Temporary Roommates

by Orblover

Copyright© 2011 by Orblover

Sex Story: A red headed Australian looking for a room for the night. A tired American taking a break. Just another weekend in paradise.

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Romantic   Heterosexual   Safe Sex   Oral Sex   Masturbation   Petting   Exhibitionism   .

The South African Airways flight to Mauritius was routine, what I remembered of it. I had gotten on the plane, settled into my seat, and woken about 15 minutes before landing. Don't get me wrong, I love India. The history, the architecture, and the energy are all positives. I detest the crowds, the dirt, the smell, and being there I hate. I was overjoyed to be headed to paradise on earth, if only for a couple of days.

The call earlier in the week with my assistant had set this weekend in motion. It had been a strange and magical moment.

"Bonnie, from the travel agency, has worked it out. You leave Bombay, sorry, Mumbai, on Thursday night. Instead of going directly to South Africa, you will be staying in a resort on Mauritius for a long weekend." Marge, the wonder-assistant, was doing her normal magic.

"Really? Wow, I've always wanted to go there. I've heard about the place for years and wanted to check it out."

"You're kidding, you've heard of it?"

"Heard of it, I know where it is! 600 miles due east of Madagascar in the middle of the Indian Ocean."

"Well, great. Steal my thunder! All of us had to look it up." The pause was long enough for me to question the phone systems in India. "By the way, you said I could join you on a trip if I could prove the value of my being there." Oh, no, what's going on. "Well, I'm going to join you there, along with Dave." Dave was one of my top folks and was due to meet me in South Africa.

"Okay, I'm really glad you took the initiative."

Staring out my window at the sun setting across Ahmadabad, at least all the pollution made spectacular sunsets. I was sitting with a glass of single malt whisky in my hand, in a luxury hotel room high above the shantytown on the riverbanks. At least, in the States we'd call it a shantytown. I might be giving this collection of huts and junk more credit, yet it this is where thousands lived, worked, slept, ate ... Their possessions were represented by this spot on the banks of a filthy river. Thinking about value and money brought me back to the tens of thousands this trip was costing.

"What's the value proposition?"

"Okay, first, you've been gone for over a week. There is a lot of stuff you need to deal with that I can't e-mail. Second, I know the folks in South Africa and can help brief you, and help in the negotiations anyway you need me." It had started weak, not enough to justify being chaperoned after the forced celibacy in India – the Center for Disease Control has only documented a fraction of the problems in this land of contrasts. I needed to explore my hedonistic side after the forced celibacy, and I am always reluctant to do this around those I work with.

"Keep going."

"Look. Bottom line, I know Gerald is going to be a tough nut to crack. And, he is part of the whole deal, isn't he?" She was referring to one of the bankers we needed to sell on this partnership. "Well, I can seal the deal by using my female charms on him."

"And your husband?"

"Only flirt with him, that's all."

"Okay, after the trip, prove to me that you added at least the cost of being there, if not twice. Now, how are you justifying the trip to Mauritius for you and Dave?"

"Oh, believe it or not, it's actually cheaper to go through Paris to Mauritius than straight to Johannesburg. We save almost a thousand dollars, so the resort is a wash for the weekend." I gave in. She knew too much, and she knew how to control me.

After the arrival routine, a car from the hotel met me, and I took the 45 minute drive across the island to a fancy resort in Flic-n-Flak, right on the beach. I checked in, dumped my stuff. My dirty clothes carried too much of a reminder of where I had been, so I changed into shorts and a t-shirt, slipped on a pair of sandals, and headed out to explore paradise. Uninhabited when the Dutch first discovered it and used it as a watering stop for their trade routes, the French and British fought over it for centuries until the island gained independence in the 1960s.

By 11am, I had wandered around enough and was sitting at the beach bar. It was just a little grass shack set right on the edge of the beach. The resort is mainly frequented by the French, so I had a perfect view of all the topless sunbathers. George, the bartender introduced me to the local beer – Phoenix – and I fell instantly in love. Anything was better than the Kingfisher in India, but this really was good.

"Does life get any better: sitting in the middle of the Indian Ocean, topless women all around, a perfect beach, and a cold beer in my hand?" I asked George. We bantered for a bit before he was distracted by one of the topless sunbathers ordering something in French.

While I had been talking to the bartender (one of my rules in life, always make friends with the bartender), a red headed woman had taken a seat at a table behind me. After a few minutes, we began chatting. She was medium height, had long curly red hair (ouch – a real weakness of mine), healthy sized, and had a wonderful Australian accent. She was wearing a dark blue tank top with spaghetti straps and a beach wrap.

