It was a fairly small hotel. Don’t ask me how many rooms; all I know is how many waitresses and housemaids: enough to keep a young man amused. In summer there was an influx of girls from catering colleges and a few who just came to the area on spec, to see if there were any jobs. In winter it was just a hard core of locals and a few who had stayed on after the season ended.
Rita was one of those. She was Latvian, with fair skin and hair. Medium height and elegant, slim to the point of skinny. She wore tight skirts and high heels, and white cotton blouses because they were part of the uniform. There was a sexual intensity about her that I recognised immediately. Her English wasn’t very good but she tried, and when she smiled her eyes sparkled.
I hadn’t made a move on her because when I had first started at the hotel she was going out with the assistant manager, an old-fashioned man a bit younger than me, and the story was that when he tried to break it off with her she wouldn’t accept it and made it difficult for him.
So Rita and I were polite to each other, and although I sensed she was interested in me, I kept my distance.
That was until the staff Christmas party one Sunday night in the function suite. As the night wore on and the drinks went down I found myself at a table at the back with her and two of the receptionists. They were talking about leaving the party, as it was getting late, and when they finally stood up and left, Rita leaned towards me and in a deep, quiet voice, growled “Fock me.”
Taken aback, I pretended I hadn’t heard, so she said it again. This time she put her mouth close to my ear so I could feel her breath. “Fock me.”
Did she even know what she was saying? It is easier to say something like that in a foreign language because when it’s not your native tongue it’s just words, rather than a real expression of feelings or thoughts. Because I didn’t get up and leave, Rita put a hand on my leg and added, “I want you to fock me.”
We fell into a kiss and her tongue darted all over the place to show me how keen she was. My cock filled with blood immediately and all my earlier misgivings about getting lumbered with someone I didn’t really want flew out of the window.
“I’m going out to my car,” I said. “The green Polo. Give it a minute and then follow me.” She touched my erection and said, “Okay.”
In the car, we were immediately in a clinch and then she had her face in my lap, nuzzling my cock. I unzipped and pulled my cock out and she sucked it enthusiastically.
“Okay, okay,” I said. “My place, all right?” She lived in the staff house but being local I had a flat a couple of miles away and it would be a better idea to take this there, rather than having the rest of the staff listening to us doinking in her room.
She held my cock in her hand all the way and we didn’t speak. There was no need for polite conversation.
In my flat she immediately removed her blouse, a non-uniform pink one, and waited for me to take off her bra.
Her skinny ribcage was white as milk. Her breasts were tiny and her nipples sharp. My sucking her nipples drove her crazy and she reverted to her favourite word.
“Fock me.”
I unzipped her skirt and it fell to the floor. She was wearing stockings – hold-ups – and a black thong. After I had removed my shirt and trousers she dropped to her knees and sucked me again. And then she knelt on the settee with her hands on the back and looked around at me, pulling the string out of her crack as she did so.
“Lick me,” she said lasciviously. “My ass.” As I approached her she turned to face the wall and gave a low, filthy groan of ecstasy as I put my tongue to her anus and then gave her a big, firm, sloppy licking. She was alive with sexual electricity as only naturally sex-wired women are. It was special to her and she was designed for it. She crackled with lustful energy.
Such characters are sometimes portrayed as cheap or easy but it’s just the way they are; they want more sex because they enjoy it more than other women. No man objects to this when they are the beneficiary of the enthusiasm, but nor should we congratulate ourselves too much on being so irresistible. The girl can’t help it, as the song goes, and if we find ourselves blessed with the intimate company of a woman who is both naturally keen on sex and perhaps naturally skilled, we should be grateful and respectful.
Rita was a very good-looking young woman who made herself as attractive as she could within her own parameters of what a sexual partner might like. The stockings, for instance. No one knows why they turn us on so much; they just do. Rita was kneeling on the settee, risking ruining her hold-ups by rubbing them on the leather-look fabric as my vigorous humping pushed and pulled her, along with her own repositioning to gain maximum enjoyment for herself and me.
That humping hadn’t started yet, of course. I was currently licking her ass, but she was moving anyway, presenting herself to me for my pleasure and hers. But the time came eventually after she had had a big, writhing orgasm as a result of my tongue’s ministrations and the sensitivity of her anus.
“Fock me,” she said again, and this time she meant not just make love to her but place my cock in her cunt. I obliged, of course, slipping easily into her wet, eager hole. She was quite short in there and I had to back off a little to avoid hurting her. She managed the process herself with little movements and her limited vocabulary.
“Back,” she whispered. “Don’t bang me. You cock is big.”
Expertly put, I thought. Who doesn’t like to be told he has a big donger? I concentrated on ploughing her depths as if I was searching for something, rather than trying to bash it. She gave little cries when she got a tremor of pleasure from some remote part of her sexual equipment. She was happy, and that made me happy.
