Weekend with Amy

"Do I have to get up?" she pouted, and I pulled her to her feet without answering. I snatched another condom from the nightstand and guided her to the bathroom. She stumbled along behind me, not quite steady on her feet yet.

Inside the bathroom I turned on the light and stood her in front of the mirror. I leaned her on the counter and ripped open the condom packet with my teeth. Her eyes were wide as she looked back and watched my roll the rubber over my still hard cock.

"I thought they got soft after," she whispered, and I positioned myself behind her and slipped easily up into her. She crossed her arms on the counter and put her chin down on them, watching me take her in the mirror. Unfortunately the angle was just a bit off, and I couldn't get a comfortable rhythm going.

"Did you bring heels?" I asked her, and when she nodded I told her to go get them. She was gone for a moment, and I heard the zipper on her bag. When she returned she was carrying a pair of black strappy sandals.

"Put them on," I said, and she looked confused for a second, and then sat down on the toilet and did as I said. When she stood I noted the wet smear on the toilet lid with satisfaction and positioned her on the counter again.

The shoes made the difference, the modest three-inch heels thrusting her ass high enough for me to get a good rhythm going. Amy seemed to get really turned on by watching me pumping away behind her, but she was going past exhaustion and she laid her face down on her arms.

I grabbed her hair and pulled her head back and hissed, "Watch!" as I pounded away. With my free hand I slapped her ass, then backhanded the other cheek, alternating this way as she watched in the mirror.

I felt her pussy contract again around my cock, and saw her eyes roll back into her head. I thrust deep into her and groaned, pretending to come, and then pulled out and quickly flushed the condom.

"Take off your heels," I said as I turned and started the water running in the tub. When it was hot enough I climbed in and turned on the shower, enjoying the hard, hotel-showerhead spray.

"Come on," I said, "Get in."

Amy stepped into the tub and I guided her under the steaming spray. I worked my finger through her long, blond hair until it lay limp and brown against her head and shoulders. I squeezed some of the cheap hotel shampoo into my hand and started working it deep into her scalp with my fingertips, then stroked my fingers out through the length of her hair.

Amy was shivering, her eyes closed. Her whole body was relaxed, and I could see by her sway that she was close to collapsing. I rinsed her hair, working my fingers through her wet, silky hair, squeezing the suds out.

When I finished, Amy turned to me and rose up onto her toes and kissed me deeply, passionately. I put my arms around her and kissed her back with just as much tenderness and passion.

When we parted, I handed her the tiny bar of hotel soap and a washcloth and said, "My turn."

Amy rubbed the soap onto the washcloth, and then tentatively rubbed it against my chest. After a few swipes I saw her focus on my chest, and she started to play with the hair there, wiping this way and that.

She lovingly rubbed lower, washing my belly and then sides, before lowering to her knees. She soaped and washed my legs, again becoming playful with the hair, and then gently cleaned off my balls and then my cock, finishing the latter with a tender kiss.

I turned and she washed my legs and my ass, taking my ass in her hands and squeezing. She stood and washed my back, and then my arms.

I had been washed by women before, but never so thoroughly, so sweetly, as that afternoon. When she finished I turned off the water and we toweled each other off before going to bed. I pulled back the covers and turned off the TV (the movie having expired at some point earlier), and we lay wrapped in each other's arms and fell to sleep.

Dinner with Amy

I woke first, and seeing it was night I crawled from her soft, sweet body and wrapped a towel around my waist. I went out onto the balcony and smoked a cigarette, leaning against the railing. When I finished I went back inside and pulled the covers back, exposing her naked body.

I woke her gently with a soft kiss, and when she responded I became more passionate. I stepped back just as she was putting her arm around me to pull me down and said, "Get up and get your clothes on."

Amy sat up and pulled the sheet up to her neck. "Are you kicking me out now?" she asked, a hint of panic in her voice.

"Yeah," I said seriously, and then I smiled and said, "I'm kicking you out of bed so we can go get something to eat." Putting on my socks, underwear, slacks, shirt and shoes took the same amount of time as it took Amy to get out of bed, stretch, and walk naked to her bag. I lit a cigarette and sat on the bed, ready for a show.

