I could see the front desk from my seat and noticed her right away, as any young guy quickly spots a pretty girl nearby. She was with someone I assumed to be her mother, an attractive woman herself. I watched a bit of news, finished my sandwich and beer, then went up to my room.
As I opened the door, I heard a small voice, but with volume turned to eleven…”I’M NAAAYYYK’D.” As the door swung full open, there she stood, in the middle of the room, right knee crossed a little over her left, covering her mound with her left hand, her right arm over her breasts, wide-eyed, frozen like a deer in headlights, the girl from the lobby.
I don’t know who she thought might be coming through the door, but it probably wasn’t me. She wasn’t what I expected to find behind the door either, so I probably stood there, also stunned, for an instant.
Now, she had a very small voice. “you’re still looking at me.”
“Yes, I am.”
“why? i’m naked.”
I probably wore a very quizzical expression myself, as I was still trying to sort out what was happening. The front desk must have given her the wrong key. This was in the later days of when a room key was just that, a piece of carved metal that one inserted in a lock, with a numbered plastic tag attached. I answered. “Because you’re very pretty. And, you’re in my room.”
At that, her eyes went wild and wide, darted left and right. Otherwise, she still hadn’t moved a millimeter, a startled statuette in the unlikeliest of places.
I realized that the poor girl probably felt trapped, with me blocking the door. I stepped aside and told her, “You can go.” I half expected her to bolt, nude, into the hallway, without first gathering the wispy green dress she had been wearing in the lobby, now draped on the bed with her underwear on top.
“But I wish you wouldn’t,” I said.
At that, the girl relaxed slightly, but still bore a confused, embarrassed and questioning look.
“why?”
Then, I wondered, and asked, “How old are you?”
Confusion registered with curiosity and the remnants of fear. “Almost 20. In a month.” In her eyes, you could read every emotion she was feeling, yet at the same exact time wonder what was going on in her pretty head.
“Well,” I said (might as well just say it like it is, I thought). “I’d just like you to put down your arms, so I can see you, and look at you a little more.”
She stood a little straighter, though I thought I still saw a hint of a tremble. Curiosity, puzzlement in her eyes. She slowly lowered her arms until they hung loosely at her sides, and again said, very quietly, “i’m naked.”
“Yes, you are,” and I might have slightly chuckled, “but you are very, very beautiful.” And, she was.
She blushed a bit more than she already had been and looked at me, wide-eyed, questioningly. I thought I saw her head tilt slightly, then the hint of a scowl and a slow blink. Maybe nobody had let her in on the secret before. They might have said “cute,” or “pretty,” but had not spoken the full truth and admitted to her she that was beautiful.
Dark auburn, loose, wavy curls fell almost to her shoulders. Her eyes were the color of cherry amber, gold flecked, with improbably long lashes that moved like slow-motion butterfly wings. She was very petite, and pale, with just a bit of curve to her hips, and small breasts, with little raspberries for nipples, and a compact cinnamon patch where her beautifully shaped thighs met. In that dark green dress in the lobby, she had looked like a little elf. Now, here, she looked like an alabaster statue of one.
Puzzlement seemed to replace fear and she seemed to be studying me. She would look directly at me, eyes open wide, then her butterfly lashes would flap very slowly down, then back up, a slow-motion blink that lasted a whole heartbeat, and then she’d be looking at me again. Some emotional supercomputer may have performed a million calculations in each of those long moments.
I moved a step closer and asked, “Would you turn for me? I want to see all of you.”
First, a slow blink, then small feet took little steps, turning her slowly full around, until she was looking up again at me, searching with those cherry amber eyes, and blinking slowly once more.
Her bottom was round and compact, and perfect. Above, it tapered to a trim waist. Below, in concert with her thights, it shaped a heart. She was not voluptuous, really very petite and quite slender. But, at the same time, somehow she managed a chorous-line’s worth of subtle curves.
I tried not to blink myself, just so I wouldn’t miss anything.
She was looking up at me as I came closer and lifted the palm of her hand until her arm was above her head and her fingertips were resting on mine.
“You are exquisite,” I told her, producing a brief flash of disbelief in her eyes. But, she was very quiet, and searching me.
“Again?” I asked. “Please?”
One slow beat of her butterfly lashes, and she lowered her head a little, lifted slightly on her toes, beginning a slow pirouette. Then, when she was facing away from me, she hesistated, resting back down on her heels. I leaned over, her arm following as I lowered mine a bit, and lightly kissed her neck. Something left her, and I felt her relax. She turned again, taking small steps, until she was looking up at me again, at peace. I saw trust. Slow blink, silent, while her fingertips still rested in my hand, raised slightly above her head.
