Steam in the snowy Swiss Alps


Can’t say I deserve this, but God I’ve needed it. After all the years of shit and gloomy silences in the UK, we finally decided to separate. Not hostile, and the kids have long grown up and left home, but still, so much inertia and complexity to sort out, even when separation is, if not exact friendly, at least agreed upon. I had a number of writing assignments to finish up, some creative fiction I had long promised myself to work on and a need for a change of scene and some healthy air.

So here I am nearly 2000 metres up the Swiss Alps in an apartment with a fantastic view. On sunny days I go out and ski or walk and on cloudy days I stay in and write and drink coffee, and on all days I do twenty lengths in the apartment block’s pool and spend some time flat out on a bench in the steam room. Bit by bit everything feels warm and relaxed and I can feel this doing me some good.

The steam room’s a funny place. The Swiss and the French and certainly the Brits come in covered up in swimming costumes and sometimes a towel wrapped around for good measure. The Germans, Danes and Finns sometimes come in stark naked and make it known that they feel covering up is a bit silly. Sometimes they conform and sometimes just the bottom half is covered and breasts roam free. It’s quite dark anyway and of course full of steam, so it’s hard to see very much.

Yesterday I was in there alone, too hot to move and stuck to the tiles with sweat. The door opened and a woman’s voice said ‘Bonjour’ – they’re civilised like that – and I replied with the same. She certainly had an accent and my French isn’t much above school level. She lay down on the next bench with her feet towards me and soon gave a few little sighs of relaxation. My knees were up so I dropped one to the side – nothing obvious, just a nice open position where my semi-swollen cock made a little bulge. You could see it if you were looking… and it wasn’t so steamy.

I shifted slightly and the sweat and the tiles made a rude bubbling sound as I did. I thought there was a small laugh. Then she did the same and made a similar squelchy noise. I repeated it and so did she. We both laughed in a hot languorous way, but then she rose and abruptly left the steam room.

Blood was heated in every part of my body by now and my cock was hot and thick escort izmir and I rubbed it idly through my costume. Had she had enough of the heat or was she guiltily running off to meet her husband or pick up her children? I hadn’t been able to see her clearly, but she looked like a voluptuous 40-something with shoulder length blond hair, certainly not slim, but curved in beautiful proportions and squeezed into a none-too-sensible kind of bikini.

The steam room door opened again and she came back in.

‘De l’eau’ she said, not that she needed to explain her movements to me.

She lay back down again on the next bench at right angles to mine but with her feet now less than twelve inches from my head. Again she sighed as she got comfortable, crossed her legs and uncrossed them and settled with them slightly apart. I turned my head to the left and could see straight up to her crotch. One thin thin bit of cloth between me and her exposing her sex. The costume was white, but had become half transparent in the wet and I could see a dark area of hair.

I raised my arms to my head, mopping my brow and pushing back my hair and then accidentally (though, see Freud: there are no ‘accidents’) brushed her foot with my hand. No reaction at all, very still, she hardly seemed to be breathing, then she pointed her foot towards my face and wiggled her toes, almost like little ‘hello’. It could have been just her stretching a foot, she could have been ignoring my touch as a passing accident. But maybe not. Time to cross the line and take a risk.

I reached up again and took hold of her slippery foot with my sweaty right hand and began to massage the sole with my thumb and then to attend to each toe individually. More little sighs – everyone likes a foot massage, but this was no innocent arrangement but two consenting adults with blood and hormones pumping around at a million miles an hour.

It was a pretty foot and this was a clean place and it seemed like the obvious thing to do when I took her big toe into my mouth, sucked it and wrapped my tongue around it. She sat up, as if hit by lightning. I disengaged from the lovely toe and we looked each other straight in the eyes, full of unasked and unanswered questions.