Amy picked up her bag and was turning toward the bathroom when I said, "Stop. I want to watch you get dressed."

She blushed, and set her bag down. She pulled out a few things from her bag and tossed them onto the bed next to me. From the assortment of white cotton panties there I chose the single pair of red bikinis and handed them to her. She pulled them on and stood in front of me, posing innocently as I handed her the matching bra. Once she had that on I asked her what she planned to wear.

She took out a black skirt and a red blouse, and when I asked she showed me an unopened package of black tights. I was disappointed, but she was young and inexperienced, so I let it go.

Dressed, Amy went into the bathroom and fixed her hair and makeup while I looked through the hotel guide for nearby restaurants. My biggest obstacle was the fact that it was nearly nine-thirty, and everything seemed to close at ten.

When Amy came out I made her march back into the bathroom, and I was right behind her. I made her wipe off most of the lipstick she had smothered her sweet lips in, and her eye shadow as well. "I'm not taking a hooker out, you know," I remember saying.

We went down and got into my car, and we drove to a little Italian place nearby. It was nearly empty, and I had to tip a twenty just to get them to seat us so close to closing.

I ordered veal and ravioli for both of us, and Amy looked a little put off. Again we didn't talk much, but I didn't have much need to say anything with such a beautiful young woman to look at.

When our plates arrived I dug in, not having eaten since the previous day, and I saw Amy take a few bites of ravioli, ignoring the veal.

"Is something wrong with it?" I asked her as I sipped my wine.

"No," she said, not looking at me, "I've just never had it before and I've heard about how they treat the –"

"Take a bite," I said softly, and then leaning forwards a bit, "Now."

Amy quickly picked up her knife and sawed a piece from the cutlet. She held it up, looking it over, and then seeing my eyes she put it in her mouth.

"How do you like it?" I asked, smiling. Amy shook her head and started to bring her napkin to her lips.

"Listen to me closely," I whispered across the table. "I want you to swallow what you have, and then you are going to eat every bite of what you have on your plate."

Amy swallowed and took a sip of water. "Why? Why do I have to eat it?" she asked me, her expression pained.

"Because it will please me," I said, and I took another bite. I watched her face as she looked at me. Her lips moved as she sucked them from the inside, considering, and then she dropped her eyes and began to cut another piece from the cutlet.

I took a celebratory drink of wine and watched as Amy forced herself to eat the veal. It was really quite good, but for some reason she just wasn't enjoying it. Still, she finished every bite.

After dinner we ordered coffee and Amy had a large slice of chocolate cake. I paid, leaving a generous tip, and we got back into the car. We had been driving for a short time when Amy looked around and said, "This isn't the way to the hotel."

"I know," I said, patting her perfect knee, "I thought we could take a little drive first."

The Drive

We drove through the darkened hamlets and out along a country road. Amy had settled into my shoulder, her hand on my thigh, and I had a clear view down the front of her blouse at her full, pale breasts within their scarlet enclosure.

"Amy," I asked quietly, and she was startled. "Why are you with me this weekend?"

She seemed to think about it for a few minutes, and then said, "I don't know."

"Tell me," I said, more firmly now.

"I just wanted, I mean, you are so cool, and so hot," she began, rambling. "I like you. I like you a lot. The things we wrote about on the computer made me so hot and horny, and I don't have a boyfriend. It's a special weekend for me, and I wanted to be with you, totally."

"What do you want from this weekend?" I asked her softly.

"What I planned for we've already done, and then some. I feel like this morning I walked out of my house a scared little girl, and I want to go home and walk back in a real woman."

She had begun to stroke my cock through my slacks as she spoke, and when she finished she lowered her head to my lap, unbuckling my belt. I did the familiar scoot back against the seat to give her some room, and I paid close attention to the road as she took my hardening cock out of my pants and proceeded to blow me.

I wouldn't have recognized her as the same girl. She was loving my cock with her mouth so expertly, I would never have believed this was the same girl who had only a few hours earlier been sucking me with no tongue and slack lips.

"If you make me come in your mouth I'll expect you to swallow every drop," I warned, and then said, "After showing me your prize, of course."

Amy giggled and sat up, stroking me with her hand. "I don't want you to come," she said softly into my ear just before nibbling. "I want you to be hot so you'll want to fuck me."

