[This is a true story. Location and names changed to protect the horny]
It has been a good year sales wise and your company rewards their top performers with a nice trip. A handful of you are whisked down to the Seychelles for a nice long weekend.
The evening you arrive, you check into your room, lightly settle in, tired from the flight. The group wants to meet for dinner and pester you until you agree. Not your choice for company but atleast they are company. After dinner most decide to retire for the night. It was a long bumpy flight. Might as well start fresh in the morning.
You, on the otherhand, arent quite ready yet. Maybe a cocktail or two to loosen those flight nerves. You sit at the bar alone. A few other tourists are around. One dirty old man with his wife of assumed 60 years winks at you, but most dont really pay much attention. You are able to relax and enjoy the evening breeze. The tropical cool air blows through the material of your dress. The thin material teasing your skin giving you goose bumps.
You finish your first drink. Seemed light on the alcohol. Scammy resort tactics. You order one more. It’s on the company’s bill anyway.
Just as the bar tender slides over your drink, an older man walks over to the bar. You are the only one at the long bar but he still siddles up to next to you and orders a drink. He doesn’t pay much attention to you until he gets his drink. The bartender slides over the glass. The stranger picks up his glass and turns to you. He looks at you with a slight smile and takes a sip of his libation. You nervously shift in the bar stool but smile back. You cant really take your eyes off of him. He is a bulk of a man. Fit in a power lifter type physique. Not your normal genre of man but something about him makes your stomach flip. He is wearing a blue linen shirt. The top couple buttons are open. Not in a sleazy way but it was hot out today manner. Short dress shorts stop mid-thigh. Good no chicken legs you think quickly to yourself. Nice watch but not expensive. Flip flop sandals. He looks like a distinguished beach bum. Well groomed and trim. Smooth tan. His forehead is slighty sweaty from the tropcial humidity. The air about him radiates a sexual tension.
You nervously sip your drink. Your hands are actually shaking. What’s wrong you dont do this around men?
He engages idle chit chat about the island and where you are from. His strong american accent makes you tingle. His nonchalant take it or leave it conversation is more intoxiacting than it should be.
Two more drinks later he asks you to dance. There is no dance floor. Just the space behind the bar stools and the sand. You agree. You tell yourself anything he asks you would agree.
You unattentively dance together. Doesnt match the music. Isnt any officially recognized move. Just the two of you closer with an excuse to touch. His right-hand cradles your left. His are large but slim; strong but smooth and soft. Your hand feels tiny and delicate in his. His other hand lightly on your side. The crook of his thumb and first finger hooked on your hip. Present but not obtrusive. The touch of this hand sending uncontrolled vibrations through your body. Your knees are weak. You wish you had worn panties.
After a couple songs, he guides you to a table closer to the beach. Its darker over there. He waves to the bartender for one more drink. He drums more conversation. Once the drinks are finished he stands and says he is going to turn in for the night. You stand slightly confused. You say you should also get some sleep. He starts to walk away. You turn to follow. He asks what building your room is in. You can only point. He tells you he will walk you back to ensure you get there safely. You just smile.
You walk together quietly through the gardens to the building. Up the elevator to your floor. Down the hall to your room. Once to the door you unlock it with your keycard and open it slightly. You turn to say something but he interrupts telling you if you to call if you need anything. He is pointing at the room directly across the hall. You ask if that is rwally his room. He smiles and says good night. Walks to the room in question and glides inside.
As the door closes behind him, you watch for a minute then enter your own room. You let the door close. You walk into the room aimlessly replaying the evening in your head. What was that? You say to yourself. He never outwardly hit on you. Never made an advance. Thats never happened before. You arent sure how to process that.
You go into the bathroom intent to take a quick shower. You look at yourself in the mirror. Your hands raise up and squeeze both breasts roughly. Your nipples sing. You turn and walk out of the room and across the hall. You knock and wait. No answer. You knock again but then indecisively turn to walk away. Get halfway to your door then turn back, pause, then back to your room. You wait a second. He never answers the door. You storm into your room.
You angrily pace your room. Its only now you notice your inner thighs are slick and wet. You walk to the full length dressing mirror and raise your dress. Your thighs glisten. A sticky string of grool hangs heavily from the gap between your thighs. Holding the dress with one hand, the other reaches down. Your finger tips gently catch the grool as it drips further down. You trace back to its source and lightly touch your swollen lips. The touch buckles your knees. Lightning shoots through your pelvis and into your stomach. You bite your lip, spread your feet slightly, gather your dress under your chin to free the other hand. The free hand grabs the opposite breast. Pinching the nipple hard. You push deeper into your lips. The pleasure unbearable. Around your clit. Across your lips. So wet. Two middle fingers inside. They slip to the last knuckle. The heat and wet on fire. You gasp deep. You watch yourself intently in the mirror. Curling your fingers inside you press those tiny ridges. Your palm presses your clit. You can barely stand. Your free hand pushes the edge of your dress into your mouth to gag yourself. Then back to your breast. Squeezing harder. Almost painful more so ecstasy. Bucking your hips on your hand you begin to climax. Stomach flexed. Holding your breath. Your cumming. Hard. You can feel yourself clench your fingers. Your thighs become rigid. A small squirt onto the hotel room floor. You drench yourself. You moan loudly into your gathered dress. Bucking slower rolling the hips you come down slight jolts still hit you as you graze your sensitive clit. You drop the dress winded. Smiling to yourself. You turn and look throuhh your door to his and flip him off. You throw off the dress and collapse in the bed. It was a long flight….
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/t13anc/the_stranger_mf_age_gap_pt_1