Praise to Pavlov - Stephie Ch. 02byJohnBous©
Well, here I am, as promised, to let you know what's been happening to me since I discovered that Newton's Third Law of Motion isn't quite so accurate after all (if you have no idea what I'm talking about you really need to read my first instalment!). One thing I have discovered since then is that Pavlov was totally right about conditioning. Let me explain...
My husband, Paul, and I had discovered that I like to be caught, preferably exposed and having fun, and when I say 'like' I mean 'adore' and 'love' and 'come like a stream train' -- I'm sure you get the picture. After the episode in the show house, I just had to admit the I love my inner exhibitionist, and the reaction I got from the unsuspecting guy was almost giving me orgasms every time I remembered the incident.
Afterwards, Paul asked me whether I wanted to continue 'showing off'. This wasn't because he didn't think I wanted to, but rather because he couldn't quite believe his luck! My response was immediate and extremely positive -- just so long as we stuck to the rules.
For those of you who didn't read the first instalment (or who haven't got a great memory), the rules are basically that I won't expose myself to anyone we know or are likely to meet again, that the situation always seems to be entirely accidental, that there will be no touching me (other than Paul of course!), and that I have a special phrase I can use to end things straight away if I want to.
With those rules in place, the normally shy me (I am not joking!) can indulge with a clear conscience. It's just a matter of Paul coming up with the scenarios -- and believe me, his ability to conjure up an opportunity for fun has increased a thousand times over of late.
Since the discovery we have spent an awful lot more time having little weekend breaks in distant corners of the country, and never fail to have some fun wherever we go. There are now three waiters from three different restaurants who have memories of me sitting at a table with a blouse button next to my wine glass, apparently un-noticed by me as my blouse gapes very wide... There is an elderly guest house owner on the east coast who has fond memories of the young woman who got locked out of her room in just a tiny hand towel (it may not be original but it was fun!). And there's a couple of young guys who will never forget the time they saw far more than they expected when that girl's dress-straps broke on the dance floor of a club in West London.
All of those incidents were great fun -- they still left me breathless and on the verge of orgasm -- but it soon became clear to Paul and I that we wanted things to get a little more... personal, a little riskier. And let me tell you right now that it's not nearly as easy as you might think to make everything seem accidental -- and I wasn't going to risk changing the rules for anything.
A month ago, though, an opportunity presented itself. Or at least, Paul spotted an opportunity and things happened real quick after that.
We were staying in a proper hotel, a rather nice one in fact, down on the south coast. The limit of the fun we'd been having since we had arrived was me dressing rather provocatively and enjoying the attention in the bar on the first evening. I wasn't in anything too sleazy, just a loose top which promised more than it actually revealed, and a short skirt that showed off more leg than I'm used to.
All the attention was fun, and I did have a couple of dances on the little dance floor with two guys who were obviously happy with my appearance, but nothing more had happened. It was on the second night that Paul came up with his bright idea.
A guy in his early thirties (we guessed) had been enjoying the view of me from his bar stool further down the bar, and periodically went off to make phone calls on his mobile (it was quite noisy in there), leaving his jacket draped over the stool. When this happened for the fourth time Paul's eyes suddenly lit up and a big grin spread over his face. This was a look I knew, and like Pavlov's dogs at the sound of a bell, I began to salivate. Well, ok, I began to produce fluids...
"Ok, tell me! What's going on in that dirty mind of yours?"
"I've got a fantastic idea, Stephs."
Paul nodded to the lonely-looking jacket, "I bet his room key-card is in the pocket."
"And the receptionists changed shifts about an hour back, right?"
"Yes. Now stop teasing!"
In a breathless rush he outlined his plan, "I'm going to grab his card next time he makes a call and go to reception. I'll tell them I need a copy for you because you left yours in the room and I'm going out for a while."
"I don't see-"
"They're all electronically coded and the receptionist has seen me around before. She'll make a copy of the card without checking my actual room number and we can go in there and have some fun."
My heart started to race -- it's an odd feeling, like a boost button has been pressed -- but I still couldn't see exactly how this was going to work. "I don't get it. Why don't we just take his card?"