"Move over and lean on the door," I said, lifting my arm so she could move. She looked confused, and I noticed she locked the door before leaning against it.

"Put your leg up on the seat and pull your skirt up so I can see you," I said. My voice sounded sharp to my own ears, and I wondered what her reaction would be. She put her leg out across the seat, her heel pressing against my leg. Lifting her bottom, she gathered her skirt up around her waist.

"Rub your pussy for me," I said, my eyes on the road. "Rub your pussy and tell me what you want me to do to you." Amy started to lightly rub her crotch. I could make out her little red panties through the black fabric of her tights.

"I want you to fuck me," Amy began, her voice soft but slightly husky. "I want you to throw me down and tear off my clothes and take me hard. I'll resist you, but you're stronger, and you'll make me do everything you want," she said, and I could hear that her breathing was becoming deeper, and there was a hint of her scent in the car. I glanced over and saw that she was rubbing slowly, but pressing her hand hard against her crotch.

"Take off your tights and your underwear," I said, again hearing the command in my voice. "When you're done put your shoes back on and touch your pussy for me."

I watched the road but glanced over at her several times as she struggled out of her tights. I came to a light and stopped, then chose a side road to continue down. When I looked back at Amy her tights and panties were balled up on the floor of the car, her fingers dancing over her wet folds.

"Tell me what's going to happen now," I said.

"I'm rubbing my pussy for you, trying to make you happy. When we stop you're going to drag me out of the car and into the woods. You're going to throw me down and fuck me, and I'm going to scream and hit you but you won't stop," she said and then moaned.

The car reeked of her scent, and I glanced over and saw her fingers glistening as two of them repeated disappeared inside her. Her head was back against the window, her eyes closed as she pictured her fantasy.

"Are you a slut?" I asked her, "Are you a whore who wants to be used like a whore?"

She looked at me with her pretty blue eyes wide. She turned bright red, and she looked like she was going to cry. "I'm not a slut. I'm not. I only want to be with you," she said. Her voice was shaky and she was distraught.

"I want you to be a slut for me," I said. "Whenever I want you to, I expect you to be the biggest slutty whore in the world."

"Yes," she said as she nodded, "I'm your slut. I'm a slut for you, a whore for you to use," and she went back to fingering her pussy. Her eyes closed again and her head lolled against the window as she whispered, "I'm your whore. Use me like a slut, use me like a fuck toy."

"Take off your bra, and leave your blouse unbuttoned to there," I said, pointing at the button just below her breasts. She did, and her unencumbered breasts strained to split the blouse open, her cleavage impressive.

We were driving through a small town when she started to rub herself again, and she stopped and sat up when I pulled into the parking lot of a small diner.

"Why are we stopping?" she asked, panicky.

"I want some coffee," I said, and I parked and turned off the car. Seeing her reach to the floor of the car for her underwear I said, "Stop. Get out and straighten your skirt. I want to see you like this inside with me."

Amy held my arm as we walked up the ramp and I held the door for her watching her pretty legs as she went in ahead of me. I watched her as we waited for the waitress to seat us, and even though there was no possible way to see that she was naked beneath her skirt and blouse, she was flustered and nervous enough to raise suspicion.

We sat, and I ordered two coffees. Amy scooted around the booth and sat close to me, and I could feel her tension. I glanced around the diner and saw only two older men, one at the counter eating, the other reading a paper in a booth.

The waitress came over and poured our coffee, and I put my hand on Amy's thigh and slipped it up under her skirt. As the waitress told us to call her when we were ready to order, I opened her thighs and placed my fingers against her wetness.

"I'm scared," Amy whispered. "Let's not do this here."

I looked into her eyes and whispered back, "If you want to be my slut, prove it," and I pushed the tips of two fingers into her. Her breath was coming in ragged gasps, and she became so wet that it ran down my fingers and into the palm of my hand.

I gently fingered Amy's pussy as I slowly drank my coffee, and then stopped to take out my wallet. I tossed a ten on the table and walked Amy to the door, her coffee cup full and cold. I saw that the older guy at the counter was admiring her legs with a leer, and I flipped up the back of her skirt to give him a shot of her tight, round ass.

