Erotica at its best "Flirting Wildly"
a sexy erotic short story by Tara Alton
It twenty-three years to get back to Mackinaw City, Michigan, a summer tourist town on the straights of Mackinaw, but I had finally made it. When I was sixteen, I used to work in a fudge shop during the summer while staying with my aunt and flirting wildly with the male tourists, unsure of my future. By seventeen, I was pregnant with my daughter, Amber, and my entire life had changed.
Now I was a single mother with a grown daughter who had moved to New York City to be a model, and I was on vacation on my own for the first time in my life. I had always told myself I was going to come here on vacation. I was going to lay by a heated, indoor pool and eat all the fudge I wanted, but it wasn't turning out to be as grand as I had expected.
I'd already gone through the traditional chocolates and I had to admit I was getting a little burned out, even with the fancier toppings like caramel and coconut, and I was getting a little tired of all the stares I received when I was wearing shorts or a bathing suit. I used to think it maybe was because I was an attractive woman with a decent figure, but now that I was a little bit older, I knew it was because of my tattoo.
Amber called it my mid-life crises tattoo, but she couldn't be further from the truth. I had always wanted one. Even when I was a little kid, I used to draw on myself with an ink pen. At this day and age, you would think people would have gotten used to tattoos. No way. I felt as if people were staring at me like I was a circus freak.
It happened even during breakfast after the first night I arrived. I went to the free breakfast bar, and everyone in the room stared at me when they saw my leg. If that wasn't bad enough, I found the food nearly inedible. I opted for the bakery down the street, taking my frosted donut with sprinkles to a park bench facing the Mackinaw Bridge where I shared part of it with a sea gull.
Luckily, the pool was empty this afternoon. It was a beautiful area with a high ceiling and lots of windows. There were yellow patio table umbrellas, white plastic lounge chairs and door walls facing the street, which let in a cool breeze. I was planning on closing my eyes and just relaxing by the side of the pool.
I was nearly asleep when I heard voices break out over the pool area, echoing off the walls. I flicked my eyes open to see three older teenage boys coming in through the door. I groaned. Please let them just go away, I thought.
Turning away from them, I heard them jump into the pool and begin horsing around. At this rate, they would tire themselves out and soon leave.
They didn't. The noise went on and on, but there was no way I was going to leave. I was here first.
I glanced back at them and noticed one of them had separated from the pack. He was near my end of the pool and he was openly staring at me. Oh great, I thought, taking in his slack jaw. He was mesmerized by my tattoo. Oh for Pete's sake. It was just some daffodils. It wasn't as if it was a skull and cross bones, and anyway, now that I was looking at him closer, wasn't he a little old for behavior like this?
He was maybe twenty or twenty-one years old, my daughter's age, and he wasn't scrawny like the other two. Actually, from what I could see, he was quite good looking with a smooth, chiseled chest. He was the type my daughter would have an instant crush on.
"Why don't you get a grip," I said. "It's just a tattoo."
He shook his head as if coming out of a daze, and he focused on my face, a smirk spreading across his face.
"I wasn't looking at the tattoo," he said.
I raised an eyebrow.
"Shouldn't you be at the other end of the pool, playing with your little friends?" I asked.
He shook his head again. To my disbelief, he moved over to the edge of the pool where he rested his forearms and continued to stare at me.
Without being ready for it, I blushed. Ok. Where did that come from?
Feeling as if I was sixteen again, I averted my gaze, trying to compose myself. If he wasn't looking at my tattoo, what was he looking at? Amber was always getting after me for dressing too young, but it wasn't as if I was visiting the junior department. I just wasn't ready for matching nylon outfits with watering can decorations on front. Today, I had chosen a two-piece swimsuit with a classic bikini top and a skirted bottom with a ruffle. Everything important was covered, so what was there to stare at?
He obviously wasn't going to go away. I decided a nice soak in the hot tub might be a good idea.
Getting up, I walked over to the hot tub feeling his gaze on me the entire way.
Just as I lowered myself into the hot water, I heard his friends getting out of the pool. A reprieve, I thought. They were leaving. I heard their voices trailing away behind me. I listened to the churning water, and I relaxed into the water jet massaging my back. The cool breeze from the door wall played over my shoulders. This was more like it. I closed my eyes.
Suddenly, I heard a splash in front of me and jumped.
He was in the hot tub with me, leering at me.
"I thought you were leaving with your friends," I said.
"Why would I do that?" he asked. "I'm not here with them and they're not my friends."
"They're not?"
"I'm in town by myself," he said. "I just happened to come in with them."
I stared at him. Either he was trying to impress me or he was here by himself. As I studied him, mentally clocking exactly how sexy I thought he looked, I felt a weird flutter in my stomach.
"How old are you?" I asked, hoping I had misjudged him and he was maybe an extremely young looking thirty year old. I could justify some mild flirting with a thirty year old.
"Twenty one," he said.
"You're a year older than my daughter," I said.
"You have a twenty year old daughter?" He exclaimed. "It certainly doesn't show."
Was that a compliment? I wasn't sure.
"I love older woman. Especially hot ones like you," he said.
