Make Me Hate You Ch. 02

But apparently not.

So there was no Lesbian lover to share come with but he would find some other way for her to relive that moment that was for sure. He headed down for breakfast and rather than the Full English just had cereal, juice and toast; mind you he found the Robertson's Lime marmalade and ate a full share.

There was a final stop that day and he had to get some gifts. His Mum had been quite specific regarding biscuits, sweets and chocolate that she required, some for her, some for friends and some to share around with the other patients in the rest home she was currently in.

The town chosen was spot on and he bought most of what he wanted, happy that the coach would stop for a break in another small town, this time in Belgium, so the right chocolate could be purchased.

He went back to his room and started to re-pack his clothes to save time for the next few days. Dinner was another non-formal evening and he went with his dark slacks and a sweater, remembering that tonight his next door neighbour would be blowing him under the table if all went to plan.

He headed for the dinning room and to his joy found that it was a German beer and sausage evening and he greatly enjoyed the simple fayre wonderfully prepared and displayed, and again had quite a few beers.

Mrs Bead-Smith was getting rather giggly so her patient husband convinced her to go to the Ladies room and then to her bed.

Mrs Booth hadn't been doing so badly herself and was looking at John with some obvious lust in her eyes, no matter how she was trying to mask it with her usual contempt.

"I'll be needing you to make a bit more of an effort tonight Mrs Booth."

"Really Mr Daniels?" she sat forward a bit pulling the front of her blouse open and undoing two of the buttons, "have I not made enough effort in the last few days?"

"You haven't done badly Mrs Booth, but... ahh... I'm looking for just a final effort - after all, I'm still not convinced that you hate me yet."

"You've tried reeeeeeeally hard Mr Daniels but no, not so far." She undid another blouse button and he could see that she wasn't wearing a bra again when she pulled the sides of the shirt apart just far enough to expose her hardened nipples, "Yes, you've given my behind a really sound smacking but NOT really what I'm used to." She shook her head with a disappointed look.

"Two nights left Mrs Booth, so..." he rested his chin on his steepled fingers watching as she did up her three blouse buttons again. He sat up in realisation, "I want you under the table, and I want you to blow me and make me come in your mouth; but you can't swallow it, I want to see it in your mouth before you wash it down with what's left of your martini there."

"This is hardly the Mansion House Mr Daniels," she raised an eyebrow.

"Like I give a shit about that," he folded his arms, "And beside which there aren't any pseudo-Lesbians here to lick you our afterwards either. I'm not sure Mrs Bead-Smith would have been up for that."

"Oh, Mrs Bead-Smith was a junior officer in the Womens Royal Naval Service and you know what they say, once a Wren - Always a Wren!"

"You had that many?" he asked.

"Once," she said, but without her usual confident recollection.

"Just get under the table and blow me Mrs Booth," he said with a deep breath.

"And what if I don't perform?"

"Easy, I'll lash you to the deck with a torch pushed in your pussy so all of the people taking a moonlit stroll along the river bank can see what a naked slut you are. I'll probably leave you there until the morning."

"Ooooh, well there's a challenge!"

"Don't talk clever, get down there and suck!"

Fortunately for him and Mrs Booth the table was quite large and after some furtive glances she bent as if adjusting a shoe strap and never came back up.

He sat back in his chair with the last of his beer and spread his legs. In moments he felt his belt being loosened and the zip pulled down. His cock was pretty hard by this time and he felt her lips around him as her head began its backwards and forwards fucking motion. He looked around the room as he felt her lips move across his prick and her usual backward and forward motion. Considering that Mrs Booth had claimed that she had been a blowjob expert, he'd had better.

Much better in fact, Julia new exactly what to do but then they talked through what they both liked many times and while she could blow him beautifully, he could lick, suck and strum her to copious orgasms himself.

