tagErotic CouplingsEagle Scout

Eagle Scout

byCFBwriter©

Pure Fiction. Many thanks to my editor Windy Swimming, who went way above and beyond on this one.

*****

I roused myself from my torpor, realizing that I had just been staring at the hotel room wall. I had checked in a bit earlier after spending the day flying cross-country. I had unpacked, then blanked out, just waiting until time to get dinner. Well, it was time.

I hate business travel. I hate eating alone; I hate evenings alone; and I hate sleeping alone even more. No matter where you go, it's always the same. Oh well...

I headed down through the lobby and noticed an attractive woman sitting there alone. She was shutting down her laptop, apparently after taking advantage of the free WiFi available in the lobby. This was back in the days when hotel room connections were neither free nor reliable.

I stopped and watched her for a moment - no-nonsense dark shoulder length hair, pleasant face, conservative business outfit, mid-height heels and a good looking body. Hell, I had nothing to lose, so I decided to take a chance and walked up to her just as she was about to leave. I said, "Hi, pardon me. I just noticed you seem to be traveling alone and wondered if you would like to get dinner together. I really hate eating alone." For some reason my stomach tangled in a knot.

She gave me a look equal parts sizing me up and annoyance. I waited while my stomach tightened further. After a moment she asked, "Who do you work for?" I told her, she grunted, and after another seemingly long moment said, "Ok, let me dump my ball and chain."

She headed off down a hall with her computer. I watched. She was relatively short and definitely had a good body. I sat down to wait for her while I tried to get my stomach to relax.

She came back fairly quickly. I said that I just planned to go to the Italian Grill across the parking lot, but if she had a better idea that also would be fine. She shook her head and we headed across the parking lot.

Once we had ordered we finally started a normal conversation. It turned out she shared my annoyance about having to travel, so we had something in common. She was in marketing for a tech firm. I'm a product engineer for another tech firm. I guess that's why she asked who I worked for. After all, one can't be seen having dinner with the competition. As we ate, gradually she opened up and so did I. We both talked about our kids, our hopes and dreams for them (which did not include lots of business travel), our jobs and possible retirement plans. She mentioned only that she was divorced about three years but didn't talk about either the husband or the divorce. So I mentioned that I was divorced five years and also skipped the details. I couldn't talk her into dessert. She made the point she was also on expenses and paid for her own dinner. After we signed our credit card slips, neither of us was in a hurry to leave and the restaurant was hardly full. I bought us both another glass of wine and we continued to talk.

At some point she lightly placed her hand on mine and left it there. The warmth was doing strange things to me. I think I got a cramp holding my hand absolutely still so not to scare her off. Did I mention I'm a klutz around women? But when she announced, with apparent regret, that it was time to go, I had already decided to take another chance.

"Eating alone isn't the only thing I hate about traveling," I said. "In fact, it's number two or three. I suspect you know number one." Wariness had crept into her eyes, but she didn't stop me. I plunged ahead, "I'm totally inexperienced at this, so please forgive my awkwardness. I think you are very attractive. I would be very honored ... happy ... if you would be willing to spend the night with me, even if it just meant we cuddled together as we slept." Damn! I chickened out there at the end. I'm really inexperienced at this.

Her reaction caught me completely off guard. Tears welled up in her eyes. She jumped up without saying a word and headed for the door. We were outside before I caught up with her.

"Please, please! I didn't mean to ..." Geeze, what was it I didn't mean to do?

She stopped suddenly and sharply turned to face me. Lit by the parking lot lights, I could see the wet tracks of tears down her cheeks. Her eyes held fear, not anger. Now I was completely confused. I shut up and waited with what I hoped was an empathetic expression.

It took her a few moments. She closed her eyes and said, "I'm not what I seem."

Not enough information - I kept my mouth shut as the image of a transvestite performer I had once seen flashed through my mind. That was not helpful.

She looked at me, "You think I'm attractive?"

"Yes, absolutely!"

She looked to the side and spat out the words, "I'm a breast cancer survivor - radical mastectomy! "

I waited. Apparently that was all. Oh ... radical ... missing breast ... or breasts.

