Unwanted Sharing

by obohobo

Copyright© 2010 by obohobo

Sex Story: Two introverted teenagers are forced to share a hotel room for a week’s holiday.

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Romantic   True Story   .

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental. The ideas and thoughts that follow are pure fantasies. In real life, at the very least they would be unpleasant and probably illegal. Fantasies are like that; daydreams where we can contemplate and imagine the sensations without suffering or inflicting the pain, despair or humiliation.

A month previously

"We have to do something Nora," Kathleen Donahue exclaimed, "Otherwise they're never going to get on in life and will probably never marry and we will never see any grandchildren. They're both eighteen and should be courting and socialising but Lorna never goes out and always has her head stuck in a book, usually a text book, would you believe? The only time others come round to our house, and they are all girls, is when they have a project to do together or need her help with schoolwork. She's attractive enough that the boys would be swarming around her if only she'd speak with them and wear attractive clothes instead of the loose baggy stuff that hides what she has. You've already said that Mike's a loner and spends most of his free time in the garden shed playing with his railway stuff so something drastic is needed to shake them out of the rut."

"I agree we need to do something but is thrusting them together going to help?" Nora Feldman queried.

"At least they'll have to interact with each other and even if nothing comes of it as far as a relationship between them goes, it may help them to make friends and socialise when they go to college."

"But we almost telling them to have sex..."

"That won't hurt either. I put Lorna on the pill months ago just in case something happened but nothing has, and I'm sure they've seen what to do on their computers. As long as they think they are going on a holiday alone, we should be able to convince them to take a short break now that school for them is finished. We can pretend it is a gift for doing well at school. Once they are on the aircraft, they'll know we arranged it but by then it will be too late."

Michael's story

Looking down the line of passengers waiting to check-in ahead of me, I saw a figure I recognised. "That's Lorna Donahue and her mother, I wonder why mum didn't mention she intended to travel to the airport today? I could have saved the train fare if I'd travelled with them, not that it would have been pleasant sitting in a car with the stuck-up bitch. In this queue they must be going to Newquay too." Watching from my semi-hidden position behind others waiting to check in, a further surprise awaited me, Lorna's mother hugged her and sent her in the direction of departures and then headed out of the concourse. Lorna appeared reluctant to leave and I could see tears in her eyes as she slowly walked to the departure lounge. "Strange. She's going alone? I'm going alone. Coincidence? Or maybe she has relations there? Odd. And why did mum insist dad agree with her, that I take a holiday on my own? To get to know other young people, they said and to learn to do things for myself away from my railway. I wonder, no, I bet, they've planned for her and I to get together." I rightly guessed the answer but didn't anticipate the depth of their planning and the closeness of the relationship they expected.

Surprise and puzzlement showed on Lorna's face as I walked passed her and sat some distance away. I could almost read her mind, "What's Michael Feldman doing on this flight?" I'm sure that with her quick, suspicious mind, she, like me, already suspected the reason; our mothers trying to get us together even though they knew we have no liking for each other." Even with her face half hidden behind a book, she looked quite attractive. Dark, short hair, round face and wearing a plain coloured, loose fitting, blouse, dark trousers and flat heeled black shoes, my mind looked at her with a spark of interest which might have ignited had I not known of her superior manner and acidic tongue. "Well they can lead a horse to the water but they can't make it drink, as they saying goes. I'll ignore her and see what railway sites are within reach. They may have made us travel together but we don't have to spend time with each other. I doubt if she wants to spend time with me anyway."

"I think our mothers have set us up Lorna," I commented as I sat in the assigned seat next to her.

"That's very perceptive of you Sherlock." Lorna turned her head and looked out of the window.

"I suppose you're booked into the High Beach Guest House too?"

Lorna's head turned sharply back to face me, "I already presumed that to be the case but at least we can avoid each other for most of the time." Again she looked out of the window and sat without speaking, lost in her thoughts and occasionally glancing contemptuously at me sitting next to her. Inwardly I wanted to spit in her face and really say what I thought but held my peace.

The plane sped its way across southern England towards the Cornish peninsula with the pair of us refusing to look or speak to each other until, about halfway to the destination, I decided to break the silence and whispered so other passengers didn't hear, "Lorna, we have to at least talk about this. I know you think I'm only comprehensive school scum because you went to the posh school, but our parents have put us in this together and our tickets can't be changed except if we pay extra and I can't afford that, so we're stuck with each other. I didn't want this and I doubt you did. We're staying in the same hotel, but we don't have to do the same things and we need only meet at breakfast and dinner."

