{embed passage: "variableSetup"}
{embed passage: "styleSetup"}
# The Milford Hotel
In the eastern part of Tennessee, within the Smoky Mountains, located outside a small town of little renown, lies a very special hotel.
It was founded in 1920 by Phryne Milford, an heiress who possessed a large amount of money and a much larger sexual appetite. She desired a place where women of a certain age could experience pampering and relaxation away from the judging eyes of the morally unadventurous. The guest list is very exclusive and remains that way to this day, one hundred years later.
The name of this secret place is the Milford Hotel, though the employees tend to refer to it with the vulgar name of the MILF Hotel.
You are Gregory Phipps, a young healthy man who has grown up in a small town in Tennessee. Despite being good-looking and charming, you have managed to avoid marrying too young. You aspire to travel and see the world but your dislike of sports has disqualified you from athletic scholarships. It appeared that the best you could hope for was getting a job at the local factory with your older brothers. They make tire hoists. You are still not sure what a tire hoist is.
Fortunately for you, your beloved Aunt Misty saw a different path for you. When you came of age, she sent a list of your qualifications to a friend of hers at the Milford Hotel. You received an invitation from the Hotel to apply in person a week before you were to start your job at the tire factory. Eager to avoid factory life, you packed your bags and Aunt Misty gave you a ride to the remote hotel.
The concierge of the hotel, Mrs. Winterslick, interviewed you. It was a bit unorthodox. First, you had to kiss her for half an hour, improving your technique with her gentle suggestions. Second, you stripped and allowed her to inspect your body. Finally, you got down on your knees and ate her hairy sex. Mrs. Winterslick said that you did okay, but the most important thing was that you were quick to take directions. You were offered a job and you gladly accepted.
You are now an Attendant at the Milford Hotel. It is your duty to serve the needs of the guests in a sexual manner. You completed the three-week training period where you assisted other Attendants in their duties. That meant you had to watch a lot of people having sex while you just stood there, but occasionally a guest wanted a third for a threesome and you were able to get a more hands-on experience.
Today is your first day of real service. You will work alone in attending to the guests’ needs. It is also your first real test to see if you have what it takes to be an Attendant. Perform well, and you may be offered a permanent position. Disappoint the clients, and you will find out what a tire hoist is after all.
> [[Begin your day->page_009]]player.name: 'Player'
player.money: 5
girl1.name: 'Putri'
girl2.name: 'Felicia'
girl3.name: 'Intan'
friend1.name: 'Friend'
--config.style.page.color: "gray-9 on white"
config.style.page.link.font: "underline"
config.style.page.link.color: "gray-9"
config.style.page.link.lineColor: "red-8"
config.style.page.link.active.color: "red-8 on red-0"
--# Begin Your Day
You are awake before the alarm. Of course, you are. This is your first day working on your own at the Milford Hotel. It would be easier to sleep in on Christmas.
There is no sense wasting time. You get out of bed and turn on the light. The cozy confines of your bedroom are illuminated. The small fridge and dresser drawers are underneath the television screen.
Your laptop sits on the narrow desk. The door to your closet is next to the door to your tiny bathroom. Your room is small, but it is yours and you take pride in it.
On your way to the bathroom, you pass by the leering portrait of Phryne Milford. She is sitting nude in a chair, her legs crossed and concealing her sex. One hand is over a breast, leaving the other small pale breast completely exposed. Short black hair frames a lovely face with sensually full lips. A tiny birthmark is on her right cheek. There is a hunger in her hazel eyes, as if she is about to devour the viewer. The smile is more enigmatic, and your interpretation of the expression changes often.
“Good morning, ma’am,” you say.
Mrs. Milford does not answer back.
You go to the bathroom and begin your routine. First you shave your facial hair and then trim your pubic hair to the Milford Hotel standard.
You step into the shower and wash and moisturize your skin. A thorough shampooing of your hair is next.
When you step out of the shower, you meticulously dry every inch of your body. Deodorant goes on your underarms and the inside of your thighs. Your hair is short enough that it doesn’t need much attention but you brush it anyway.
You put on your uniform. White boxers with the green Milford logo cover your crotch. You put on the black slacks and black socks next.
Before putting on your white button-down shirt, you take a moment to iron it again. A blue tie goes around your neck followed by the black jacket with the green Milford logo.
