She knocked twice then came into the hotel room without waiting to be invited. Laid on the bed, reading a newspaper, he looked up over the edge of the paper. He glanced at the glowing digital clock on the bedside table –right on time.
He wore only a pair of blue trousers. His bare, hairy chest glowed orange in the evening light spilling through the open curtains. She wore a modest green dress, her hair tied up in a pony tail with a pink scrunchy.
Their eyes hadn’t made contact yet; they rarely did.
He folded up his paper as the girl slipped out of her dress and stood there in her bra and panties. Girly pink. She knew he liked that. Already, a bump was visible in his trousers.
The paper was placed on the bedside table.
She crawled onto the bed, her sweet perfume reaching his nostrils. He sniffed her in. Beautiful.
She was pale-skinned, a little skinny, with small but cute breasts. A mere slip of a girl, with her whole life ahead of her, determined to do her best in life. Barely twenty, half his age.
The sound of her pulling his zip down broke the silence, followed by the susurration of her pulling his trousers down his legs and off. She threw them behind her. They landed somewhere on the floor. She removed his briefs next, leaving him fully naked. His big, heavy dick throbbed hard now, waiting to be pleasured.
The girl bent over, taking his penis in her mouth. He groaned; it felt good, so so good.
He watched her head bob up and down. He put his hands behind his head, relaxed, closed his eyes, savoured the sensation.
After a few minutes, his cock and balls were wet with her saliva. She was bringing him close to ejaculation, but there was more to do yet.
He opened his eyes. “That’s enough of that.”
She understood. She sat up, wiping the spit from her mouth and chin with the back of her hand. Taking off her bra and panties, she flung them onto the floor too.
Naked now, he admired her body. Her skin, unblemished and glowing in the light of the setting sun; her small but perky breasts; the tidy bush of hair surrounding her pussy.
“What now?” she asked.
She straddled him then and guided his cock into her cunt with a hand.
Oh my God, he thought, this is heaven.
Slowly, she moved her body up and down, getting faster and faster. As she bounced up and down, her small breasts hardly moved.
Hands still behind his head, he fixed his eyes on her. Briefly their eyes met, and for the first time he realised that they were blue. But what was in that fleeting shared glance? Shame, resentment, resignation, enjoyment?
He didn’t know. Right then he didn’t care. He ejaculated with a great moan of relief and pleasure. She slowed and stopped, her body speckled with beads of sweat.
The girl extracted him from her. His spent member flopped between his legs. If only I were twenty again, he thought, I wouldn’t have to do this to get girls like her to fuck me.
She took a few deep breaths, ran her hands over her clammy thighs.
“Where is it?”
He pointed to the table by the window, on which sat a paper essay with a plastic paperclip holding the pages together.
She went and picked it up. Examined it. Her original D minus was now a well-earned A*.
She dressed. “Same time next week, Professor?”
At this rate, they both knew she would get a first class honours for sure. Education ain’t what it used to be, he mused.
Carl Chester lives and writes in the UK. His favourite time of the day is the evening, when he likes to write and eat cookies, sometimes at the same time.