• Welcome to the ShrimperZone forums.
    You are currently viewing our boards as a guest which only gives you limited access.

    Existing Users:.
    Please log-in using your existing username and password. If you have any problems, please see below.

    New Users:
    Join our free community now and gain access to post topics, communicate privately with other members, respond to polls, upload content and access many other special features. Registration is fast, simple and free. Click here to join.

    Fans from other clubs
    We welcome and appreciate supporters from other clubs who wish to engage in sensible discussion. Please feel free to join as above but understand that this is a moderated site and those who cannot play nicely will be quickly removed.

    Assistance Required
    For help with the registration process or accessing your account, please send a note using the Contact us link in the footer, please include your account name. We can then provide you with a new password and verification to get you on the site.

Travelodge activities

Pubey

Guest
quality story from b3ta.com:



Thinking about it, a hundred-or-so people have seen my c*ck over the years. And some of them - a pitifully small percentage of those people – actually wanted to see my throbbing cervix scratcher; whereas the others sort of had it thrust upon them...

On the road one time in my job as a travelling salesman, I was staying in a Travelodge somewhere in Shropshire. It was one of those courtyard jobs – the type you can see loads of windows of the other guests if you happened to be looking out the window. And this was just what I was up to – late at night, about 2 am, having rifled through the room for any porn some kind soul may have left behind and finding f*ck all, I found myself with my head stuck out the open window having a cheeky fag.

It was quiet. Dead. It was a weeknight and the place was almost empty (who the f*ck chooses to go to Shropshire?), so I was happily ******* on a cancer stick and surverying the courtyard below. It was dark. It was peaceful. I was bored almost to f*cking tears and considering binding my happysack with my belt and shoving an orange in my gob for something to do.

Then, across the courtyard, a light came on. I looked up and saw her. A beautiful – correction - a half-decent-looking – correction - well, a woman. She was stood in her window, apparently gazing out at the courtyard in much the same way I was doing. And she was completely f*cking starkers. My hand instantly reached for my knob, an impulse, a reflex reaction. Then I suddenly remembered I had the light on in my room. sh*t – she can see me!!! I can’t just have a bit of super-special-solo-happy-time. She’d see me. And more importantly, I might get arrested.

Then this woman’s gaze appeared to settle on....

... oh, sh*t...

...on me.

She was staring right at me, the gentle summer’s breeze playing through her long dark hair. Her fullsome breasts with deep, dark super 3D nipples heaving in the moonlight. And the weird thing was she didn’t move. She didn’t draw back and turn the light off, or at least cover up her wabs. No, she just stood there, regarding me with a serene look on her – actually quite beautiful face. And this is how we remained for several more heartbeats. Her gazing at my face, me gazing at her tits.

Then a thought struck me - she wants me to look at her!!! (Ok, I admit it; I’m not the sharpest tool in the box but I tend to get there in the end).

I allowed my hand to slip down to my groin, I rubbed the wee chap for a bit, feeling him straining against the fabric of my trousers like a zepplin trying to escape from under a blanket. I felt a sharp pain in my other hand, f*ck, the fag had burned down to my fingers. Flicking the stub away, I slowly and as sexily as I could manage after spending most of my considerable food allowance in the Beefeater next door, undid several buttons on my shirt. Still the woman, my kinky nightime accomplice, my partner for the evening, gazed back at me.

f*ck it, I thought. She’s showing me the goods, its only fair to reciprocate. So I speedily loosened and lowered my kegs and stood there at full mast, feeling the gentle kiss of the almost celestial summer’s breeze kissing and lapping at my balls.

And then I had a w*nk.

And then, suddenly bored and wanting to watch footie and eat pizza, I waved goodbye to this lovely lady (she probably wouldn’t have been so lovely if she wasn’t starkers, but there you go), I drew the curtains and went to bed.

It was bloody awkward the next day when I went to settle the bill. The lady from the night before was checking out at the same time. Someone was with her; f*ck, her husband!!! I silently whimpered and came close to filling my pants with stinky arsewater. Then she turned and I got a good look at her. And I very nearly properly shat my pants. I felt something strange, something odd, something I don’t feel very often – I felt DIRTY....

I felt like the biggest tw*t in the world. But then I redeemed myself, I made sure I stepped out of the way as she walked passed.

It’s the only right and proper thing to do when someone’s tapping away at the ground infront of them with a long white cane....
 
Last edited:
Top