Blind Lust

They had planned on meeting in, of all places, New Jersey. Since that was her home state, and since his mother resided on Long Island (a mere 2 and a half hours away if the traffic gods did smile upon you), it seemed like the perfect plan.

The gathering of an on-line chat group added to the feeling of safety that he thought necessary. Not that he thought she (or he, for that matter) needed it, but that his greater experience intimidated her, and the group would give her a much needed layer of added security.

The gods, not only smiled, they laughed. Without exceeding the speed limit in a rental car (or at least very much, much to the annoyance of others wandering down the NJ Turnpike), Michael managed the trip in 2 hours 15 minutes. However, this turned out a sort of positive foreshadowing of a punch line. No wonder the thunder clouds typical of a hot, humid east coast August afternoon were gathering -- this one's a gut buster in the making.

Francine was incredibly sweet, or at least seem so on the 'Net, and on the phone. Any trepidations Mike had were based on her lack of a broad sexual background more than anything else. As he flipped off a trucker who passed him, horn honking, after tailgating his ass for the previous 20 miles, he pondered:

"Damn trucker...like he's the one who'll get the ticket, not the guy with NY plates in a rental...he himself out of state. I wonder if she'll be as hot as I remember when we last met during that convention?" He had met her briefly 3 years earlier, before they realized how attracted they were to one another, something rectified after several e-mail, chat, and eventually phone exchanges. "She certainly looked incredibly hot in those photos she sent me, even with clothes on. Shit! Could that guy cut it any closer?" A dark tinted Camaro had slipped between the impossibly small gap between him and the car to his right and forward.

In a form of concrete kharma, he was forced to duck past two lanes of traffic to make the exit he almost passed while he mused. Paying the toll (something he had gotten out of the habit after so many years living in California) he made his way toward Cherry Hill, a small city on the outskirts of Philly.

When he finally pulled into the parking lot of the Hilton, the effects of his barely conscious tension began to make itself known in the form of a band of painfully tight muscles across his shoulder blades. He backed into a spot abandoned by a nuclear family. No doubt they were fleeing the large contingent of fat people and other technological freaks already starting to congregate throughout the hotel. Relieved that he wouldn't have to drag his heavy suitcases from the back of the parking lot to the lobby, he got of the car and stretched.

The lobby of the hotel was classic, in that early 70's, trying to pretend it was somehow related to an aging star of a grand hotel sort of way. Much like an older teeny bopper, it only served to illustrate the desperation and cheesiness of the effort. The ceilings were dropped, the furniture seemed too small and far apart, the fountain seemed anemic. In a lounge sitting next to a small, inexplicable potted palm, was Francine, chatting with a smaller Black BBW with intricately braided hair, cleverly arranged in an interwoven pattern.

He trundled his way past several groups of people, some of whom seemed to recognize him. The ones that liked him but were occupied with some conversation or another nodded and smiled, others tried desperately to pretend he was nothing special, their effort wasted on their companions...at least until they had a chance to tell them just why Mike wasn't important. Their fables inevitably would paint him as a mindless sexual drone, a bug that flitted from flower to flower, despoiling everything he soiled with his presence.

There was a time that such people made Mike really angry. Inevitably they were people he had not so much as introduced himself to, who had almost no first-hand knowledge as to what he was really like. Of late he had begun to think of them as a sort of personality filter: People who were so easily swayed by the back-biting and gossip were generally not the types he would like to be sharing a meal with, much less a bed.

When he got closer to Francine, she spotted him and smiled anemically. Mike immediately sensed that something was wrong. He also noted the face of her companion for the first time. She seemed to be squinting, or perhaps resting her eyes...and then he saw the white cane folded and tucked in the seat next to her leg.

"Hey! There you are!" Mike smiled broadly. Francine's smile brightened slightly as Mike lent over to give her hug.

"Aren't you going to introduce me?" he heard asked from the right.

Mike straightened, and francine gestured to her friend. "Mike, this is Alicia...my room-mate".

"Pleased to meet you!" was exchanged as he took her hand and shook it. It had been a long time since he had met a blind woman, and felt somewhat awkward. People could be very sensitive about being treated differently because of such things...he had long ago discovered that the simplest thing was to act naturally and wait for someone to ask for help. He hoped that was the best approach here.

"Alicia's from California as well," Francine was saying. "San Rafael, thereabouts."

