The Unfolding Ch. 02

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A narrow ray of light wrestled its way through the closed curtains sending a band of bright warmth up the bedframe and across the rumpled sheets of the king-sized mattress. Camille sensed the warming, comforting glimmer on her right cheek as her head lay atop an oversized, feathery down pillow. She fought off the genial ray’s calling despite it interrupting her dream with an unwelcomed reminder of the consciousness that awaited her. Her nostrils flared as she drew in the familiar invitation of freshly brewed dark, Brazilian roast. With her senses beckoning her to the new day, she succumbed to the inevitable and let the remnants of her pleasant dream dissolve from her mind.

Sated, yet hungry, she opened her eyes knowing what she wouldn’t find but surprised at what she did. David had left a note.

“Good morning, my love. I’m the luckiest husband in the world! You’re beautiful and so damn great to make love to. Hope your wrists aren’t chafed, lol. It will be hard (pun intended) to work today knowing your naked form is getting rubbed down. Yes, that’s right. Enjoy your day just make sure you are back in the room and freshly showered at 3pm for a massage I’ve scheduled for you. I love you and I’ll see you tonight. Sorry again about the call to duty. David.”

David had gotten a call shortly after they returned to their room last night from the head of North American sales. Apparently the chief’s “wingman” for today’s break-out sessions fell ill, and he needed a last minute substitute to help him with some of the more detailed product questions during the Q when the head of North America Sales asks, one best answer in the affirmative. The call put a mild damper on Camille’s evening, but nothing that didn’t melt away the moment the teasingly soft silk of David’s tie began to wrap and bind her wrists.

Camille rolled on her back and let out a long sigh as her night with her lover replayed in her mind. Her hand, still holding David’s sweet note, rested on her forehead as her other hand felt the empty space beside her. Without David there to paw at her, she saw no better use for this early morning than to allow herself a couple more hours of much appreciated sleep. She rolled back on her side, wrapped one of her arms around an extra pillow and pulled it into her bosom. It was a poor substitute for her David, but something to hold nonetheless.

A cool, greyish mist enveloped her consciousness as thought opened the gates to dream, as she found herself drifting down a warm, café flavored river in a high-bowed gondola…drifting…drifting…


Lifting and shaking her head side to side, synapses fired evaporating the fog from her brain. Camille up righted herself and, for reasons attributable only to her previously dazed state, felt a rush of panic shoot through her body by the rap at the door of their room.

The maid this early? Did David forget something? She shook the remaining cobwebs from her mind and leapt off the bed enroute to the front of the suite.

“Just a second,” she yelled in her gritty, unused voice as she glanced at her naked form before bending over in front of the vanity mirror. As the cool water hit her cheeks from her cupped hands a jolt of reality returned to her. Having made sure there was no remaining sleep in the corners of her eyes she turned to the closet and covered herself with the cushy, terrycloth robe sporting the hotel’s emblem over the left breast.

“Oh, how fucking embarrassing,” she thought as her brain processed the distorted image through the peephole as none other than Seth Ducere.

Opening the door she deliberately clutched at the top of her robe. Unlike yesterday, there would be no dubious beginning to this encounter.

The door now open, the splendidly handsome Seth Ducere stood before her in a light pink pinpoint oxford Polo and well pressed Khakis supported by perfectly formed moccasins under his sockless feet.

“Good morning, Camille McKay,” Seth cheerfully blurted in a voice with a strength that portended someone who was several hours into his day despite the early hour.

As she returned his greeting, Seth stood and drank in the beautiful woman with the unsettled hair before him. He noticed her hand clenching her robe preventing any glimpse of the well-formed cleavage he knew hid beneath. Her right leg, exposed through the opening of her robe to just above her knee, didn’t escape his gaze either. He needed his concentration now, as the dreamy memories of yesterday poured into his brain. It all came back, just as it had last night as he lie naked on his bed, slowly teasing the rim of his penis, trying fervently not to come in order to prolong the memories playing out in full color before his closed eyes. Her heat, her wetness, her arousal taking over and leading her hips to grind against his hardened cock, trying to fuck him through his trousers; Camille McKay wasn’t a girl or a thrill, and certainly not a pending notch on his belt; she was the epitome of a woman.

