tie ball. The odds are good that the girls get selected by suitors, are embraced by new families, and the famously superficial, pretentious, and incestuous rituals continue like this for generations.

Lydia was a New Orleans debutante and must have stumbled because this hot 5'9" blond with an apple-shaped bubble ass and puckered lips, ended up in an IBM training class. Everything she wore was perfectly fitted for her sexy frame including the thin white blouses that displayed her breasts. She walked, sat, and moved like she had never slouched or slumped in her life. Her availability was always on deliberate poised display. She was friendly and inclusive and every man (and some women) spent a lot of energy trying to get close to her. Yes, I'm 6'3", athletic and most would say I'm attractive, but I wasn't in her league at all and I wasn't exactly available. I was more than happy to be a voyeuristic wing-man for the great guy who did hook-up with her.

We spent a lot of down-time in our small group of three women and two guys which included camping and tubing on the Brazos River. I knew then that floating next to Lydia's bikinied body was the closest I'd ever get to her and I found solace and sexual release with her roommate. The all-consuming craving I had for her was like nothing I had ever felt before. Toward the end of the four weeks I felt, or maybe fantasized, that Lydia felt something for me. Maybe she concluded she had made the wrong choice for a sales-school love toy. I figured that my obsession would fade quickly upon returning home- but that thought- would fuel many a fantasy for a long time.

Three years later I was called on to represent my branch office at a supposed top-secret briefing for a new product to be unveiled. Every sales office in the world would send one person to learn the product and teach the home sales office about it on announcement day. Security, ceremony and the presence of executives would be commensurate with the importance of the product. This one was the long-awaited announcement of a new generation of personal computer. The company had lived through early disasters and mistakes and then played catch-up as millions of PCs were being sold. In hindsight, of course, it was indeed a big deal.

As usual, the company would want us to travel on Sundays to be ready for an early start on Monday morning. And as usual, I would resist this annoyance of using my personal time for company business and catch the first Monday-morning flight out of LaGuardia Airport to Boca Raton and hope that I would make it on time.

This strategy leaves a lot to chance and everything having to do with travel has to be perfect or you have to make it that way. Any issues parking garages, on-time take offs, landing direction, taxis, rental cars...etc. will take you down. This time I was late. The awkward arrival never bothered me for I typically made my apologies and charmed my way back into the good graces of whomever I irritated. This time, I walked into that large classroom with posted security guards and blacked-out windows, with the class already underway - and my life as I knew it changed in an instant.

IBM staff standing in the back urged me to sit down quickly in the last open seat. It was three rows from the rear and in the middle of the row. As I blocked views with my hoisted bag and shuffled sideways behind crowded chairs draped with suit coats, I stopped. With three or four chairs to go I saw that the woman sitting to the right of my seat was Lydia. She had an embarrassingly mischievous smile on her face and our mutual recognition was instantly noticed by a few people. Her eyes teared a little with joy. Had it not been a classroom she would have jumped into my arms with a big hug and bounced on her toes.

I didn't know why- perhaps I was the only familiar face and she was already bored. As I sat, this giddy woman gripped my forearm as if to say, "thank God I'm going to have some fun this week". Well, that's what I read into it anyway. I have no idea what happened at this now famous and iconic product announcement that day—or the entire week. I do know that when I got home the following week-end I had to study hundreds of pages of documents in three-ring binders to understand what it was well enough to teach about seventy-five managers, sales reps and branch office staff.

Like reuniting with a high school crush, we got caught up on each other's lives with notes, whispers and close chat during breaks. We were the only people who shunned the norm of networking and spying for our home offices. We instantly felt an undeniable sexual attraction. I regretted not pursuing her three years earlier and she regretted not inviting me to. It didn't matter now. We both knew we would end up with each other and were yearning to get started.

I am literally embarrassed that I know why there is a lot of pressure for large groups of sales people to go out together and we could not escape the inevitable. Someone made a reservation for 12 and Lydia and I made sure we were both on that same list. Cap's Place in Boca Raton is an iconic restaurant that you can take a boat launch to. We piled into rental cars and gathered at a dock somewhere waiting for a water-taxi to arrive. Lydia showed up by cab just in time, which was both amusing and mysterious. She had to be the only person who somehow found enough time to freshen up and change her clothes. Jeff, the senior guy with the credit card took charge of the group and was paying a lot of special attention to Lydia. That old familiar reluctance-to-compete feeling I had faded as she used southern-girl tricks to stay close to me. She was soon wearing my sport jacket.