"So, you're the American everyone has been talking about." She said, raising her beer in a mock toast.

"Excuse me?" I can be a brilliant conversationalist at times!

"It's a small island and they don't get many Americans, you're the only one on the island at the moment, so you're news." She said, continuing to hold the beer out in the toast.

"Well, and here I was trying to hide out!" I turned and offered my beer, we clinked bottles. The banter continued. I was enjoying chatting with her, and really didn't have anything else on my mind (sex had crossed my mind, but I had two of my people flying in later that day – what kind of leadership example would I be setting!).

"Don't mind, do you mate?" She said as she moved up to the bar and took the stool next to me. "This way you won't have to keep turning around to look at me."

"Not at all. I'm Mark." The cleavage had been worth the turn. When she sat down, I noticed the curve of her hips and legs – why is this part of the female anatomy so appealing to me? It was one of the most complex curves in all of nature and no two women are exactly the same here. The flow from the waist, over the hips, and moving into the legs – fascinating!

"Jane," she simply stated in the wonderful tones of the land of Oz.

When we got our second beers, she ordered a Phoenix as well. I discovered she was staying at a hotel down the beach, but had to move out today. I was memorizing the curve of her flesh as it disappeared under her top, burning into my mind, when she said she had a flight out tomorrow and was looking for a place to stay for the night.

"If it weren't for two of my employees showing up this afternoon, I'd be delighted to share my room." Would I ever! It must have gotten cold, I noticed a couple of nice bumps on her top.

We chatted some more, enjoying our beer and the beach. She was pleasant to be around and I was enjoying being around her. I felt an internal warmth on a beautiful tropical day.

"I'll make you a deal," she says, taking my hand and looking in me in the eyes with those beautiful blue-green eyes. "You share your room with me, I'll stay out of the sight of your friends, and we'll have a lot of fun."

Me, Mr. Verbosity, was suddenly lacking for words. Of course, this is one of the things I have always admired in the Aussies, they are very direct and open about their desires and needs. I kept eye contact with her (maybe I shouldn't have, but damn), took a sip of my beer, thought for about two microseconds, and said: "Deal."

Which head was full of blood and thinking then I wondered? "Both," they screamed.

That part of the pressure of meeting out of the way, we had another beer, chatted, while the bartender ran an errand for me (as I said, always make friends with the bartender). When he returned, he handed me another key to my room, which I gave to Jane. She reached over, put her hand behind my head, pulled me to her, and gave me a kiss. No friendly peck, it took no time for us to adjust, as if we'd been kissing this deeply and passionately for years. As time stopped and I enjoyed the warmth and wetness of her mouth, the duel of our tongues, I knew she was in the same realm of timelessness with me. Yet, it was still full of promises for things to come.

Very naturally, we both ended the kiss. I had my arms wrapped fully around her, and she still had on hand behind my head and the other snaked around me as well. As we broke the deep kiss, the little pecks continued, the slight smooching. We both took our time pulling back from the embrace.

Slowly, awareness of the surf, the sunshine, the people and places around us returned. The phone was ringing in the distance. George interrupted and handed me the phone saying something that I didn't hear. I put the receiver to my ear while continuing to stare into her eyes.

"So where are you?" It was Marge. Damn, my mind thought, as I reluctantly pulled away from Jane and now focused on the real world.

"Where do you think? You called me." I said, quickly returning to reality.

"The hotel switchboard said they would connect me, but wouldn't tell me where you were! Have you paid these people off, or what?"

"I'm down at the beach bar, why don't y'all come down and join me."

"I'm surprised ... right! We'll be there in about 15 minutes," Marge said and hung up. Jane gave me another deep kiss, much shorter (I think) this time. As we slowly pulled our mouths away, and locked eyes again (sorry, I like to close my eyes for this kind of kiss – actually, I can't help it) she reached down and gave me a very direct squeeze on the other head.

"Hmmm ... I think I made the right choice. I'm going to run and get my stuff, I'll be in the room in about an hour or two. Think you can find an excuse to get away from your friends and join me? I believe in finishing what I start, and we've started something here, mate." One more peck that was more than previous wives have ever considered a kiss and Jane headed out.

Now, either I was going to get screwed, or screwed by this woman. I could end up with my room being cleaned out, or I would have a marvelous girl waiting for me later! Now, to get my mind off that and on to the pressing needs of business, I ordered another beer. I watched Jane disappear down the beach. I didn't even see or feel George bring the next round.

"Shit. Middle of the Indian Ocean and he's found his Pub already," Dave said as he walked up behind me, with Marge right behind. I always wondered about those two.

