Ciana Rose's Erotic Stories

 

Starry Night

By Northern Light

All Rights Reserved

 

 

Scott knew airport security had tightened, but he had not expected he would be required to turn on or take apart every blasted piece of electronics in his carry-on laptop, dictation recorder, cell phones (both of them), Discman, Palm Pilot...

The holstered guards at the Los Angeles airport were pleasant if not friendly, cutting him just a little slack for his attitude. His cooperation included a growl after the 18-hour, teething-baby flight from Auckland, met in the smoggy skies over L.A. by a 40-minute holding pattern, then a connection delayed four hours.

Whiskered and as fatigued as he had ever felt, here he was at the front desk of the inn at nearly 2 a.m., hoping beyond hope his secretary has assured his reservation with his American Express.

"Mr. Cole, it is a pleasure to see you. We had all but given up hope."

Scott sighed, both in relief and exhaustion.

"Why thank you... Jenny," he said quietly, taking her name from the brass nameplate pinned over her left breast. "I had about given up hope, too."

"Rough flight?"

"Flights, plural," he corrected her gently, signing the register. "Please, tell me my room has a big tub."

"Only big enough for two," she said, smiling warmly. "I think you will find your room quite to your liking."

He had long wanted to visit the Green Mountains of New England, and this had seemed like the ideal time. Now he was glad he had booked a few autumn days, knowing it would take him that long, at least, to shake out the cobwebs of jet-lag. With any luck, he would even have a suitcase by then.

"Big enough for two..." he repeated. "I like it already."

"Sorry there's no one to take your bags. We expected you hours ago," she said, her hand brushing his as she placed the key in his palm. "But call me at the desk if there is anything I can do to help you get settled."

"I will, Jenny, and thank you," Scott said, pushing that thought out of his jet-lagged mind.

She was right: the room, a suite, really, WAS to his liking, thoughtfully appointed with all the comforts of home, and then some. The soft grays and dusty roses were easy on his eyes, the small lamps throwing a soothing glow. But it was the king-size bed and the colossal bathroom that most caught his eye, having lived in a tiny hotel room the past month.

The bed was turned down, a Belgian chocolate placed thoughtfully on the pillow. He had never seen a shower this big, and the tub, well, it was gigantic, something he hoped to explore before his stay was complete.

The smell of bath foam was filling the room as Scott lifted the watch off his wrist. It might have been past 2 a.m., but his body told him it was 6 at night, and as tired as he felt, he was not yet ready for sleep. He stepped out of his clothes, the casual, loose wear of a long flight, and tossed them onto the wingback.

He moved into the bathroom, naked, and stepped in front of the massive mirror behind the vanity, closing the door slightly behind him. He caught his reflection again, a ceiling-to-floor mirror on a tiled wall.

Scott was not a young man, but he still had good, lean tone, testament to his exercise regime no matter the demands on his time. There was a fine shred of muscle at his sinewy shoulders, his biceps and triceps were softly cut, and he maintained a nice spread of pectoral muscle and a hint of abdominal definition. No beer belly here, unlike many of his colleagues at work -- sit-ups and pushups never went out of style. His legs and ass were firm and strong from running roads or hotel treadmills, and from taking the stairs instead of the elevator.

He turned to the tub and twisted the taps off, lifting one leg, then the other, over the edge into the steaming water. He took little time in settling back, his feet not remotely close to reaching the other end, and stroked the generous bubbles over his chest and down his arms, his head leaning back and eyes blinking in slow-motion.

"To help you get settled..." Scott said, repeating Jenny's parting words in a whisper, remembering her scent, recalling her gray-eyed smile and the soft brown hair that tumbled to her shoulders.

She filled his mind as his hand slipped down his stomach to his groin, and the water soon began to ripple. He was almost surprised to see himself swelling in his loose fist, and he began to stroke, a little absently. Scott didn't' t remember the last time he'd been with a woman; he and his left hand were altogether too well acquainted for his liking.

But now he saw Jenny, and nothing else -- her warm, welcoming smile; the softness of her hand when she placed the key in his; the way she so deliciously filled her cashmere sweater. His energies drained to below his waist, and he gently eased himself up in the tub, his purple cockhead, now bloated and spongy, breaking the surface of the water. His grip tightened, and his shaft pistoned through his fist, the heel of his hand splashing down onto his balls with each demanding stroke. He would not deny their need for relief.

Scott's head fell back, then snapped forward as he gasped for the air he could not inhale. A voice cried out, one he did not even recognize as his own, as the first creamy white spurt pulsed up, arcing to his chest. Another, then another and another as he thrashed in the tub with each weakening spasm. His eyes blinked open as he slumped back, and the last thing he saw was his spent cock, softening as he milked it, the last sticky seed dribbling over the head and dripping into the bubbles that were dissolving by the minute.