The motor launch comfortably held the twelve of us plus a couple of strangers who wished they had waited for the next boat. The covered twenty-foot vessel had a continuous bench seat around the sides and bow and then a queen-sized engine housing in the middle; all of which was covered by two-inch thick vinyl cushions. The captain operated the boat from a stand-up helm station aft of the engine cover.

The boat glided on the mansion-lined canal for about eight minutes to the restaurant. By the time I helped Lydia's heels find the dock I'm sure most of our colleagues thought we were a couple. The group leader, Jeff, pretended not to notice and continued his vodka-primed advances. The musical chair rush to find seats resulted in Lydia being sandwiched between the two of us around one end of the table. The more he drank, the more blatant Lydia got with her hints. He finally gave up when she let him see her hand teasing my cock under the table. Her thin dress was riding up her thighs. He glared at her, glanced at me, and then twitched with defeat.

It was great food and a reasonable length of time but of course it seemed painfully drawn out to us. Lydia and I were alone drinking coffee and skipped dessert. We had drunk ample glasses of vodka and red wine and we knew we were going to be up most of the night. We were in prep mode and there were sparks when our bodies touched. We were hot on a crisp cool night. It was like we were athletes steeling ourselves for a sporting event. When I noticed we were the last party in the restaurant, I asked for the check and volunteered Jeff to pick up the tab. He eagerly jumped at the chance to telegraph some sort of power to the hottest woman on the island—with his credit card.

It was even cooler on the boat ride back to the parking lot. The breeze had a chilling effect on all the women but only Lydia had a thin cocktail dress on. Her nipples were proudly on display and it was then that I realized that neither of us was wearing my jacket. "Oh Lord", she feigned in a drawl, "I must have left it on the back of my chair". I hope I didn't smile as I announced that I'd have to go back for it. The captain said he was pretty much done for the night, but he would make one more round-trip. I apologized and hinted that I'd take care of him. The others said they would wait for me, but I pointed out it would be at least 20 minutes and they readily agreed to go back to the hotel bar. Lydia, offered to keep me company and after I faked some indifference, it was done. Lydia, the captain and I would be motoring back to my jacket, which was "accidentally" left behind.

It was simple brilliance. We made fast friends with our accomplice while I pointed out to Lydia how much longer it would have taken to get back to the hotel, dodge the obligatory lobby bar and sneak around the hotel in order to rip each other's clothes off. At this point it was over 12 hours since we first laid eyes on each other. Now- bracing ourselves on our gently rocking boat, we kissed. Her lips were soft and full, and her tongue knew no hesitation. We glanced at Brian- he smiled and shrugged. My hands confirmed the firm ass the world had been salivating over. Her breasts pressed and molded into my chest. One of her hands was on the back of my head and the other on my shaft as we gently bumped the restaurant dock. Wow- I pulled back and looked deep into her blue eyes. I apologized that I had to let go of her and retrieve my coat. Lydia was left to entertain Brian.

Again, this was our first night. After this final boat ride, we would be jumping into a taxi to go to a different hotel. Lydia had revealed that she was staying at the Boca Raton Resort and Club instead of the Hilton where everyone else was. She was in the habit of convincing her manager to approve higher travel expenses and calling hotels that IBM would never book to act as a travel department emissary scouting new properties for meetings(in order to get lower rates).

It is a stunning property with the very best services. I get hard recalling the time we were getting ready to go out for dinner and ended up with room service in our suite at 11pm. We would fuck on the beach in a cocoon of wool blankets and I would get an unforgettable blow job in an antique wooden telephone booth in the lobby. We spent hours in 69 positions bringing each other to the brink of collapse. We would go on to have unique and innovative sex three to four times a day all week. However, it was this first night that was the finest.