Finally, you slip into your shoes. There are no laces in the Attendant uniform since the unfortunate tripping accident of 1989. It took you awhile to get used to the formal laceless shoes, but they are a snug fit and feel very comfortable.
“See you later, ma’am,” you say to the portrait of Mrs. Milford.
Mrs. Milford continues to leer.
You exit your room and see Miss Shannon coming out of her room.
Miss Shannon is an older black woman of sizable curves. Your eyes are drawn, as always, to the expanse of dark flesh that seems to be on the verge of escaping her cleavage. Her lovely afro is pulled into a ponytail this morning. She sees you and gives you a warm smile.
“Good morning, Mr. Gregory,” Miss Shannon says.
“Good morning, Miss Shannon,” you say.
“This is your first day on your own, right?” she says.
“Yes, ma’am,” you say.
“Good luck, though you’ll do fine,” Miss Shannon says. “Just remember to always respect the guests.”
“Thank you, ma’am. I will,” you say.
Miss Shannon nods and walks away down the hall. Is it your imagination or did Miss Shannon look down at your crotch before leaving? It was only for a moment, but you are almost sure of it. Then again, you might just be imagining things because of how excited you are to work today.
Your room is on the first floor and so is the kitchen. On your way there, you pass by the reception desk. Two young women, about your age, are working the front desk. You don’t know their names but you certainly know the name of the woman talking to them. It is their Front Desk Manager, Mrs. Lowe.
A sigh escapes your lips. Mrs. Lowe is a stunning woman with curly red hair that stop short of her shoulders. She always wears a tight business vest and skirt that seems to mold to her curves. There is a brightness to her blue eyes that are irresistible to look at.
One of the other Attendants told you that Mrs. Lowe used to be a porn star but he didn’t know which. One night you went looking online for redhead porn stars to see if you could find a match. You never did, but you love the idea of the elegant woman performing hardcore acts of depravity.
Mrs. Lowe suddenly looks away from her two employees and looks directly at you. Why is she smirking? She silently nods at you and then goes back to work.
That was weird. You hurry through the reception area and walk to the restaurant. The dining room already has a few guests being waited on. Despite getting up early, it looks like some guests are even earlier risers. Perhaps they are as excited to be here as you are.
You go into the kitchen. It is a whirlwind of activity. The staff moves with clockwork precision with only a hint of desperation. Eggs are fried and scrambled. The smell of bacon fills the air. Pancakes sizzle. The sound of chopping is everywhere as staff prepare meals for the next twenty-four hours.
In the center of this orchestrated chaos is Mrs. Dunn. She is a tall woman with straight black hair that she keeps in a tight bun. A sizable bust strains against her white blouse. Tight white pants hug her hips and her long legs. She snaps orders around like a lion tamer.
Mrs. Dunn notices you right away. She points at you and snaps her fingers towards the back. That is where the employees have their breakfast. You know this, and have known this for three weeks, but she directs you to the back every single time. It is like she doesn’t trust you to act unsupervised for even a second. It is very annoying.
Although, you wonder why it also makes your cock throb with excitement?
You walk to the back of the kitchen. A small buffet of eggs, meats and fruit are laid out. You help yourself and grab a glass of juice. There is a common table for the employees to use and you join a few other early risers.
“Excited for your first day?” Troy asks. He is a fellow Attendant and one of your trainers.
“A little,” you admit.
“Just remember to pace yourself,” Troy says. “I mean, give your clients your full passion and attention, but keep a little in the tank.
You don’t want to be exhausted for the next one.”
One of the bellhops, Henry, laughs. “They are going to wear his ass out. Remember your first-“
Henry suddenly stops talking. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Troy making a motion with his hand. Did he signal Troy to stop? What’s up with that?
Before you can ask, Troy asks you a question. “Have you considered who you want to get your certification from?”
Shit! You completely forgot about your certification! Before a male Attendant reports for their shift, they need a Certification of Arousal from a senior staff member. This is to confirm that they are in the proper state of mind before servicing a guest. You didn’t need one when you were training, but you are expected to get one now.
“You did remember the certification, right?” Troy asks.
“Of course,” you lie. “I’m still deciding.”
Troy smirks. “Decide quick. Mrs. Winterslick is expecting you first thing.”
Henry asks Troy about the new lifeguard for the pool. As they discuss the lifeguard’s natural buoyancy, you think about the certification you need.