"Jenny," he whispered. "Jenny..."

 

* * *

 

It was all Scott could do to crawl off to bed, finally, his body losing the modest fight to slumber. A small night-light was all that broke the darkness in this marvelous room. It had been hours since he had last eaten, some kind of mystery-meat at 30,000 feet, halfway across the continent, and it was with great comfort that he picked up the small chocolate truffle the inn had placed on his pillow.

It was like silk on his tongue; he did not chew, but let the too-many calories of the morsel dissolve in his mouth, and he remembered nothing else for nearly 8 hours, awakening to a gentle knocking on his door.

"Be right with you," he called groggily, pulling back the covers. Eleven-fifty, according to the digital clock. Noon, not midnight, he thought, a hint of daylight slicing through the curtains.

Scott pulled on inn-monogrammed robe as he shuffled toward the door.

"Mr. Cole?"

He heard Jenny's voice.

"Jenny?" he replied, turning the knob and pulling the heavy wooden door ajar. "My, what a pleasant surprise."

"As I said last night: anything I can do to help you get settled," she said, smiling. She stood behind a small cart of croissants, orange juice, fragrant brioches and fresh-brewed coffee.

"My word... you run room-service, too?" he asked, recalling her image he had embraced in the bath. "And whom did you offend to draw the graveyard shift?"

She was a lovely vision in a pair of fashionable navy slacks and her snug-fitting, flattering cashmere sweater. Her nameplate gave him an excuse to glance at her bosom; the brass bore the same inn monogram as he wore on his robe, a thick terrycloth that thankfully concealed his growing arousal. She had not left his thoughts of the night before.

"I love working overnight," Jenny said as Scott opened the door wider, beckoning her inside. "It is less busy, more peaceful. Some nights, I will walk down to the river and try to count the stars. It is beautiful beyond words."

"I would love to see it for myself," Scott said, his eyes following her into the suite. He looked forward to exploring his surroundings more fully today, having been nearly comatose last night.

"Sleep well?" she asked.

"I imagine so," he replied. He did not remember how he even got into bed.

"Excellent. Relax today, and you'll soon be good as new."

"This is incredibly nice of you," he said, motioning to the exquisite spread she had wheeled in. "Did I, um, order this last night?"

"No... but I had a feeling, seeing you last night, that you might need a little morning pick-me-up. When we had not heard you call the front desk by 11:30, I decided to bring this before I left."

"Your day is done? The disappointment was clear in his voice.

"And I am off for three days," she said, brightly. "I work four 10-hour shifts."

"Damn," Scott said aloud, the word outracing his manners. "I was hoping you might show me those stars you try to count. Four eyes can count twice the stars of two."

Jenny tossed her head gently, her brown hair waving loose and thick around her shoulders.

"I would love to," she replied, even to her own surprise.

"Now... sit," she said, pushing a chair toward his cart. "And eat. I'll be back tonight at 8. Meet me in the lounge? And dress warm. It's cold up here in the mountains."

She draped a linen napkin in his lap and smiled again as she turned for the door.

"Bon appetit, Mr. Cole."

"Scott," he corrected her.

"Yes... Scott," she repeated, laughing softly. "Relax.. rest... and I will see you tonight."

"Thank you, Jenny," he said. "You have made me feel very welcome already."

He did not know that the rich brioche crumbling between his lips would not be the sweetest thing he would taste this day.

 

* * *

 

Scott spent a good part of the day roaming the grounds of the inn, the dramatic foliage of New England autumn still no match for his indelible vision of Jenny.

He longed for female companionship, his career having taken him through endless airports and faceless hotels. At this inn, as he sat by himself to a wonderful dinner, he felt at perfect ease, and plenty of that had to do with Jenny. Even in the few moments he had spent in her company, he had sensed a life in himself he thought had long ago deserted him forever. He took his espresso to the lounge and settled in a huge chair near the fire.

"Scott... hello!"

She had entered the lounge through a side door, and he spun in his chair at the sound of her voice.

"Jenny, hi. And thank you for choosing to spend a night off with me."

If he thought she had been a vision in her slacks and cashmere sweater at noon, he was nearly overwhelmed by what stood before him now. Her blue-gray eyes almost danced beneath the hair she had pulled up and tied back. She wore just a hint of makeup, an unnecessary accessory given her splendid complexion and high cheekbones, and the faintest suggestion of perfume. In snug jeans, ankle-high boots, a cotton V-neck sweater and a supple leather jacket, she was stunning.

"You look lovely," he said in grand understatement, rising to his feet.

"Why, thank you," she replied, a blush rising.

Scott moved nearer Jenny and extended both his hands. She took them in hers.