They had been so great in bed, and could please each other very easily and he thought back to their last holiday and how after a day on the beach and around the pool they had showered and as he lay on the bed his gorgeous curvy naked girlfriend walked from the bathroom he grabbed for her, missing her hand but grabbing her thigh and using it to pull her towards him and the bed. She lost her balance and fell across him, and he took advantage of her proximity and eased her leg across his face and feasted on her pussy. She cooed and purred as he licked and sucked on her and it was simple for her to turn slightly and take his hardening penis into her mouth and suck and lick him too and it was a most pleasant way to pass forty minutes with both of them coming, Julia taking his all in her mouth and swallowing straight down.

That memory made him harder than ever and Mrs Booth responded to it pumping hard on his helmet and wanking him. She was still making long slow strokes on him when all he wanted to finish was just the wanking and the head sucking. He took a film hold of her head and moved it just as he wanted it feeling her wanking of him speed up until he felt his semen stir and soon using the tight bun of her hair for grip he was pumping her head back and forth on his slowly spasming cock. Fuck but it was good.

She cleaned up the remnants of his pleasure and he felt her disengage and fumble with his trousers. He re-fastened his them and looked around.

"OK Mrs Booth, you can come out now." She did so, her lips firmly pinched together, and she retook her seat.

She picked up her glass and swirled it around. She grinned at him and opened her mouth showing the two pools of his come either side of her tongue and the small amount in the dip. That was something he'd never seen before and while Julia had blown him she had never been that 'porn star' with him.

She took a slurp of her martini and swallowed, licking her lips and smiling at him.

"Good enough?" she said.

"Had better," he replied finishing his beer, "We can go back to the balcony and discuss how you need to try harder."

"More spanking?" she said looking only slightly disappointed.

"To start with..."

Back in his cabin, he stripped naked knowing that next door she was doing likewise. He needed to relieve himself quite badly and walking towards his bathroom he stopped - another idea crossed his quite pissed mind.

He stepped naked out onto the balcony and walked to the railing to lean against it, looking in to see her naked and looking at herself in her long dressing table mirror checking out her make-up and narcissistically moving her big tits around, tugging at her hard nipples. He watched as she picked up the bottle of lube and poured some on her fingers and pushed them into her pussy, then some more that she smooshed around her back passage, as she did so looking to her right and seeing him there, smiling, arms folded, as naked and as pissed as she.

She stood and walked towards him, an expectant smile on her lips. She folded her arms, and spoke,

"So what ha..." he cut her short by heaving her to the railing and forcing her down to rest against it, instantly covering her just pink buttocks with hard spanks, still showing stripy signs of the belt from the night before and he added to it with a quick redness that impressed even him. As she started to moan he pulled her down from the railing.

"Kneel," he said, "facing away from me, arse in the air..." She knelt, her mouth open ready to suck him, but that wasn't the plan, not right now, "facing away from me for fuck's sake, ARSE IN THE AIR!"

She did so moving around in a bit of drunken haze, her shoulders almost touching the wooden decking, her chin inches from the cold floor and anticipating the erect cock she was waiting for in whichever hole he chose to put it in.

Instead he stood behind her and released the pee he'd been holding on to, making it pour first across her red arse, across the red slightly bruised stripes he'd put there the night before with her belt.

"Oh... fuck!" she said, almost under her breath, as the hot fluid ran over her bottom, down her thighs, ticking her anus and pussy as he hosed her.

"I've heard that urine has healing qualities Mrs Booth, just a little something to take the sting out of your bottom."

"Thank you Mr Daniels," he was looking down at her face, eyes closed and trying to work out in her head just what she thought about this man pissing all over her back end. In doing that he moved slightly forward and the stream went from her arse to the small of her back which ran down her spine to her neck and down the side of her face to her chin.

"OOH FUCK!" she cried, louder this time, and he gathered from her cry that this wasn't totally against her will. He moved slightly more and pointed the stream further up her back and she gave something between a sigh and a giggle. She flipped onto her back laying in the pool of his pee and accepting his stream on her flat stomach and pussy, dragging the liquid up to her tits - seeing this, he aimed his last few squirts over her tits and she rubbed all across her them and squeezed her pussy, all wet.