"Oh? Well, we're practically neighbors then," Mike replied brightly.

"Yeah, me and Francine are rooming for the bash. We've known each other for years..." A bellhop approached them, interrupting her. He was obviously in his early 20's, a starving artist or actor, and was so gay that Mike had to clamp down on the grin that threatened to take over his face. "You're luggage is ready to go up to your room," he said, slightly out of breath and gesturing toward a rack loaded almost 4 feet high with suitcases and bags. Mike had no idea it was possible to lisp with a New Jersey accent.

"Oh good," beamed Alicia. She picked up her cane and began to unfold it.

It was probably the long drive, but only then did what Francine said about Alicia being her roomie sank in. Casting a glance at Francine, he raised his eyebrows. As Alicia was getting ready, she leaned forward, whispering "Didn't you get my e-mail?"

"When did you send it?"

"Last night."

Mike shook his head. "I flew into MacArthur yesterday afternoon, and was busy visiting with my mom until late. I really haven't had time to check my mail".

Francine flushed, obviously embarrassed. "Uh, her roommate backed out at the last moment...her first bash and all that." BBW bashes tended to attract their share of nervous first timers, and there were some that would swear they were going, only to have something, real or imagined, seem to stop them at the last possible moment. Mike could imagine flying from one coast to another, only to find that their room's cost was going to be borne entirely by yourself. If your finances were mediocre enough to warrant rooming with someone in the first place, this usually spelled disaster.

"Hey!" Alicia was finished getting ready, and was holding out an elbow to be led. Francine shifted over, and took her arm, heading to the bellhop (who was trying not to be prissily awaiting them, failing only slightly). As they started over, Francine stopped to give Alicia's arm to him, a manuever Mike suspected at first as an attempt to prevent any further talk about the situation with the room.

Trundling his luggage to the cart, he disengaged himself from Alicia long enough to toss his bags apologetically on top of the pile already there. The bellhop only grimaced slightly, and Mike resolved to increase the tip a bit more than the traditional buck a bag.

The ride up in the elevator was quick enough to avoid an uncomfortable silence. After the bellhop managed to drag assorted incredibly heavy bags into the room, Mike gave him a ten. He managed to dig a smile up somewhere: "Thank you! Oh, my name is Eugene...you need anything, just dial #44 on you room phone." He tipped his hat, as his radio squawked. "Excuse me...Eugene here."

A female voice with a heavy local accent buzzed forth from the small walkie talkie. Mike couldn't make out what was being said, but Eugene looked exasperated.

After a brief burst of static ended the message, Eugene hit the call button and bit out "I'm currently with a *guest*", somehow producing the last word in two syllables, "I'm finishing up and will be done in a minute".

The other end was producing a static filled, if resigned, assent, but Eugene was no longer paying attention. "Will there be anything else I can do for you? No? Well, you have a good day now!" He turned around and strode quickly down the hall before Mike had even finished taking in a breath to reply.

It took all he had to close the door and walk into the room, where the ladies waited, sitting on their respective beds, before he cracked up.

"He was...ah...interesting." Francine ventured.

Mike looked at Alicia, who actually seemed to be looking back ("How does she do that with her eyes closed?" He pondered), and with a timing that startled him they both said "Queer.".

Francine blushed furiously. It was obvious she thought the same, but Mike doubted he had the same experiences on the east coast as he and Alicia had, living in the San Francisco bay area. Being bisexual himself, Mike had no issues with the word, especially when it didn't take the world's most sensitive gaydar to detect the man's orientation.

"Well, he did, um, have an interesting way of talking."

"The man lisped, for crying out loud...and he SWISHED. Queer."

Francine averted her eyes, embarrassed. Mike felt bad about that...he had pushed too hard, he thought. But before he could apologize, Alicia remarked "Aw, she blushes so pretty, doesn't she?"

"Yes, she does..." Wait, she's blind, how did she know...oh, must be because they're good friends.

Even though he hadn't said it aloud, the thought made him acutely aware of his discomfort. He was always afraid of offending people, in spite of his tendency to be a bit on the fringe of human sexuality. As he like to put it, he saw no reason to shove his preferences onto people. Then there was the fact that he had better uses for his energy and time. He would rather BE weird than spend all of his time and money in an attempt to prove he was weird. Blending in for him wasn't so much protective coloration as it was laziness.