"So," she said, "ready go count some stars?"

"Lead the way," he said, slipping to her side and not releasing one of her hands.

They walked into the spectacular night, clear and cold, and headed down the path to the lake. It was a moonless sky, which defined even more clearly the million stars they would never count.

"My God, this is incredible," Scott said, for the first time in as long as he could remember looking up not to debate whether he needed an umbrella for work. "I had heard stories about the country sky, but I had no clue."

"Pretty, huh?" Jenny said, slipping her arm in his as they neared the water's edge and settled onto a thick wooden bench. They were alone here, and might as well have been alone in the world. "I never get tired of the sky here, especially on a clear night."

She could not place why she felt so at ease with Scott. It was as though they had met in another time, in another place. But she did not preoccupy her thoughts with this; the moment was too precious to share with anything but her happiness.

Scott slipped his arm around Jenny's shoulder and eased her toward him. It felt the most natural thing in the world to do, no matter that they barely knew each other. He too was not wasting any time on the study of chemistry. All he knew was that this wonderful formula felt right.

He turned his head toward her, inhaling the soft scent of her hair, and kissed her gently on the forehead. Then together they looked up into milky, star-speckled night, the mighty Orion dominating the southern sky, the dog-star Sirius chasing him, nipping at grand warrior's heel as it has done since almost the dawn of time.

"Jenny, thank you... for being here tonight," Scott said, searching for words. "I figured I could use a few days here to decompress after a very hard stretch at work. I just never imagined I would find... you."

"Neither did I, Scott," she said, snuggling closer into his worn leather bomber, feigning a need to feel his warmth.

He loved the feel of her leather jacket in his hand... the way her delicate scent blended with the smell of pine cones. He pulled her closer, feeling both a chill and a rush of heat in his body.

"I give up," Scott said.

"Give up on what?" she replied, looking up at him.

"I cannot count that high," he said, nodding at the stars.

She smiled, and her eyes locked on his, their faces moving inexorably closer. She could feel his heat now, and then their lips met, softly. At first they barely moved, electrified by the sensation, then eased into the kiss, gently. The taste of her lips was heavenly, and he held her head with both hands, his thumbs stroking her cheeks.

For long minutes they kissed, and then with a mutual need unspoken they rose from the bench and moved back up the path toward the inn.

"No, this way," Jenny said, redirecting Scott away from the main entrance and down a smaller path. "I know another way in, not past the front desk."

He squeezed her hand, admiring her smile that out-sparkled anything in this magnificent night sky.

 

* * *

 

His suite might have been Jenny's favorite, not that she had ever stayed a night in it. But there was something about its color scheme that she loved, and never more so than now, when the walls flickered with the shadows of the fire Scott was stoking to warm them.

He remembered her words of the previous night -- that the tub was big enough for two -- as he excused himself to draw a bath. He combed his hair with his fingers, thinking he smelled of the great outdoors as he lit four enormous candles, their light a golden glow in this large room.

Scott returned to join Jenny and he pulled her close, wrapping her tight, softly kissing her cool, bare neck. She sighed, contentedly, and he felt her go limp in his arms as he reached behind her and took two handfuls of wool and pulled gently upward, her arms stretching over her head to allow the sweater to lift free.

She was wearing an exquisite, cream camisole, sheer to the point of being nearly invisible in this firelight. It clung like a second skin to her lean body, her small nipples generously erect, aroused either by the cold or, more likely, by the eyes of the man who just gasped aloud before he could swallow his reaction.

Jenny took a half-step back, toward the crackling fire.

"You like it?"

Scott nodded, wondering who had just filled his mouth with cotton.

"My God, yes," he managed finally, drinking in the view of this lovely woman. It was an incredible look: a delicate camisole disappearing into her faded jeans, which guided her calves into a pair of leather boots.

He quickly closed the distance that separated them and kissed Jenny again, more urgently. Her tongue eagerly met his as his hands traced over her silky back and down to squeeze her firm buttocks. His earlier gasp proved contagious.

Wordlessly he knelt at her feet and held out his hand. Jenny gripped his shoulder for balance and lifted one leg, placing her boot in his palm. Scott drew open the lace and removed one, then the other, and moved closer, unbuckling the thin belt at her waist. As he did he leaned in and kissed her abdomen, through the denim, popping the button and drawing down the zipper. Jenny wriggled her hips, the jeans slowly moving down her body.

The revelation sucked the breath out of Scott's lungs. Jenny wasn't wearing a camisole, but in fact a body-stocking. She smiled down at him and tousled his hair as she stepped out of her jeans.

He slumped back onto his haunches, in perfect shock.

"Jenny, I... I..." Scott stammered.

"YOU are overdressed," she said in a gentle scold, now kneeling with him, untying her hair and shaking it loose.