The old guy blew a silent whistle as his eyebrows shot up, and I escorted Amy out of the diner and put her in the car. I didn't make her do anything on the drive back to the hotel, and she fell asleep after a while nestled into my side.

I parked my car and escorted Amy back up to our room. As soon as the door was shut I was kissing her, and she me. I pulled her blouse off of her slowly and tugged her skirt down over her hips until it dropped around her feet.

I swept her up in my arms and placed her in the bed, still wearing her heels, and I undressed. She was asleep when I got into bed, and I pulled her close to me and was out like a light in minutes.

Sunday

Wake Up Time

I woke the way every man likes to wake, with a gorgeous blond sucking my cock. Amy was far too inexperienced to recognize a piss hardon, and what she was doing felt too damn good to stop her.

I don't know how long she had been sucking me before I woke up, but I watched the digital clock change from ten forty-seven to eleven ten before I sat up and told her to stop.

I went into the bathroom and relieved myself, then called her in. We showered like the night before, with me first soaping up her Centerfold body and then washing her hair, and finishing with her tenderly washing me from head to toe. I still had to wash my own hair.

After the shower Amy ran over and jumped onto the bed, staring at me hungrily from all fours. She was ready to romp, and apparently in a damn playful mood. What else could I do but shoot her down?

"Put some clothes on, we're going out," I said as I pulled my clothes out of my bag. Amy pouted but didn't argue, putting on a pair of tight jeans and a sweater over white cotton bra and panties. She pulled her Army jacket on and stooped to tie her combat boots, and I was struck by the strange personality of this girl.

On one hand she was a fabulously beautiful blond with a killer body the boys would go nuts for, and she craved that attention. She would fall over and spread them wide if a guy told her how hot she was. But she hid it all beneath angry grrl clothes, like she didn't want anybody to notice how fucking fantastic she really was.

We stopped in the hotel restaurant and I ordered us each a light omelet breakfast with coffee and juice, and we both cleaned our plates. I walked Amy out to the car, and after stopping to fill up I drove to a giant mega mall off the Interstate.

Going Shopping

We went into the mall to find it packed with people of all ages and social status. Amy kept looking around, and I could tell she was afraid to run into anyone she knew.

I kept my eyes on the crowd as we wandered along, noting with satisfaction that Amy was getting quite a bit of attention from the male crowd. Checking her reaction, I saw that she was totally oblivious to their attentions. Typical.

My plan quickly unfolded in my mind, and I led Amy into a popular store for the girls and young women. Inside, she tried on several skirts and tops, and I told her to pick out a skirt and two tops to go with it. She did, choosing a denim skirt and two short sleeved T-shirts. I forbade her to pick anything like that and sent her to look again.

When she returned that time, she had a short black skirt, a long sleeved blue stretch top and a sleeveless white thing that hung from her shoulders but nicely showed off her breasts.

With a smile I paid cash for her new clothes, and then took her into a shoe store, where she was much more confident, choosing a pair of black leather pumps with a pointed toe. Satisfied, I paid and took her next to Victoria's Secret.

I bought her two sets, one a black lace bra and panty set with garter belt and matching stockings, the other a white camisole and panty set. Again, as is my way I paid cash.

We walked out into the mall and I asked Amy if she was hungry. She said yes, and I told her we'd grab a quick bite at the food court after she had gone into the lady's bathroom and changed into her new clothes. I was left with one bag, containing the white camisole and panty set and the white top, and Amy took the rest with her.

She was gone for about twenty minutes as I smoked in the mall (ah, the good old days), and when she came out it was breathtaking.

She was striding confidently toward me, her blond hair flying around her shoulders. The blue top seemed to be painted onto her, her new bra holding her ample bosom out proudly. Her skirt hugged her hips and came to mid-thigh, where her gorgeous stocking-clad legs came into view and ended at her petite little feet in the pumps. To say that she was turning heads would be a criminal understatement.

An aside, if you don't mind, but why is it that women never seem to know that most of them do indeed look like cover models when they take the time to dress up and show some confidence? A 190 pound woman who has care in her appearance and dress and a confident attitude can be one hell of a lot more sexy than a 110 pound girl with a knockout body and a crappy attitude. Sorry. Now, to continue;