He was certainly a forward little shit wasn't he? I tried to put aside the knowledge that he thought I was hot and ventured forward to see what exactly his game plan was. Was he just bored and trying to amuse himself? Was he looking for a sugar-mama or some hot sex?
"You do?" I asked. "And why's that."
He shrugged.
"Mostly because nothing surprises me anymore," he said.
"Nothing surprises you?" I asked.
"I've practically seen and done it all," he said.
"You have."
"I've been around the block, mama," he said with a circular flourish of his finger in the water.
I tried not to laugh.
Getting out of the hot tub, I paused. I'm not sure what came over me, but I wanted to give the little shit something to think about.
Just as he was looking up at me, I reached behind my rump where the skirt of my bathing suit rested and gave it a good squeeze. Water poured out between my open legs.
His jaw practically hit the bottom of the hot tub.
Turning to leave, I felt his fingers reach over and brush my ankle. Electricity seemed to spark in the water between us.
A little unnerved, because I hadn't felt that in a long time, I quickly gathered up my stuff to go back to my room. I couldn't believe I was attracted to someone my daughter's age. If she were here, he would be going after her, not me.
Behind me, I heard him hopping out of the hot tub and glanced over my shoulder at him. He was grabbing his towel and looking my way. A mature woman would glare at him and not let him get to her, but despite myself, I blushed again and felt a rush of adrenalin shoot through my body. Would he actually give chase?
I hurried out the door and cut across the parking lot, my bare feet nearly sizzling on the pavement. I could hear him behind me, swearing at the hot black top, as he came after me. I sped up, reaching the ramp, which led to the first floor elevator near the beach. My room was on the top floor.
Nearly at the end of the ramp, I glanced over my shoulder again. The moment he hit the ramp, he put on the speed. Despite myself, I squealed, like a sixteen-year-old girl being chased by her boyfriend. I was nearly at the elevator.
Suddenly, he was behind me. He caught me in his arms and swung me around to face him. I was laughing, nearly out of air, my arms crushed up against his bare chest. I could feel how hard his muscles were against my skin.
As I tried to catch my breath, I noticed an elderly couple coming around the corner from the beach. The moment the woman spotted us, she looked from him to me, and I could see the disapproval in her eyes. I stiffened as they passed us.
"I'm Sean by the way," he said.
"Paula," I replied, my gaze still on the woman.
They were entering the room next to us. She looked at me again. This time, she noticed my tattoo. Now her expression really turned to disgust. To her, I was a middle-aged tattooed woman in the arms of a boy. She had no idea who I was really was or what went on inside my head.
Sean didn't even seem to notice. He was too busy looking at me, his arms still wrapped around my waist.
The elderly couple slammed their door shut behind them. We were alone once more.
I looked at him, getting gooseflesh as a breeze brushed over us.
He fished his hand into his pocket and pulled out a key card, motioning to the door next to us. It was his room. He wanted me to go in there with him.
I paused. I had a decision to make. I could tell him it was nice meeting him and return to my room, or I could go into his hotel room and see what happened. Amber would flip out if she knew I was considering this. So would my friends back home. So would the elderly woman, but I was tired of worrying about what everyone else thought. I was tired of justifying everything I did. I just wanted to be free to be me for a change.
I nodded.
Inside his room, I noticed it looked a lot like mine. Why I thought it might look different, I wasn't sure, but there was the same king sized bed, the large marble bathroom, the armoire with the TV set inside and the door wall overlooking the beach that faced The Straights of Mackinaw. Even the air conditioner had the same rattling, wheezing sound.
From the luggage on the floor and the toiletries on the counter, I judged that perhaps he was rooming by himself.
Suddenly, I felt awkward and self-conscious standing there as he went over to turn down the fan on the air conditioner.
The moment he walked back over to me, he put his hands back around my waist. I jumped a little. That same leap of energy seemed to pass through us once more, like electricity coursing through the water.
I dropped my things on the floor. He lowered his mouth to mine and kissed me.
It was incredible. The room was spinning as he licked my tongue, my teeth and the roof of my mouth, all the while pulling me closer to him. A quivering, fluttering appetite that I had been letting lay dormant inside me was waking up. His hands were everywhere on my body. My bikini snap in the back came loose. My breasts were exposed. This was going too fast.
"Let's slow down," I said.
I pushed him back so he sat on the bed.
Reaching down, I picked up my bikini top and told him to hold out his hands. He looked confused for a moment, but he did it. I used it to tie his hands together and then I pushed him back on the bed, using the makeshift bondage to slide over the bedpost. There that should keep his hands busy for a while.
He was breathing so hard, I thought he might hyperventilate.
"Take a deep breath," I said, resting my hand on his stomach, completely aware of how far my nipples were sticking out as I sat on the bed bare breasted next to him. The more he stared at them, the harder they seemed to feel. I wanted to climb astride him and let him bite them, but it wasn't fair how I was suffering this badly, and he wasn't.
Leaning over him, I licked his chest, and heard him suck in his breath. He tasted like the pool. I licked him until I tasted his skin, and then I made my way to his nipple, where I took it between my teeth and gave it a little nip.
