Message-ID: <53730asstr$1146316202@assm.asstr.org>
From: "Jonathan P" <jonathanbareb@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Tubbing (MF)
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Date: Sat, 29 Apr 2006 09:10:02 -0400
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Tubbing

"I hope you don't think I'm a slut or something."  Patricia spoke to the 
passenger window to avoid making eye contact with me as I drove a little too 
fast down the freeway.  We had exchanged barely more than a dozen emails, 
talked on the phone just once, and this was only the second time we'd met 
face to face.

"No, of course not," I replied.  More words stuck in my throat, unspoken.

The first time we had met was over coffee at Starbucks.  This time, three 
weeks later, I had picked her up at the same Starbucks, and we were driving 
to a spa that offered small, private rooms, each with a hot tub, a shower, 
and a small foam rubber mattress on a wooden shelf.  It was her suggestion 
to go there.  She wanted to fuck.

If Patricia was a slut, then so was I.

"This will be fun," I offered.  She didn't come right out and tell me that 
she'd been there before, though it was obvious.  She didn't tell me with 
whom.  Or how many.  She was married and bored.  Looking for some adventure 
in her life, she'd told me.  She was in her thirties, a decade younger than 
me, though she looked older and more tired than her years.  Patricia was 
short and pleasantly plump, with brown Latina eyes and bottle-blonde hair.  
My guess was that she'd had a lot of adventure in her younger years.  Maybe 
a little too much.

We'd already had the obligatory "Condoms?" conversation - with her it was in 
email two weeks earlier.  Birth control wasn't an issue.  She'd had her 
tubes tied after her fourth kid.  I'd had a vasectomy.  "I'm safe and 
healthy," I had assured her.  "I am, too," she'd said, "but you can use one 
if you want to.  It's your choice."  I was trusting.  I was reckless.  I 
didn't bring any.

"It's a good place," she reassured me about the spa.  Out of the corner of 
my eye I saw her smile at me.  Perhaps it wasn't with too many other men, I 
thought.  Faint hope, perhaps.  She still seemed a bit nervous.  Not that I 
wasn't a bit nervous, too.  Fucking a married woman carried a certainly 
level of risk from a potentially irate husband, not to mention from my wife.

The spa met my expectations, and my expectations hadn't been very high.  It 
sat in a strip mall, around the corner from a restaurant and a dry cleaners. 
  We waited in the lobby for a few minutes for a room to become available, 
sitting side by side in awkward silence on a bench seat.  The wallpaper on 
the walls and the carpet on the floors were tired.  So was the sullen female 
clerk behind the counter.  Maybe I would be, too, if my job was akin to 
running the front desk at a seedy motel that charged by the hour.

A couple emerged from a hallway that presumably led to the rooms.  Two 
fortysomethings, him with a slight paunch, her with wide hips, both with wet 
hair.  They handed a room key to the clerk and headed out the front door, 
never once making eye contact with us or with each other.  I didn't get the 
impression they were there to bathe aching muscles.

The clerk spoke briefly on the telephone, and then she caught my eye, held 
up a key, and wiggled it back and forth.  "Room 15," she said, handing me 
the key and two towels, and motioning her head toward the hallway to the 
back rooms.  We didn't make lingering eye contact, either.  I guess it was 
that kind of place.

The hallways to the rooms were a maze.  Left, right, right.  We followed the 
signs to Room 15.  When we finally stood in front of the door, Patricia 
excused herself.  "I need to find a bathroom," she said.  Another sign 
showed the way.  "I'll be right back."  I opened the door to Room 15, our 
Gateway to Adventure, and walked inside.

The room was bigger than I had imagined it would be, but I wouldn't have 
called it spacious.  Cheap wood wall paneling.  Large red Mexican pavers on 
the floor.  A wood Jacuzzi tub to the left in the back corner.  A door to a 
sauna in front of me.  A showerhead on the wall to the right.  No 
showercurtain, just a tile floor with a drain.  A liquid soap dispenser.  To 
the left of the door was a small coat rack with a shelf on top.  And beyond 
that, a delightfully useful wooden platform about the size of a twin bed, 
sporting a three-inch thick mattress and covered with a cheap white sheet, 
seemingly freshly laundered.  It wasn't a Five Star spa, but it would serve 
our needs for the next two hours.

