Trapped and Nowhere to Run

Hi. I've been asked to tell you a story about myself. So...being so close to Valentine's Day I figured I would share the events of one special Valentine's Day some years back that changed my life. Just be warned. This is not a tale for the timid or those with fixed moral values.

I suppose I should introduce myself.

My name is Robert. I was 51 and retired at the time. I know. That's considered young. But I had lost my wife the year before and after 30 successful years in business it was easy for me to retire comfortably. Besides, after the sudden death of my wife, Angie, work just didn't feel the same anymore. I was extremely depressed for months after I lost her. I tried everything. I tried support groups, antidepressants, therapy. Nothing helped, except maybe my 18-year-old daughter, Julie.

She's still gorgeous and sexy, just like her mother, and so full of life and positive energy. I wouldn't have made it without her. I adopted her at 5-years-old when I married her mother. I'm the only father she's ever known. And we got even closer with Angie's absence.

Now...I understand why you're here reading this story. And before you start assuming this is one of those forgivable incest stories where stepfather has sex with stepdaughter, just get that thought out of your mind. Julie and I have never done anything like that and never will.

Don't worry. There's plenty of sex coming. Prepare yourself.

So.....here we go.

My story takes place one snowy winter day, Valentine's Day, to be exact. I was attending the last day of a seminar on building self-esteem. I was finally overcoming my depression. I felt I had grieved long enough and was ready to rejoin society and start living again. Julie had come across this self image building seminar and I figured I'd give it a try, just to keep her happy.

It took place at a brand new luxury hotel which, we won't bother to identify since this story could have taken place almost anywhere and I really don't want anyone trying to look me up after I share what happened.

Anyway, I was sitting there on the last day of the seminar nauseated by the little cheap box of chocolates and Valentine's cards the participants were requested to fill out to each other. Love and romance were the last things I wanted that day. I was also tolerating the review of highlights from the past few days of all the glorious ways we could put our miserable lives back together through diet, exercise, meditation and purchasing this sweet, bubbly little lady's course, a $2000 program to continue our self discovery journey to heavenly bliss.

I probably would have bowed out of the seminar after the first couple days if it hadn't been for Rosie. Yes, Rosie. That's what her name tag said. And as it turned out that's really all anyone knew about her. The men couldn't keep their eyes off her but didn't approach her fearing their boners might give them away. I, myself, kept my distance from her forewarned. And the women, jealous I suppose, couldn't stop gossiping like Rosie was some kind of immoral slut.

To be fair, it wasn't hard to see why the ladies complained. Rosie wore a different outfit everyday that revealed enough to stimulate every man's imagination. On this particular day she wore a flaming red silk blouse and tight black pencil skirt with nylons and shiny black high heels.

Rosie looked to be Angie's age, about ten years my junior. Brunette, brown eyes. She was in amazing shape for her age. She must have worked out at a gym to maintain that body. And her breasts! Not Dolly Parton size but full chested with cleavage that forced you to look down her blouse before making eye contact. Another reason few felt comfortable approaching her. I might have preferred blondes, but I was willing to deny that for Rosie.

I had absorbed little the seminar instructor said that week nonchalantly taking every opportunity to catch another peek at Rosie. She was sitting across from me at a table on the opposite side of the room. I had prime seating for enjoying the peep show. Younger than most of the old geezers attending I managed to beat them to the seat with the best full body view of her.

You see, Rosie, didn't just sit watching and taking notes. She put on a subdued floor show difficult to ignore. She might touch herself in sensually suggestive ways like unbuttoning her blouse a little. Then she'd fan some imaginary perspiration rolling down between those gorgeous bosoms. Little things. Just enough to keep her audience returning for more.

She never prolonged eye contact with any of the patrons. I think she wanted to maintain the impression she was focussed on the seminar's instruction. I assumed this gave her the right to denial. If anyone complained about her being inappropriate she could easily claim unawareness of her behavior.

