Motel Summer Ch. 04: Fluid Dynamics

Her fingers--just the tips really--ever so slightly squeezed and pulled me mid-shaft, as her pink tongue sanded my engorged tip. She let her lips reach out and grab the narrow ring behind my pulsing head, and sucked it in to swirl it, once, twice, thrice. The turbulent wash warmed me through as her hand ratcheted up into a perfectly-timed milking set of jerks. Then she'd relent and let the latex-clad hood pop free while giving slower, yet more mind-piercing pulls.

Her technique was high art: a Rembrandt in a sea of paint-by-numbers. To which I responded with a miracle of hydraulics. Pressure accumulated in key vessels, fluids built up in key reservoirs, lubrication was drawn onto the key gears, pumps primed, hoses cleared, faucets opened. With a roar, the vast assemblage lurched into motion. As I cried out, I was still, a tiny part of me, able to watch as the protective tip of the rubber turned white and swelled and swelled. Then her lips fastened over the whole and sucked hard at it. My body shuddered and jerked, the overpowering grip of her lips and tongue sending me writhing.

As the torrent slowed, her lips slowly unclenched just enough that I slid free, millimeter by millimeter. Twice it sent an intense spasm through my overloaded body. The filled condom tip came loose last, distended but unbroken, a thick glistening deposit visible through the translucent material. She poked at it with the tip of her tongue. The semen was thick and foamy inside the protective sheath, clearly hoping it was clinging to and resisting removal from, a warm fertile womb instead of dangling uselessly inside a rubber coffin.

It took me a moment to recover. Then I dried my face on the sheet and turned to faced Caryn, bending to kiss her on the lips. She embraced me, arms around my shoulders, as we had a slow series of light smooches. Her eyes brightened and I let my body down some to rest against hers. I distantly felt her knees on either side of my thighs, my partly deflated pipe nestling gently against her waterworks.

I rolled off onto my back and she turned around to straddle over me. The clinical gaze was missing when she leant down to share a light kiss.

"Oh, Cal, that was magnificent," she said, letting her body touch me. I was still firm and it felt heavenly to be close to the warm haven between her thighs, a resolution she clearly yearned for as well. We were both reveling in it slightly before, almost together, we realized the folly that poking her with an overstressed condom might produce.

We smiled and the moment was lost. She reached down to slip the French letter off and sealed it for later delivery. Neither of us noticed that she had skipped the hydrogen peroxide treatment, not until later.

After that, everything was hunting undergarments and tidying appearances before she darted from my room with a peck on the cheek and a cheery "See ya'!"

I went to take a cold shower, my body still humming, my mind toying with the puzzle that Caryn presented.

The bodies of many fish enjoy a "topography" that manages to direct the energy of the vortices that naturally exist in turbulent waters in propulsion. The result of this is that even a dead fish can sometimes swim upstream.

I wandered over to the motel office a bit after seven, while the gals were still arriving. There was a buzz of energy, people coming and going from the residence into the office and back. Drinks were already the order of business.

Krista was busy checking-in an obviously bemused customer, who had that stumbled-in-from-the-road look. The semi-glazed expression sloughing off as he slowly realized there were a bunch of women preparing to "par-tay har-tay".

Finishing him off, Krista nodded me over.

"Hey, Cal," she drawled. Apparently 'hey' runs in the family.

"Hey, Krista, I guess I'm the jackpot round tonight?"

"Yeah. Only... I don't think you should be hanging around before the Big Finish. There's a lot of truths being told that only the women in this room should know."

"How should we handle it then?"

"I think you should be hidden away in my bedroom. You have to promise to keep your headphones in and not eavesdrop. I've got a big sheet of cardboard, and I made a..." she paused, slightly embarrassed, "a..., um, gloryhole in it. That was my idea for tonight."

"So I might get a mouth or butt or hand or whatever and I wouldn't know who's it was and technically they wouldn't see me... although I'm about to walk right past them."

She laughed. "Exactly. It's all in the fantasy anyway."

We decided on that course. She snuck me through into her bedroom, behind the large room where the poker game was being set up, and plopped me on her unmade bed. I made a show of putting in my earphones while she and Caryn put the cardboard into place where the doorway was. Outside there were at least four mature women of roughly Krista's age, busty, big-legged, big-haired, bright-lipsticked women.