“I’m so sorry, casino oyna obviously I’ve rousted the two of you from a much deserved sleep,” Seth opined.

“Please, heavens no,” Camille responded, “it’s just me, David had to leave early this morning for more meetings and I, well, I’m just being a little lazy. Please, come in for a minute,” she said as she opened the door wide and retreated into the room, hoping she wasn’t too obvious with her emphasis on “for a minute.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear about David having to leave. Poor guy, having to leave a room filled with the likes of you was no doubt quite disappointing,” Seth said sincerely as he watched her ass, the ass that was rubbing his cock yesterday, sway against the flared sides of her terrycloth robe.

Camille politely smiled then turned and spied the bottle in Seth’s hands. “It’s a little early for a party, isn’t it Seth,” she chuckled.

“It’s never too early for a party,” Seth smiled back, “but in this case any party will have to wait until your groom returns.” Then, turning the bottle upright and twisting the label outward he continued with feigned erudition “may I present to my rescuers, with sincere humility and appreciation for their selfless aid, the finest Bordeaux I know, the 1990 Cos d’Estournal.”

Looking straight at Camille he waited for a second and then offered “It is a beautiful, full-bodied wine with concealed flavors that only,” he again paused for a moment before continuing, “come alive when given an opportunity to breathe. It is, in a word, irresistible.”

“Oh, seriously, Seth, this is so unnecessary,” Camille said, flattered by the largess and pretending not to have registered his metaphor.

“Not at all. The two of you did me a great service yesterday. In fact, I absolutely insist on taking the two of you to dinner. I’m leaving this morning but I must, and don’t say no, hook up with you both in the future and take you out for the best steak in the land.”

“Really Seth, we were happy to help you out. Thank you, but it is so…”

“Please, don’t insult me. I insist,” he interrupted.

She paused, “Well, if you insist,” she laughed, “then of course we’d be honored. When did you have in mind?”

“I’m not entirely sure. I know I’ll be on the go for the next couple of weeks but imagine we can work something out after that. Let me have your contact information so I can get in touch with you.” He reached in his pocket to retrieve his cell phone.

Camille smiled and felt herself relax. She admitted to herself she was not sure what to expect when she saw this man outside her door holding a bottle of wine. “Let me grab my phone, it’s charging on the vanity.”

Seth turned in a calculated way as he pulled out his phone so that the thumb drive he also had in his pocket effortlessly fell to the floor by the room’s desk, outside of Camille’s field of vision.

“Let me have David’s number as well as yours, I’d like to send him a text of thanks,” he added.

As they traded information Camille noticed that Seth didn’t seem to enter the numbers correctly in his phone and instructed “Seth, that’s wrong.”

Seth chuckled and responded “Oh, it’s perfectly correct. I tend to passcode everything. If I lose my phone I wouldn’t want any of my contacts’ information, including yours, to get out.”

“But how can you remember all the passwords?” she asked.

“Oh, it’s simple. For easy things like this I use simple substitutions; trade a letter for a number or vice versa. For example, Camille might become C-4-M-1-L-L-3.”

“I see,” she said with a fair amount of respect, if not amazement. “And it’s so simple.”

“I started doing it long ago. Anyone with half a brain can decode it, but most people that lift phones tend to steal more than one so they’d rather hack the personal information from the, um, low lying fruit shall we say?”

“Well, I will keep that in mind, Mr. Ducere,” Camille said with an easy grin.

“Great,” Seth said, “But make sure you keep our future dinner in mind as well. Seriously, thank you for yesterday.”

He had chosen that phrase carefully, allowing her to read in whatever she chose. And, rather than risk her reply he continued, “but I’ve taken far too much of your morning and have a plane to catch.” Smiling in that innocent, sincere manner that Seth had mastered over the years he asked again that she relay his thanks to David and then, in what seemed a strange action to Camille, he laid one hand against the mirror over the desk while ostensibly fixing his hair with the other.

“Sorry, vanity check,” he laughed. “I’m heading straight down to a car and wanted to make sure I’m put together before heading out.”

“You’re put together just fine,” Camille retorted, the regret of her comment filling her even as the last syllable was still escaping her breath.