He really wasn't sure how he felt about what he had just done; but here was Mrs Booth writhing around in a pool of his urine, giggling and still squeezing her big tits with one hand while the other was now plying and playing between her flushed labia. She looked up at him.

"So, you gonna fuck me Mr Daniels?" She spread her thighs wide shifting her bottom over a bit, making a bit of a splash.

For John, his erection made the decision for him and before he knew it he was kneeling a pool of his own pee and pushing into her pre-lubed pussy for a very energetic fuck, feeling the wetness of his pee from her body on him, the warmth of her against his as they screwed giving him the real thrill he'd wanted from her, and it came across in their actions. They screwed quickly, quietly and passionately both reaching orgasm faster than any of their other dalliances over the proceeding nights.

She lay beneath him getting her breath, still panting from their joint exertions, he felt her hand slide down between them to where they were still joined, and fussed at her clitoris.

"Frig me Mr Daniels!" she gasped, so he pulled out and rolled to one side lying in a pool of his own pee as he reached over her slipping a finger between her labia and up to her sexual centre. She closed her eyes while he rubbed up and down, getting faster and faster and watching as it started to work, "ooh yeah, there..." she panted, "faster Mr Daniels FASTER! Oh Oh Ooooh!" she thrust her hips up as her his masturbatory work was rewarded as she came. Still with her straining thighs in the air she proceeded to pee through and following her come, the flow damming against him.

Her hips dropped back down, and she giggled at their joint naughtiness.

He stood and helped her to her feet, against the slipperiness of the wee-wet decking. They both laughed, feeling their urine drying on their skin.

He leaned forward to kiss her lips, she closed her eyes and let him. Without a word being spoken they went to their own rooms and in his shower he could hear hers and tapped on the wall. She tapped back.

He dried himself, had a final pee and went to bed, still shocked and slightly stunned at the realisation that he had just pissed all over a woman before he fucked her.

Seriously!?!

The eighth day

He woke next morning with a thumping head from the amount of beer put away the night before, and his disturbed night, his sleep interrupted by images of what he'd done with that bloody woman from the cabin next door. His last dream given nightmare status by the image of Julia in her clean, scrubbed surgical perfection stood over him and Mrs Booth both lying on a wet floor and covered in their own piss, drunk and debauched on a cruiser balcony.

He'd woken from one of those continuing dreams of having something he had to do. He needed to go out and scrub the balcony floor, subconsciously concerned that the cleaner or the next inhabitant would smell that after-pub street corner urinal smell and his subconscious kept bouncing back to that clean-up job that needed doing.

He stood up slightly unsteadily and made his usual morning tea taking two of the paracetamols that resided in his wash kit. He took them with a glass of water, then downed another then another feeling a bit better. He showered and that made him feel much improved and to his strange delight he looked out of this balcony glass doors and saw that the German weather had taken care of his one concern. It was pouring down and he watched with some pleasure as rivulets of cleaning, purifying summer rainwater washed across the slightly sloping deck and hopefully removing any traces of what both him and his older lover had poured onto it.

There was a crack of thunder and the following lightning flash some moments later and he thought back to when he was fucking and lashing into Mrs Booth's buttocks. Fuck but last night just HAD to be it. No more, no more strange sex... no not that even! No more fucking perversions with that mad woman.

He headed for breakfast to find that he was the first taker and not joined by any of his fellow passengers for a good half an hour, chatting easily with the waiting staff and eating his fill of the available goodies, having something of everything and watching the BBC Worldwide news with the sound up for once. Eventually some rather bleary-eyed pensioners arrived and he wished them a good morning before finishing his tea and making for his room and some more notetaking on that bloody book of his.

By the time he returned to his cabin the early summer downpour had stopped and the freshening breeze and summer sun soon had the layer of water drying off. He made another Earl Grey tea and slid open his door; there was no smell and he breathed a sigh of relief looking out across the Rhineland, green and fresh.

He turned to rest his back against the railings and he saw that Mrs Booth was still laying face down, her still slightly flushed arse with a faint glow from his almost nightly spanking of it. He walked towards her room and thought about whacking that arse of hers, just to serve that self-centred old slapper that talked down to him, that criticised everything he did right up to the point that he made her come, time after time, yet nothing was good enough, or mean enough, or painful enough.