In spite of the admonition not to, I did try to eavesdrop a bit, but it was a hen party. All cackle, no substance. So, I ended up tuning out in favor of YouTube. This eventually turned boring--the game took hours!--and I ended up looking around at Krista's room starting with her bed.

Normally she seemed fastidious. Borderline trashy, but never a hair out of place. But she'd left me two play items almost certainly by mistake.

First, stuffed under her pillow there was a big bright pink bra. Each cup probably held a quart, maybe two, and was frilly with lace. A label by the four clasps informed me that she was sporting a substantially larger pair of assets than her cousin Caryn. Elsewhere, under the sheets, there was a utilitarian black set of panties. The white cotton of the gusset was stained to let me know that these had already been worn. The scent from them (because, yes, I did take a sniff) was of feminine musk: tilled earth and fertile soil. Together these items made me want to plow new fields and sow my seeds within them. But I was abundantly aware from the noises in the other room, that I needed to save myself. Plow work seemed likely to present itself later in the evening.

The rest of her room was less arousing, but still enlightening. I'd looked at her as a sort of stereotype: a motel night manager with a couple of tattoos. The shot glass and Mardi Gras bead collections I expected. But the collection of books, on diverse topics, I didn't. Pablo Neruda? Gravity's Rainbow? The library book was Bertrand Russell, and it was paired with a well-worn New Testament. Her band posters were framed and signed and classics from psychedelic sixties houses in San Francisco--the Charlatans and Big Brother and the Dead. There was a delicate watercolor of flowers by a lake. On the other hand, she had a huge dildo in her nightstand. Bigger than I thought anyone could really use. She also had a medical looking white plastic case with a palm-sized rubber dome in it.

I'd gone back to my phone (and luckily remembered to put in my earphones again) when she peeked in and called my name.

"Cal, it's time. It's the main event." Her fingers were waving to me through the corrugated partition. I put down the phone and moved over towards the doorway.

She'd cut a couple of holes in the cardboard. One was close to where I'd poke through standing up. The other was close to the same for when I was kneeling. She'd underestimated my height with both, it appeared.

"How do you want to work this?" I asked, which is probably the least hot line for getting my audience excited.

"I think it's pretty self-explanatory," she replied. "You get yourself ready, you poke it through, and nice things happen to you."

"I can do that," I thought, and commenced to bare myself from the waist down. I could sense a few eyes watching me, partly because there were excited titters and one person going "Shh! Shh!" urgently in response. I didn't have to work hard to prepare, and I decided to start with standing height.

No sooner had my wiener poked through the hole in the packing material, with only a little flex in my spine to keep from scraping the top on the rough-cut edge, then I could hear the mature women on the other side go "Ooooh!" and then a gabble of voices as they admired. Fingers (probably?) brushed my glans. Another hand (probably) encircled my girth and gave me a little tug. I felt some warm breath on the tip, then blowing back through the orifice, tickling my pubic hairs.

Then, without warning, a warm wet sensation kissed the little slit at the end of my penis and ever so slowly worked its way around my head. A tongue, supple and warm, bathed the tip. Then there was a slow steady sensation of being sucked. I wasn't buried inside a mouth, but was being expertly fellated, nonetheless. One at a time, different mouths and hands took turns grasping me.

"Cal," came an unfamiliar voice from the other side of the barrier, "our lucky loser doesn't mind a little prep work like this. We hope you can resist our oral charms, though. We want more."

"Your wish is my command," I replied, trying for my best genie impersonation.

"Cal, I need to know if you're okay taking a risk tonight."

"What sort of risk, ma'am?"

"Will you go bare into a hole you cannot see? We believe we're all clean and germ free, but you must make the choice."

I hesitated. "What about... the other thing?"

"You let us worry about that. Will you do it? Or do I need these condoms here?"

"I'll do it, just be careful."

"Believe me, we'll be very careful."

"I'm ready."

"Give us the other hole, then, Cal."

I knelt before the pasteboard barrier and tentatively pushed my tool back into their view. Through the upper hole I could see that there were several bodies close by. Colorful clothing was on display. As soon as I was fully inserted, though, my pressing against the barrier meant that my view was again cut off. A hand grabbed me and started to stroke me. Three quick tugs... bam... bam... bam. Then a sensation of cold. Now the hand was smearing some gel or goop over me, a thick layer of moistening agent.

