"Show me your pussy." I tried to keep my tone steady and low, as if this was the most normal request in the world.
Still, my hands betrayed me, covered in some sweat. It wasn't just nervousness about what we were about to do, it was the situation as a whole.
Something about this felt too different as it was in reality, like stepping onto thin ice and hoping it wouldn't crack underfoot, but just hope that it will not crack.
For a moment, Emily didn't move. She stood rooted in place, her eyes fixed on my face with a distant look that I couldn't quite understand. Her expression remained unreadable at least to me, almost like she was thinking or trying to understand what I said in her mind, weighing out the pros and cons of what I'd just asked.
Her silence stretched to a few seconds, making my heart beat a little faster. And then, at last, she spoke.
"How are you planning to check?" Her voice was calm, too calm, in fact.
She didn't wait for an answer from me. Instead, she glanced around the fitting room, and we both knew the thing she was talking about was the place, so changing rooms wasn't an option. Without another word, she grabbed her bags and led the way out of the store.
We didn't talk much as we walked, and by the time we reached the motel twenty minutes later, the silence had started to feel oppressive.
I'll be honest, this was my first time stepping foot in a place like this. The moment the front desk clerk asked for ID, my stomach dropped.
For a split second, panic stirred in my mind. It almost felt like we'd been caught in the middle of something we weren't supposed to do.
But the clerk barely glanced at us. When I mumbled something about "just resting," he didn't ask questions. He just handed over the key and waved us along, as if this kind of thing happened all the time.
After getting the key to the room and entering the supposed room, we looked around.
The room itself was… plain. Clean, but lifeless. The walls were painted a dull beige, the furniture old and somewhat broken.
A simple bed, a nightstand, and a desk, that was it.
It felt temporary like it should to a customer, forgettable when people leave, like a place no one wants to stay in for too long, good enough for just a quick business.
Emily, on the other hand, took her time looking around. Her gaze flitted over the room's details, the light fixtures, the patterns on the bed sheets, the slightly crooked painting hanging above the bed.
It wasn't much, but it seemed to hold her attention, maybe because this was her first time in a place like this, too like me.
Eventually, she kicked off her shoes and perched on the edge of the bed. Her posture was stiff, almost defensive, and when her eyes finally met mine, I noticed the faintest tinge of blush creeping across her cheeks.
"I'm only showing you, okay? We're not… doing anything." Her voice suttered at the end, barely noticeable, but enough to make my stomach tingle.
She was putting on a brave face, trying to act like this didn't bother her, but her fingers curled nervously into the bedsheets, betraying her previous statement.
"I know," I said, my voice softer and lower than I intended. Even as the words left my lips, a tiny flicker of doubt stirred inside me.
She was right, technically, this was just "checking."
That was the whole point. But as I looked at her sitting there, her flushed cheeks and guarded eyes.
Emily didn't make any sudden moves. Instead, she stood up, turned her back to me, and quietly unbuttoned her shorts.
The sound of the zipper seemed unnaturally loud in the quiet room. She slipped them down her legs and folded them neatly, placing them on the chair by the desk before removing her underwear and adding it to the pile.
Her movements were slow like that on a strip show, of course I haven't been there but the internet is a wonderful thing, it was like she was focusing on every small action to keep herself steady.
And then, without another word, she walked back to the bed and sat down again, tucking her legs beneath her.
Her cheeks were even redder now, and her arms rested stiffly at her sides, as if she wasn't sure what to do with them. Her gaze flitted to mine for a brief second before darting away.
"I'm ready," she said, but her voice was quieter this time.
I nodded, but it was hard to form words. My throat felt dry.
Emily's expression was complicated, part embarrassment, part shy. She didn't try to hide herself, though. She sat there, completely exposed from the waist down, and met my gaze again. This time, she didn't look away.
Up close, it was impossible not to notice the details, the smooth curve of her hips, the faint tremble in her knees as she held still, and the way her toes curled slightly against the bedsheets. She was nervous, no doubt about it, but she didn't flinch.
Neither of us spoke. The silence stretched, heavy and tense, and I found myself hesitating longer than I probably should have.
Emily tilted her head, her eyes searching mine.
"Well?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
I swallowed hard and took a step closer. The atmosphere between us felt different like heat, buzzing with something I couldn't quite name. My hands were still clammy, but I forced myself to move, to stay steady.
After taking in the sight for a few seconds, I finally approached her, crouching down by the bed. "Spread your legs," I said, keeping my tone even.
Emily hesitated briefly but eventually parted her knees, revealing her pussy to me without a hint or any action of resistance.
Her pubic area was neatly trimmed like I said previously and asked her, with only fine, short hairs remaining. Between her thighs, her slightly darker pussy rested half-closed, leaving most of her pussy hidden from view.
"I can't really see inside from this angle," I said, leaning in closer.
~~~~~~~
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