Paul grinned, "How would he walk in on us if we had his only card?"
My eyes widened until I thought they would fall out of my skull, "Oh my god, yes! But what if he sees you take the card? What if the receptionist won't-"
"Stephs! The receptionist will, I'm sure -- and if she doesn't then it's a case of hard luck, but as far as him noticing goes, that's easily taken care of."
"He's had his eyes on you all evening, right? We'll be dancing when he comes back in and I'll have to go answer a phone call myself, right? I'll ask him straight out to take over for a couple of minutes -- easy."
I stared, juices flowing, and nodded. "Oh my god, that really could work. It's going to be a bit... well, close when he comes into the room though..."
"No pressure, my angel, if it's too intimate then we can just be kissing or something."
I thought about it, trying my hardest not to listen to my libido which was yelling 'just do it' like some sort of perverted Nike ad. It would be pretty close in the room but -- damn it -- I was just so desperate to try something so daring again... "Let's go for it!"
"Yes, really! Oh my god... we really can do this, can't we?"
"You'd better believe it, angel."
The next twenty minutes seemed to drag like you wouldn't believe. Paul and I went onto the dance floor and I was pretty much quivering all over as we danced close, waiting for the soon-to-be-lucky guy. Annoyingly, as the minutes ticked past, we both realised that Paul could have taken the card at any time and got the copy. But of course, the longer we left it the more chance there was that the guy would come back just as Paul was dipping. And besides, as we both agreed, it would add just that little extra spice if the guy actually got to dance with me before finding me and Paul in his room! As far as the guy was concerned it would be the biggest coincidence of his life -- and the luckiest.
Finally -- finally -- the guy reappeared and after a final check that I was still okay with everything, Paul broke away from me and intercepted him. A few seconds late the guy was placing his hands on my shoulders and we were off and dancing while in the background I watched as Paul nonchalantly slipped the guy's key-card out of his jacket.
My mind was so full of the white noise of excitement that I barely registered a word that the guy said to me and I realised that he was getting the idea that I was a little bit drunk. A quick calculation on my part had me thinking that this was a perfect thought to place in the guy's head and I giggled stupidly at everything else he said.
By the time Paul reappeared I was almost feverish with anticipation, but still believed that he wouldn't have managed to get the card copied. So you can imagine my reaction when he held up two cards before slipping one of them back into the guy's jacket.
I was in serious danger of whimpering before Paul strode up and rescued me. He thanked the guy and when we were offered a thank you drink, declined on the grounds that we had to be up early in the morning and that I had 'probably had enough' already. The guy was disappointed but understanding and actually shook Paul's hand (and had a last lingering look at me) before we headed for the lifts.
"Still up for it?" Paul asked as soon as we were in the lift.
By way of reply I grabbed his head and kissed him deeply, my body thrust up against him, my bra-less breasts crushed against his chest.
"I'll take that as a 'yes' then," he gasped when I finally released him.
The lift pinged and the doors slid open on the third floor. A thought struck me.
"How do we know which room is his?" It doesn't say on the cards."
"Easy. The receptionist asked but I acted like a moron and said I couldn't remember the actual number, just how to get there. When she copied the card she told me -- it's 312."
"Oh wow! This is really gonna happen, right?"
"If you want it to, yeah."
"I want." I could feel the first flutterings in my belly, the promise of a monster orgasm. "I need."
We ran the few yard to the room (I kid you not) and let out muffled whoops of joy when the door clicked open. Inside, the room was just like our real one -- tiny but neat and clean.
"How far do you want to take it?" Paul asked breathlessly as we closed the door and looked around, "It's really close in here."
"As long as you promise to stick to the rules let's take a chance and go all the way." I could hardly believe what I was saying.
"Paul, I seriously don't think I could make it back to my room without jumping you now, so yeah, I mean all the way, only..."
"I don't think I can be coming when he gets here -- it's a bit too close for comfort, I think."
Paul nodded. There was only six or seven feet between the door and the edge of the bed, "Reckon you can hold off then?"
"Not a hope, but he's bound to be ages before he comes up here. He was one of the last out of the bar last night, remember?"