After a while the vaginal approach lost power for her and she extricated herself from my clutches.
“Fock my ass,” she urged me. “Loob? You got?”
“No,” I said. “Sorry.”
“Hand cream?”
“Nope.”
“Cooking oil?”
That I had, so I quickly grabbed it from the kitchen and showed it to her. She wasn’t impressed, or maybe it was the disappointment of the lust fading while we searched for a vital element of the next part of our “love” making.
“Okay,” she said. “Put on me and you.”
I interpreted this as meaning in her crack and on my knob, so I set about applying it, and after a messy and undignified little episode her hole – and buttocks and thighs – was shiny with Mazola, while I was like an oiled bodybuilder. Suddenly I was grateful for the flaking black vinyl skin of the settee, but even then, it was going to take some cleaning.
The immediate issue, though, was to get our sexual rollercoaster back on track. I had never had anal sex before and wasn’t sure how to go about it. As I attempted to push into her tiny hole I found my rod sliding inexorably into her slit and back into her pussy—not the worst route in the world, but no longer the one we wanted. I pulled out and began again, placing the tip of my knob against the little brown target ring. Rita’s hand came around and she held me steady until I had penetrated enough for stability. Then we both relaxed as I plunged into her. She gasped with pleasure as I attempted to get my bearings in there. All I could feel was her muscular ring grabbing me up near my balls, while my knob and the usual business end were strangely unaccounted for.
“Push,” Rita said. “Pull. Push. Pull. Out…Back again.” I gradually got the idea and was soon extracting groans of ecstasy from her as I pulled right out and pushed back in again. This in turn gave me some of the sensation of vaginal sex, and suddenly the thought of what I was doing overtook me and I came involuntarily, flooding Rita’s number two chute with my cum. As I puffed and panted she brought some dignity to the proceedings by sitting on the settee and asking where the bathroom was. She pulled me along with her and we had a quick shower together. As we dried ourselves, she said “Bed this time,” and we flung ourselves gratefully onto the mattress and under the duvet.
Rita clearly saw I was less capable than I had appeared at first, and in truth so did I, but we had a beautiful experience to fashion out of this unpromising start.
We lay still and held each other and as we kissed, I became erect again and Rita sucked me tenderly. “Good,” she said. “We start again.” I mounted her face to face and we slid together in an orderly fashion, reminding ourselves that sex could be smooth and beautiful. She was in no mood to resume the desperate slamming, so we grooved and it was kind of charming.
“Tomorrow we start again,” she said quietly. “I am off. You?”
“Not on till five,” I said.
This was at a time in my life when I was becoming much more fond of sex in the morning rather than at night, which was just as well, because when I awoke, Rita was feeling my balls and stroking me. Her eyes twinkled up at me before she turned onto her knees and threw the duvet off. A rush of cold air hit us but we were both distracted from the temperature when he said, “Spank me. That is what you say, no?”
I got into position and gave her a fairly light tap on the buttocks.
“Hard,” she said urgently, then looked around and deep into my eyes, not smiling but dead serious. “I like it. Make my bum red.”
Suitably encouraged, I set about her buttocks vigorously and she gave little yelps of pleasure as the stinging hit her. She even had a little orgasm and turned again to say, “That is good. Now I piss on you. Bathroom.”
She instructed me on how to lie in the bath and then crouched above me, perched on the avocado plastic sides. This woman was a raw, primitive yet slick and sophisticated lover. Lover? No. Sexual partner. If love had any part in this, it was only during the lulls after the peaks of sexual activity. And yet there was a kind of affection in her eyes as he looked down at me, her face perfectly dignified in spite of her crude position, her cunt and arsehole vividly and shamelessly exposed.
I felt like an amateur who had led a sheltered life while the real sexual adventurers were out there in other rooms doing all sorts of stuff I had never even considered.
Rita’s urine splashed down on me and I was incredibly turned on. I didn’t know – and still don’t – why it was so exciting, but it gave me a rock-hard erection, which she couldn’t fail to notice.
“You like,” she observed. “Later I piss in your mouth. Okay? Now we fock on loo.”
She sat on the lid of the toilet, her legs wide apart, and I knelt between them and penetrated her. It wasn’t the most comfortable or practical position, but it obviously gave her some sort of kinky thrill and when she had a huge orgasm she screamed and scratched my back. She pushed me away and stood up, but only so she could lean on the wash basin with her arse extended in my direction. I fucked her from behind and she pressed hard and fucked me back, taking over so I was at her mercy. Expertly managed, I pumped my semen into her and while my cock was still weeping its silvery stuff into her slippery cunt she said, “Breakfast. You need carbohydrates. We will fock all day.”