Which brought him back to his current conundrum -- He couldn't talk with Francine with Alicia in the room, and he felt confused as to what the sleeping arrangements were, and whether *he* was the one twisting in the wind sans room-mate. Fortunately, Alicia saved the situation by announcing that she was in desperate need of the bathroom, and proceeded to feel her way towards it.

When he heard the door close, Mike started to whisper (he wasn't sure if the stories of the hearing sensitivity of the blind were true or not, but he did know people who WEREN'T blind who could hear conversations in other hotel rooms just fine, thank you.)

"So, am I still sleeping with you? Or should I be sneaking a pillow and blanket to the car?"

Francine blushed even more, something Mike didn't think possible. "I'm sorry...I couldn't get through to your cell, and you said you be checking your mail, so I thought I could at least get word to you before you drove out."

"No, no, it's ok." Mike sighed, "It's just that these beds are on the small side..." and there are two of them, which led to uncharitable thoughts concerning the pre-meditative nature of the situation, "...and I don't know how much you thought we were going to managed with someone in the next bed even if she is blind."

To his surprise, she managed to redden even more. "Um, well, you know, um, I wasn't sure about that anyway...you know I've been seeing other people, and, well, one of them has gotten pretty serious."

Mike felt his heart sink. Not only was it looking like the sleeping situation was going to be screwed up, but now it was sounding like sex wasn't a possibility regardless of the presence of Alicia. After all, she could have been attending bash functions while he and Francine...but that didn't sound likely after all. He found himself trying his best to be reasonable, and made some noises about their being plenty of cheap motels in the area.

While Mike thought himself a bit more enlightened than the average male, it was still hard to hide his disappointment. He was *really* looking forward to having a romp with this lovely rotund woman. He recalled her pictures, and the suggestion of the flowing curves pressing into her size 7X dress, the velvet accenting the folds and swells of her body. He had been fantasizing about that dress, pushed up from behind, exposing what had to be a truly magnificent ass, for several months.

Just then Alicia opened the bathroom door, and mike started. He hadn't heard the flush (though it was obvious that it had been underway for awhile). He was also chagrined to realize that a lot of what Francine had been saying about her possible new boyfriend had only half registered. Fortunately, he was able to cover up his lapse with Alicia's re-emergence.

The next hour settled things down a bit. As he got to know her, Mike began to relax around Alicia, and the three of them chattered about assorted topics ranging from clothing, colors, assorted "creeps" ("He actually waited outside the restaurant with his DAUGHTER just to flirt with me again...and ask my room number!" Said Fran with obvious disgust. Lack of experience to not constitute desperation, despite what some fat admirers seemed to think) and anything else that happened by.

Alicia had unloaded a lot of her things onto the bed, sorting them out by feel. Fran had done some sorting also, and had pulled a couple of boxes to the edge of the bed. Out of one she pulled a bottle of some sort of flavored liquor, and placed it on the bed.

Reaching over from his spot sitting on the end of the bed, Mike examined the label. "Hard lemonade?"

Francine giggles. "Could you grab me some ice? I kind of want some."

"I think I kind of can manage that," grumbled Mike as he grabbed the bucket from the nearby dresser next to the television. He folded over the metal security bracket to keep the door from closing and walked over to an ice machine just down the hall.

When he came back, he heard giggling inside the room. He pushed open the door and announced the arrival of the ice.

"Thanks so much. Could you fill a glass with ice for me?"

Complying, he handed it to her. Francine filled it with the yellowish liquid.

She had apparently sat a suitcase on the end of the bed, and there was another suitcase in the only chair. Mike supposed he could sit on the floor, but that thought only made him slightly bitter at their current situation all over again. Moving to the other side of the bed, he sat next to Francine, who was leaning against the headboard after putting the bottle away.

It was a small bed, and Francine's hips easily exceeded 90 inches, so he was "forced" to nestle into Fran's side. He liked the way she seemed to mold to him -- just the right level of firmness to her flesh to feel substantial, yet flexible. In spite of himself, he felt himself getting aroused.

Fran was reaching for the glass, but Mike, acting on impulse, stopped her. Alicia was talking about the various outfits she had brought, matching each one perfectly apparently by feel. Mike suspected each one had been labeled in braille, but it was still un-nerving to have someone who was blind seem so...well, normal. He felt mild shame for not being able to think of another word to describe it.