Patricia found the room, and I locked the door behind her.  "Well," she 
said, facing me in the center of the room.  I kissed her.  It was sweet and 
soft, with just the right amount of tongue.  She'd had a lot of practice 
kissing.  We broke for air, and Patricia motioned her head toward the tub.  
"Want to do the tub?  Or?"

"Let's do the tub right now," I said.  That seemed to be an easy way to get 
naked and intimate this first time, without having to make that awkward move 
to the mattress.  I stepped back and began to unbutton my shirt.  She 
matched me.  Her eyes met mine at first, then watched my hands as I exposed 
my chest.  "A little hairy," I said.

"Nice."  Patricia slipped off her blouse as she spun with her back to me.  
Shy, I thought to myself.  I unbuckled my belt and slipped my pants and 
underwear down, then quickly folded them and started to put them on the 
shelf above the coat rack.  "No," Patricia said, motioning to a flat surface 
between the mattress and the tub.  "Put them over there.  Otherwise the 
shower gets them wet."  I deferred to her greater experience.

Then, naked.  That's always a heady rush with a new lover, that first 
exposure to a new body.  Patricia stripped naked with a minimum of 
self-consciousness.  Her body exposed no surprises.  Five-two, tits firmer 
than I had expected, nicely accentuated with perky brown nipples.  A rounded 
tummy, fleshy hips and ass and thighs.  A dark thatch of pubic hair.  We 
embraced for another long kiss.  My erection pressed against her belly.

The water was hot, and the smell of chlorine wafted into my nostrils, though 
I wasn't going to complain about an over-chlorinated hottub in this kind of 
place.  I settled onto the seat with the water at nipple level, and Patricia 
sat next to me, our knees touching.  It was an awkward position for kissing 
or touching.  "C'mere," I said, maneuvering her to sit on my thighs, facing 
me.  She nestled forward, her breasts against my chest, wrapping her legs 
and arms around me, and we discovered that fit together well - nose to nose, 
mouth to mouth.  We took advantage of that and began to make out.

It was a full-body contact thing.  We adjusted ourselves to get my cock 
pressed against the length her cleft, and I notched between her pussylips 
and she began to rock her hips ever so slightly as our mouths played 
together.  My hips matched hers.  My hands went from tits to ass to tits to 
face to ass.  She moaned into my mouth and held me tighter.  Was she wet 
enough to fuck?  I angled my cock and tested.  Yes sir'ee, she was just wet 
enough to get  my cockhead inside her.  I rocked my hips to slide in and 
out, popping past a nicely snug muscle ring.  Every time I slipped inside, 
her muscles nibbled at my cock.  This was going to be good.

Time was a'wastin'.  "Let's try the mattress," I suggested, and Patricia 
disengaged and clambered out of the tub, with me following.  We quickly 
swabbed off the bulk of the water with towels, then she laid down on the 
mattress and held out her arms to me.  I didn't need to be asked twice.  In 
an instant I was on top of her, and she wrapped herself around me, kissing 
my lips, pulling me closer.

"Wait," I told her, and I slid South, sliding my cock between those nice 
pussylips with an "I'll be back!" promise as my lips kissed lower and lower. 
  First her neck, causing her to squirm and mutter something unintelligible, 
then her breasts, first one then the other.  Her nipples were standing tall 
and suckable, but I didn't pause there long.  I had places to go and things 
to do.  Down to her bellybutton, then her lower tummy.  Pubic hair, matted 
from the water, and then a first good look at her pussy.

And such a nice pussy it was.  Puffy outer labia, delightfully distinct and 
swollen inner labia, a medium-sized clit that jumped right out and begged to 
be licked and sucked.  Some women, especially plump women, have thin, almost 
hidden inner labia, but not Patricia.  She had a mildly musky scent and 
taste, unfortunately half masked by the chlorine, but it only took a few 
slathering licks to dispel the chlorine and get her juices flowing.

Patricia was hot, slick, and softly vocal.  She moaned, she panted, she 
murmured, she squirmed and thrust her hips at my mouth, holding the back of 
my head with her hands.  Her pussylips laid open in a crimson welcome, her 
clit standing high and isolated, her guttural noises increasing in frequency 
and loudness as I ratcheted her upward.  When my fingers found her gspot, 
her hips began undulating nonstop and her vaginal muscles clenched over and 
over.  I took her over the top with a quickening tongue lashing and 
increased pressure on her gspot, as her hips raised up off that crappy 
mattress and her body shuddered, punctuated by gasping, exhaling grunts.