You see, by day two of the seminar, everyone knew the story. I heard it in the men's room at lunch break. A couple of guys attending their second and third rounds of seminars with Rosie offered an intriguing tale. They shared they had heard Rosie was a prostitute, past her prime, and, having been asked not to loiter in the hotel bar, made a practice of attending hotel seminars where she would scout for prospects. And she selected you. She'd turn you down if you approached her. She would proposition her choice of the litter to get a room and then meet up later for sex.

The storytellers insisted they heard the sex was incredible but rough. And, whatever you did, be advised to take an empty wallet with only enough cash you were willing to have stolen. She'd drug your drink and leave after you fell asleep.

Of course, these two old farts couldn't verify anything from personal experience but insisted they had been informed by very reliable sources. I smiled in disbelief but didn't complain. It made for a good locker room story. These old guys had probably concocted it fantasizing Rosie would eventually choose them to have sex. I guess there were worse ways to spend your time during retirement. And I was no one to judge. As each day passed I was getting more and more sexually frustrated myself.

You have to realize, I hadn't had sex for several months. You can believe it or not, but I was used to fucking Angie practically every day and sometimes more than once. We had an understanding between us that whenever one of us got horny the other had to immediately submit and do whatever was asked. And we both got horny a lot. I swear we spent a good portion of our marriage in closets and restrooms. I suppose that's why I was depressed for so long. I didn't realize it til that day, but sex was the one thing I desperately needed to finally get my life back on track.

So...This was the last day of the seminar and Rosie seemed to be pulling all the stops out for an encore performance. I watched her remove her bra in the morning session quickly putting it in her large purse. Then she drove me mad running her finger down inside her cleavage. She glided her finger nails along her breasts lightly scratching at the thin fabric of her blouse and lightly massaged them periodically just to remind you she wasn't wearing anything underneath.

Then it was late afternoon. The instructor had everyone's attention focused up front with her overhead projector reviewing those highlights as earlier stated. Of course, the room was darkened so everyone could see the screen clearly. In an hour, the seminar would end and everyone would leave.

That would also bring the curtain down on the Rosie show. But Rosie had one more tantalizing trick up her sleeve, or should I say up her skirt. For an encore, and for the first time during the entire seminar, she looked directly at me from across the room. When she was certain she had my attention she slipped her high heels off and slowly reached up under her tight skirt. Apparently her skirt wasn't tight enough to prevent her from pulling out what I could barely make out to be dark lace panties. Her eyes fixed on me, she continued ever so slowly working those panties over her nylons and down her legs to her feet where she reached down, still watching me, to remove the underwear from one foot. But she wasn't done.

I expected the attire to make its way to her purse after that and tried to look away in a vain attempt to hide my salacious thoughts. I looked around to see everyone else totally turned to the front of the room captivated by the rapidly changing slide presentation, except for the sweet little instructor, of course, who had already learned to never look at Rosie's antics for fear of forgetting her place and blushing.

Rosie and I were seated toward the back of the room of our respective sides, which I later learned she had planned. I probably could have unzipped my pants and masturbated right there with no one but Rosie the wiser. She could watch me for once. That would show her.

Of course, I had to steal a quick glance back. She was still staring at me like a stalking predator with those big dark eyes of hers, even more haunting in the dim light contrasted against the bright whites of her eyes. And those dark panties? She was sitting there with her elbows resting on the table holding them in her hands for anyone to see.

I couldn't take my eyes off her as she brought the underwear to her nose finally closing her eyes and deeply inhaling the scent of her sex. Then without moving she opened her eyes again to verify she still had me right where she wanted me. My open mouth was bone dry as she slowly placed the fabric between her teeth tearing at them like a wild animal claiming it's prey.

That was it! That was all I could take. I reached down under the table and grabbed the front of my pants to massage my throbbing cock. Thank god no one was looking my way.

Chancing another glance back over toward Rosie I caught her snapping her purse shut and looking back my way forming the biggest grin on her face. Yes, she saw me. She had succeeded. She had seduced me into doing exactly what she wanted. "What a bitch," I thought.