He leaned over and whispered as quietly as he could in Fran's ear, "Before you drink that, look at me."

She turned, her eyes wide. She was nervous, quivering slightly at his touch. Instead of drawing away (Mike was ready to sit on the floor if she was uncomfortable), she moved in a way that pressed her front a bit more directly, molding to him even more. He was acutely aware of her curves, and could even feel something that felt like the nipple of her left breast as it pressed into his side.

She looked at him, questioning with her eyes. Haltingly, suddenly feeling as shy as a high schooler on his girl's couch, her father a room away, he slowly leaned over and gave her a light kiss on her mouth.

Her lips parted slightly, and he felt a feather touch of her tongue on his lower lip. The unexpected positive signal took his breath away, and he felt dizzy as he straightened out. She was smiling shyly at him, and he felt intensely turned on.

As hot as he was, he was also aware that they were not alone. There was also the issue of Alicia's new boyfriend, her inexperience...knowing he would feel a lot better about it if she were really willing to do this, he mouthed the words "Are you ok with this?" She nodded. Still not satisfied, he leaned forward and whispered in her ear. "Are you sure? You can say no. I'm not the kind of asshole that would be mad at you for that."

"I'm sure. At least I think so." She whispered back.

Leaning back he smiled at her. Regardless of the confirmation, he wasn't going to be able to do much in any case, as Alicia was still only about 8 feet away, sorting through her things. The conversation had wound down a bit, and she was taking the opportunity to put things away and to familiarize herself with the layout of the room. "Don't mind me, guys...I just want to get this done so I don't have to worry about it".

Well, that left room for the occasional kiss, he supposed...though there was something about having someone in the room, with the lights on, not knowing what was happening, that made him bashful. He had been in situations where he was sharing a room with people he wasn't involved with sexually, sharing a bed with a lover, but that was when they were sure the other couple was asleep. He had even been to play parties when he could be seen having all sorts of sex, but that involved people consenting to see such things, and they were usually returning the favor by having sex themselves.

He leaned over and around again, and kissed Fran again. She was definitely responding to him, her mouth growing firmer and firmer...as was he. He broke off, trying to keep from getting too excited. No use making them both crazy, he thought.

He was brought up short by a sudden touch to his crotch. Managing to stifle a sudden squeak, he looked down to see Francine's hand moving lightly up and down the bulge there.

Right about then, Alicia went to hang one of her outfits in the closet, around the corner and next to the bathroom. Mike leapt at the opportunity to ask "What are you doing?" He wasn't sure if stopping her was right or not: It could be perceived as rejection (which it certainly wouldn't be), but he was afraid that, in spite of all of their phone sex sessions over the previous months, that she was doing this out of some sort of mis-placed guilt.

"I've been wanting to do that for a very, very long time." She whispered. She kept grinning and giggling, as Alicia came back into the room, one hand feeling her way along the wall back to her bed.

So there he was, trying to have a conversation with someone who was stroking his dick, all the while trying NOT to let it show in his voice. Strangely enough, it wasn't as difficult as he would have thought: Being able to let his body react helped a great deal. That, and pacing his comments to let Fran or Alicia speak just as he felt a wave of pleasure causing him to thrust upward slightly, which would have almost certainly caused at least a wavering of his speech.

Alicia brought another outfit to the closet. Before he could say anything, Fran leaned over and kissed him hard. Her body was massive, her breasts, full and warm, pressing into his chest. She had unzipped his pants while he was distracted by her kiss, and was pulling out his dick.

Just then Alicia came back in the room. For a brief moment he panicked...and then remembered that she was blind. Despite that, he felt more exposed than he had in a long time. Fran had leaned back, still looking at him. He found it getting more and more difficult to maintain his end of the conversation, so he let Fran do most of the talking.

Again, an outfit went to the closet. This time Mike was determined to return what he was getting. At this point he felt pretty confident that Fran was a bit more open to things then she had been before. He was careful to monitor her alcohol usage (he had strict rules with getting involved with anyone even slightly intoxicated, strictly on ethical grounds)), but after that first glass (which had been filled with ice, he noted) she hadn't any more to drink. He guessed that it was the equivalent of a single glass of wine. That might have been enough to get a super-model tipsy at best, but would have had only a psychological effect on her 500+ pound bulk.

So leaning over, he slipped a hand up her shirt, and found a nipple, already erect, and squeezed it through her bra.