She helped him out of his wool sweater and encouraged him to his feet, unbuttoning his jeans and sliding them over his strong thighs and calves. He was wearing blood-red boxers, wide-legged silk that was helpless to contain the thick fullness growing within.

Jenny stood with him, and when she moved in close she felt his hardening heat pressing into her body. Scott reached around behind her, between her thighs, and opened the tiny snap that protected her modesty, lifting the front panel free. Her scent was intoxicating, and when he looked down he saw her pussy, shaved perfectly bare but for a tiny soft brown V. Any breath he had left took its leave.

"Let us explore this theory of yours, and see if this tub is big enough for two," he said, finally, not without effort. He peeled the body-stocking from Jenny's body and drew it to his face, inhaling deeply, as she tugged his boxers to his ankles. His cock bounced gratefully free, a bead of moisture at the tip of the swollen head lightly painting just above her navel.

Scott placed his hand on her smooth behind, kissed her between her shoulder blades and ushered her toward the bathroom, four enormous candles flickering their welcome.

 

* * *

 

 

"You lied," he whispered into her ear, pulling her back between his outstretched legs, their bodies nearly lost in a sea of suds. "This tub is big enough for THREE."

Jenny laughed softly as Scott's hands enveloped her breasts, kneading softly, his head falling gently to her neck. He nibbled her left earlobe.

She half turned to him and smiled, her lips meeting his again as she rolled to face him. She kissed the tip of his chin, then the light, wet hair that stuck to his chest.

"Scott," she said, barely above a whisper.

He heard his name as an invitation, his hands spreading over the cheeks of her ass, easing her higher on his body as she pulled her knees up, on either side of his hips. He felt the involuntary twitch of his cock, swollen thick and hard, and lifted her gently as she reached into the foam, taking hold of him, two slender fingers dipping lower to caress his full balls made loose by the steaming bath.

Scott leaned into Jenny's bosom, burying his face between her soft breasts. His tongue slid through his lips and traced a languid path around her right areola, small and puckered, her distended nipple pushing up a half-inch to be devoured by his needy mouth. Her moan went unheard, lost in his own.

Jenny stroked Scott with a tender hand, his erection slick in the bath. She adored the feel of her breast in his mouth and leaned in to him, feeding him, and he consumed her hungrily, his teeth so very gently nipping her as he licked, kissed, suckled.

The sudden sensation of himself nuzzling at her pussy startled him, so absorbed was he at her breasts. Jenny was positioned just above him now, her perfect skin glistening in the candlelight, and she had frozen like a statue, her turgid lips kissing just the tip of his cock. She looked at him blissfully, and then let gravity take its course.

They gasped together as she sunk down onto him, her velvet folds enveloping him tight and wet and soft, her ass finally settling onto his thighs. She ground her hips gently, feeling him fill her completely, her fingernails lightly scratching his pectorals.

Scott's head slumped back, his eyes squeezing shut as Jenny flattened her palms on his broad chest and pushed slowly upward until their bodies were almost uncoupled. She eased herself back down again, stopping once more.

"Oh my God, Jenny," Scott moaned up at her.

Her breathing was deep and unsteady, her angle shifting ever so subtly to enrich her pleasure. She was in complete control and yet in no control at all, and with every stroke, each one just a little faster, the ridge of his cockhead grazed her hardened clitoris, an electric shock tingling her every nerve.

Jenny was speaking not in words now, but in a low, throaty mumble. The water sloshed higher on the walls of this huge tub, like the waves of pleasure that crashed over them. She wasn't expecting to be swept out to sea so quickly, the sensation of their union, the heat of this room and the splendor of this night intersecting with ungodly beauty.

She groaned with a final thrust down, Scott's hands cupping her breasts, pinching her tender nipples. And then she saw more stars than she could count in a hundred lifetimes, her sky exploding in a brilliant flash of color as her body tightened around him like a vise. Scott was right with her, in perfect unison, feeling a release from his very depths, yielding with a fury he never before knew. He felt an almost violent surge and he slammed forward, feeling the high voltage of every throb, wrapping Jenny so hard in his arms that her ribs nearly splintered in his embrace.

They howled into the candlelit night, bucking and rocking, two orgasms detonating with the power of a dozen.

It was many long minutes before either spoke, Jenny laying full length atop Scott, his fingers massaging every inch of her skin that was within his reach. He slipped from within her, and she met his moan with one halting word of her own.

"Scott..." she began. It was her turn to struggle for words.

"Shhh," he said, stroking her hair. "Tell me in the morning, baby, because you are going nowhere tonight."

He would hear no protest.

"I am not letting you go, Jenny," he said, kissing her eyelids shut. "Not now. Not ever."

 

 

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