Wait, was that why Miss Shannon was looking at your crotch this morning? Did she expect you to ask her for a certification? You think about how the maid fills out her uniform and how easy that test would be to pass.
Hold on, was Mrs. Lowe, the Front Desk Manager thinking the same thing? That would explain that smirk. What would it be like to be tested by her? Maybe you would find out about that porn star rumor.
A shout from the kitchen draws your attention. It is Mrs. Dunn, browbeating one of the cooks. Sheesh, that is a scary thought. Imagine interrupting the chef to ask for a certification test. That feels like pushing your luck, but judging by your erection, you are not averse to the idea.
**Who will you go to get your Certification of Arousal?**
> [[I go to Miss Shannon and have the friendly maid certify me->page_015]]
> [[I go to Mrs. Lowe and submit to the Front Desk Manager’s tests->page_020]]
> [[I go to Mrs. Lowe and submit to the Front Desk Manager’s tests->page_025]]# I Go to Miss Shannon and Have the Friendly Maid Certify Me
Why risk the start of your first day by going to someone who might fail you? Miss Shannon has always been friendly towards you and she won’t give you a hard time. Well, her big tits might give your cock a hard time, but will only make the certification go easier.
You finish your breakfast and drop your plate at the sink. A brisk walk takes you through the kitchen, out into the restaurant, past the reception desk and back to your room. You stop long enough to brush your teeth and double-check your appearance. Everything is good to go.
Now where would Miss Shannon be? You believe she works the third floor. A glance at the clock tells you that you have enough time to get there and back to Mrs. Winterslick’s office in time. You quickly leave your room and forget to say goodbye to the portrait of Phryne Milford.
Mrs. Milford’s portrait judges you silently.
The elevator takes you to the third floor. A bellhop pushes a dinner cart down the hall to your left. A glance to the right spots the maid’s cart at the end of the hall. The supply closet door is open. Miss Shannon emerges from the closet, carrying tissue paper.
A knowing smile breaks across Miss Shannon’s face. “Yes, Mr.
Gregory?” she asks innocently. “Did you forget something?”
“Yes, ma’am,” you say as you approach. The smug look on her face is sending shivers straight to your pulsing member. “Can I trouble you for a Certification?”
“Step into my office, Mr. Gregory,” Miss Shannon says. She grabs you by the tie and gently pulls you into the supply closet with her. “Get the door,” she says.
You close the door behind you. The supply closet is quite spacious. There is enough room for someone to lie down on the floor. Come to think of it, why is there a pillow on the floor?
Miss Shannon steps close to you. She pushes your back against the shelves. The shelf of her cleavage presses against your chest. Her hand goes to the bulge in her pants and she squeezes.
“Hmm, that’s a good start,” she says.
“A start?” you ask. All a certification requires is a proof of arousal. Was there more to the certification that your trainers didn’t tell you?
“Kiss my breasts,” Miss Shannon says. “No biting. Don’t leave any marks.”
A groan escapes your lips before you can answer. “Yes, ma’am,” you say.
You lean down inside the supply closet. Miss Shannon doesn’t move and you stay pressed up against the shelf. Her hand is still on your bulge. It is awkward, but the lure of her exposed brown flesh is all the inspiration you need. You make it work and press your lips to her cleavage.
The smell of coconut butter fills your nose. Your mouth waters and you take a lick.
“Ohh,” Miss Shannon purrs. Her grip tightens on your bulge.
You kiss a breast and let your lips linger. Your tongue slips out and gives her a tiny lick. As Miss Shannon shudders, you tilt your head and plant another kiss. You kiss your way to canyon of her cleavage and wiggle your tongue between her warm mountains.
“Mr. Gregory!” Miss Shannon says in mock surprise.
You kiss your way onto her other breast. Aroused, hungry and feeling bold, you open your mouth wider and take more of her tit into your mouth. You suck on her flesh for a brief moment.
“Careful,” Miss Shannon says, but not making a move to stop you.
You let her breast fall from her lips. The brown skin is a little shiny from your spit. You dutifully lick it back up and then plant a few more kisses.
“Oh, Mr. Gregory, what are you doing to me?” she says.
“Earning my certification,” you whisper. You kiss her breast where the lace of her uniform touches her skin. Gently, you close your lips tightly for a mock bite.
Miss Shannon continues to purr. “Fuck it, you’ve earned it,” she says.
