Scat and Pee in the UK hotel

I arrived at the hotel at about 6 PM and signed in leaving my bill open for food and drink. In spite of feeling jaded from a busy day and a long drive I couldn’t help but notice how attractive the hotel receptionist was. She had very short hair (almost cropped), large breasts and a lace pattern bra clearly visible through her standard issue white blouse. The lacy bra seemed slightly at odds with the rest of her appearance which was almost butch. She was not my “type” (if I have one) as large breasts are not really my thing and I usually rely on the “more than a handful is a waste” theory. However there was something about her that caught my attention even if I couldn’t put my finger on it at the time.

I dumped my bags and grabbed a bite to eat at the hotel’s restaurant (more for refuelling than enjoyment as the food wasn’t particularly good and way over-priced). I also drank a couple of glasses of wine to ease down from my day before returning to my room with a second bottle of wine for comfort. Another lonely evening at yet another hotel seemed in store.

I had just started running a bath when I noticed a piece of paper (my meal bill) being slipped under the door. In a moment of spontaneous bravery, probably as a result of the few glasses of wine I’d drunk, I opened the door and said to the receptionist’s back, “Would you like to come in for a glass of wine when you’ve finished delivering those?”

She stopped, turned slowly around and cocked her head to one side. Then she smiled and said, “I’ll think about it, it depends how busy it is downstairs.”

“Oh, OK”, I said, suddenly feeling foolish.

Some minutes later there was a knock on the door.

“Hello, you came after all”, I said.

“Yup”, she replied.

She walked in past me and looked about the room as though she’d not seen a hotel room before. She looked at my portable computer on the desk (the same one I’m writing this on), at the bottle of wine and ashtray next to it and at the breathy action of the tacky soft porn film showing on the television. Then she looked at me. Fuck, fuck, fuck, I thought, why didn’t I turn off the television or change the channel before opening the door?

“Nothing happening downstairs then?” I asked for something to say.

She continued to look at me, almost staring, but after a moment her face relaxed a bit and she said, “I’ve got a bleeper and the night porter will page me if he needs to. By the way, the door’s still open”

“Yes, yes, so it is” I said, closing it, “would you like a glass of wine?”

“I’m not allowed to drink while I’m on call but I wouldn’t mind a cigarette”

She was between the desk and me and I’d have had to push past her to get to them. “Err, help yourself”, I said waving my hand towards the cigarettes.

She walked over to the desk and having lit a cigarette looked more closely at the computer’s screen, “alt.sex.stories” she guffawed.

Oh shit, I thought, this is not going well. “It helps to pass the time when, you know, you’re away from home”, I mumbled.

“That’s OK, I glance at news groups myself sometimes when, you know, I’m at home”, she mimicked me, “do you mind if I use your bathroom?”

“Go ahead”

She went into the bathroom and closed the door, I heard the bath water stop running. I switched off the television and shut down the computer before, after a moment’s hesitation, I chose to sit in the chair rather than on the couch.

A few minutes later she reappeared. There had been no flush of the toilet.

“Your bath was about to overflow. You know you’re meant to use the overhead light so that the fan runs? Otherwise the condensation causes untold troubles.”

“Yeah? Well if they made the damn things run quietly I wouldn’t mind”

She sat down on the couch opposite me and slipped off her shoes. “Dreadful things” she said, “part of the uniform.”

I noticed that she was no longer wearing a bra. Her small dark nipples were clearly visible through the thin material of her white shirt.

“Does that go for the shirt too?”

She glanced down at it, surely she could see that her nipples were showing through it too?

“Yep, basically everything you can see is official issue”, she paused, “except the stockings.” As she said this she lifted the hem of her longish skirt up to just above her knees. I ducked my head a little from where I was sitting slouched in the chair opposite her to see if I could see further up her thighs but she raised her eyebrows and flipped the skirt back down again.

“Stockings? Hmmmn. I had you down as a tights girl myself”

She pulled a face, “Unhygienic things, tights, make you all sweaty, especially when you have to sit on a sticky plastic chair all day, like I have to”

After a little more desultory chat, I went into the bathroom myself to pee. The toilet had not been used so presumably she’d just taken off her bra. More interestingly, where was the bra? She had no pockets in her uniform skirt that might accommodate it.