After a long pause, Lorna replied in a terse whisper, "Are you stupid or something? I strongly suspect my mother will have booked us into the same room, maybe with only one bed so we'll be seeing much more of each other." She waited to let the information sink in before going on, "And if there is only one bed, you are going to sleep on the floor or in a chair or on the beach for all I care."

"No way!" A man nearby turned his head in our direction and I continued in a more subdued voice, "I'm not sleeping on the floor for you or anyone, Lady Snoot. You're no better than me and we'll have to sort things out on an equal basis. Maybe they'll let us have two rooms or maybe that's what has been arranged." Lorna shrugged and turned once more to look out of the window and remained silent until the plane landed.

When everyone stood to 'de-plane', I took her carry-on from the overhead locker and placed it on the seat when I removed mine but only received a nod in acknowledgement and she waited until I'd started down the aisle before following several passengers later. By the time Lorna arrived at the baggage carousel, I'd found a trolley and placed my bag on it. "Which one is yours?" I asked but she ignored me.

Finally hers arrived and she struggled with it from the conveyor to the floor and glanced around, "I have to visit the Ladies," she whispered rather embarrassedly.

"I'll watch your bags."

"Thank you."

"A thank you! That's a first," I thought as I watched her head for the lavatories, "I bet she didn't go on the plane because she'd have to ask me to move and now she's desperate."

A man I recognised from the plane came and told me the car waited at the entrance and to take the luggage so they could load it without delay. Knowing Lorna might be worried, and ignoring her bitchy attitude, I hurried back and saw her standing and looking bewildered but her face brightened when I ran towards her. "Sorry, the Guest House car is waiting and the driver doesn't want to overrun his parking time. That older, fat couple that were in the front seats are staying there too and helped me load the bags. It will be a tight squeeze in the car but they said it's only a ten minute drive as the guesthouse is this side of Newquay."

I didn't exaggerate it being a tight squeeze and the heat of the afternoon sun on the car roof made the interior stiflingly hot and didn't lift our subdued mood. Jack Morrell sat alongside the driver and his wife Rita, took up half the space for three passengers on the back seat and tried to cheer us with jovial remarks. With difficulty we managed to fasten the seat belts but us teenagers almost had to sit sideways. Lorna looked steadfastly out of the window and tried to ignore Rita's chatter and I only answered in monosyllables. "I do believe they've had a lover's tiff, Jack," she laughed, "Don't worry, at your age you'll soon get over it."

"Come in, come in. Stan will bring your bags and we'll soon have you settled," Mrs. Chumley the proprietor greeted us, "I'll get Jack and Rita sorted first because they've been several times and know where things are and I'll only have to show them which room they're in."

"They're not a very happy pair and, at the moment, they're hardly on speaking terms. I guess its young love gone wrong," Rita teased us.

"Rita, don't meddle. For the time being leave them to themselves before you do more harm than good. Now let me show you your room." Puzzled at the sharp reply, the couple followed Mrs. Chumley up the stairs.

Tears again began flowing down Lorna's face and stirred compassionate feelings inside me and I itched to put my arm around her but didn't for fear of a vitriolic response. I too, had grave reservations as to holidaying and sleeping with her although on the plane I'd let my fantasies run wild and conjured up many scenes from video clips I'd viewed on my computer. Reality hit and my shyness returned. Would I be able to cope with seeing her naked, or being naked in front of her? Would I get an erection and be able to perform if she wanted to? Would I even get a glimpse of her body? Fortunately our landlady returned.

"Come into my lounge where we can have a cup of tea and talk before I show you your room," Mrs. Chumley suggested sombrely. "First though, let me say that I know your mothers plans and while I don't entirely agree, they've paid me enough and convinced me to give it a try. If it doesn't work, you will not be harmed in any way and, if you at least make the effort to get to know each other, you should have an enjoyable time. Now while I make the tea, read the letters your mothers sent." She handed us a letter each.

Dear Michael and Lorna,

These letters are identical to allow you to read them at the same time.

You know by now that we arranged this but not the reasons behind it. Over the last few years, you've become insular and introverted and shied away from contact with others, particularly those of the opposite sex. You've become so involved with your own narrow interests that you've lost the ability to interact with others and this will put you at a disadvantage when you attend college next term. We decided that forcing you to spend just a week together in a holiday situation might help overcome these problems. Ruth Chumley knows this and you may confide in her.

It's not uncommon these days for young couples to spend a week or more together to get to know each other on a personal level and we've asked her to provide a room with a double bed. Sleeping in the same bed does NOT mean that you HAVE to have sex and Michael if you force yourself on Lorna that is rape and could lead to serious trouble. However, if both parties are agreeable, we won't have any objections. More importantly, living and sleeping together means that at times, each of you will need to give way to the other and to listen to their thoughts and opinions, like we do with your fathers.

