Continuation of Her mischievous plan.
While eating the food delivered by Steve, I analyzed the seductive pictures he took of me with my phone. Then I scrolled back to the nude selfies I took earlier, before room service arrived.
My plan was to send two very specific images to my guy who was busy golfing with his business associates. I wanted to torment and tease him, to remind him what’s waiting for him back in the room.
I spent some time scrutinizing the various angles of all my curves.
Finally, I chose two images to send to his phone in chronological order. The first one would hopefully evoke memories of how he left me this morning: naked, alone and in the very bed we shared last night.
The second one I selected was taken by Steve, the room service delivery guy. I had coaxed him to agree to take pictures of me posing on the bed with legs spread apart and breasts spilling out over top of my nighty.
The picture Steve took was to hopefully provoke my golfing man into all sorts of perplexing rationalizations.
First, I imagined he would ask himself why I defied him by not remaining naked. Then, he would probably wonder how I managed to get that shot from such a peculiar angle.
Where in the room did she place the phone, he might wonder. And how long did she set up the timer to allow herself enough time to get into that position on the bed?
I could almost picture him standing off to the side in some shady spot on the golf course, staring at his phone, pondering things. And perhaps adjusting his pants a little. This is what men do when they get aroused and stiff, I smiled to myself. They adjust themselves.
Thinking about this, I felt myself getting wet. I shifted slightly on the chair where I sat to eat my lunch. I was sticking to it a little. Looking down at the wet spot I created, I was relieved to see the chair was not made of cloth. It was leather, maybe. Or imitation leather.
I’ll wipe it later, I thought as I moved myself back onto the bed and leaned against the propped pillows.
My thoughts went back to Steve, the young man who was so helpful earlier. I wondered how the rest of his day would go today, and whether or not he will be able to keep our secret. I also wondered if he had hoped things would progress a little further than they did while he was here, with me. After all, he did get a bit of an eyeful.
Men are so easy, I generalized. Teasing a member of the hotel staff was more fun than I thought it would be.
The whole scenario left me all out of sorts now.
Recalling how Steve snapped the photos of me posing on the bed, I let my mind wander.
What if I had let him touch me? I reflected. What if I had let him place his hand on my pussy, caressing my lips, separating them with his fingers?
What if I allowed him to spread the moisture around?
I visualized opening my legs for this man, letting him insert his fingers, arousing me as he played and explored.
I squirmed around the bed a little as I fantasized.
What if I had taken some photos while Steve was busy with me?
I smirked at the possibilities this wicked thought left me to ponder.
With the memory of Steve’s photo session still fresh in my mind I could feel myself getting more aroused. That familiar ache inside my core moved to the front and center of my mind, and I felt a another trickle dribble along my legs.
More wet spots.
I wasn’t sure how long I could hold out, so I placed my phone on the bedside table beside me. I leaned back more comfortably, spread my legs slightly, closed my eyes and sighed.
Gingerly, I let my fingers rub along the smooth shaved skin of my pussy. Slowly, I inserted them in between my labia, and up around the hood covering my most sensitive spot. As I slid my fingers toward my opening, I bit my lip and hesitated.
I really wanted some relief, I realized, but first, I needed to chastise my golf guy for leaving me alone.
None of this would have happened if he hadn’t abandoned me, I justified to myself.
Besides, denial is part of the fun, I thought next, although I didn’t know why I should hold out. It’s not like I owe him any denial here…
Conflicted, I moved my hand away from my achy, leaky pussy. I longed for some real relief, delivered by hands which were not my own. Or, even better, by a tongue.
“I’m very good,” he had told me well before I ever got the chance to experience it in person.
I sighed again and wondered how long it would be until his head was back between my thighs.
He spoiled me, I thought and sat on my hands.
After a little more daydreaming, I picked up my phone and chose a selfie to send to my guy. I picked the nude one where I lay on the bed face down, propped up on my elbows. It showcased the curves of my breasts as well as the rounded contours of my ass, which would very likely tantalize and torment him.
He likes it from behind, I knew. He’s obsessed with my ass.
This is the one, I told myself, selected the image and clicked send before I changed my mind.
Then, I waited.
To be continued…