When I came out I could not restrain myself from asking, “Umm, do you mind if I ask a question about something that’s puzzling me?”

“Go ahead”

“Its sort of personal, though ..”

She grinned, “I might not answer but feel free to ask”

“What have you done with your bra?” I blurted out.

She burst out laughing, “I took it off. I hate wearing a bra but these work shirts are so see through that I have too. And the one I was wearing was quite an itchy lace one.”

“I know you took it off, I can see that!” I replied, “I was wondering what you’d done with it. It’s not in the bathroom that I can see and you haven’t got a bag or any pockets in your skirt.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know where it is?” she teased.

“Of course,” I said a little testily, “I wouldn’t have asked otherwise, would I?” It seemed as though she was going to turn out to be a silly tease. Conversation I could have enjoyed with her, companionable watching of television wouldn’t have been bad, but being at the receiving end of pointless teasing wasn’t my idea of fun. I said so.

“My, my” she said, “we are in a mood.”

We sat in silence for a few minutes pretending to watch the television. I was about to tell her I had some work to do when she laughed and said, “look”. I looked at her, she was pointing at her chest, “that talk has interested my nipples.”

She spoke of her nipples as though they belonged to a third party. It was true that her nipples were erect. As I looked she raised a hand and touched one of her nipples, she seemed absorbed in what she was doing leaving me free to gaze on unabashed.

After a moment or two she raised her head and said, “Would you like to touch them too? I think they’d like that.”

I moved from the chair I was sitting in across to the couch and sat down next to her. I touched her nipples in turn.

Feeling more confidant now I said, “I’d like to kiss your nipples too, but it would make your shirt damp.”

“You could always unbutton it first.”

She stood up, walked the few steps across to the bed and lay down in the middle of it on her back. I followed and sat down next to her. One by one I undid the buttons of her shirt down to where it was tucked into her skirt but did not move apart the two pieces of fabric.

She was smiling at me as I then peeled aside first one panel of cloth and then the other exposing her breasts. I bent my head and kissed her nipples, lightly at first and then more firmly, pressing and rolling the erect flesh with my lips and tongue.

“Mmmmm”, she sighed, “that’s nice. But your shirt is still buttoned. Fairs fair.”

She sat up and pushed me so that I was lying on my back and unbuttoned my shirt. She then kissed my nipples and ran her tongue down the centre of my chest and stomach, pausing at my navel.

“I’d never have guessed you were so slim with your shirt on.”

“Am I too skinny for you?”

“No, I like it, its just that with your shirt on you might have had a little belly or a concave chest.”

She reached down and undid the top button of my jeans.

“Hang on,” I said, “that’s not fair. I don’t wear underwear and you’ve got loads of clothes on still.”

“Who said I’m wearing underwear?” she teased, “The way I see it things are pari passu, we each have an unbuttoned shirt, you’re wearing a pair of jeans, I’m wearing a skirt, you have a pair of socks on and I have a pair of stockings.”

“Aha,” I retorted, “what about the missing bra?”

“Well I’m not actually wearing that, so it doesn’t count.”

She reached for the top button of my jeans again and I dove for the button on her skirt, “You first!” she cried pushing my hand away, “I was first to have my shirt unbuttoned!”

“Don’t care”, I replied and we began wrestling with each other till we found ourselves face to face, our hands somehow trapped between and under our bodies. We were both open mouthed and panting a little and giggling. I stuck out my tongue like a child and pushed it into her mouth, she bit it playfully and made a sound that might have been “Yuk” if she hadn’t had my tongue in her mouth. We kissed.

“I know”, she said, “we can take of our clothes together. Come on”

She rolled away from me so that her arms were free and grabbed my hand, pulling me to my feet and positioned us so that we were both standing in front of the large mirror that covered most of the wall near the foot of the bed (I think hotels provide such mirrors in order to make their rooms seem bigger).