She reached up, and Mike thought she was about to remove his hand. Instead, to his amazement she began to unclip the hooks in front of her bra, between her breasts. Mike knew that she had issues with them...even thought they were a D cup, full and round, she thought they were too small for her body. Mike thought they were marvelous, especially as he watched her pull apart the bra. He noted that somehow her shirt had pulled up over them, probably from the action of having two arms under the front of her outfit.

Again, Alicia walked in. Grinning wickedly at her, Mike leant over and took a nipple into his mouth.

She arched her back. Pressed into her, he felt her hold back a gasp. Alicia was humming to herself, so he was pretty sure she hadn't heard.

Remembering an earlier talk they had had, he slowly built her up until he was almost biting down on the nipple, pulling it harder and further with each few suckles. She shook, her eyes clenched and her breath whistling through her nose (she was keeping her lips pressed tightly together to keep from making too much noise). She took the back of his head and pressed his lips against hers, holding him tighter almost in proportion to his efforts to pull away.

At that point, Alicia spoke. "Oh, Francine, could you call to the front desk and ask them to send up some hangers? It looks like we'll not have nearly enough for my stuff, much less yours."

Without missing a beat, Francine removed one of her arms from around his shoulders and picked up the night table phone, dialed, and put it against her ear. Calmly, she asked if more hangers could be sent up, not letting on that she was slowly being licked and un-dressed. Mike had chanced running his hand over her round, full belly, and had slipped the waistband of her pants below her belly.

After she hung up the phone, He lifted her shirt and bra over her head. She lifted her arms in eager assistance. As he moved the clothing aside, she took his mouth with a suddenness that shocked him. Alicia moved another batch of clothing to the closet, which gave him an opportunity to back off (with some difficulty, because she kept drawing him back with a hungry passion) and ask "Are you sure you haven't done this that often?"

She blushed (though at this point it could have been a flush) and shook her head. "Really, no."

"Well, hell, you're a natural then!"

She smiled. "Thank you."

"No, Thank YOU."

Leaning over, she said "If you really want to thank me, you'll realize how over dressed you are." At that point his pants were open, belt unbuckled, but still almost completely up, and his shirt was still buttoned.

Reaching up, he undid his shirt and pulled it off. Realizing he was practically naked anyway, he got up to his side of the bed to drop the pants the rest of the way. As he did, Alicia re-entered the room.

He was standing there, fully erect, with a topless woman in the full light. In any other situation he would have been embarrassed beyond belief. However, he felt no shame, just a sort of guilty pleasure. He suspected this is what people who enjoyed risky sex, the kind where there was a chance that they could get caught, were describing: That adrenaline thrill of avoiding detection. He began to entertain a notion, strangely kinky and titillating, that perhaps...

Reaching over, he began to quietly move the suitcase at the end of the bed to the floor under the window, where Alicia wasn't going to trip over it. He then leaned over and began to tug at Fran's pants. Understanding, she rolled to one side, and then to the next, so he could pull them out from under her weight. Suddenly she was naked before him, full, ripe, and smelling slightly of sex from his earlier touch.

Sliding up to her he kissed her, feeling her naked body against him for the first time. She was incredibly reactive, moving against him passionately (if quietly).

Right about then there was a knock on the door.

"Oh, those must be the hangers!" Exclaimed Alicia.

Shit, those damn hangers! Both he and Fran had forgotten they were coming up.

Looking at each other, after being momentarily frozen, Mike burst out "I'll get them," hoping that the tension he felt wasn't in his voice.

He jumped up, and desperately looked for his boxers. Slipping them on hurriedly, he walked toward the door, just barely missing brushing up against Alicia as she moved some of her socks and underware to a small dresser drawer.

Coming to the door, he opened it without looking through the spy-hole. This turned out to be a serious tactical error, as the person standing out side the door, holding what had to be 30 wooden hangers, was Eugene.

Taking the hangers from him, Mike muttered "Thanks" and reflexively went to his pant pocket for his wallet to tip him...only his pants weren't on. Glancing downward, he also became aware that, in his haste to cover up, his erection had fallen forward, and was forming a rather impressive tent in front of his crotch. Quickly recovering in time to see Eugene looking down, open-mouthed, he tried to brazen his way through it. "Um, I'm sorry, I left my wallet inside. If you can wait a moment, I'll go get your tip."

