Beth's Summer Break Pt. 01

I was lying on the settee when the lounge door opened behind me and Gina stood in the doorway. She sounded different somehow. She was slightly breathless and uncharacteristically gushing. "Hi Bethany, sorry I'm a bit late, you know how these things are! Phew, what a day! How was yours? What have you been up to?"

I didn't bother to look round. "Oh, not so bad thanks," I lied. "Just Skyped with a few friends and did a bit of college work." Feeling slightly relaxed I decided to offer a small olive branch. I held up the third or so of the bottle that was left and waved it over my shoulder somewhere in her general direction. All she would see from her position would be an arm waving a wine bottle. "Want to help me finish this?"

"No thanks, I think I've had a bit too much to be honest. We just don't know when to stop once we get going! Think I'll just head up and have an early night. I've got some conference calls in the morning."

I wasn't surprised she'd had too much -- how can a girlie lunch take over nine fucking hours?

I kept my thoughts to myself and kept it civil. "Ok, fair enough. Nice day?"

"Lovely, thanks. Everyone was on great form -- turned out to be one of the best yet!"

"Glad to hear it," I lied for a second time in as many minutes. "I think I'll head up as well. Finish this while I close out with Allie." I flicked the tv off, picked up the wine bottle and got up a little unsteadily. She was still standing in the doorway and there was an awkward moment as I tried to squeeze past her. "Night then."

"Night night Bethany. See you tomorrow then." She moved into the hall out of my way and in the more direct light, I realised that not only had she sounded different, but she looked different.

It took me a second and then I realised.

I'd seen that look before.

So many times.

I'd seen it in the mirror on my own face. On the faces of people I had slept with. It was that 'just fucked' look. She was flushed - glowing even. Her hair wasn't so immaculate and her makeup had been reapplied but not as well as when she left at lunchtime. She turned and started up the stairs and I followed a couple of steps behind. There was no mistaking it -- Ms. Gina Harcourt fucking reeked of sex. It poured off her like her Chanel had earlier. The fucking bitch hadn't been out for a girlie lunch -- she had been getting screwed rotten. She'd certainly had too much of something, and from the smell of her someone had been on great form. I'll bet she didn't know when to stop either, because when I am lucky enough to be in that position myself, neither do I.

At the top of the stairs I managed to grunt out a goodnight or something approximating it and staggered into my room. I crashed onto the bed hugging poor old Bruno like I used to when I was a kid. Sometimes you just need the comfort of an old friend. The rest of the wine didn't last long.

I felt like shit the next day and managed to keep out of her way for most of it and the day after. I was supposed to be shagging, smoking naughty things, drinking and having fun, not living in this purgatory with my Dad's new woman, who apparently thought that when he was off abroad anyone was fair game.

I was seething and racking my brains, trying to work out what to do. I can take the piss out of my Dad - it is what daughters are for, after all. But some 41 year old blonde bimbo with titanic tits and a wardrobe by Gucci and Armani? No, she is not fucking well allowed to.

Poor Dad - how the hell could I find out what she was up to for certain?

I even tried searching her room when I was sure she was well ensconced on one of her interminable conference calls. It was huge - twice the size of mine, which was pretty palatial anyway. There was an en suite bathroom bigger than my college room, an exercise bike, treadmill and some weird contraption with pedals and levers. It all looked well used, so I suppose she had to keep that amazing body of hers in shape somehow.

There was also another door in the room which I tried, but was slightly surprised to find locked and protected by a numeric keypad.

Curious. Maybe that held some secrets, but they stayed secret as I was unable to find the code for it as I rummaged through drawer after drawer full of designer stuff.

Bugger.

Unfortunately in the end my amateur sleuthing skills came to naught and a thorough search only managed to unearth a collection of sex toys in her bedside cabinet that made mine look amateur, but I could find nothing that incriminated her. "Dad, sorry to tell you this, but... Gina is having an affair... with an eight inch dildo."

I did resolve to have a closer look at that toy collection someday soon though.

So disappointingly for me, there was nothing to incriminate her on this occasion, but little did I know that it would soon all start to fall into place.