The pleasantries were exchanged, drinks ordered, and the chat began. They were excited to be here, a great place to have a meeting before the discussions in SA, blah, blah, blah ... All the while, I have this picture in my head of Jane, and I was starting to respond physically. Thankfully, the bar hid my problem.

"Mark, is anything wrong? You don't seem like you're here." Marge asked me. An Assistant is as close as you can get to marriage without sex, and she knew me too well.

"Mmm – just the trip from India, trying to get my body healthy after that place. I might have picked something up." I responded, thinking about Jane's cleavage, the kiss, the way her ass moved as she walked away...

They decided they wanted to go snorkeling on the reef. George told them about a trip the hotel had, and it was leaving in 15 minutes. He called and reserved a spot for them. Always make friends with the bartender – have I said this before! He picked up the phone and spoke in the local dialect – a combination of French, Creole, Dutch, and English – with a touch of Urdu thrown in to make it complicated. An outsider had no chance of understanding.

"Good news, they have room on the next trip. The bad news is they only have two seats. One of you is staying behind," and he looked at me and winked.

"Why don't you guys go on, I'm going to rest up from India." I graciously bowed out. We agreed to hook up later for some drinks before dinner. They headed to the boat, and I headed back to the room.

"Good luck," George called out to me as I left the bar.

"I'll be back," I said in my best Arnold imitation.

I let myself into the room. The good news – all my stuff was still there. The bad news, no Jane, but it had only been about 30 minutes, so I really hadn't expected her to be there, or had I? I grabbed a cold drink from the fridge and went out on the patio to watch the ocean, and the topless women. Yes, I am a voyeur! Now, I hadn't exactly lied to Marge and Dave, a week in India does usually leave me something to deal with for the next 6 weeks! And, I really had hoped I'd picked something up!

I meditated and just let my mind go – waiting, without waiting. The image of a naked breast I was staring at faded as I went inside myself.

I had been sitting on the patio for a while; the beer in my hand was warm. I had been in that wonderful place where you are fully aware of the world at the moment, yet all the stories and voices in the mind are quiet. I heard the door to the room open, turned to see Jane coming in, carrying a couple of bags. I jumped up to help her, she saw the beer in my hand and said: "It's hot out. Have another one of those for a poor Shelia?"

I got us a couple of cold ones out the room's fridge and took one to her, as she dumped one bag in the closet and another on the empty luggage rack in the room. "Cheers!" I said as she raised her bottle to me.

I admired the way she tilted the beer back and made half of it disappear in one smooth motion. My filthy, dirty mind, that I am quite proud of, imagined something else between those lips.

She put the beer down, flowed into my arms, and wrapped her arms around me. Putting her hands on my ass, she went for a big, wet kiss. I gave back as good as I got and wrapped my arms around her. She felt just right. I ran my hands along her back, sliding my right hand down to her ass and giving her a big squeeze – a nice round, firm bun I had in my hand! My left hand dropped and confirmed that they were symmetrical and real!

She grabbed my ass in return, and guided her leg up between mine and started rubbing my balls and prick with her thigh. I used my leverage point on her ass to help her hump me with her leg. All the while, the kiss never broke. We kind of flowed, stumbled, and hopped over to the bed, then fell on it. She ended up on top and started smothering me with kisses all over my face, my neck, down the outside of my shirt, past my tummy. She caressed and kissed my hard cock through my shorts, sucking it into her mouth from the side, and running her head up and down the length.

"Mmmm, " she moaned and looked up at me, "Not only a bed for the night, but I see I am protected by a bonza weapon!" she laughed and grinned at me.

I was rubbing her legs, which rested by my head when I flipped her over and pinned her shoulders to the bed with my knees. I held her eyes a few inches from my cock, straining in my pants: "Mighty weapons protect, or harm. Your choice." I pretended to be menacing. I think my laughter might have given me away, though.

She flipped me over and sat her shorts-covered crotch on my face. "I too have a mighty weapon – a tractor beam that draws in unwary prey!" I nipped her and flipped her.

We wrestled playful like that for a while. Teasing, taunting, comparing, playing. I finally landed on her hips, reached down, and pulled her shirt off in one swift motion. As soon as her tits were bared, I dove into the cleavage for a full frontal assault, traveling the canyons, carefully licking my way up to her lair, and stole a big kiss. It took about three seconds from that point for clothes to be flying in all directions – I'm not sure who undressed whom, and I was on top of her and inside her in one move – buried to the hilt in her hot, juicy sex. How did the condom get there?

She looked at me, laughing, and said: "You know how an Aussie man does foreplay?"