Eugene looked up, seemed to pull himself together, and spoke. "Oh, no need to do that sir...I've already gotten one." He then strode quickly down the hallway.

As he closed the door, he realized that he had no idea if he meant the large tip he had given the bellhop earlier...or something else entirely. "Well," he thought, "If the boy didn't know he was queer before, he sure knows now."

Coming back in, he said "I have your hangers," and held them out, far in front of him, to Alicia. She took them from him, thanking him, and proceeded to put more clothes onto them.

Returning to Francine (who was trying hard not to laugh), he settled down on the bed in front of her, legs over on her side. They kissed, but she suddenly pulled away and began to kiss down his chest.

He thought she was going to return the favor of suckling his nipple, when she leaned over, and pulled his boxers over the "ten pole", freeing his erection. Taking it in her left hand, she moved her mouth over the end and began to stroke it into her mouth.

She did it so quickly he almost didn't have time to jam his knuckles into his mouth to keep from whimpering. She was a natural -- after only a few strokes where she had a little problem with her teeth scraping, she figured out the trick where you suck the lips over the gums, and it felt amazing. The entire time, he rubbed her shoulders and back reaching down to touch the top of the cleft between her full ass cheeks.

Alicia abruptly swore. "Shit!"

To her credit Fran didn't bite down at the outburst. Still stroking with her hand, she lifted her head and asked "What's wrong?"

"Dropped my cell phone...it's okay, I can find it myself, it was just a dumb thing to do."

She then got down on her hands and knees between the beds and began to feel about...right between Mike's legs, splayed out before him.

They both held their breaths for a moment. Then Mike saw the errant phone lying next to his right foot. Displaying a pedodexterity that he knew was capable of, but never dreamed of using in such a way, he picked it up with his toes and said, keeping his voice even, "Here it is, hon...it was next to my foot."

He held it out, briefly forgetting she couldn't see the gesture. Feeling stupid, he tapped the side of her arm with the phone, and she accepted it from his outstretched leg.

She climbed back onto the bed and continued sorting through her things. Mike was suddenly grateful of all that luggage.

He turned to Fran, and took her in with a smile. She was incredible. Her belly was wonderfully full, but didn't hang so much as to make pleasuring her difficult. Her thighs and arms were full and strong. Her face was definitely flushed now, as was the skin over her breasts.

He reached down between her legs, and began to stroke her inner lips. She gasped inaudibly at the touch of his fingers on her clit, and grabbed his hand. She placed his fingers immediately above it, mouthing "There" emphatically. He gathered she didn't like direct stimulation.

That turned out to be the case as he gently, but firmly, stroked the erectile tissue just beneath the surface where it extended up to become the visible clitoris. She heaved herself into his hand more and more, mouthing "Oh my god", alternately looking into his eyes and closing them. As Alicia moved her last outfit to the closet, he slipped a thumb into her, pressing it forward into a small hollow he guessed would send her completely over the edge.

She almost forgot herself at that point, and began gasping louder and louder, her hands gathering the bed cover tightly, grasping at it repeatedly. Reaching with his other hand he stroked her asshole gently, and could feel it tremble at the unfamiliar touch.

Reaching over, she grabbed a pillow and stuffed her face into it, stifling her need to scream out what looked like an incredible orgasm.

After the initial squeak, she continued to breath heavily into the pillow as Alicia strode back into the room and announced "I really need to hit the shower...you guys can take care of yourselves, no doubt."

"No doubt," Replied Mike as Fran's legs tightened around both hands, kept from coming completely together by Mike's waist. She was still coming furiously, and Mike was certain that Alicia would ask her a question. Instead, Alicia chuckled, said "I'm sure you will,", and walked into the bathroom closing the door behind her.

Looking back Fran was gasping for air. "Oh...my...GOD."

Mike felt proud of himself. "I take it that was ok?"

"Ok? OK? Oh...my..." She pulled herself up a bit. "But what about you?"

"What about me?"

"You haven't come yet...have you?"

Mike chuckled. "Honey, if I came, you would know it."

"Well...now what?"

Mike sighed, and leaned forward. "Nothing you don't want, sweetie...nor anything that would make you feel uncomfortable and un-happy later. As it is, I'm worried about what's happened so far."

Her eyes looked away, and she fumbled about with her hands. "I...don't know. I meant what I said about getting serious, and I don't know how he would feel about me doing as much as I have."