She leaned back slightly in her chair and spread her legs as far apart as her pencil dress would allow. Of course, I had to look. And, of course, I couldn't see anything I really wanted to see under her table from across a darkened room. Starting to pay more attention to the lecture, Rosie checked a look back at me again. She was pleased to see me imploringly struggling to look up her skirt.

Then I was blinded by the overhead lighting being flicked back on. The slide presentation had concluded. I quickly removed my hand from under the table and looked over at Rosie who paid me no mind. She was sitting up straight giving her full attention to the speaker and never again looked my way.

I remember sitting there staring at the course evaluation form with that No. 2 pencil in my hand getting more and more frustrated by the minute. Then the pressure from my hand bearing down snapped the pencil in half bringing everyone's attention to me. Embarrassed, I quickly apologized and the speaker continued.

Emotionally, I was somewhere between frustration and anger. I was sitting there with the stiffest erection in a long time and I couldn't do anything about it. All I could think about was my desire to march across the room, tear Rosie's clothes off, throw her on the table and FUCK her right there in front of everybody. God, how I wanted to do that!

I had to get out. Get ahold of myself. Besides I also had to piss. I had drunk too much water to treat my dry mouth watching the Rosie sex show. So, I got up and expeditiously exited the conference room. I made my way down the hall and around the corner toward restrooms I had been told were used to supplementally accommodate the overflow created by large group events. No such events today except for our small seminar. Besides it was late afternoon making the area look even more deserted. Excellent!

I decided to enter one of the stalls in the restroom preferring even more privacy to deal with the first erection in several months. It still hadn't deflated.

Angie always relished my endurance. She loved torturing me. Sometimes she'd look at a clock and command me to fuck her in a variety of positions for exactly 30 minutes, counting down the time out loud. Then I had to beg her to let me come inside her. I loved it.

I stood there in the deafening silence of one of the finest, cleanest restrooms I had ever had the privilege to relieve myself in. Everything was brand new with luxurious touches to the fixtures. The stalls were slightly wider. One day I had overheard one of the ladies chuckling about a bidet. There was even a valet normally present but, of course, that wasn't necessary today.

I should have already been drying my hands with classy monogrammed paper towels and checking out the cologne and mouthwash, but I was slightly concerned I couldn't get a stream started. I was too engorged.

Alright, I'd just jerk it off. I certainly had no problem deciding what to mentally visualize. I couldn't remember the last time I had masturbated. I had forgotten how stimulating it felt. I just stood there rubbing myself enjoying the physical pleasure for a few moments before getting serious.

Then I had a pleasantly indecent thought. Knowing I was alone and unlikely to be interrupted, I quickly removed my shoes and pants and neatly set them aside hanging my pants on the hook at the back of the stall door. Noticing the latch I locked the stall door just as a precaution.

I had prepared nicely but I best not waste any more time, I thought. I turned to face the commode. I had never seen a toilet bowl so pristine. Yes. I would aim my ejaculate into the bowl. I chuckled remembering habits in Jr. High School.

I returned to my self massage looking proudly down at my manhood briefly then closed my eyes searching for images of you know who. I could feel it starting to work. My anger and frustration were blocked out by aching pleasure building to a climax. I reached down to massage my ballsack with my other hand fondly remembering more old habits. Then a memory flashed into my mind I hadn't considered for years.

I was sitting in my car in the office parking lot with my hand fondling the golden locks of Angie's wavy hair. Looking down all I could see was the back of her head gently bobbing up and down and slightly side to side. We had barely met. And she was giving me the most exciting blowjob of my life. No woman had ever touched my balls like that. If any of my coworkers suddenly came out it would be impossible to explain away what I was doing with the new office girl. And I was so glad no one interrupted us, because Angie surprised me again. She refused to come off me. I ejaculated down her throat. She swallowed everything and then sat up next to me blushing with the goofiest smile on her wet face, so pleased with herself. I couldn't help it. I kissed her in spite of what she had just been doing.

"Yes! Yes! That's what I need!" I shouted out from the restroom stall. I was just about to come when I stopped abruptly.