When it did, it was three days after her first "girlie lunch", and the scene was virtually the same. There was sullen miserable little Beth, drinking coffee in the kitchen, feeling all wretched and sorry for herself. Dying for a smoke, a drink, a fuck - anything to relieve the utterly tedious nothingness that this poxy summer was turning out to be.

In she strolled in the same outfit as the other day, except this time the jacket was peach coloured. She looked radiant. The leather skirt rustled as she sashayed in and my mind gave me an x-ray vision of that Brazilian that hid beneath it.

Stop it, Beth. You don't like her, so stop lusting after the bitch.

"Right, the girls and I are hitting the town again. Usual ritual - all go eh?" She was grinning as she put her phone down on the kitchen table and started rummaging in her bag. It was Lulu Guinness of course, not a beaten up old Crumpler like mine.

"Oh, where are my glasses? That hotel menu is just so hard to read!" She scuttled off upstairs so quickly I'm surprised she didn't get nylon burns on her inner thighs.

Oh well, at least I knew how my day would go from there on in then. I started to eye up the wine closet and hoped my batteries were well charged.

I was brought out of my brief reverie by a tiny 'ting' on her phone. The screen lit up, and I couldn't help myself. I reached over and picked it up and my mouth flew open as I read the message that had come up on the screen.

"Room 241. Can't wait! M. Xxx ;o)"

As the message faded and the screen returned to black, I dropped the phone as if it had become radioactive. I shoved it back somewhere near where had I picked it up and hoped she wouldn't notice it had moved.

I was just in time, as she was back in the kitchen, breezily saying something that didn't register with me thanks to the hurricane blowing through my mind, and waving goodbye as she whipped up the Samsung 7 that had just betrayed her.

I almost had to wind my jaw back into place. Got you, you fucking bitch! My mind was racing -- desperately trying to recall the name of the hotel she said they used for their lunches. Desperately hoping that if I did remember, it would be the same one in which 'M' was trying to contain himself in room 241. I racked my addled brain. Come on Beth, think!

The Belvedere - that was it! An old fashioned four star pile on the main road into town from the house. I knew it wasn't far so I took a quick look on Google Maps and reckoned it would take me ten minutes tops to get there.

I raced upstairs, all thoughts of a naughty afternoon wanking session out of the window. I wriggled out of my habitual t-shirt and sawn offs and I rummaged around my pitiful clothing collection to try and find my best dress.

Well, let's be honest, when you only have one dress, it's going to be your best one, isn't it?

I pulled it on and looked at the stranger in the mirror. I ran my hands through my hair to try and sort out the usual tangled mess. Hmm -- not bad. I couldn't remember the last time I had even worn it, and it was a bit crumpled but I had no time to iron it, even if I knew how to. It would have to do. No way was I going to try and infiltrate a posh hotel in my usual attire. I mean a Slipknot t-shirt and cutoffs in a 4-Star hotel? Ain't going to work, is it? I found some shoes that were not too out of place either, somehow had the presence of mind to grab my key and my day bag and legged it downstairs hoping the back door was locked as I didn't have time to check it.

I was out of the house about five minutes after Her Majesty and hoping my innate terrible sense of direction wouldn't let me down as usual.

For once I was spot on and six minutes later after a bit of a hot, mad dash I was standing in front of the imposing frontage of the Belvedere Hotel. I smoothed the dress down once again, and took a deep breath. Inspector Bethany Hamilton is on the case and Gina Harcourt -- you are going down!

I marched into the marbled foyer, hopefully looking a lot braver than I felt and hastily crossed to the lift, not daring to look in the direction of reception. I assumed room 241 would be on floor two, so I got into the cramped, ancient and rickety lift that all English hotels seem to possess and pressed the appropriate button. I was shaking as the mesh door closed and the lift clunked and wheezed into life. I was so nervous that I almost missed the telltale sign. It was only as the door shuddered open again that I realised the tiny space had a rather distinctive aroma. After a few weeks of living with it as a background smell, I'd recognise one tiny atom of Chanel No. 5 in a pigsty. I offered up a silent thank you to whichever God had smiled on me.

I was in the right place.

There was a sign outside the lift pointing left to rooms 230-242 and right to the lower numbers. It was a fairly long corridor, and I started along it checking the doors. As I got to 235, I stopped dead in my tracks. What was I actually doing here? What the fuck was I intending to do when I got to 241? Bang on the door shouting, "Room Service?" and wait for her reaction? No, there had to be some way of getting something on her without making it too obvious.