Mike reached out and brought her face toward his, looking at her eyes. "Sweetie, it's ok. I don't want you to think for a moment your under any obligation at all. Pleasuring you was incredible...but I would rather skip something like an orgasm if you think it'll push you over your comfort zone."

With that she pulled him close and gave him a surprisingly powerful hug, almost cracking a rib. "Thank you for being so sweet." He noticed that there was a wetness to his shoulder suddenly, and he realized that she was crying.

She held him like that for a minute. Sitting up, Mike stretched, and said "Well, it's getting late." It was almost midnight "And I have to make a call home before it gets much later on the west coast." He leant over to give her last kiss good night.

She stopped the kiss reluctantly. Alicia picked that time to emerge from the bathroom, nightgown on and hair still up in a cap to preserve her braid work. "Hey you two...miss me?"

Fran smiled, her cheeks still wet. "Of course we did."

Alicia climbed into bed. "Well, you guys can chat for a bit more, but I have a book I want to listen to for a bit." She picked up a walkman with oversized controls and a pair headphones.

"That's ok," said Mike, "I was just about to leave anyway."

Alicia put on the head phones and began to listen. Mike went to pick up his boxers, and began to pull them up. Fran stopped him and began to kiss him again, and mike found himself snuggled up against her again, boxers hanging forgotten from one foot.

Pressed up against her side, she brought up a hand and began to stroke his cock, erect almost immediately. She rubbed the tip against her stomach, until it slipped beneath the fold by her right hip. He began to thrust against her, the soft flesh wrapped about him warm and inviting.

She whispered into his ear "Will you come for me?", which removed what lingering doubts he had. Nodding, she felt her grab his ass and push him in time to his rhythm. After over an hour and a half of stimulation he knew he wouldn't be able to hold up much longer. "Oh...I'm going to come...do you you want me to...oh" he breathed into her ear.

"Oh, yes!" Taking his right hand, already holding onto her belly, he slipped it between her legs, looking for the spot that he had been guided to before. As he pressed into it, she began to move against him. He began to feel her throbbing, and knew that, even so soon after the last time, she was close to coming as well.

When he started to shoot, her eyes grew wide. Her reflexive "Oh!" was loud enough to cut through Alicia's headset, because she lifted one ear piece and asked "I'm sorry, what was that?"

Fran was busy coming herself, so Mike improvised. "Oh, we were just...talking. Sorry to disturb you."

"Oh, no worries..." Alicia let the ear piece drop back onto her ear.

Both spent (and by this point exhausted), they snuggled together for several minutes. Sighing, Mike said, "Damn...I really have to go." Kissing her again (quickly this time, as he was sure he wasn't up for a third encounter, though he knew his hyperactive penis would be more than willing), he got up and began to get dressed.

Fran lay there, a contented smile on her face. Looking up, he realized he had been forgetful. He went and got a hand towel from the bathroom (normally he would use a warm wash cloth as well, but decided that wasn't worth the risk of the noise, and possible questions). Leaning over, he lifted the fold where he had sprayed a good quantity of fluid, and cleaned her as best he could.

She thanked him. "Just be sure that you don't let Alicia use this towel." She thought that was hilarious.

She was still laughing when Alicia pulled off her headset. "What's so funny?"

"Oh...it would be too complicated to go into again." Fran kissed his hand. "Oh! Mike's still here, by the way."

"Thanks for letting me know," said Alicia with a grin, "I thought he left a while ago."

"Yeah, well, I guess I dawdled longer than I thought." Mike was quickly pulling on his shirt and pants, buckling and buttoning up.

Leaning over, he gave Fran one last kiss and hug, and turned to leave. "Well, you get some sleep...I'll see you tomorrow?"

"I hope so..." She smiled back.

He headed for the door. "Oh, and it was a pleasure meeting you, Alicia."

"Likewise. Oh, Mike..."

He turned as he reached for the door handle, grabbing his suitcase still sitting under the sink. "Yes?"

"You forgot to zip up."

Mike felt his face grow red, and he reached down to close his pants. As he left, he heard both of them giggling, and wondered if he had just been set up. He was distracted from his musing by the elevator opening, ejecting a still harried Eugene, who avoided looking at him at all.

He was halfway to his car to make the drive to a local motel when it occurred to him to wonder how Alicia knew about the zipper.