I grabbed the line I had looped around a cleat and jumped back into the boat. Lydia was very close to Brian finishing up a hushed conversation, but she moved to embrace me. "What a magical night", she said as she looked back at Brian, "we are in no rush to get back".

I kissed Lydia and leaned against her as she backed up to the cushioned engine cover. Her hands assessed my chest, my biceps, my rib cage and then my ass. She leaned back on the cushion and looked at me invitingly. The next move was entirely mine since she didn't pull me down and she didn't pat the cushion next to her. Six feet behind her pouting lips and directly in front of me was Brian. He shrugged again with approval and lowered the RPMs to the engine vibrating under Lydia's body.

Her dress had creeped up her thighs a bit and my hand flipped it up farther to reveal a white silk G-string. It was pulled tight into her lips and moisture reflected the light from passing docks. This orchid was clearly my immediate destination. She laid herself down. With my large hands on her muscled tan thighs I laid my forehead into her pubic bone and pressed. With substantial pressure I massaged her mons pubis as a tease. I inhaled her essence like it was my last breath. My teeth found the edge of her panty and pulled it aside firmly and far enough so I wouldn't have to do it again.

Lydia's lower body trembled. The tip of my nose found the cleft beneath her hood and my tongue separated her lips as I slowly licked. I nestled the tip of my nose into her clit and then exhaled a long hot breath into her sexual soul. A few more full length licks and I arrived at her clit as she arched to meet me.

She was swollen and out of her hood now. With no hair to be found I could suck her clit between my lips and bath it with my tongue. Her breathing quickened and when I glanced at her face, her eyes were closed but Brian's were on the breasts she was manipulating. There was no structure to her bra. It was just there to obligingly provide one more layer of thin material. I left her clitoris for a minute to finish a full exploration of her sex and confirmed that everything and beyond was drenched in her own juices. I lifted her ass with one hand and moved her dress up and out of the way with the other.

She thought it was an invitation to thrust her hips up and bridge her vagina against my mouth. Good idea. I knew that she was just about to a point of no return and having no qualms about our activity. She rolled her eyes above her and glanced at Brian. This time he showed little but alternated his gaze between Lydia's torso and objects you shouldn't hit with a boat. And she took off- her clit met my lips and I made love to hers. We were both in nirvana as my tongue darted in and out of her. My mouth made love to Lydia- with rhythm and consistency. Her heart rate and breath were building in intensity. I figured we were about half way through our slow-motion boat ride.

I'm not sure why but I looked at Brian as if to ask his permission to mount her. I imagined he would say "Go for it" ...so I did. Lydia pulled her spread knees up and opened her pussy to me. I had to let go of her for a moment to undo my belt and slide down my pants without unfastening them. During that moment she pulled out a breast and roughly rolled her areola and nipple while locking onto Brian's stare. It felt strange that only my eyes had contact with her body in that instant. It was the finest image I had ever seen—until I saw my cock entering her. We both moaned at the same time and in harmony. The boat could have exploded and sunk and with all of us with it—and we would be happy.

It wasn't carefully timed or choreographed. It wasn't peppered with pauses, position changes, or teases. It was about 60 seconds of fierce fucking and the culmination of thousands of hours of fantasy, suspense and anticipation. Our groans and whimpers might have blended in with the engine rumble and gurgling water, but no-one sitting on a passing dock or terrace would misunderstand the undeniable screams of ecstasy from Lydia. As if it needed to be announced, I also bellowed, "oh my god I'm cuming". Her arms had been stretched out, palms down, like she was being crucified, but now they powered my ass and pulled me into her body like I was not allowed to leave (or explode anywhere else).

If there was any doubt (and I don't think there was) about what we were going to be doing for the next four 24-hour periods it was sealed and promised with a very long kiss. I whispered that we should both delay our travel plans from Friday afternoon to Saturday night- something we could both justify to whomever cared or was paying for it.

Brian interrupted our mutual euphoria by quietly announcing that we were approaching the dock. We moved slowly, and he slipped the boat into idle and tended to the line himself. He had a front row seat to the good part and didn't need to watch us get dressed. I've always been impressed with the way he accepted my bnills with humble respect and said, "It would be a pleasure to see you both again during your stay in Boca- I know you'll have a great week".