Tourists (archives)


My girlfriend and I reserved a room in this four-star hotel in Washington D.C. for a short vacation — a long weekend, really — only four days, so we packed light. We brought just a single carry-on between us, so there was no room for much extra clothing. She did her part to save room, packing only a few tops. She planned to wear the same miniskirt all four days, which was fine with me. But when we were on the plane, I was fooling around, trying to tickle her between her legs, and she spilled her drink on her skirt, making a terrible stain. So I thought I would be nice and wash her skirt for her in the sink of the kitchenette at the hotel while she showered. I tried to turn on the light so I could see better, but apparently I hit the switch for the garbage disposal by mistake. It sucked her skirt down the drain, and I wasn’t able to save any of it — a total loss. When she got out of the shower, I showed her what was left of her skirt, and apologized profusely. When she came toward me with a funny look in her eyes, I ducked, but to my surprise she grabbed me and kissed me hard. When she was done kissing me, she put on her top. I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t at all prepared for her reaction. She thanked me for freeing her. Freeing her? I had no idea what she meant. We had an evening of touristy things planned — some dinner, some monuments, that sort of thing.

I said, “look honey, you can put on a pair of panties, and we can still go out, even though your skirt is ruined.”

“That would be fine,” she said, “if I had any panties, but I don’t.” She smiled oddly.

“No panties?! You mean on the plane when I was tickling you, I came that close to –”

“Yep,” she said. I had no idea.

“Maybe I can get some at the gift store, and bring them…”

She stroked my hair, and whispered in my ear, “Don’t worry, honey. I’ll be fine. You’ve set me free.”

There it was again, that odd phrase. Before I knew it, she had opened the door to the room. “What? Are you crazy? Someone could be in the hallway!” She was half naked!

“What are you worried about?” She asked me. “I’m as fully dressed as I’m gonna get tonight. Let’s go.”

I gaped at her. “Let’s go? Your gorgeous ass is…” I suddenly found myself distracted by the roundness and firmness, and lost my train of thought, giving her enough time to interrupt me.

“…Going out on the town,” she finished for me. Sensing my discomfort, she stroked my chest, and pressed her body against mine, giving me no option but to continue stroking her lovely ass as she spoke to me: “You know lots of girls wear short dresses, and this shirt is maybe a little shorter than some dresses, but not that much shorter — two or three inches maybe. It really covers most of my body. Haven’t you seen a girl who shows a little ass cleavage? That’s all I’m doing, really.”

I imagined being out with her, and the reactions we would get to her complete lack of clothing below her waist. I think I was more worried about it than she was. “But your p…” I couldn’t speak, I was so panicked. “Your pussy,” I managed.


She stepped back, and looked down as we both surveyed her tasteful bush. She smiled. “It’s safe,” she said.

“Safe?” I asked.

She stepped toward me again, and wrapped her arms around me. “Purrrrr-fectly safe,” she said.

I was terribly confused. “But people will see it,” I objected.

“What people? I’ll be demure, I promise.”

“Demure? What are you talking about?”

“I mean I’ll be, you know, ladylike.”

I felt like I was in a different reality from her. “With your pussy hanging out?” Oops. She took offense at that. I was sorry as soon as I said it.

“It’s not ‘hanging out’,” she said, mocking my tone. “It’s neatly covered by a tasteful little bush.”

I couldn’t believe she just said that. Her tasteful bush is exactly what I didn’t want everyone looking at.

But she saw it differently. “My bush covers me better than a lot of bikinis.”


“And when I sit, it disappears into my lap, see?” She pulled a chair out from the table, and sat, crossing her legs. She looked up at me and smiled.

Oh, her smile. It melts my heart. “Yes, but…” There was no counterargument to that smile.

“But nothing, we’re not going to let your little accident keep us from enjoying this city.”

“No, I suppose we…”

With that, she pulled me out of the room, and toward the elevator. It was going to be an interesting night!

Some might think she is brave for going bottomless, or letting everyone see her bush, but it is not bravery. It is having a positive attitude. Making lemonade from lemons. This is a type of girl that will always be a winner, and no one or nothing will ever keep her from enjoying life.
Comment By base At 12/1/2007 5:13 PM

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.