Scotch by night

I had seen her on the pistes two days running. She was with a different group, the intermediate level. I was teaching a group of beginners, and so we were going up and down the hills at very different speeds. Occasionally I would catch a glimpse of her as I came down with my group and hers was going up with the lift; occasionally I would be getting on the lift as her red head swung elegantly into sight at the far end of the queue. She had short red hair which shone in the sunlight, set off against a cream skiing suit which flattered her well-proportioned body. I had seen her ski as well, and while she was no champion, I fancied she moved rather well, under the watchful gaze of my colleague –and sometime rival – Marc. I knew he liked her, too. He liked her by definition: she was the best-looking female in his student group. Hence, he fancied her.

I was acutely aware of this as the day dragged on interminably. My own students were the usual mix of talent and non-talent, listeners and deaf persons. The only factor that worked in my favour was the advent of carving skis, which provided the salvation once the student had understood the magic of weight transfer. Once past this stage, they were able to get down the slopes with reasonable grace, where with the previous equipment the road – or hill – to mastery would still have been long and littered with bruises and humiliation. I had ample time to reflect on this, the beauty of the mountains and the restlessness in my stomach as I stood waiting at the bottom of a green-marked slope watching my group trickle downhill. Suddenly Marc was there, then some of his students, then her! For a second our eyes met as she passed me, and I thought she smiled at me.

I was easily recognizable as a ski instructor, something which always meant attention from females. I was sexy almost by definition, in addition to a dark tan, stylish sunglasses and a slim, athletic body clad in a classy skiing suit. Far less aggressive than Marc, I had still turned many a student into bedmate towards the end of a week of skiing, a nice compensation for the long hours and relative tedium of the job itself. Faced with this redhead, and knowing I fancied her terribly, I became quite lost, though, and knew I would have a hard time making a move in her direction. Towards the end of the day we finally spent some time together in a cable car. Marc was there, chatty as always, and I was listening with half an ear, trying to observe her without being too obvious. Marc was already winking at me. Again we exchanged glances and a half-smile. My restlessness became almost unbearable as we parted again.

The lifts closed, dusk fell, and with it the temperature. The first stars were visible as I entered the hotel lobby, quickly got changed and came down for supper. I had no desire to dine with Marc, who stayed at the hotel just across the main square. I knew she stayed there as well, at the Imperial. I had spotted her when she came out the first morning alongside her friend, a girl with long blond hair and quite plain features. The blonde I had not seen since, maybe she was skiing on her own? At any rate, the thought of making conversation with Marc did not appeal, and I was tired, so I ate quickly and made to leave. As I walked past the reception, the receptionist waved at me: There was a girl looking for you earlier on, before you came back. I gave her your room number, but I do not think she left a message.

– who was she? did she know my name?
– no, she just referred to you as the instructor
– what did she look like?
– red, short hair. Quite pretty ….

I could feel my heart race. I thanked the receptionist and walked slowly up the stairs. The soft carpet made no sound. I passed some skiing trophies from the 70’s, an autographed photo of Ingemar Stenmark, a pair of old Dynastars attached to the wall. A faded photo of a St Bernhard, keg and all, next to a figure on a sled …

I unlocked the door to my room with the old-fashioned iron key, and pushed the door shut. A quick brush of teeth, and I was in bed. Not even 9 o’clock. Marc would have been disgusted, night-raven that he was.

I fell into uneasy sleep, and woke with the sensation someone was in the room. Opening my eyes, I saw the outline of a person standing between me and the door. I moved to turn on the bedside lamp, but was stopped by a female voice:

– it’s me, she said. Don’t turn on the light

I didn’t, and she moved over to the bed. I could just make out the outline of her short hair in the semidarkness, and her body. She sat down next to me in an almost motherly fashion. Do you want me to stay? she asked. Her voice was calm and melodious, with a accent I could not place. I put a hand on her thigh by way of reply.

– Good, but you must keep your eyes closed, or I will turn into a frog, she said. At that, she pulled out a thin piece of cloth from somewhere. – Raise your head. I did as bid, and presently I was blindfolded! The fabric was soft and warm, and the sensation was quite pleasant. I decided to take it in good faith
. –I accept your conditions, I said with mock gallantry, – although I think you are too beautiful for this.

– Very good, she replied, – but you must see with your skin, not your eyes.

I could hear the rustle of clothes as she undressed quickly, then the bed sagged as she got in next to me.

– Lie still, she said. She removed the bedclothes and started to kiss me with little nibbling kisses from my Adam’s apple downwards. This gave me goose-pimples and a tickling sensation, and as she moved towards my tender parts, a rapidly growing erection. She pulled off my boxer shorts without hesitation, and continued to nibble where her fancy took her. In the dark, it was slightly scary and very exciting – I had relinquished control.