I opened my eyes and listened motionless like a rabbit in the woods who had just heard a twig snap. Then I heard something. The lavatory door closing with a thump.

I stood perfectly still, cock in hand. The silence was even more deafening than before. I couldn't sense anything except the racing heart pounding in my chest.

Finally, starting to feel dizzy, I turned around and quietly sat on the commode. If there was actually someone still in the restroom I would just remain quiet until he finished and left. I tried but it was too impossible to press my stiffy down so I just brought my thighs together resting my balls on top of them while my erection stood straight up and out like a flagpole. It was ok. No one could see me. I would just wait.

I sat silent for what seemed like an eternity. Then I heard what sounded like a bolt sliding in place. Was that the restroom door being locked? Shit!

Then came the high pitched sound of high heels clicking across the tile floor. It was terrifyingly predictable but I was still shocked when they stopped directly in front of my stall. Yes. I really wasn't alone, after all. A woman's feet in shiny black high heels were easily visible before me under the door.

"Excuse me? I think you're in the wrong restroom?" I yelled out.

"Excuse yourself. I have business here," a woman's voice replied.

Did I say I was in shock? I didn't know what to say. I just sat there hiding, praying this woman would magically go away if I didn't move or speak.

However, before I could make sense of this strange situation the woman's voice broke the silence, "Come on, Robert. Open the door. I know you're in there. What are you doing in there?"

I couldn't speak. All I could hear was my mother's voice at the bathroom door catching me in the act.

Then the woman's voice bellowed out more stern than before,"Robert?...Robert!...Don't make me kick this door in, Robert. I've done it before."

One of the shoes seen under the door began noticeably tapping the floor.

I had no choice. I was trapped with nowhere to run. I struggled to my feet, the only way I could reach the latch. I lifted the latch and just stepped back sitting down in my original position on the commode. I was so humiliated!

The door swung slowly open and there she stood. Rosie.

If it wasn't for my complete embarrassment in the moment I probably would have complimented her for looking so stunning.

Now is probably a good time to describe Rosie a little better. Working from head to toe, her hair was almost pitch black and fashionably cut just above her shoulders. Her eyes so dark you couldn't distinguish her pupils from the irises. They were the darkest brown floating in a contrasting sea of bright white sclera, drawing you in searching to reveal the mysteries behind them. And that cat eye mascara! Cleopatra couldn't be more perfectly beautiful.

Her lips were full and the red lipstick inviting. I wondered what it would feel like to kiss them.

Her voice was extremely sexy. Exposed, my little head twitched almost every time she spoke.

Her chest...well...We'll get around to that.

Her body was slim and firm as stated earlier. A perfect hourglass figure.

I was disappointed I had missed seeing her remove her nylons. Her long shapely legs were cleanly shaven and perfectly smooth. I couldn't resist the thought of running my tongue along them.

There was no sign of aging. Her complexion was smooth and pale. No sign of tanning. But who cares? It was winter.

It would have been vulgar to call this magnificent specimen of femininity a prostitute. She might be a high class call girl, and she definitely wasn't beyond her prime.

She was standing in front of me, looking me up and down, considering my predicament. I was so captivated seeing her close up I almost forgot how she must have seen me. But I wouldn't have wait long to find out.

"Well, well. What have we here?" She said now looking me directly in the eye.

I dared not look away or swallow not wanting to let her think I was actually embarrassed or concerned. Besides, I was unable to think of anything clever to say.

Rosie maintained eye contact as if whoever looked away first would lose. She unsnapped her purse pulling out a pack of cigarettes and lighter. She lit up finally looking away slightly figuring she had tortured me long enough.

She inhaled a long drag and blew it up in the air above her head. That wasn't fooling me. I could already sense she was posturing to demonstrate some dominance over me to be in control.

Inquisitively she said, "Oh! You don't mind if I smoke, do you?"

Another dominant glare as she took a second puff slowly releasing it, "Of course you don't....I can do whatever I want, can't I?"

I didn't answer. My cock flinched. I chose to let her play her little cat and mouse game.