What you do during the day is up to you but we strongly suggest that you do it together, perhaps each choosing an activity on alternate days. Ruth will be able to advise on the things to do and see in the district, but at night we expect you to share the room and the bed.

We know this may initially be abhorrent to you, but please give it a try, if it works, you will be the beneficiaries.

Your loving mothers,

Signed

Kathleen Donahue

Nora Feldman

"I can see from your faces that you are shocked but I suspect you went over in your mind, the possible scenarios while sitting together on the plane. Now you come to the real life situation. I've agreed to help but if I find it doesn't work out, then I'll use my discretion to override your mothers' wishes. The one thing I do not want is for you to disturb other guests. There are four couples in for the week and they are here to have an enjoyable time and I hope they will return several more times, like Rita and Jack. From the fact that neither of you have started yelling, I anticipate you are able to control your tempers even if you are seething inside." She smiled, "It's not that bad and I'm sure many teenagers would love their mothers to set them up like this. Now let's go and show you your room."

Lorna started to protest but the landlady had already started up the stairs.

"I'm willing to go along with this Lorna, are you?" We sat facing each other and ignored Mrs. Chumley's suggestion that our first cooperation should be to put their clothes away.

"You're only willing because you want to get into bed with me. I'm your living wet dream except that I'm not naked, I'm not blonde and I'm not willing, but I guess I'll have to go along with it until tomorrow and I can phone Daddy at his office and see what he can do. There's no mention of him in the letter and I doubt if he knows of the arrangement."

Eventually after much bickering and my getting the least space, our clothes were put away and we went separately to the dining room for dinner and sat with a young welsh couple, Brian and Gwyneth Evans. Gwyneth chattered incessantly but rarely required an answer after the name introductions but they knew the area and suggested many places to visit. I hardly heard them and I doubted that Lorna did either, our thoughts largely centred on the bedtime arrangements.

"You lie with your back to me facing the wall and I'll face into the room, then you won't keep peeking at my breasts." That part was true. After changing into pyjamas in the bathroom, we sat in bed reading for a while, Lorna a novel in French and I had a railway magazine. Certainly I'd noticed the way her nipples poked the material but although she made no mention of it, I'm sure she noticed the way my prick pushed out the front of my pyjamas. I couldn't tell if she felt disgust but I hoped in the dirty part of my mind, that she was pleased that she'd aroused me. Neither of us slept well and in the early morning light, when I climbed over her to go to the toilet, she must have glimpsed my erection tenting the material and tried to ignore it.

"What are you doing today?" Brian Evans asked at breakfast. We'd managed to get through our morning ablutions without too much bickering mainly because I rose early and did the necessary and went down into the lounge and left Lorna to get on without my being there. I shrugged. "Might be a good morning to walk along the beach at the bottom of the cliffs," Brian suggested, "The sun's out and the water is fairly calm. The surfers won't be pleased."

"Watch the tide though because it will cover the sand long before high tide," Gwyneth added, "But if you get caught, there's a sort of scrambling track over the boulders a bit higher up. It's dangerous when the sea is rough because the waves crash over them but today it could be okay. Best not to have to use it though and keep to the beach."

The outcome of the phone conversation to Lorna's father didn't please her and I gather that his wife briefed him the previous night and he'd suggested she try to stick it out. My father wasn't home. "Are you coming for a walk along the beach?" I asked.

She scowled and replied, "Daddy said I should, but if you think I'm going to walk hand-in-hand with you, think again."

Mid morning we started along the beach. It wasn't much of a walk, I wanted to stride out; she dawdled several paces behind and picked up shells and threw them down again. We hardly spoke but the sun shone and I dodged the sea when it rolled on the sand and hissed its way noisily back, Lorna kept out if the way. I found it pleasant if we retreated into our own minds and ignored each other. Towards midday I noticed the tide coming close to the rocks in many places and suggested we ought turn back. Since the phone call to her father, Lorna had been moody and I wondered if she'd disregard my suggestion out of contrariness but she turned and started back without a word. We came to a headland that jutted further to the sea and there the water reached and splashed over the rocks. Wearing shorts and trainers and finding the water less than knee deep, I waded around the point but Lorna refused to turn up her trouser legs and follow me. Instead she started to scramble over the rocks; a bad decision. The soles of her sandals gave little grip on the wet surfaces and when jumping from one boulder to another she slipped and fell into the water and hit her leg on a submerged rock. Hearing her cry and then the crack as her leg broke, I rushed back and raised her head above the water and held her against his body while I fumbled for my mobile phone.

"Don't move her, the ambulance will be there in ten minutes," came the instruction from the 999 service.

"I've got to move her otherwise she'll drown."

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