She stirred in her sleep rolling to her side, her white skin not showing her age, her big nicely shaped tits and her shaved pussy not showing the hard work they had undertaken in the last few nights. She looked calm and extremely pretty now she wasn't putting on so much of a show.

For a short moment he felt that he wanted to go in there and make love to her, but he thought that chances are she was still recovering from last night's dinner and the beer, then the after-dinner exercise that they'd both gotten up to and the last thing she would want was him climbing into bed next to her.

Shit.

He could really do with some ordinary boring companionship, just being with a woman and chatting nicely about life, the universe and everything, not having to constantly be on his guard with the combative bitch queen that thought male/female relationships were about scoring points, about the constant 'Men are from mars - women are from Venus' shit.

OK, perhaps he'd never been 'that guy' in the bedroom, he'd always really enjoyed what he'd had with Julia - even if she'd had to go looking somewhere else for that kind of thing. He finished his tea and walked back into his cabin and unpacked his laptop and started his day's work; as the screen came to life he was surprised that he hadn't had his usual level of self-destructive angst about Julia. Perhaps he was just 'getting over it', something that all of the best agony aunt's, self-help books and love songs told you did happen.

He read and typed, he read, cut and pasted, he was really getting the feel for Patton and Montgomery now and hoped that someone else wasn't already 'going to print' with this shit like with his last two attempts at finishing 'his book'.

He stopped for lunch and headed down to the dining room again, and there he saw almost all of the passengers, including the Bead-Smiths and Mrs Booth, all looking slightly hungover and in need of a nap after lunch.

He decided that he could do with one too, having a quite small lunch headed back to his room for a lie down. It was a warm afternoon and he stripped down to his boxer shorts, then decided he would remove them as well.

He lay back and soon sleep took him. After what his clock radio told him was just fifteen minutes his eyes started to creep open and looking into the reflection lon the glass of the art work next to his bed he saw that Mrs Booth was on the balcony and looking in at him. He shifted slightly onto his back and then moved his head to sneak a peek out of his just open eyes.

There she was, dressed in just lacy panties she was leaning against the railing just as he had that morning at her, his prick hardened slowly and without any unnecessary interference from him and he rolled slightly so she would get the full impact of it.

It was hardly of a porn star size but all of his previous lovers had been very complimentary about it and he watched as she just stared at him. Her hand moved from folded-arm complacency to resting against her chin and cheek as she looked closer at him, then to worry and grasp at her big tits and nipples. She moved right up to the door which was partly open to let in the fresh air, and with just the tiniest nudge from her was open just wide enough for her to squeeze through, having to squish her big boobs to get through. He held back his giggle at that, instead turning it into a half-snore, half snort as he rolled to that side.

She tiptoed across to the bed and sat down on the edge, holding her breath as she did then raising her legs onto the bed, went through a slow shuffle to back into him and spoon with him. She was after the self-same cuddle he had craved after breakfast that morning and he decided to not let her down, moving to slip an arm around her waist and pull her close to him. After a few moments his arm was up and holding her right breast, her hand overtop of his and gently squeezing. He lay there enjoying the moment grinding his stiff penis against the small of her back for a brief second, and remembered very little after that.

They woke almost two hours later with Mrs Booth turned to face him and still in his arms, her nipples pushing into his chest and sleeping soundly. He was so comfortable and it was easy to fall back to sleep again.

He felt some movement and knew it was Mrs Booth wanting to get up, so he released her opening his eyes in time to watch her bottom as she stood up from his bed, the dark blue lace T disappearing into the crack of her arse.

"Now that's another very nice smile," he said.

"Ah, Mr Daniels, Too late to pretend we didn't do that isn't it," she said, for some reason folding her arms across her breasts.

"A little bit, yes," he said, "why would you want to pretend it didn't happen."

"Weeeeell, I don't know if you noticed Mr Daniels but I... err..." she grimaced, "I'm not that kinda girl."