They Both Run Out The Door

"Out," said Brian.

They pushed on the crush handle and were outside, out in the open, out in the night. They felt they had to get away from the door.

"Across the car park, see that building, it's dark there beside it, come on!" Crouching and running between parked cars Emma’s bare feet hurried across the tarmac followed by Brian.

Emma could not really believe what she was doing but, breathing hard, she made it into the darkness beside a single-story building; dark because it was a dead end. She stopped suddenly and Brian ran into the back of her. It was full body contact pushing her against the wall, his chest in her back, his penis in her bottom crack - she could feel his thighs against her soft bottom and could feel exactly where his huge cock was - very intimate. Bloody hell - he was probably going to get another erection.

"Fuck, Brian, be careful you were nearly up my arse."

"Sorry," he backed away.

But he must have loved that. There was far too much body contact going on.

There was a pause as they stood in the blackness.

Brian came up with not the brightest of ideas, "have you got your mobile 'phone on you?"

Emma’s glare was withering - not that he could see it, "And where do you suppose I have that? Stuffed up my vagina? Perhaps yours is stuffed up your bottom. Bend over and I'll see if I can find it."

"Oh yeah, sorry."

"I don't like the car park and I don't like here. I feel trapped here between these walls. Let's take a look at the reception. And I'll have my towel back, please."

Once more the towel changed hands.

They peered out and then idled around the building towards the reception.

Towards reception they could see a lot of people coming and going. The bar was open.

The sheer awfulness of having to go to the reception in just a skimpy towel came to them now. It was not just a matter of being seen in a skimpy towel by the receptionist, not a bit of it. They could see just how many people were there - and they seemed mostly to be women. It was not a nice empty reception with one receptionist - anything but.

"It's the conference, the teaching conference for junior school teachers," explained Brian. "I'm sorry Emma I can't do it. Let's wait for it to quieten."

"I suppose that'd be a good idea. There are a lot of people there. I wouldn't want to go, so I can see you wouldn't." She had to accept he was being reasonable. She could not really ask Brian to do that.

The little white towel making a brave attempt at covering Emma showed up in the dark almost as much as a high-viz jacket - and what would they have given for a pair of them? Brian pointed it out. It was so irritating but he was right to suggest they would be better off without the towel. It had to go if they were to be unseen. It had to be left behind. Emma had to lose any vestige of modesty. She had to be as naked as Brian. She dropped it slowly and very reluctantly.

Quickly they made their naked way away from the car park, away from the brightly lit reception into the safe gloom of the hotel gardens.

"Grass feels better on my feet than the tarmac. Lucky it's such a warm night." Brian was being positive.

"Luck! Fuck!"

"I've said no once."

Something in Emma snapped and she began to hit him. Brian's infuriating humour was just too much. The whole dreadful predicament came to her and she lashed out. She could not quite remember what came next.

Emma was on the grass, Brian's hand was over her mouth, his free hand holding her down and his whole body pressed hard down upon her preventing her moving. It seemed like being ****, she thought - was Brian **** her?