“I just want to kiss you some more,” I said. “May I?”
Two slow butterfly blinks this time, as she gazed up at me. A tiny nod. Lazy butterfly flutter.
I pulled her toward the edge of the bed by our fingertips. She sat down, still studying me, as I lifted her legs to the bed. She lay still, arms at her sides, as I told her, “close your eyes.” Butterfly lashes folded shut.
I leaned in, pulled a curl aside, and kissed her neck. She sighed slightly, and slumped, turned her head a bit to the left. I kissed her again, heard a quiet “mm…”
I said, close to her ear, “You don’t have to stay. You can go. I just wanted to kiss you a little more.” She just murmurred, “hmm,” and turned her head a little further. I kissed her behind the ear once more. Her breathing slowed, two small, delicate mounds softly rising and falling.
Somebody had once told me, “If a woman lets you kiss her neck, she’ll let you kiss her anywhere.” I set myself to seeing whether that was true.
Starting with another kiss on her neck, I worked my way with light pecks to her shoulder, across her chest, then to one small, beautiful breast. Spiraling my way inward with little kisses, I came to her raspberry nipple, and held it between my lips for a moment. “Hmm…” I heard, and she arched her back slightly. So that it wouldn’t feel left out, I kissed my way to the other, and gave it the same. And got the same.
Every now and again, I’d hear a small “mm” or a little whimper. Lashes would flutter, but she kept her eyes closed.
Then, zig-zagging across her now so slightly trembling tummy, I planted a big smooch on her navel. She jumped and giggled a little, then settled back down. Arms still peaceful at each side, I started at shoulders and kissed my way to each wrist. Another smooch on the tummy.
I ventured further, first straight down. She tensed slightly, but was very quiet. I shifted, touching my lips to porcelain skin, down the outside of her thigh, beyond her knee, down to her ankle. Moving myself to the end of the bed, I positioned myself between her feet, slightly spread and, up the inside of her other leg, I began my journey home.
I could see where I was headed, and it was heaven. When I had crawled to her knees, I needed more room, so I gently pushed them apart. “m!” But she accepted. I continued, kissing the inside of her thigh, until I arrived near my goal. She was quite still, yet squirmed just a little as I made my way around my prize. She glistened.
Now, she was lifting, barely perceptively, rocking herself toward me. Her little hands, still at her side, were alternately kneading, just like a kitten. I circled inward and then, with the tip of my tongue, gave one very long, light lick, from bottom to top. “Hmmmmm!!” as she arched, both hands kneading at once.
From there, I explored every beautiful fold, nook and cranny, letting myself dive once or twice deep inside her. She was sweet as a strawberry, mewling, whimpering, and squirming. When I found what she liked, I gave more.
By the time I got to the top of her treasure, I wanted to linger, but it didn’t take long. She tensed. With both hands, she gripped the sheets as if she was about to fall off a tall building. She contracted her whole self, then her legs shook. “Mmmmoohhhhhh!” So loud from such a tiny thing with a small voice. I could feel her pulsing with pleasure. Then, as I lightly placed a kiss on cinnamon curls, she collapsed, absolutely limp.
Two or three seconds later, she stirred. Butterfly lashes fluttered, and she slowly opened her eyes. I got up and gazed at her, still moved by her beauty. She lifted herself to the edge of the bed, feet down, braced by her arms, head hanging loosely. Then, dazed, she tried to stand.
Her knees buckled, legs didn’t follow her command, and she wavered, then started to tip forward. I caught her, and said, “let’s get you sat back down.”
Weaving, she slow-blinked twice. I saw confusion and wonder as she tried to focus on me. In the quietest, smallest of her quiet, small voice, she asked:
“what……did…you do to me?”
She had never experienced an orgasm before.
I said, as I reached down and held her cheeks, and kissed her on the forehead, “I only said ‘thank you’ for being so sweet and so very beautiful.”
“Lay down for a bit,” I told her, as I lifted her legs to the bed. Auburn curls embedded in the pillow, and the butterflies folded their wings. I curled up behind her. My right arm folded under my head, I wrapped my left around her. If it human being could melt, she did that, into both me and into the bed.
After an hour or so embedded in autumn curls that smelled like summer strawberries, I lifted myself. I had a telephone appointment to keep. I kissed her dozy forehead and told her that I had to go out, but that she could stay and rest. A lazy “Hmmmm…”
When I got back, she was gone. I saw her the next morning as I walked by the pool to check out. As I smiled, she looked up, the corners of her lips turned up slightly as she softened, butterflies slowly batted their wings twice, and she bashfully turned.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/weeczr/the_gift_mf