There was more movement and shifting of weights, and I could feel soft skin next to my right shoulder. An arm? A thigh? Then a different smell reached my nostrils, and she said – stick out your tongue. I did, and made contact with moist, delicate skin – her sex! No sooner had I realized this than she lowered herself onto me, burying my face in her sexual parts. It was a wonderful sensation, and then I felt her mouth engulfing my sex, and we were satisfying each other. I was licking and sucking her fleshy lips, enjoying the unique smells and flavours of that part of her body, while she had started to suck on me. I had experienced this before, but not to this extent. Here, sucking was the central part of the action, so to speak. She maintained a continuous suction on my sex even as she moved her mouth up and down, and the effect was extremely powerful. Balancing on the edge of pain, it was creating a feeling of intense pleasure that seemed to reach backwards into my body. I was trying to concentrate on making her happy, too, stroking her buttocks and thighs, while licking and nibbling her swollen sex. The way she moved on my face told me she was enjoying herself, and she was making a low humming sound through her nose. I motioned her to slow down, to make this last longer, but she kept going, increasing the intensity. This could not last. I warned her by slapping her buttocks a couple of times, and she moaned by way of reply. The climax was a unique experience, where my insides where both flung out of me and sucked out of me. She made it all disappear into her own inside, as though it had never existed, and clearly took the greatest pleasure in this, almost climaxing herself in the process. I had to stop her at the end, and then she made a sound like a cat purring over a bowl of cream as she let go. Her warm body disappeared from over me, and my face felt cold for a few seconds, then she was back, lying on top of me. I could see her smiling, even if I could not see her. She smelt me.

-pussyface, was the verdict
-cockface, I replied

Then she finally kissed me, and we tasted our own strange tastes on each other’s lips. Her lips were like fire – she had not come yet, and her whole body was crying out for release. She had placed my sex between her thighs, and she was somehow rolling it between her thighs by moving her legs slightly up and down, as someone treading the water. The treatment was very effective, and soon she reached down and held me with a satisfied grunt.

– That’s better, was the judgement, and then she rolled off me and pulled me on top of me.
– I love being enjoyed by blindfolded men, she murmured, as she helped me find the way into her inside.

Wet and open I thought to myself as I penetrated her completely in one single movement; she had opened her legs to make it easy for me to couple with her loins. Seconds later she was well on her way to a loud climax.
– slower?, I suggested politely
– faster, came the panted reply

With my face buried in the soft mattress and my weight on my knees I fucked her rhythmically, moving my hands under her to clutch her tightly and caress the smooth, wet skin on the approaches to her sex with my fingertips. She held my lower back, and I could feel her nails now, digging harder into my skin in response to her rising pleasure.

– I’m coming, don’t stop, don’t stop, I think I’ll pee ….

She came, and I could feel her pussy contracting around me very very clearly; it’s a fabulous sensation when that warm grotto grips you like a hand, almost like a greeting.

Afterwards she laughed softly – that was nice!.

I was still inside her, moving gently to feel that exquisite softness. We made little sucking noises as we moved. In the lull I smelt her hair, her breath, her hair again. She smelt quite strongly of shampoo, of the type that you would normally find at a hairdresser’s. Not the cheap supermarket stuff that ruins your hair. With red hair like that, you probably want to look after it, I reasoned. Reasoning over, she spoke softly – we cannot leave you in these conditions.

– no ….
– and since you cannot see, you will not enjoy me so much from behind, she suggested
– well, I ….
– so I suggest we repeat!

with this, she again disentangled herself, and since I knew what she wanted, I helped her lie down on her side, facing me, with one soft leg for my head to rest, the other almost over my head. I dived into her pussy again, as she engulfed me with her warm mouth. Her sex tasted even more intoxicating than before, and the position was more comfortable, allowing me to play with her soft bits with hands and tongue. She took up her old routine, and again the pleasure was sensational. We moved into a ball, a loop, where my excitement would feed on hers and vice versa in a rising spiral. At the top of the spiral I emptied myself into her mouth again, and again she drank it all, licking away the final drops as though it was some particularly wonderful type of custard.

She curled up next to me with some contented cooing, we kissed again, and I lay behind her, cupping one breast, my face in her perfumed hair. Sleep came to me quickly, as it always does.

I woke to daylight and her absence. As I got up, I found a piece of black cloth on the bed. It smelt strongly of her sex, and also of her shampoo. I walked to the window, and saw a female shape with red, short hair bound towards the Imperial, to be swallowed by its large revolving doors.

An hour later I met Marc on the square. He was smiling as if about to burst with good news.

– this night, eh, it was incredible. I was with this girl, and she gave head  – you know – the best ever, she could suuuuck….
he puckered his lips and made a sucking sound

I smiled, I could afford to be generous
 – Well, Marc, you know what happened to me?

Marc ignored me and went on – that girl with the red hair, you know, that you looked at yesterday? It was her!

– what do you mean, red hair? I was with … I protested, emphasizing the “I” as best I could
– she was soooo good. Pity they left this morning –

He looked back to the Imperial, in the direction of the coach park.

– what do you mean, they? Is there more than one girl with red hair? I was totally bewildered, and felt as if someone had stolen my night from me. Maybe she had gone to him afterwards? Or before? This made no sense

– The girl and her sister! Marc exclaimed in exasperation – you know, the one with the long, blond hair. Very good skier, she was off-piste all day with Luc, but more – plain. Not so sexy face. … nice legs!

– so they are sisters? Yes, I saw her, I think, long blond hair …. My voice trailed off
– she almost lost the coach this morning, I saw her come running down at the last minute. She looked like she had – he stopped and smiled – fucked all night. But the really strange thing, I did not recognize her instantly, because, you know why? He paused dramatically.
– she went to do a coiffure yesterday, and now she has short, red hair, too!