“Ready? Undo your buttons so that you can drop your trousers on the count of three”, she instructed as she unzipped her skirt.

We stood looking at each other’s reflections in the mirror, our hands at the waistbands of our respective garments.

“One,” she counted, “two, three!” we said together and bent at the waist pushing our clothing down to our ankles while looking up into the reflected image of the other. We paused there for a moment, the hanging cloth of our shirts and our bent torsos covering our groins.

“You didn’t say anything about standing up afterwards”, I noted.

“Chicken”, she said and started counting again, “one, two, three!”

We both stood up and I let out a shout of laughter, for tucked into the tops of her hold-up stockings was her bra, the cups dangling incongruously between her thighs, she started laughing too.

When I regained my breath I asked, “Where on earth did you learn that trick?”

“I just invented it as far as I know”, she replied.

We turned to face each other and embraced and kissed, my erection trapped between our bodies. She leant back in my arms and looked at our reflection in the mirror.

“Have you heard of Henry Green?” she asked.

“Eh?”

“Henry Green, he was an author earlier this century.”

“So?”

“Well there’s this scene in one of his books where a woman tells her boyfriend he doesn’t love her and he is disgusting because he looks at their reflection when he kisses her ear or something. Never mind the fact that she noticed him doing it because she was looking in the mirror too!”

I pulled her towards me again and kissed her, looking sideways at our reflected kissing.

“She was right”, I said, “it is disgusting, but I like it”

I felt her tilt her hips upwards and the lips of her cunt grasp at the shaft of my cock. We looked down between our bodies where the head of my cock peeped out above her short trimmed pubic hair. She was almost as tall as I was (I am almost exactly 6ft tall) but her legs were longer so that when she stood up on her toes and I dipped my knees a little my cock slipped down between her legs and with a another tilt of her hips and a shove from me slipped out behind her. She tried to turn us so that her back was towards the mirror and we almost fell over in the tangle of clothing about our ankles, careful not to dislodge me from between her legs we stepped out of them and kicked them aside.

With her back now facing the mirror and looking over her shoulder to where my dick was visible between the top of her thighs she bent forwards at the waist and relaxed her buttocks so that it slipped up between them. Thus trapped we began to move together until I suddenly thought about condoms, would this be as far as we got without them?

“Ahem,” I said, “I don’t have any condoms”

She stopped moving against me and lent back to look into my eyes.

“Neither do I”, she said and resumed her movements, smiling at me.

“But . what about . you know .” I began.

“I’m on the pill” she said and licked her lips in an exaggerated way.

“But what about, you know, diseases and stuff”

“Have you got AIDS or something?” she asked.

“No”

“Well neither have I”

She kissed me on the end of my nose as if to say, “well that settles that then”, and tried playfully to insert her tongue into one of my nostrils. I twisted backwards laughing in an attempt to get out of reach and we tumbled, seemingly in slow motion onto the bed. She fell on top of where I lay with my feet still on the ground, half on and half off the bed.

She propped herself up on her elbows and with a serious look on her face said, “you’re nice.”

“Now what have I done?”, I asked.

“It was nice of you to ask . about protection”, she responded.

Feeling like a thoroughly modern man I tried to compose my face into a grave expression instead of the shit-eating grin that wanted to appear while trying to think of something to say. It didn’t work because she started laughing and stood up, her legs astride mine, causing my prick to slap against my stomach where it bobbed about, uncertain at its release from its warm embrace between her thighs.

“Shift up, mate”, she said and slapped my thigh. I moved further up the bed and she followed, her knees on either side of my legs until she was positioned above my groin. She lifted my penis in her hand and kneeling upright placed it at the entrance to her vagina. She waggled it about a bit so that the tip was glistening with her moisture and then, still holding it, slipped the head inside her.

I tucked my hands behind my head, and said, “aren’t you meant to sigh when you do that”

“Fuck off”, she said and dropped quite violently onto me pushing me all the way up inside her.