“Oh, flattery, flattery” Seth chuckled erasing the momentary tension she felt. He turned and headed towards the door saying “Thanks again, Camille. canlı casino You and David enjoy an evening with the wine, and I’ll get in touch in short order to set up a dinner.”

She followed him to the door and said “thanks Seth, we’re looking forward to it.”

With the door open he turned to face Camille one more time, grasped and gently shook both her hands then bid her goodbye.

After the door retracted, Camille turned and leaned against it letting out a long sigh. She allowed herself a relieved smile and thought “that is one handsome man.”

She quickly texted David to let him know that a great vino awaited him compliments of yesterday’s damsel in distress. She knew David wouldn’t get the text for a couple hours, but was excited by the prospect of her and David enjoying a romantic evening alone with the Bordeaux. Having inhaled it for the last half hour, she poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the desk.

It was then she noticed the blue thumb drive resting on the floor by the leg of the desk. She didn’t recall David having a blue drive, but assumed it was his and worried that he meant to bring it with him this morning. She flipped open her laptop and plugged the drive in, hoping to discern if David had anything on it that he might immediately need. Strangely, all she saw on it was a folder called SAD. She double-clicked and watched as her screen flickered strangely for a couple moments before the folder opened. It was populated with files. Then it dawned on her, the drive was Seth’s.

There were several documents and many photos which she quickly learned were mostly of Seth. Some showed him shirtless. A couple others showed him with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. Another was a brilliant silhouette of a naked Seth looking out the large window of a high-rise at sunset. Camille sighed again and realized there were tens, perhaps hundreds of pictures.

She saw a lone folder sitting atop the subdirectory entitled “BstEvr.” Curious, she double-clicked, only to be disappointed when the prompt appeared on her screen inviting her to supply a password. Grinning, she thought better of trying to hack in, and pulled the drive out of the computer. She phoned down to the front desk and let them know if Mr. Ducere called looking for a lost drive to inform him that the McKays had it and would return it at their dinner unless he needed it sooner. Then, figuring she had had enough excitement for so early in the morning, she poured herself some of David’s thoughtful brew, pulled out her Kindle and returned to bed.


Her book, The Thirteenth Tale, by Diane Setterfield, was riveting. Filled with intrigue and twists, the modern Ghost story was right in Camille’s sweet spot. But, after only a handful of pages on this lazy morning she found herself wavering, unable to keep her concentration. She fought through a couple more pages, but eventually gave in and allowed her eyelids to touch her cheeks. She dozed, falling easily into a dream with her lovely David. But it was hard to sustain. The emerging day brought too many distractions: too many voices in the hallway, too much light fighting its way into the room.

Her body and mind were relaxed, but restless. She found herself trapped on the edge of sleep, drifting off but never away. Time seemed to stop. Vivid thoughts or dreams, she could no longer distinguish, danced through her mind. The more they danced, the more they returned to the heat and pleasure she felt hours before. Increasingly her dreamlike thoughts centered on David and his hot, rigid cock impaling her while she submitted on all fours the previous night.

She was on her knees, the side of her face resting on a pillow, noticing the soft silk tightly gripping her hands, keeping them immobile, as they rest on the small of her back. She wanted to see her lover, run her hands over his chest, and squeeze his pectorals while flicking his nipples. But she couldn’t, her hands were bound and her face was down on that pillow, with her ass and pussy sticking up in the air offering – submitting – themselves to the will of David’s cock and the guile of his imagination. She absorbed the varied thrusts of David’s assault, his pace constantly changing. Her sopping pussy welcomed each drive. And with each plunge of his delicious rod, her vaginal walls parted with delight. His hands were on the side of her hips, steadying him as he pressed on. His hips smacked against her buttocks, and she could feel her boobs bouncing and swaying beneath her, wishing there were hands to hold and knead them.

She loved being submissive. Her pleasure, and the anticipation of it, was simply intoxicating. When David took complete control her arousal would immediately accelerate. There is nothing more arousing than being the object of desire – the personal fuck toy – to someone who you know and trust truly loves you, Camille thought. She relished being this man’s fuck toy.

