Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Sauna Temptress

I ventured into the sauna straight from the showers, wearing just a towel, given to me compliments of the gym.  My hair was long and auburn, and fell in curls to below my shoulders, and I felt a little sigh of relief as I realized I was alone.  I really don’t have a problem with being around other women wearing nothing, or being topless, but I also had a fear of looking too hard.  I’ve found in my thirty years that my own sex drive is a bit high, and although society is a bit more accepting of lesbians these days, that tends to fall apart in the gym.  I’ve trained myself to look forward, concentrate heavily on what I was doing, and get out of the hanging areas as quickly as I could.

I sat down on a bench to wait for my hair to dry, which is my own natural timer for how long I should stay in for a steam.  Although the steam rooms are strictly segregated, I still kept my towel close and wrapped around me.  I figured that the steam knew how to get to all the places it needed to go, and I didn’t need to show myself off to the world to speed up the process.

After a good two minutes of being alone, a woman walked in also wearing a similar towel. She was a slender black woman, in her late twenties or early thirties, who had to be at least six foot two if she was an inch.  Her skin was very dark from her ankles all the way up her legs.  Her long legs were perfectly sculpted and I stared as she walked by.  They disappeared under her towel, and she looked as if she had trained on a supermodel catwalk.  The towel covered a small set of breasts, but  they were still of decent size.  I looked up at her face and saw she was truly beautiful, a smooth dark skin, full lips, and brilliant eyes.  She looked at me and smiled, showing off her perfect teeth.  Her hair was long and fell in ringlets down the sides of her head, making her look so playful and carefree.  “Hello,” she said with a French accent.  “My name is Etienne.”

I smiled and we talked for a bit as she settled in.  She was from the Ivory Coast, and had just moved here with her husband, who worked for a telecommunications firm.  She spoke English elegantly, and had learned it from a very young age.   While talking with her, I purposefully picked a spot on her neck to stare at, so that it wasn’t so obvious that I was leering at her body, but I still was able to steal a few glances.

“You don’t mind if I take my towel off?” she asked.  I looked down and turned my head instinctively, and nodded.  She stood right in front of me and dropped the towel, and her entire body instantly came into view.  I looked at her legs up and down and was awe at how uniform her complexion was.  Even her hips, ass, and inner thigh were as dark as the skin on her arms and legs.  I must have been staring a bit longer than I should because the next thing I knew she asked, “Do I measure up?”

“Sorry,” I instantly apologized.  “You have a body I’d kill for.”

She giggled and accepted the compliment.  “Merci!”  She did a pirouette and treated me to a three-hundred sixty degree view.  It was probably much more breathtaking for me than she realized.  “But I’m sure you’re just as pretty, come on, let’s see!”

I looked around, and she goaded me more.  “Oh come on,” she pleaded.  “It’s only fair!”

I stood up, and tried to play that I wasn’t excited, which I was probably failing.   I took a deep breath and opened my towel, to show her the goods, and then wrapped up again.

“Ha, ha, lovely!” She turned around and picked up her own towel, giving me a fantastic view just a few feet from my face.  I noted that her pussy was shaved completely, and she didn’t have a single strand of hair below the waist.

She laid the towel on the higher bleacher seat, and laid on top of it on her back.  She bent her legs at the knee and spread them, giving the steam jets that came in from the ceiling quite the show.  How I wished for wings at that moment, just to be able to fly above her and see!

After a few minutes she started to moan, and then arched her back and opened my eyes to see if I was still there.  “Oh,” she said.  “You’re still here!”

“And what if I wasn’t?” I asked.

“Well, you know, the steam jets make me very relaxed,” and she was quite content at leaving it at that.  I swallowed hard, crossed my legs, and said, “You can just imagine I’m not here.”

She arched her back again, and looked at me with her upside down face, mouth smiling devilishly.  “Hmm,” she said, “you are quite liberated.”  She relaxed her body and closed her eyes.  Her body was turned away from me, so she was able to tune me out, as she let her hand trace a path down her stomach and over her pussy.

She closed her ebony legs around her hand, forcing the fingers all over the labia and inside the lips, stroking her clit.  She turned onto her side towards the wall and started to gyrate her ass, getting lost in the motion.  She was almost curled up in a fetal position as she moaned and bucked her body, moving to a beautiful symphony which only she could hear but rippled throughout her body.

My hair had long since dried, but I was glued to my seat, watching her perform this carnal act loving every moment of it.  I wanted her to get on her knees and face me, giving me a good view of what she was doing, but I stayed quiet, not wanting to miss out on a single second of this show.  My own pussy was starting to flow now, my eyes had convinced my brain that Etienne would soon be mine.

She panted, and her vocals echoed off the tile walls, which were music to my ears.  Her breathing was getting quicker and shallower, and I knew the sweat that was forming all over her was not all due to the steam, but her own ministrations.  Suddenly, she reached high, grabbing at nothing in particular, but splaying out her black hand on the tile wall.  Her hips bucked a final time and she sighed passionately with an open mouth, welcoming a well deserved orgasm to wash over her completely.  She laid still for a bit and flipped on to her stomach, looking at me and smiling coyly.  “I know you,” she said.  “You seem all conservative and proper, but underneath, you just love to lead women to their little deaths.”

I scowled at the term, not knowing the French expression.  She realized her mistake, telling me that the French idiom for orgasm was “la petite mort”, which she had translated literally. I giggled, knowing that she was quite right.  I opened my own towel and laid down on my back soaking in more steam, and the eyes of Etienne, which stared at me openly, as I stared at her.

I closed my eyes, and heard Etienne rise from her seat.  I opened my own eyes to find Etienne kneeling at my feet, and crawling over my legs.  I raised my foot and caressed her pussy, beckoning her to come forward, which she did while planting kisses up my legs, hips and stomach.  She looked up at me and said, “you are quite the temptress of the sauna.”

It is a title I wear proudly.

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