**The Woman To Blame

**

Tilda

We all have our coming of age moments when we discover those hidden sides and desires within ourselves. Mine came pretty early on and it was my coming of age as a young man. Mine arrived as a strange twist of fate with a touch of humor and, as life can to each of us, embarrassment. It also taught me to not give a fat rat's ass what people generally think about what I do if it's not hurting anyone.

When I graduated college, I had already been working a couple of years and had saved up a fair amount of money. My employer had covered the cost of my four year degree and allowed me the ability to create some savings. Finally free from my school obligations, I followed my previous plans which was to take a month off in the summer and travel through Europe. This time I did not want to do the driving but rather take one of those organized tours. I figured it would be restful and I would get a great history lesson from the tour conductor as he educated us about the region we were driving through. It sounded fun and at that point in my life, it was my speed. I flew into Amsterdam and had two days on my own. It was my first time there and a bit disorienting. It was the early 80s and still very undeveloped but still just as fun and I enjoyed it tremendously. On the morning of the third day the bus pulled in front of the hotel and picked up our group of strangers. Thirty-six strangers boarded the bus that had room for 53. I was happy that I had a row to myself and the seats were comfortable and reclining so I could nod off from time to time and take a nap. It was perfect. At the end of our first day, we pulled into cologne Germany and settled into our hotel. I was still orienting myself to the group and it’s dynamics. Our first dinner together was in the dining room of the hotel and I was running late because I had fallen asleep to take a nap. As I entered the dining room, I could see every head turning in my direction and in an instant, I noticed that all, but three people in the group were over the age of 60.” What the hell was I thinking? Oh well, here I am. I will try to make the best of it”, I thought to myself. The next few days we all got acquainted and it did not seem as alien as it did that night in the dining room. Two girls, both from New York, were in their mid 20s one was Italian (Gina) and one was a cocoa skinned African American girl (Tilda). As one would imagine of us “young-uns” we stuck together like a little pack. Every time we were free we’d go off on our own and explore. Gina was engaged and her fiancé would call the hotel nightly and wanted a report. I think escaping with us during the day not having to be near a phone represented freedom for her. Tilda and I would occasionally disappear by ourselves to a bar or a restaurant or a nightclub and it would be great fun and then return to our respective rooms.

The tour was three weeks and I would plan to extend some time on the backend to explore on my own. On the eighth day we arrived in Monte Carlo and our hotel with its grand Casino was the one the Formula One race passes underneath each year. It was kind of cool. At the pool, as you can imagine, the women were topless and many of the American men sat there to the dismay of their wives admiring the show. I entered the water and Tilda immediately behind me, discarded her top and encouraged Gina to do the same. She finally obliged and at first used her arms as a shield and eventually allowed her modesty to dissolve. She admitted that it was very liberating and should’ve done it sooner. The drinks from the bar, poolside, generous, and flowing started setting the stage for the evening. The hotel had an amazing nightclub, and that was our plan. After dinner, we headed down immediately and danced till the wee hours of the morning. Gina, surrendered to her sleep. Tilda and I remained and finally gave in to the sexual tension between us. It intensified meteorically, after all, we were in our 20s. “My room?”, I uttered between kisses. “Yep”, she continued. We moved like the two drunk lovers that we were toward the elevator. Fortunately, as we stepped in, it was unoccupied. It took a second for us to distract ourselves to punch the floor number. Once in the elevator things became more uncontrolled.

Tilda, the older and wilder one, pushed her hand down front of my pants and grabbed my cock. In our feverish kisses, she was also stroking me up and down inside my pants until the chime announced the arrival on my floor. As the door open, she withdrew her hand, but the kissing continued feverishly as we wandered down the hall. My room was located in a small alcove at the very end of the hall tucked away from view of the hall, and as we rounded the corner, she pushed me against the door and thrust her hand down my pants again. More kissing and stroking followed, and I was a wet mess. With both hands, she undid my belt, button and lowered my zipper and withdrew my cock. She dropped to her knees and took me in her mouth. It was heaven. Her mouth was warm, inviting. It was clear she had done this more than a few times before. Almost as if by design the fire escape door, which was across from my room opened, and the hotel security guard stood before us. He muttered something in French neither of us understood, and I looked down as if to ask, “Really dude!”. Undeterred, he was insistent to see my room key to verify that I was a hotel guest, Tilda continued on undeterred and unfazed, and her intensity increased as if she was aroused by his presence watching us. I leaned towards the side to recover half of my pants and reach down to find my room key. I held it up for him to see, and in a very broken English he growled “have good night”, smiled and off he went. He was completely unfazed at what we were doing and just wanted to validate that we belonged in the building. Card now in my hand and the door swinging open we rolled in.

As only 20-year-olds can do in that state the clothes all flew off in an instant, and we were on the bed. I had now moved myself between her legs and was using my mouth and my tongue to pleasure her. “Do you want me to teach you how to give better lady pleasure? Your tongue is perfect. You just need to know where to put it and how to put it” she asked. I looked up “no ego here – please, tell me” I answered. She put her fingers on her lips to pull them apart and showed me her special little rosebud and winked tapping it lightly with her index finger to say right here. I leaned in and with some simple instructions started doing as she asked, and in moments, her body responded to my touch. After a few minutes, she stopped and said you almost had me there now let me show you a few things. She took two of her fingers and inserted them inside herself, showing me just how far to go in and how to hold them and then describe to me what I was looking for. And then instructed me to take over. After adjusting myself between her legs better I inserted my two fingers and found the exact spot she described. I knew I had arrived not only from the feel, but from her reaction. After a few minutes of doing that she said, “keep doing that, but now go down on me with your tongue at the same time”. Her rhythm intensified, her body stiffened and in no time she was completely wet and starting to come. She was not shy about sharing that with everybody in the hotel in her moment of release.

It would be easy to think her direction and her guidance would crush the fragile ego of another man, but I guess it all depends on perspective and what you’re willing to learn and do both in that moment and out of that moment. I remember her lessons, tenderly and dearly and passionately every time I’m able to create the same pleasure in another woman. She guided me over onto my back and became a cowgirl on my hard erection both pleasuring herself and showing me how she needed to move to feel the most pleasure. This position was her favorite because she got to see her partner and herself and it provided the perfect depth, and with some simple adjustments of her hip could guide the head of our partners cock to her favorite pleasure spot inside herself. She was a sexually aware woman unafraid of telling you what she wanted and how she wanted it. In about 10 minutes I came. She immediately pulled herself off and used her mouth to clean me off and introduce me to the taste of both of us with a passionate kiss. It took a moment of adjustment, but from that day forward, I’ve learned to relish that exchange. It’s intimacy, it’s passion and it’s togetherness.

In the succeeding days of our trip, Tilda spent more time in my room with me then in her room with Gina who was fine with that arrangement as it did not compromise her with her fiancé. It was a learning experience, a pleasure experience, and an evolution that I will never forget. At first I was the student and then I was the equal all through the last week of our trip. The lessons completed and all that was left were just two people passionately, appreciating each other each night and a few times in some fairly conspicuous places out of sight of inquiring minds, but adding to our arousal and the memories of our trip. It’s been over 40 years since those days and with changing telephone numbers and priorities and lives It wasn’t very long before the ability to connect with each other was gone. The memories will always be with us, but more importantly paid forward.