Voices applauded and whooped to see someone preparing to take the plunge. I felt more tugs, then something in the air, a stillness, a fullness. A warm body was backing up to meet me. I heard "oooOOo!" and "girl!" and other hints of encouragement. The hand holding me held my angle just so and I felt the first touch of mystery flesh. There was some struggle, as the owner tried to get her body closer, to make a deep connection possible. More appreciative noises.

The hand holding me began to move my cock up and down as I was pressed firmly against aroused pudenda. I could both feel and hear the squick of slickness as my guide used my rod to stroke my mystery woman's valley. She used me to deftly poke-poke-poke at her invisible sweet spot. She used me to touch the opening of a fertile wet mouth. She used me like a sex toy to please my unknown partner. I heard a groan and a grunt and then more groans. My partner bounced her body to and fro, trying to get the poker to poke her. Four or five times, she succeeded, only to be thwarted by the gripping hand. Only the flared helmet could get inside before the gripping hand prevented full penetration.

"She wants it, Cal. Do you feel it? She wants your dirty dangerous dog knot to sink into her loser pussy. She bet it all tonight and she lost at the poker table. Do you think she should go double or nothing on the glory hole?"

"I feel it. She feels so hot. How much is she betting if we go all the way?"

"She's not on the pill, Cal. She doesn't have her diaphragm in. She's probably fertile tonight and just waiting for a single one of your anonymous swimmers to draw the inside straight--straight to her Fallopian tube. You wanna do that, Cal? You wanna see her waddling back to the poker table with your illegitimate spawn kicking inside her? You do, don't you?"

"It's probably too dangerous. You should make her give me her brown hole instead. Or give her the chance to suck me off before you force us into parenthood."

"Do you like the brown hole, Cal?"

"It's not my favorite."

"Not ours either. We like the hole designed for your tool, Cal. We want to see you stiffen and squirm and twitch inside her while we hold her hips against the barrier to make sure every drop lands on her cervix."

"Does she get a voice in this debate?"

"What about it, loser? Do you want Cal's baby maker to do its trick inside you?" There was motion, but no voice.

"He can't hear you, loser. He needs to know if you want him to breed you like an animal or if he should take precautions. If you're very nice, he might pull out."

"Dammit. I want it. I deserve it." The wet hole was worming more insistently against my unguarded shaft but was resisted by the still protective hand.

"Cal?" came the muffled voice. "Please let them put it in me. I want to bet it all with you tonight."

I said back: "Let her feel it."

The body on the other side began to rock forward and back. With each thrust towards me, I pushed to meet it. After we had a rhythm, a countdown began. "Five..." bam! "Four..." bam! "Three..." bam! "Two..." bam! "One..." the crescendo of voices was triumphant as the body slammed into the hand the last time.

"Zero!" The hand came away and the hurtling body fully impaled on my rigid shaft. The force carried the body back against the barrier. The tape holding the barrier in place strained as our bodies crushed the thin cardboard between us. I ground my nuts against the barrier, not really withdrawing, just flexing my body in time with my unseen mating partner. The hungry orifice in question was sopping and tight. Her legs were shorter than mine, so entering her bent me downwards. Bottoming out caused me to flex and her to squeeze, then the short respite of her body pulling forward, then the short stroke of the torso back against me. Each motion was short, but intense.

The other girls were cheering and hooting, but I heard my partner's voice over them, decorum lost as it spewed the vilest obscenities: "Come on, you dirty fucker... Shoot your rug monkeys in me... Make me squeeze your bastard spawn out of my fuck hole... Dump your tadpoles into my slutty belly..."

With each nasty urging came a blow from our mating bodies against the barely unyielding glory hole. Slowly the epithets elevated from the gutter into a sort of pleading desire: "I want it in me... Oh my god he can hear me... I wanted it the first time I laid eyes on you... I wanted it all summer, but always some cock-blocker in the way... I want to slurp up your seed... Put it in me Cal... Please? I want it, Cal... Please use me..."

All through this, we were bucking and humping as hard as we thought the tentative state of the barrier would permit. I felt the tingle grow, the first flush of potential orgasm.

I wondered if this could be Caryn, who'd been so careful. Or Krista, who'd been so hot for me. Or one of the others, such as the fertile Sam Janson. Would I be starting yet another unthinkable pregnancy? I could face Selena, with her doctorate and serious career, as the single mother of my child. I was less sanguine about knocking up a stranger. What would I say if it were Krista, the night manager of a motel, being my co-parent?