With each subsequent thrust she could feel David’s cock lengthening and hardening kaçak casino as he approached his orgasm. She hears the faint, abrupt whimpers, and recognizes the voice as her own as she anticipates his cock exploding deep within her folds. She longs for his cum, waiting to feel the stiff contractions of his release, his juices – the juices made possible by the pleasure her body was supplying him – shooting deep within her, bouncing and lubricating her already slick vaginal walls. He started to groan, she loved it. She reflexively began tightening her pussy around his cock as it pulsed and quivered inside her. “Fill me,” she thought. Quickly relaxing then retightening, she made her pussy suck every drop out of him. The rush was unmatched. The pleasure of her vaginal walls being stimulated and massaged by his cock, and the knowledge that those walls were providing him a climax was a delicious combination.

Camille felt the urges and recognized the provocation. The prospect of sleep was ever less likely as her thoughts continually drew back to David and sex, like a paperclip fighting a magnet. She thought of her sex, and with the hint of a smile guessed at the saturated mixture of her current arousal and David’s cum from just a handful of hours ago. She allowed herself to drift in thought while images and sensations were bouncing in and out of her mind she found that at some point, without her awareness, her hands had moved.

Lying on her side, her right hand was pressed firmly against her warm, damp pussy. Perhaps in some way hoping that applying a little compression would relieve the pressure building within. Her left hand cupped a breast, offering the support, the feel, the presence she wished she felt the night before while her raised buttocks opened herself to the welcomed pounding of David’s cock. She only recognized the positions of both of her hands when she inadvertently (or was it?) flicked her finger against a surprisingly stiff nipple.

Sleep no longer possible, she rolled on her back. With an abundance of time and no commitments for many hours, her hands began to indulge her thoughts. Lying naked and uncovered, her manicured fingers floated down her soft stomach extending their path around the outside of both her hips. Camille raised her knees toward her chest and, spreading her fingers, let their tips slowly rake up the sensitive back of her thighs. The heat from her upper thighs and buttocks brought comfort to her hands against the cool air of their suite.

The solitude of the room provided her with the personal comfort that is so fleeting at home. David had often implored her to take “me” time, time to explore her body and pleasure zones, and time to find what made her body respond. Altruistic as it was, it was also self-serving. David wanted her help in discovering how he could best pleasure her. Alone and secure in the magnificent bed of this brightening, ornate hotel suite, she lie naked inhaling a mélange of her own sex, David’s cum, and dark roasted coffee. All it took was one innocent swipe of her hand across her slit and the instant shiver its warm, slick wetness sent to her brain made Camille relent. Today will, finally, be a “me” day.

Her horniness guided her as her hands began to explore her body. She imagined herself a tour guide of exploration and discovery. Gently but purposefully squeezing her breasts and pressing them together Camille began to descend into a reality of relaxation and exhilaration. As the unrushed seconds ticked into minutes she began to understand how slow, playful, and at peace this journey could be. So often over the years her masturbations had been little more than a sexual release valve, or a sleep aid to be accomplished as quickly as possible when her horniness or insomnia, respectively, beckoned.

“Not today,” she thought aloud, as she savored the intimate breast massage her hands provided. Her fingernails delicately glazed up and over her stomach, breasts, and areolas delivering a tickle up her spine, and her already alert nipples hardened further birthing goose bumps all around them. She fought the urge to reach for her clitoris, “just hold out a little longer,” as she traced her nails down from her neck to her sternum, then outwardly around the underside of each breast. Her arousal was building, but she was committed to basking in it, not yielding to it.

She rubbed her buttocks, enjoying the dual pleasure of her cheeks being squeezed and of her hand feeling the meaty, rounded flesh. An image flashed through her mind of her knees resting on their bedroom carpet, David standing in front of her, and her lips surrounding David’s cock as her hands lifted and pressed David’s ass. She massaged her temples and scalp, letting her mind further relax while exciting the complex nerve endings of her mane. Leisurely, she played with her nipples with no ascribed goals or results in mind. Watching them respond and grow hard, Camille was enjoying herself, her self, and her touch. This foreplay of one was enchanting, and she realized that this is what David meant on all those occasions where he implored her to explore and reward herself. She now understood that this voyage was as much about discovery as pleasure, or more appropriately, pleasurable discovery.

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