It was a good fifteen second orgasm.  After her body began to relax, I gave 
her a few soft licks and then mounted her, missionary style, and was inside 
her with one easy thrust.  Patricia's eyes were wide open and wild, her face 
was still flushed from her climax, and inside she was hot, slick and 
buttery.  I buried myself inside her and pressed even deeper.  Her hips 
rose, her mouth opened into an `O', and I felt the flicker of her cervix 
against my tip.

Then I began to stroke, and I realized this wasn't going to take long.  Four 
kids, yes, but her vagina was snug, and to make matters even more quickly 
inevitable, I discovered that Patricia could deliver grippy squeezes on 
every outstroke.  In, out, in, out.  We were in a rhythm.  "Oh yes," she 
murmured on every creamy instroke, then I'd pause for a fraction of second, 
buried deep and enjoying it, then just as I began my outstroke her muscles 
did that squeeze until only my cockhead remained inside.  Then her clench 
relaxed and I stroked inward again.

"Baby," I told her, "I can't hold back much longer."  My tempo increased.  I 
couldn't help myself.  Faster, a little bit harder.  The end was near.

Her eyes widened even more.  "Give it to me," she breathed, "I want to feel 
you come."

That did it.  I gave up trying to fight it, and just let it gallop forward.  
Each thrust was now imperceptibly faster, harder, deeper.  Patricia's hips 
angled up to take me in, rocking just slightly to meet each my stabbing 
plunges.  My breaths came faster, too, and so did hers.  "Ready?" I warned 
her.  "Do you feel me?"

"Yes," she panted.

And then, I felt my orgasm begin.  "Now!"  I told her, "Now!"  The 
sensations expanded out of my loins and my cock stiffened and I drove one 
last deep thrust inside her, pressing with the strong legs and an 
instinctive desire to fill her juicy little honeypot with as much of my 
flesh as I could manage to stuff inside her and load her to the brim with my 
come.  I gasped, she gasped.  We froze in an tableau of intertwined lust and 
spasming pleasure, with my cock spurting its fiery white and her muscle ring 
responding to each quivering spurt with a welcoming squeeze.

"Oh my God," I murmured when I could finally speak.  My stiffened body 
relaxed, my spurts weakened into feeble twitches.  Patricia's squeezes 
slowed.

"Did that feel good?" she asked me.

"Wasn't it obvious?"

She smiled, sighed, and gave me one final squeeze that ejected my softened 
cock.  "Oops!" she giggled.  I raised my weight and sat upright.  Looking 
down, her pussylips were inflamed, red and raw and yawning wide.  I could 
see telltale white oozing from her opening.  Patricia reached a hand down, 
playing her fingers in the mutual sloppiness.  At first it was a slow 
caress, then her fingers quickened.  Her eyes closed, and her face took on a 
look of concentration.

I sat perched there, between her legs, my hands quiet on her hips, and 
watched her masturbate.  Her fingers flurried across her lips with a 
sideways motion, focusing on her clit.  It didn't take long, maybe thirty 
seconds, and she climaxed, which seemed to squeeze even more juices out.  I 
joined her on the mattress, lying side by side, and we embraced and kissed 
and nuzzled.

Twenty minutes later, Patricia's mouth had me hard again, and this time she 
rode me to an orgasm.  Our eyes were locked, my hands cupping her softball 
sized breasts with those big, brown hard nipples, and her hips did that 
undulating grind of clit against pubic bone until she got herself off, 
exhaling those sharp, guttural grunts, which triggered my orgasm when she 
was out in outer space with hers.

The timing worked out.  A minute later the phone on the wall rang with a ten 
minute warning from the front desk.  We showered - yes, the spray went 
everywhere, though our clothes were spared for the most part - and toweled 
off and dressed in silence.  One last long, lingering kiss.  "I had fun," 
she told me, and I agreed.

On our way past the front desk, I handed back the room key, and Patricia and 
I walked to the door.  In silence, not touching.  Two more couples sat in 
the waiting area.  It was a busy place.








<JonathanBareB@hotmail.com>

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