It was one of those landmark birthdays for my partner, Steve. You know the ones, where you leave one ‘what is your age group?’ category in the typical lifestyle questionnaire and start the next – a category you could never imagine yourself being in! I knew he would be depressed so I arranged to take him away for a ‘dirty weekend’ to cheer him up. I picked a lovely, old-fashioned hotel in the English Lake District and we arrived late afternoon. We went for a short walk through some stunning scenery before returning to the hotel to get ready for dinner. We shared a bath and some soapy fun, before Steve lay down on the bed for a nap before dinner – he was obviously taking his new age category seriously!
This gave me the opportunity I had been waiting for. I had bought him a birthday present, a sleek and stylish digital camera, but I intended to take the first few photographs with his present, myself. The camera had a remote control, which was about to come in very useful, and was also capable of taking short video clips. I was sure I would be able to put that to good use too. I quickly got dressed into my “cheer Steve up, dirty weekend” clothes – I’m sure you can guess - sheer black stockings and suspenders; no knickers; lacy black uplift bra; short, tight black skirt with long split; red, buttoned silk blouse and very high-heeled shoes. Sometimes men are just so predictable! I was now ready to put my plan into action.
At the end of the corridor outside our room was a small lounge area with a few comfortable chairs and a table. Using one of the chairs as a tripod for the camera, I positioned it looking towards the table. Making sure there was nobody about I posed, leaning over the table. Steve loves my naked bum with stockings and suspenders so I hitched up my skirt to give him a good view. I looked back over my shoulder towards the camera with that girlie-mag pout, and clicked the remote. The flash told me my first photograph had been successful.
A sign pointed along another corridor to the snooker room, and I followed it. Luckily the snooker room was empty. This time I sat on the edge of the table, unbuttoned my blouse, pushed one bra strap off my shoulder, cupped my breast in my hand and gave an ‘I’m in the throws of a fantastic orgasm’ look to the camera. Again the camera flashed. As I climbed off the table I began to realise that something surprising was happening. I thought that I was doing this as a turn-on for Steve, but the wetness between my naked thighs told a different story. I was turning myself on in the process.
Suddenly the row of snooker cues looked very inviting. I selected a particularly attractive one – it’s funny how your mind works when you’re feeling horny - and placed it between my thighs. Selecting the video option from the remote I luxuriantly slid the cue backwards and forwards along my clit. This time the look of pleasure on my face wasn’t posed. The sound of footsteps in the corridor prevented me from consummating my relationship with the snooker cue, but I was too far advanced to stop now, so I quickly headed for the ladies room.
Desperately trying to remember that I was doing this for Steve, and not for myself, I hung the strap of the camera over the clothes hook on the toilet door and pointed it back towards the toilet. With my skirt pulled high over my hips and my legs astride the toilet bowl I clicked the video on the remote. I knew that the video clip had to be short and my fingers quickly found my clit. It took only a few strokes and I was panting in anticipation, a few more and I was gasping with pleasure. I now felt confident that I had achieved my aim and headed back to our room.
At the end of the meal that evening I presented Steve with his present. He was delighted with the camera, but even more so when I told him to play back the memory. He smiled when he looked at the stills, but wore a different expression when he viewed the video. “Shall we have brandy in our room,” he asked with a glint in his eye.
“ I think that would be a very good idea,” I replied……………………….