There were multiple voices urging me on. "You're getting close, aren't you, Cal?" and "Consequences are for tomorrow" and "Tear down this wall and give her what she wants." There were calls to "Breed her! Flood her! Fill her! Sperm her! Nut in her!"

I heard the panting mystery woman say for sure "My ovaries ache. Splash my quim full of spunk."

My hands were braced on the sides of the door frame as I tried my hardest to keep the rhythm of her thrusts. My knees were beginning to ache from the strange posture, while my face was pressed against the cool surface of the box that made up the barrier. I could smell the wax used to coat the thing, the industrial stink of the ink in the labelling. Everything on this side of the doorway was sensory deprivation. Everything beyond it was a kaleidoscope of action and reaction. Some women were urging my lover onwards. Some were gasping and tittering at the sheer craziness of her remarks.

Finally, I heard Caryn, her voice pitched low, almost where my head was pressed to the barrier. "Can you hear me, Cal?"

"Yeah," I grunted back. There was certainly a churning starting to take hold down south there.

"Good. Cal, you know I love you."

"Oh! Caryn! I... "

I had no response. I was concentrating on control now. In a moment I was going to have to pull out--or live with the consequences.

"I did my best to be where she is, but she's just sneaky. Pump into her, babe. Maybe it won't catch. Otherwise, I'm going to give her your manual extraction--which we forgot to doctor."

The moaning from the other side of the shuddering cardboard was growing in fever and pitch. My feelings were churning, but nothing like my overamped testes. They were clamped down on by my tight ball sac yearning to milk out every wriggling sperm. Then the gates opened, and the waterworks began. A hard rain of cream flooded deep into my invisible lover's loins, where they were quivering against the barrier. I roared. I pressed as hard as I could. The tape holding the glory hole in place tore loose. I fell back as frantic hands steadied the crumpled cardboard barrier and held it up.

After a moment, I retreated to Krista's bed, pulling my pants back up over the deflating tool, now drenched in pussy juice, flecks of cum melting away. I re-buckled my belt so it wouldn't jingle. I wasn't listening to the excited sounds on the other side of the somewhat intact barrier, the flash of phone cameras witnessing to the creampie, the oohing and aahing of voices excited to have dodged the bullet.

I listened as the party broke up, the outside door ejecting this or that partygoer. I sat on the bed as two hushed voices discussed things somewhere near the couch in the other room, sometime vehemently, sometimes plaintively, sometimes consolingly. The light from the holes dimmed appreciably, only some small lamplight leaking through. I had switched to just a bed lamp in this room.

Finally, the barrier was under assault. Deft hands pulled the wreckage of the glory hole away. Then a figure emerged. Busty, short, dark skinned. Her battered Reptilicus eye shadow smeared, with a smoky look she closed the door to the room and came over to the bed. We regarded one another.

"Now you know," she said. "I been watching you all summer. Wanting you."

"Are you sure you want this?" I asked. "You know Caryn..."

"I know about you and Caryn, 'cause she shared it all with me. She could hardly tell her mom, eh? But ne'er-do-well Krista? She could tell me", she said. "She'll be alright. She understands. She paved the path, because she knows how much I want it."

She reached up and dragged her polo shirt off, as she sank down to sit next to me. I put hands behind her, to work the clasp of her big black brassiere. Her breasts were a little lighter in color and drooped very slightly. Big dark areola, pointy and thick, winked up at me. They wanted to be grasped in big strong hands and I obliged them.

She put her hands to my belt and loosened it. Her fingers left my trouser button for a second to shrug off the released bra. I pushed the pants and underwear onto the floor again as she stepped out of hers.

I put my arms around Krista and kissed her for the first time. She tasted of whisky and desire. We moved together in the dark. Her tight wet hole was already soaked. I kept it filled somehow.

The morning was strange. I awoke in an unfamiliar bed that was probably too small for two people. I'd relieved myself during the night, so there was no urgency to get up. Instead, Krista's naked body was slumbering next to mine. Through the door, I heard some sounds of cooking or cleanup. Beyond that, the motel's business was getting into swing. The day manager was checking people out. Sometime soon I would, I realized, have a Walk of Shame.