I climbed on top of him and straddled him, feeling how hard he was between my legs. Raising myself up and forward, I reached behind my swimsuit skirt and squeezed the fabric so the cool water dripped over his erection. He squirmed, the outline of how hard he was becoming more than apparent. I traced the outline with my fingertip, trying to remember the last time I saw something this sexy.
Feeling as if my swim skirt was now strangling me, I peeled it off and tossed it on the floor. Then I yanked off his trunks, the wet fabric clinging to his skin, but it finally came free from his legs and feet. He was completely naked like me. I tried not to gape at his erection, but I couldn't help myself. He had complete lift off and it was impressive, almost a little frightening. Suddenly, I was feeling a little intimated about climbing on top of it.
"Do you have a rubber?" I asked.
He looked at me, dumbfounded.
"A rubber?" I asked.
He didn't reply. Had all the blood left his head? I began to panic. What if he didn't have one?
"They're in my carry on," he said, coming to his senses.
Digging in his bag on the floor, I found two. The first one I ripped. The second one turned out to be bright yellow and banana flavored. With trembling fingers, I managed to get it rolled down on him.
Now he had a bright yellow erection. It seemed even more threatening. All the masturbating in late night chat rooms certainly hadn't prepared me for this.
Still a little wary of just jumping on, I climbed up higher on him and lowered my mouth to his where I kissed him. I kissed him with all the sweet backlogged affection I'd been longing to give to a man. I kissed him for noticing me at the pool. I kissed him for being him.
The moment the kiss broke, I noticed an odd expression on his face.
"What?" I asked.
He shook his head.
"No one has ever kissed me like that before," he said. "Like they really wanted to know me. Does that make sense?"
I nodded.
I kept kissing him, and as our lips and tongues mingled, I slid my rump toward his erection, the tip just brushing me until I felt it hit the right spot. Then I reached down and helped it in. There was some resistance at first, a tight pressure, but I took a deep breath and forced myself to relax. He was inside me.
I was amazed at how quickly my body remembered what to do, rising, falling, squeezing and letting go. I was controlling the rhythm and depth of penetration. Leaning forward slightly, I pressed my clit against him and moved in small circles as I lifted myself up and down, teasing him with the sensations.
Without warning, I reached forward and pinched his nipple.
"Ouch," he cried out. "Wait, I think I liked that. I'm a sick fuck."
I looked up at his hands. I wanted them on me. I untied him. I thought for sure he would go straight for my breasts or my ass or even to where he was inside me, but he grabbed my head, bringing it down to his where he crushed his lips against my mouth in a frantic, fevered kiss.
"I want to fuck the shit out of you," he said.
Without warning, he flipped me over and looked around the room. I could see the gears turning in his head as he tried to decide what to do next.
"Missionary is ok," I said.
"Like hell," he said. "I'm not wasting this."
He got up and grabbed my hand, leading me across the room. For a moment, I thought he was going to take me out on the balcony and fuck me right there, but he stopped in front of the sofa, where he tossed a pillow on the floor. I knew what he wanted. Doggy style.
Getting down on my knees, I leaned across the cushion so my elbows were resting at the edge, my hands flat against the tweed fabric. I arched my back down, my rump in the air. My knees felt unsteady in the fluffy pillow, but it was probably better than the carpeting, I thought.
I could feel him getting into position behind me, his knees adjusting mine open a little more for a better position. A second later, he was back inside me. Now it was his turn to control the thrusts. My first reaction was to hold still, just feeling him sliding in and out of me, but I started to meet his movements, my breasts brushing against the cushion edge with my own backwards and forwards thrusts of my hips.
For a moment, I thought he might hang onto me, but suddenly his hand slid around to my front, his fingers reaching down to my clit. He slid around it, exploring my folds, feeling himself going in and out, and then he found it. I gasped as he rubbed it, my legs going weak, heat coursing through my body.
Everything was getting so hot and liquid and out of control. I couldn't hold it in. A loud moan escaped me.
"You're a dirty bitch," he said.
His words sent an electrical shock through me. He was right. I was a dirty middle aged bitch fucking a young man in a hotel room, and I loved it.
"Call me a dirty tattooed bitch," I said.
"You're a dirty tattooed bitch," he cried.
Another loud moan poured out of my mouth. He was fucking me so hard I couldn't see straight, and I sounded like the lead actress in a porn film.
Suddenly, I heard pounding on the wall in front of us. It had to be the elderly woman appalled at the sounds I was making, but I couldn't stop, not now, not for anyone. I was coming. I felt like my heart was stopping and time was standing still. Every muscle in my body was tensing up and this overwhelming surge of electricity was rushing up through my hips, my torso, throughout my upper body, exploding in euphoria.
Slowly, I came back to earth, hearing his ragged breath behind me as he finished coming, his slippery fingers letting go of my clit.
Pulling out of me, he collapsed on the floor next to my legs, his hand on his chest as if he was having a hard time breathing. I brushed my hair out of my eyes and rested back on my heels to look at him.
"Do you want to take a shower with me and go get some fudge?" he asked.
Suddenly, the idea of getting of some more fudge sounded very good indeed.
Originally Published November 2006: Simply Sexy