In silence, apart from the squishing and slapping noises that our bodies made, we made love, her still kneeling upright, my one hand caressing her breasts and nipples and the other her clit. As her thigh muscles became tired she leant forward to lie on my chest and I clasped her buttocks, holding her still above me and began to thrust more vigorously into her. One of my fingers strayed to her anus and after circling it and stimulating it I pushed in first the tip, and then the rest of the finger to where I could feel myself moving inside her. Sweat formed a slippery film between our bodies as I approached my orgasm and – without being too concerned about it (there are some limits to being a modern man) – hoped she was nearing hers too.

Without warning she pushed her hands against my chest, heaved herself upright and sat firmly on me so that I couldn’t move inside her and trapping my hands beneath her. Wiping a bead of sweat from between her breasts and sticking a finger into my mouth, she said, “slow down, sailor, we’ve got all night, you know.”

“Sorry”, I said, “I should have been more considerate of you.”

“Oh its not that, I was about to come too, I just don’t see the point in getting it over with quickly. Come on, we could do with a clean up, in a manner of speaking, and I need a pee.”

She climbed off me and I followed her into the bathroom.

“Get in,” she grinned, “no point in wasting all that water.”

I climbed into the bath and she followed. Kneeling, she positioned me inside her once more and went through the motions of washing her own torso and mine. But that didn’t really seem to be the point as she rode backwards and forwards on me stimulating her clit.

As this rocking became more violent she closed her eyes and abandoned the pretence of washing. Water slopped onto the floor from the over full bath.

“So much for the condensation problems”, I observed.

She reached behind her and pulled out the plug so that the water began to drain away. Holding onto the handles on each side of the bath she began to move faster on top of me, her face almost frowning as she concentrated on what she was doing, which was to jerk her hips forwards and back, only occasionally rising and falling to give me more stimulation.

“Umm, haven’t you let out enough water now?” I asked, in answer she opened her eyes and placed a finger on my lips, “shush”. I shrugged and, closing my own eyes, settled into enjoying the sensations as not much seemed to be required of me other than my presence for the moment.

The friction between us increased after the water had drained away completely and soon she started muttering, “I’m going to come, yes, I’m going to come”, her eyes flew open and she gazed at my face, “come soon, yes, yes, I’m going to come, ooooh.”

A smile spread across her face as she sat on me without moving, shaking with the aftershocks of her orgasm. She bent down and kissed me, “thank you”, she said.

Sitting upright once more and with a lot of squeaking of flesh against tub she moved her legs so that she was in a squatting position over me ready to climb from the bath. During the course of this manoeuvre I popped out of her. A look of panic crossed her face and quickly changed to relief as a stream of urine began to squirt from her, balancing herself against the wall she stood up and waved her hips about, spraying my torso and legs with piss. Her expression as she performed this female version of writing your name in the snow was so infectious there was nothing for me to do except first grin and then begin laughing.

When she had finished she turned on the shower, adjusted the temperature and reached down a hand to help me up. Clasping onto each other we kissed and washed and then dried each other.

“There is nothing quite like coming with a full bladder”, she observed as we applied towels to each other.

“What I want to know is, do you always piss on your lovers? I mean literally rather than figuratively, of course”

She stuck out her tongue at me, “I’ll have you know that was an accident, sir.”

“Oh yes, I’m sure, madam,” I said with mock sarcasm, “you didn’t look very guilty about it to me.”

“Honestly, it’s the first time that’s ever happened. And the orgasm was special too, I was just so involved in what I was, I mean, we were doing, that I didn’t want to stop to go to the loo.”

She kissed me in what I took to be a conciliatory way, “Anyway, its your turn now”

“My turn?” my prick, though still unsatisfied, had sagged while we washed and now stirred again, “that’s what I like to hear!”.

As she led me back into the bedroom she said, “If you haven’t got any condoms I guess you haven’t got any KY either”

“How did you guess that?” I said and then after a moment continued, “Sorry, I mean, if you’re feeling dry, then I suppose we could just ..” I was disheartened at what I found myself alluding to.

“Oh its not that” I must have looked puzzled for she added, “wait and see.”