I responded as softly and calmly as I could. "I'm the survivor of a multiple coronary bypass with scars up and down my chest and legs. When I see them in the mirror, they just remind me I'm still here." I allowed myself a small smile. I looked her up and down in an obvious manner. "And in your case, I still think you look damn good!" I dropped the smile. "All this wear and tear is just testimony that we have lived and survived. They are badges of honor. Having been there, in a sense, any scars you have just make you more attractive to me."

Her eyes snapped. Suddenly they showed anger and defiance. This woman had been hurt badly. I suspected the cancer had something to do with the timing of her divorce. She turned back to the restaurant. I followed her into the bar. She found an isolated booth and ordered both of us another glass of wine. I waited.

Once the wine arrived, she started to tell her story. She had a good marriage when she got her diagnosis almost four years ago. Her husband had been completely supportive - listening to her fears and pain, going with her to all the appointments, acting as stenographer so they never forgot anything the doctors said, and so on ... He was model breast-cancer husband. That is, until she came home from the surgery. He still held her and listened to her, but there was an awkwardness that just wouldn't go away. Eventually, she felt strong enough to attempt sex. He was initially enthusiastic, but when he reached out to touch her naked body, he froze. She attempted to take his hand and place it on her chest to show what still felt good and what didn't. He pulled away.

Things went downhill. He started sleeping with his back to her. He stopped holding her, talking to her. Once the doctors gave her a date for finishing the chemo, he announced he was leaving her. He packed quickly. In an incredible act of cruel stupidity, or stupid cruelty, he told her she was "damaged goods" and he couldn't deal with it. He even slammed the door on the way out.

I had been holding one of her hands with both of mine as she talked. After a moment I quietly said that her ex had just made my very short list of people whom I would happily kill on sight.

She shook her head no. She said the divorce had gone quickly without further acrimony. He gave her sole ownership of their house, custody of the kids, and even accepted her demand for a punitive sum of cash for her pain and suffering. She had been making more money than he so she was financially OK afterwards. He apologized, but the bond had been broken.

"It's been over three years," she continued, so softly I could barely hear her, "and there's been no man in my life. I haven't dared and I'm scared as hell. Now, are you sure you want to deal with all this?"

Good question, did I? Well, I certainly wasn't going to back out now. I looked her straight in the eyes. "If you're brave enough to chance it, my offer stands. I meant what I said in the parking lot about scars. I'm sad and angry that your ex was so cruel. I don't know if one night will change anything, but maybe it's time to reclaim that part of your life." I paused and gave her a big grin. "And yes, you ARE very attractive to me."

Her tears had stopped; there was still some fear in her eyes. She nodded. We got up and left leaving wine glasses still half full. In the lobby she said she wanted to "freshen up" and asked for my room number. "See you in about ten." She said and headed down the hall.

In my room I quickly straightened things up a bit (men can be such slobs), brushed my teeth and used a washcloth to get rid of the worst of any stink. I didn't put underwear back on when I dressed. I opened the door slightly, turned down the bed and waited impatiently.

After fifteen minutes I started to seriously worry that she had changed her mind. I didn't know her room number and knew only her first name. I would have trouble reaching her. Then there was a soft knocking on the door. "Entrez s'il vous plaît!" I pronounced it badly.

The door swung open. She stood there in a pose with one hand high on each side of the door jamb, her hips cocked out to one side with knees crossed. She dazzled in a short black evening dress. It was one of those dresses made of a light wrinkle-proof material that could be wadded into a corner of a suitcase "just in case". Her dark hair was now loose, framing her face. The dress had a ring collar around the neck. It came down from the collar over her bosom leaving her shoulders bare. A thin belt defined the waist. Then it flared gently over her hips forming a loose flared skirt that ended about mid-thigh. She had very long legs and was almost short waisted. Finally, black nylons and heels finished the stunning effect.

"You ... you changed! For me?" I stammered. Catching my composure, I continued, "Damn! You are gorgeous and drop-dead beautiful. It's time to bring back the wolf whistle!"

She smiled happily and stepped into the room letting the door swing shut behind her. She cocked her hips the other way and stopped with her hands on her hips. "So, are you a breast man or leg man?" she demanded. I was a little surprised she didn't trip over the word.