"Nope." I said, not fully able to concentrate on her words at the moment, she was squeezing my cock with her pussy, and it felt grand.

"Wanna fuck?" We both start laughing, so hard, that I almost came out of her. I arched my back, pushing me in deeper, reached back and grabbed her legs, and pushed them around and up to her head. She bent her knees and stuck her ankles behind her neck.

"Oh my god!" I was in so deep, and that looked so sexy, her feet behind her head, she was fully open to me. I got up on my hands and started fucking her hard and deep. She had her first orgasm, making those wonderful sounds that only a woman can make. I didn't let up on my rhythm, but added a bit of side to side motion to the in and out. She had another orgasm, this one longer and more intense.

"Baby, you cum so good, I love it. If you cum for me real big, really hard, I'll squirt my juices in you..." That's all it took. She started panting and moaning and shrieking, and cursing and rocking and shaking – all at the same time. A week's worth of cum in my balls started to boil (I don't even masturbate in India it's so dirty). She started rocking and screaming louder, pulling the sheets out of the bed on either side, thrashing her head back and forth. I plunged in one last time and let loose.

"Ahhh, shit, here it comes, ahhhhh..." Or something like that, how would I know, there was no blood left for my head! My heart was pounding in my chest, my toes curling, my back arched, letting every bit of cum flow into her. We both slowly came back to planet Earth and collapsed into each other, becoming, for a moment, one body, one mind, one soul. After we rested for a couple of minutes, I slowly pulled out, and started to carefully take the condom off. She stopped me. Took it off herself, brought the condom to her lips and emptied the contents into her mouth.

She closed her eyes as she savored it, swirling it around in her mouth, and then swallowed the whole load in one gulp. She grabbed my head and gave me a huge kiss, sharing the taste with me.

We curled up, spoon style, with her in front – better access to playful tweak her nipples and lightly run my fingers through her pubic hair. We rested. Quiet, peaceful, sated for the moment. Away from India, away from work, and South Africa was a long way away.

Then the damn phone rang.

Marge and Dave were back and wanted to meet at the beach bar. Reluctantly, I threw on some clothes, told Janie that I would be back later.

"No worries!" as she threw me a kiss, then snuggled into the heat of the bed.

I met my associates at the bar and they talked about their day, I talked a bit about the trip to India and the success I'd had in negotiations with the banks there. In the middle of our conversation, Jane, sweet Janie, walked up to the bar, sat on the other side so I could see her. She was wearing one of my dress shirts, with most of the buttons undone. Every now and then, I could see her nipples flash. I think she ordered a drink.

Dave followed my eyes and couldn't keep his eyes off her either. Marge was talking about something – I have no idea what was coming out of her mouth. George almost doubled over with laughter. I was trying to make polite sounds back to Marge, at what appeared like appropriate times. She was into her third drink (she rarely has more than two), so she didn't notice that Dave and I were thoroughly distracted. I was surprised neither Dave nor Marge hadn't noticed the monogram on the shirt.

Marge got up to go to the ladies room. Dave looked at me, nodded over towards Janie, and said: "Wouldn't you like to have that in your bed tonight?" George dropped the glass he was mixing a drink in and nearly doubled over.

"No expectations, no disappointments," was the only witty thing I could think of. A quiet, filled with occasional smirks from behind the bar, descended. Marge returned a few minutes later and started in on her fourth drink, a personal record, I do believe.

The sun was starting to go down, and I somehow remembered my camera. Forgetting Janie for a moment, I excused myself and walked down to the beach. The first shot I took was down the beach, the sun silhouetting the clouds. The sun dropped through the cloud cover, and I noticed it was going to go between two of the grass-roofed beach umbrellas, so I got in position, not wanting it to be symmetric, and caught the sun saying goodbye across the water. When I looked at the trip pics later, I noticed a lone person in that shot, wearing my shirt.

I went back to the bar and rejoined my friends; Janie had a wicked smile on her face. Looking over at Dave, I think he thought it was for him! Maybe it was! He got up to go to the bathroom, and while he was gone, Janie reached into her blouse and pulled a tit out for me to see and admire. I spilled beer down my front!

"Mark, are you okay?" Marge managed despite her apparent condition.

"Sure, just a little tired after the week in India," I said. Somewhat true, and, when added to it the fucking earlier, I was! "I'm going to skip dinner, turn in a bit early tonight, and maybe sleep late in the morning. I hate to miss paradise, but I need to be well rested for the negotiations on Monday." I stretched into a great big yawn – way too real as the week and the jet lag hit.

"Dave and I will probably go exploring the island in the morning. We'll call you around lunch time." Marge said.

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