She directed me to sit on the foot of the bed and knelt before me grasping my cock with both hands. I glanced from where her head was near my dick and the reflection of her backside in the mirror as I waited for her to mouth to envelope me. Instead she dribbled spit from her mouth onto the head of my cock and began to move her hands up and down it. Oh, great, I thought, a hand job, how nice. Being sucked or jerked off were definitely some way down the scale of my sexual preferences, they just don’t do a lot for me. Particularly hand jobs as I’m of the opinion I can do them better than anyone else, after all I’ve had a lot more practise. Still, I thought, as she continued to anoint my cock with saliva, beggars can’t be choosers, etc.

She stood up and held her hand in front of me, “spit in my hand.”

“Eh? I thought spitting on each other went out with punk music?”

“Its not what you think, go on, spit in my hand”

Oh well, I thought, I’ve just been pissed on for the first time so why not spitting? I spat saliva into her cupped hand.

She reached behind her with her hand and I leaned over to see in the mirror that she was rubbing my spit between the cheeks of her bum.

“Geddit yet?”

“Oh, yes! I think I get it now.”

“Lean back on your arms a bit”, she instructed as she positioned herself astride my legs and pulled my prick upright with one hand and rested the other on my shoulder, “and sit still, this has to be taken slowly, so no pushing, OK?”

“OK, but it looks to me as though you’re the one about to be taking it not me”

“Ha, ha, very funny”, she said, but she was smiling.

I could feel and see in the mirror as she held the tip of my cock to her bumhole. It contracted and then relaxed again. She pressed down a little. Contraction, relax. A little more pressure and the end of my prick entered her.

For what seemed to me to be an eternity of sitting still, the process was repeated: press down, contract, relax, press down again. The contractions coming at longer and longer intervals. As she worked more and more of me into her she kept up a sort of monologue on the philosophy of anal sex.

“Putting things up your bum for sexual pleasure is a kind of Zen thing. You have to be in the right mood otherwise it just hurts and feels like you’re having a shit backwards . not my idea of fun, y’know. You’ve got to treat it like a kind of meditation thing, sort of like persuading your arse that its going to be a purely sexual orifice for a while. If you get it right then it stops puckering up altogether and just relaxes, that’s where the pain comes from, from having something move in and out of your bum when its contracted. KY helps in getting things in but once something’s inside the rectum’s got its own mucous membrane which takes care of stuff after that.”

Eventually I was buried up to the hilt inside her and she put her arms around me saying, “There, how’s that?”

It felt hot and tight and good and the contractions seemed to have stopped completely. I said so and kissed her. I couldn’t refrain myself from asking, however, “Let me guess, you’ve done this a few times before haven’t you?”

“You’re an odd one, you know?”, she said, but her tone was mild, almost wistful, “Do you think I do this all the time? I haven’t had a boyfriend for years because I’m studying and haven’t had sex since I don’t know when because I just don’t meet many guys I like. All my practising is done with these,” she held her hands in front of my face, “and an armoury of dildos and electrical toys as well as the odd piece of fruit or vegetable matter”

“I see. Sorry. Surely you can see what it looks like to me. Its just ordinary guy jealousy I suppose. What are you studying?”

“Can’t you guess?” I shook my head, “Medicine, this job is just to get a bit of pocket money in the holidays and there’s loads of time to study when there’s nothing else going on.”

We began kissing again, at first in a making up kind of way and then with more passion. I began to move myself inside her as much as I could from where I was sitting. Feeling this she said, “roll me onto my back”.

I lay back on the bed and holding her to me rolled over. As she came to lie on her back she bent her knees and lifted her feet onto the edge of the bed. I was in a rather uncomfortable position with my legs bent to accommodate the fact that I was embedded inside her. I didn’t think I’d be able to stay like that for long and was about to suggest that this was not such a good idea when she drew her knees right up to her shoulders and spread her legs as wide as the position allowed thus raising her hips to a more comfortable height. I leaned forward and rested my chest on the soles of her now upturned feet. Looking down I could see her cunt splayed open and my dick disappearing into her arse.

“It may not be dignified”, she said, “but the view should be good”

“It is”, I concurred.

“Now forget about worrying about me and fuck me till you come” I did.