Then in a flash of inspiration, I remembered what Sally Tyler and I used to do when we shared a room at boarding school. Once we had sated each other of an evening, we loved to eavesdrop on the girls next door and get off all over again listening to them go at it. We would put an upturned glass each against the wall and then press our ears to it and have a damned good sneaky listen.

When we got clever, we would tape the glasses to wall so that we had our hands free with which to further enhance our enjoyment, but that is another story entirely.

I turned around, and thought about going back downstairs to order myself a drink at the bar so I could get a glass, when I saw a service trolley outside of one of the rooms on the other side of the lift. I ran up to it, and I could hear the maid inside working with a vacuum cleaner so I took a quick rummage around the trolley and triumphantly came up with a plastic water cup wrapped in cellophane. Not exactly a glass, but as with my dress, it would have to do.

I stuffed it in my trusty sling bag and pressed on back down the corridor counting off the rooms. 237, 238, 239. 240 was the last room before the corridor turned sharp left and there was a fire door. I opened the door and rounded the corner fully expecting to run headlong into Gina, but I had to keep going now. My day got better when I realised that it was a short dead end with only two rooms, one on each side. Just about as perfect as I could have hoped.

A 'Do Not Disturb' sign hung on the handle of room 241. Such predictability, Gina.

I surmised that there was little chance of anyone coming out of their room as they'd be pre-occupied, but what if they ordered room service? Surely if they had, I'd hear someone coming down the corridor with a trolley? What if they had gone to lunch first? Oh shit, no time for all that. I had the buffer of the fire door for safety if nothing else. Just get on and do it, girl!

I unwrapped the cup and taking a deep breath, I put it against the door. Praying that no-one would come out of room 242 behind me, I gingerly leaned in and put my left ear to my cunning little plastic eavesdropping device. I held my breath and listened.

Half an hour later I was in the ladies toilets on the ground floor and my world had been turned upside down.

I sat stunned in the cubicle with my head in my hands trying to process what I had heard over the last 30 minutes. I could smell myself on my fingers where I had tried to rub away some of the frustration and anger I was feeling. My pussy was still tingling from the onslaught I had given it. At least the painful sensation in my bladder had subsided. Eventually I managed to compose myself and calmed down a little and emerged from my little hidey hole and tried to tidy myself up. I had been crying and my eyes were red as I looked in the mirror and my right ear hurt like fuck. It felt like Mike Tyson had just given me a left hook. Early on I had switched ears on the cup as I became uncomfortable, but once things really started to kick off I was too transfixed to even think about giving my poor old ear any respite and stayed stuck in the same position for the duration, pressing hard against the plastic until I had heard more than enough and eventually had to move quickly before my bladder went pop.

I thought about getting a drink in the bar. God knows I needed one, but just in case they decided on a post-coital, or more likely inter-coital libation, I decided to cut and run.

I hardly remember the walk back home and judging by the number of car horns that seemed to be firing off in my direction, I was probably lucky to make it back without being mown down.

Back in my room, I sucked on the vape pen with a shaking hand, not caring if the window was open or not and poured a large glass of red from another bottle I had purloined from under the stairs on the way up and replayed those thirty minutes in my head over and over.

At first I thought my listening device was not going to be up to scratch. All I could hear were the sounds that seem to characterise all hotels. The rattles and clicks of distant lift machinery, strange gurglings from generations-old plumbing and the distant hum of traffic out on the main road.

Otherwise, silence.

I was beginning to think I was out of luck when I heard a door close from inside the room. It sounded hollow as my little plastic cup amplified the sound. The bathroom door, reminding me that I was soon going to need one myself. Bloody coffee.

There was a rumble of a bass voice, but it was so low in frequency that I couldn't make out anything over the general background noise other than that this must be 'M'.

There was a pop as a champagne cork was eased from the bottle, and then more silence for perhaps a minute or so until I heard the sound of the interior door once more. Gina no doubt having done what I should have done before I left the house.

Then that distinctive voice, this time definitely loud enough to be heard above any incidental sounds.