He laughed, "Yeah. Plenty of time before he gets here."
"Trust me," I panted, looking around at this stranger's room, "I'm not going to be able to hold on for long."
Even though it was all agreed and even though I wanted it so bad, when Paul slipped my blouse off and eased my skirt and panties down in one feverish movement, I still felt suddenly exposed and way beyond just 'daring'. The sight of Paul's erection as he slid off his jeans had the flutterings in my belly intensifying until I was visibly shaking.
Leaving our clothes scattered, we dived onto the bed and I spread wide, desperate for Paul to be inside me. Within a second he obliged, thrusting his rigid member into my welcoming heat.
He had barely started thrusting when we heard the lift ping along the corridor. We both froze.
"Oh my god!" I stared up at Paul.
He made to slide out of me, but I grabbed him tightly.
"Paul..." My eyes widened as I felt the flutterings become more insistent.
"Stephs..." He pushed deeper, tentatively, "You can't stop, right?"
As footsteps approached I began to groan. Nothing I could think of was going to stop me now and no matter how close that door was to the bed, I was going to climax.
"Oh Stephs," Paul thrust harder.
I let out a grunt, the first shockwave sending spasms through my belly.
The footsteps passed by.
We both laughed out loud as more spasms kicked through me and my confused body struggled to know whether to let go to the insistent pressure of the orgasm, or relax back into that state of near-orgasm that was driving me nuts.
We eventually settled back into the rhythm, my breathing eased, and I could exercise just a tiny little bit of control once more. I had to block the memory of the sound of the lift pinging and those footsteps, but I wasn't fooling Paul even if I was conning myself.
"You're waiting, aren't you?"
"I said I think it's too small in here," I managed.
"Yeah you did. So why haven't you come yet?"
"Shut up!" I giggled.
"Oh Stephs. I love you."
Just as I said that the lift pinged again. Without any warning, I went from barely controlled excitement to pre-orgasmic shuddering. This time Paul thrust harder as footsteps approached once more and I let out a series of grunts and moans as I felt the first waves of orgasm coursing through my veins.
The footsteps passed by once more.
To my shock, I felt the orgasm recede, a few shudders rippling through my belly muscles, a few pulses lighting up my over-excited pussy. I stared up at Paul.
A broad grin had spread over his face, "Looks like your body is telling me what your mind really wants."
"I didn't plan this..."
"I know, angel. But I love you for it anyway."
I let out a groan of pure ecstasy as he thrust hard and deep. "Just... just make sure the rules.."
"They won't be broken, I promise."
With that pledge fixed in my mind, I let my body control itself, matching every thrust from Paul with a buck of my hips, relishing every millimetre of his hardness inside me, his hands on my bare flesh. All the while my body was on the verge of orgasm, swooping close and the drawing back from the very edge, each upswing reaching new heights of pleasure.
Time ceased to have a meaning and my entire focus was inwards as I luxuriated in every movement, every touch and thrust and kiss and bite.
I wasn't even consciously aware of the lift letting out another ping until I felt my orgasm, chained for so long now, suddenly pressing for release. Now though, I came to my sense a little and heard the footsteps in the corridor. I realised too, that Paul had already come inside me once and was now rigid again, thrusting faster and harder as the footsteps approached.
The last vestiges of my consciousness took in the room, the door seemingly within arms reach and a faint fluttering of panic rose in my chest. When the footsteps stopped directly outside, the panic struggled to surface and for a fraction of a second I tried to tell Paul that I had changed my mind.
The orgasm, though, had other ideas. At the very second I fully realised the closeness of the door, became fully aware of my rising panic, it surged higher.
As the door clicked, the first wave of true orgasm shuddered through my belly, my pussy tightening around Paul's thrusting hardness. As the door swung open and Paul raised his upper body, exposing my naked breasts, I yelled out in pure and unadulterated ecstasy as the orgasm took hold.
When the guy, standing just three feet from me looked down and said "Fucking hell!" I lost control completely, shuddering, bucking and yelling as wave after wave after wave of orgasm coursed through me.
This time I felt Paul explode inside me and that just sent me ever higher -- as did the look on the guy's face as he took in my nakedness and my climax.