"Actually if anything, I'm a bit of an ass man," I replied. And a bit of a voyeur, I didn't add.

She cocked her head and strolled toward me with an exaggerated hip swing while smirking. Her skirt actually made noise as it swished back and forth. As she strolled past, she caught her skirt and started gathering it up in her hands as she walked. After a few more steps she stopped, legs apart and slowly lifted the back of her skirt the last foot or so to her waist and bent forward slightly.

She wasn't wearing any panties.

I wasn't breathing.

Beautifully rounded buttocks, pink asshole, swollen pussy lips, wisps of public hair and lo-o-ng legs, all displayed for me to enjoy. She swung her hips back and forth while watching my reaction over her shoulder. I basically was stammering wordlessly and had to again compose myself. "Damn, woman,!" I exclaimed. "Are you trying to give me heart failure?" I caught her eyes. "Seriously, you are now officially the sexiest woman I've ever known!"

She turned to face me, unfortunately dropping the skirt as she did. I suddenly felt thrown out of heaven.

"You really mean that?"

"Absolutely!" I was happy that my cock started to push noticeably at the front of my pants to reinforce the point.

She put on a playful, pouty expression. "And will you respect me in the morning?" She put a perfect whiny edge on it. She was really putting on an act.

I laughed gently. "Hell, yes! Written testimonials and a gold-plated pedestal. I'll also make love to you in the morning if you let me."

She laughed happily, relaxing visibly. "I'll hold you to that. I like those kind of mornings, especially after spending the entire night making love. My plane leaves just after noon, so I'll be in no hurry."

So this was to be a one night stand. Better make the most of it.

I held out my arms to her and she slid into them. Our lips met for the first time, both mouths open - no coyness here. Our lips brushed lightly against each for a moment. Then I started exploring her lips with the tip of my tongue. Her tongue did the same for a bit - then retreated to invite me in. My tongue started exploring her mouth and her tongue played with mine. We both kept the pressure light for a while. Neither of us was in a hurry, but these things take on an imperative of their own. She tightened her grip around my neck and pressed her mouth hard against mine. The dueling became quite intense. Our breathing became ragged.

We finally broke our first kiss. She staggered back a couple of feet with a hand on her chest, catching her breath. She looked at me with lust in her eyes. I just grinned. Well, maybe I leered. She threw her arms around my neck again and pressed her mouth against mine in another passionate kiss.

I started stroking her back. She squirmed against me as her pubic bone dug into my growing erection. I gradually shifted my stroking from her back to her sides. She responded by pulling her elbows down, blocking my access to her chest. When the kiss broke, I hugged her gently and asked, "Are we reverting back to high school?" I looked in her eyes and some of the fear was back. "You are beautiful to me, and I'm going to see you sooner or later. Besides, I need you to show me what feels good."

She was tentative - the playful mask fallen away. "I know," she replied quietly, "just take it slow. I'm not normally the type to jump into a cold pool."

She lifted her face and I kissed her again. I stroked her back and butt. Her butt was so nice, round and firm. I unzipped the back of her dress. She clung to me tightly. I stroked the bare skin of her back and unhooked her bra. All the time I kissed her slowly and passionately. She was still rubbing herself against my erection.

I then ran both hands down over her butt and started gathering her skirt up into my hands. I caressed, squeezed, scratched and played with her naked ass. It was all I dreamed of - firm, perfect.

After completing those explorations, I started lifting her dress up her back to take it off. She broke the kiss and looked in my eyes again with apprehension still in hers. My heart went out to her. I smiled gently. She moved back a bit and ducked her head to allow me to lift her dress over her head. I straightened it out and tossed it onto the easy chair. She pressed her body back against mine, still holding her bra in place.

We kissed some more. I continued to caress her naked back and sides. She was shuddering at my touch. She worked a hand between us and loosened my belt and unzipped my pants which unceremoniously fell to my ankles. She held my cock with one hand while pushing my polo shirt up with the other.

She broke the kiss and was breathing hard. I lifted my shirt off. She tucked her head into the nape of my neck and just held on for a few moments, immobile. "God ... damn it! I need an icebreaker. Take me - right now! You're an ass man? Take me doggie style - now!! Please ..."