She slowly lay back down again and whispered: ‘J’adore ça’ and I went back escort izmir to my sucking and gently stroked her elegant legs. She moved down the bench even closer to me, laying one leg across my torso. She put her little towel across her belly, for discretion, or if someone came in, and then with two thumbs slipped down her bikini bottoms and took out one leg completely.

I rolled onto my side supporting my head with one hand and with the other slowly inched my way along her inner thighs. There were little adrenalin trembles as I advanced up her legs and I put my palm over her cunt and pressed hard over the whole area. With my hand on her abdomen I rubbed her clit with my thumb – it was hard and sensitive and her body tautened and relaxed as I worked it.

‘Stop.’ She sat up again and taking my hand kissed it repeatedly. ‘I need toilet.’

‘No. Don’t leave.’

‘I must.’

‘No, you can go here. You can. I dare you.’ The walls were dripping with condensation and the floor was like a shallow pool already.

‘No, I must…’ But I had moved up closer to her and started massaging her bladder area and rubbing her clit all the while, and slipping three fingers of my other hand into her cunt. She was so wet and worried about needing to pee, I’m not she even noticed straight away as she wriggled and twitched to the competing feelings – swollen, trembling, throbbing, fullness, breathless.

I made ‘psswss’ noises such as you make to a child to encourage them and she looked panicky and then resigned, I could feel her muscles unclench and then a stream of urine over my hands, unexpectedly cooler than the surrounding steam and hot flesh.

She groaned, liberated and could now feel my fingers up inside her. I bent down and took her clit in my mouth as I had her toe and lapped at it and flicked it, working all four fingers into her cunt. She gave easily, probably from childbirth, and greedily accepted the extra size. The thumb as well then. All my digits now pressing inside her and wedging, and now opening out, stretching her open.

Her hips were rocking up and down, agitated and eager, my tongue would bring her to the edge very soon. Everything so hot sweaty and lubricated, I gently pushed the whole of my hand into her cunt – fisting, such a dirty word – and she gave a guttural moan and held my head tight to her, for five, ten seconds, then another wave and I didn’t dare move as she rode the massive invasion of my fist within her and my tongue putting electric pulses through her nerves.

Very gently I pulled out my hand and she quickly pulled her bikini bottom back on. ‘Jamais,’ she said, almost to herself, ‘jamais…’. I didn’t know whether she meant sex had never been like that for her before, or whether she was saying to herself ‘never again’. I sat on the bench waiting for her next move or reaction.

She looked at the door to double check no-one was there, but it was still early and we had been lucky. She gave me a hand signal which only meant one thing – drop them – and I slipped my trunks down revealing my hard cock. It is quite big, not insane porno big but a good length, and wide. It often has made women double take and notice that they can’t get the fingers of one hand around it or to wonder how much they might be able to get in their mouths.

My new friend knelt close to me on the floor between my legs and firmly took my prick in one hand and cupped my balls with her other. She wanked it with powerful strokes, deliberately and well – I was close to coming in any case the whole experience had been so thrilling. She dropped her head to give the tip a little kiss and then looked up at me and held my gaze. There was wonder in those eyes, regret, lust and longing. She moved faster on my cock, her thumb expertly rubbing the underside of the head – we both knew we wouldn’t have the room forever. And then a tear rolled down from her eye. I though it might be a bead of sweat, but her eyes were glassy with emotion and another tear followed it.

My orgasm surged through my cock and she held it close to her chest as the spunk poured over her and she gently squeezed my balls to maximise the pleasure. Her timing and pressure were exquisite and I felt exhausted and empty.

She used the little towel to wipe off and then buried her face in it, inhaling deeply the smell of musk and cum. We looked at each other, both satisfied, unsure what could be said, nervous smiles, almost like a boy and girl who had held hands for the first time. Almost.

‘A la douche’, she said, and exited in a swirl of steam.

A swim for me, I said to myself, and a long hard think. These things don’t normally happen to me. How does it go from here? Same time tomorrow? Or is this a one-off and I find out that she leaves tonight?

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