I tried -- I swear -- to say sorry or something like that, but the guy just shook his head and told us not to stop ('don't you dare fucking stop' in fact).
I couldn't do anything but stare at his face, the lust there bringing me new waves of pleasure. My eyes only slipped away when I heard the distinct sound of a zipper and I found the source just as the guy's rock hard cock slipped into view in the plam of his hand.
I'm told by Paul that my next wave of orgasm had me screaming with pleasure but all I can remember is my mind swimming in pure delight as the guy whimpered twice before coming, his juices splattering over the carpet between us. When I realised that one tiny drop of his juice had landed on the back of my hand, I came again, one final, shuddering, orgasmic burst that almost made me pass out.
Afterwards, unbelievably from my exhausted point of view, it was the guy who apologised. He said sorry for bursting in on us, sorry for 'enjoying it so much' and finally he said sorry for staring at me.
It took me a few seconds to realise that he meant that he was sorry he was still staring at me. I was just too weak, too shaky to do any more than pull Paul down on top of me again at first, and I was grateful beyond words when Paul asked the guy to pass me my clothes.
When he had done that, placing my things at the end of the bed, Paul peeled away from me, leaving me exposed once more and it was all I could do to stop yet another pulse of orgasm before I scrambled to my feet and pulled on my top and skirt. Paul was right beside me through all of that, and yet I knew the guy could have reached out and touched me anytime he wanted to -- or dared to. I blocked out the tiny little voice that wondered what that would feel like.
Finally dressed, all three of us decent, we swapped some more apologies, my heart soaring when the guy asked us whether we could not mention the incident to anyone and how we shouldn't blame the hotel for the card mix up.
After five minutes, during which time my innate shyness showed absolutely no sign of making an appearance, Paul and I left the guy's room and headed up to our own bed on the fifth floor.
When the lift pinged to announce our arrival I let out a giggle.
"What's up, Stephs?"
I grabbed Paul's hand, checked that there was no one in the corridor, and then pushed it under my skirt, brazenly inviting his touch. "I think I'm developing a Pavlovian response to the lift bell."
As Paul grinned and his fingers began to probe, I let out a shudder.
We barely made it back to the room before I was naked and guiding him into my welcoming, desperate depths.
Now this next bit is a sort of taster of what happened just yesterday, but don't get too carried away okay? I need a breather before I set that stuff down on paper (ok, on disk). You'll get to read it soon enough, I promise.
For the next couple of weeks, Paul took to announcing his arrival back at our house by ringing a small, cheap bell that he'd bought at a local store. And I reckon you can guess the effect that it had on me!
Eventually I told him about that little rogue thought that had popped into my head when I was getting dressed in the guy's hotel room. It had been bugging away at me every day and I just had to tell my husband the truth about what had flickered through my mind -- that was only fair after all he'd done for me. Half of me was worried that he'd think I was getting too... weird, but the other half was wondering whether he might actually like the idea. Me? I had no clue what to make of the thought because I was split between thinking that it was either a step too far or a natural curiosity that was the obvious consequence of our fun and games.
Paul gave me one of those reassuring smiles of his, "If the guy had tried it while we were still playing, I would have had to have stopped him because of the rules. But I tell you, Stephs, I really wouldn't have wanted him to."
"You don't think it's too much then? Too weird? And it's only a thought anyway."
"I'd never pressure you, angel, and you know that, right? But... oh Stephs, I get such a kick out of your reactions to these guys and if a little touch made it even better for you... angel, that would blow my mind completely."
"I... I'm not sure I could actually, honestly let it happen, but when I was in the room, if he'd tried and you had been told by me not to stop him... well, I really don't think I would have stopped him either."
After we had spent another hour testing our bedsprings to their limit, Paul held me close. "Were you serious about the touching thing earlier?"
"Yep." There was no hesitation in the satisfied afterglow of our love-making.
"Well, if we adjust the rules a little bit, I think I've got a great idea."
"Really?" My heart rate stepped up a gear.
As I listened eagerly, Paul outlined his idea. Two days ago we tried it out and as soon as I've recovered my wits, I'll write it all down and let you see...