She didn't wait for a response. She turned to face the foot of the bed next to us. She violently pawed at the bed to pull the covers down. She held her arms to her sides so her bra stayed in place. One pillow had come down with the covers. She grabbed the pillow and climbed onto the bed, spread her legs, and dropped her head and shoulders onto the pillow. Her bra finally fell away, but I didn't care.

There was that beautiful ass and pussy staring at me. I knelt down and started to spread kisses across her cheeks and the tops of her thighs. I brushed my nose back and forth across her wet pussy. I drew in a deep, intoxicating breath of her musk. She squirmed her ass in protest and rotated her hips back to expose herself even more.

Her natural aphrodisiac almost knocked me over. I was dizzy and no longer in complete control. I surrendered to her need and stood shaking my slacks and loafers off. I was hard, my cock standing out and actually bouncing slightly with my pulse. I pressed it down to align it with her wet canal and pressed gently. She moaned loudly and immediately pushed back against me. I was giddy with the view, the smell and the heat of her vagina gripping my cock. I held myself deeply inside her rocking back and forth, fore and aft, trying to regain control.

She continued to press back. She started to shake her butt and her whole body demanding that I start moving. I pulled back slowly and thrust hard. As my body surrendered to the moment, I just allowed the sensations to wash over me - the heat and smooth flow of her pussy over my cock, the cool air when I pulled back, the feel of her butt in my hands as I kneaded, squeezed, pushed and pulled, her moans, the smell of her, all mixed together. Time stood still.

Gradually her moans got louder. I increased my pace as her tension built. Her release came with loud expletives, body convulsions, and a very credible attempt by her pussy to grab and hold my cock. I was fascinated watching her. She was totally throwing herself into the sex.

Her orgasm went on for a long time. She started to come down and then got swept up into a second orgasm. Through it all I thrust when I could and just held my cock deep in her when she was thrashing about. Finally she was clearly coming down. I continued slow thrusts. Somehow, I had managed not to cum which was fine with me. I would save the energy for later and be ready again sooner.

Finally she was done. She collapsed to one side and rolled on her back with her eyes closed and her forgotten bra still lying on the bed. Her left breast was full, sagging out a bit, just a tad larger than average, and still very firm. A large nipple stood tall and erect in the middle of a large but light areola. It looked perfect.

Where her right breast should've been was crossed by a gash of swirling scar tissue.

Her long legs hung off the bed mid-thigh stretching the muscles of her belly flat. Her belly button was an "innie". Her bush was dark, thick but tightly trimmed. The lips of her vulva were swollen. They separated just a bit revealing the hood of her clitoris and the wet, red, slit of her vagina. She was beautiful.

It was ironic. Overall, her body was in excellent shape and retained a youthful face and figure. She had taken care of herself. Life and Ma Nature had been kind to her, but then they had taken away the one overriding measure of beauty - symmetry. We typically look for it in our potential mates. She had lost a lot in one sense, but considering the alternative ...

I climbed up on one side of the bed next to her. I propped myself on one elbow stroking her hair with one hand while I tenderly caressed her belly, bush and upper thighs with the other. Her eyes were still closed. She made appreciative noises between breaths. Finally, when breathing normally, she took a deep breath and stretched her arms overhead. From her fingers to her toes she was long and sleek with smooth curves. Most women seem to be at their most beautiful and sensual at that moment. She was no exception.

She put one foot on the end of the bed and asked, "Give me a boost?" I held out a stiff arm which she used to lift herself onto the bed. I slid beside her and stopped with my face above her good breast. She watched as I bent to lick and kiss the flesh around it. She stroked the back of my head with her hand. I swirled my tongue around the top of the breast, worked outward and wetted the entire surface. I sucked the wetness into my mouth, my tongue flicking and playing with her nipple. I was purring and soon, so was she.

My free hand had rested on her belly. I slowed my attention to her breast and slid that hand up to her rib cage by the missing breast area. She was still purring. I carefully dragged my fingertips to either side of the scar. She still purred. Then her voice changed telling me I had hit a sensitive spot.

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byCFBwriter© 9 comments/ 18122 views/ 12 favorites

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