"There, that's better. Ooh, cheers!" There was a clink of glasses and a short pause. "Oh Mike, you really are ready for me aren't you. Oh let me take a closer look at that beautiful thing. I'm going to have to put my glass down. Both hands required for that bad boy!" There was an appreciative grumble, followed another pause and she resumed, laughing. "Look at that, I can get both hands on it and still there's some to spare!" It was pretty obvious what the next few seconds entailed for Mike and I started to feel a tingle down below as I imagined Gina taking what sounded like a rather well endowed cock into her dirty little mouth. There were some wet sounds, a lot of low moaning from both of them and then, "Mmm shall I see how far I can take it? Shall I suck and take it all down my throat so that it gags me? Shall I Mike? Start at the lovely big fat head and slowly go all the way down until you big balls are touching my chin?"

God, she was a dirty bitch. And she had the temerity to pull me up for one "fucking" earlier, the hypocritical old bat.

I stood there almost whimpering at the thought of it, and assumed Mike must have agreed that this was an acceptable course of action as for the next thirty seconds or so there were a series of gagging noises, grunts of effort and deep breathing which culminated in a wet slurping noise as she pulled off him, taking in a huge shuddering intake of air. It was followed by coughing and a spitting sound and then amid more breathy gasping and liquid noises, Gina managed to regain her speech. In a hoarse voice she croaked, "Oh my god Mike, look at the saliva on that thing. It looks like you've come already. Oh, it's all over my face." Her breath was heaving in and out of her as her spoke. "Glad I had my tonsils out years ago or I'd be picking them out of your pee-hole!"

The whole process was repeated a few more times and I squeezed my eyes tight, visualising her mouth being filled, the spit stringing out from the end of his cock to her lips, Gina wiping it away and going down again, her eyes watering, his cock glistening with her saliva.

I moved slightly and wedged myself against the door frame so my weight was off the door. I was worried that I would suddenly burst the door open as I leaned against it and the door frame made for a better, more stable listening position. I was now listening with my right ear against the cup, and it was the last time I switched, hence the later pain.

Then the moment came that made me so glad I'd moved otherwise I would definitely have ended up crashing into the room.

She was scolding him playfully. "No, I told you last time it's not my first, didn't I? But it is the biggest! How many? Oh I dunno, it's hard to remember. A few over the years, but I thought the big black cock thing was just a myth until I saw this beauty pop out of your pants!" There were more contented sounds from both of them for a few minutes which gave me a bit of time to process this latest information.

Oh for fuck's sake, not only was the bitch getting laid and the bastard was hung like a horse but it was a big, beautiful black cock to boot. I love watching bbc movies, and I mean bbc lowercase here, not uppercase BBC as in the broadcaster. It has been a fantasy of mine since I first saw one to take a huge black dick in my hand, feel it in my mouth and pussy, filling me fuller than I have ever been filled. Then to feel it go off in my mouth and watch the slimy white goo slide down the long glistening black shaft as I let it dribble out from my pursed lips. My number one fantasy is to snowball with Allie after a bbc session. We fantasise about it a lot. We've snowballed together plenty of times, and we love it so much, but for both of us it is still on what we call our 'fuck-it-bucket list'. And there was I, only a few feet and a few planks of wood away from being able to achieve my ultimate slutty fantasy, but it was Gina Fucking Harcourt who was winning the spoils.

The tingling sensation down below was getting really quite unbearable now, and my bladder situation wasn't helping at all. I was really quite uncomfortable, but there was no way I could leave yet. I was horrified, excited, angry, turned on -- I didn't really know what to feel to be honest. All I knew was that Dad's girlfriend was having interracial sex in a hotel room and I had my ear to the door and was wishing with all my heart that I could swap places with the fucking cow. I slid my hand under my dress and tentatively touched myself. My panties were soaking. I slid one finger in, but the pressure of wanting to wee was just too great and I had to withdraw.

Probably just as well or I'd have put my shoulder to the door and crashed their party if I had got any more aroused. I could see myself flying across the room as the door burst open and Gina raising her head from her work in shock as I careered past them with a cheery wave. "Don't mind me, just need to use your loo. Carry on!" I started to giggle at the thought of it and had to bite my lip. I hadn't had a good laugh in ages but I think if I had really started laughing I'd have probably wet myself into the bargain.