Miss Shannon pulls your head away. You do your best not to sound disappointed. She pulls down on the maid’s uniform and one of her plump breasts pops out. The hard nipple is as dark and tempting.
“One bite, on the nipple, where no one can see,” Miss Shannon instructs.
You don’t have to be told twice. Your head dips down and you take her nipple into your mouth. Closing your teeth around the fleshy nub, you flick it rapidly with your tongue.
Miss Shannon purrs. She wiggles in your grasp. Her hand pulls you tighter to her breast as you continue to bite.
“You are certainly certifying me,” she says.
Before you can ask how, Miss Shannon lets go of your bulge and takes your hand. She lifts her skirt and pushes your hand under the black cloth. Your fingers touch something lacy and soaking wet.
You move your fingers along the contours of Miss Shannon’s mound. Moisture clings to your fingers. There is heat underneath the flimsy lace.
Miss Shannon pulls away your hand. You don’t fight it. She lets go of your hand and pulls down her skirt.
You rise from her breasts and look Miss Shannon in the eyes. Her face is flushed. She licks her lips and then steps away.
“Very good, Mr. Gregory,” she says. “Let me write your certification.”
You nod and feel something wet on your chin. You wipe it with the back of your hand. It is drool. Well, that is not very professional.
Miss Shannon takes a pad of paper from her pocket. She writes your name, the date and time and her own name. When she is done, she brings the paper to her mouth and presses it her lips. A lipstick print makes the certification official.
“Thank you, Miss Shannon,” you say as she hands the certification to you.
“Wait,” Miss Shannon says. “Give me your hand. We don’t want your fingers smelling like me.”
You offer your hand and Miss Shannon takes out a wet wipe. She thoroughly cleans your fingers. You spend the time watching her breasts jiggle as she cleans.
“Have a very good day, Mr. Gregory,” Miss Shannon says.
You nod and step out of the supply closet. It is time to go to Mrs. Winterslick and begin your day.
> [[Go to Mrs. Winterslick Office for your Morning Shift->page_030]]# I Go to Mrs. Lowe and Submit to the Front Desk Manager’s Tests
It is hard to get Mrs. Lowe’s potential porn star past out of your mind. It might not be true, but the fantasy is hot enough on its own. No matter how Mrs. Lowe plans to test you, you have no doubt you can express the proper level of arousal.
You finish your breakfast and drop your plate at the sink. Mrs. Dunn spots you and points you towards the exit. A slight scowl crosses your face but you remember your training and smile instead. You walk briskly out of the busy kitchen and into the reception area.
The two young ladies from earlier are at the desk. Mrs. Lowe is nowhere to be seen. You hope that you didn’t miss her. The blonde woman spots you and she whispers something to her black coworker. Both giggle. That doesn’t bode well.
“Hello,” you say as calmly as possible. “Is Mrs. Lowe around?”
The black woman looks like she about to laugh but the blonde is more professional. She keeps a blank face as she says, “Mrs. Lowe is waiting for you in your office.”
Oh! Your suspicions were correct! Mrs. Lowe did expect to certify you! A tremor of excitement runs through.
“Thank you,” you say as you walk around the desk to the Manager’s office.
“Bon appetite,” the black lady says. The blonde giggles and slaps her arm.
Hmmm.
You knock on Mrs. Lowe’s door. “Enter,” a voice says.
Both receptionists keep a straight face.
You open the door. The office is larger than you expected. There is a couch up against the wall. Rows of cabinets cover the opposite wall. Across from the door is a large desk with Mrs. Lowe sitting behind it.
Mrs. Lowe types at a computer. The desk is simply a large glass platform on two support beams. The open style lets you get a nice look at Mrs. Lowe’s stocking-clad legs and white sandals. Wait, where is her skirt?
You wait a moment, but Mrs. Lowe doesn’t address you. She continues to type. You become a bit concerned that there has been a miscommunication.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” you say. “I am here to request a certification of arousal.”
Mrs. Lowe keeps typing. “Then get under the desk and start licking, Attendant. It is a very busy morning, but I might be able to work you in.”
Well, okay. That was not what you were expecting but you are not about to complain. Maybe the certification is to see if you can arouse someone?
You feel up to the task. Dropping to your knees, you carefully crawl under the large glass desk. You pray that you don’t get your slacks dirty.
Mrs. Lowe parts her legs. Yep, her skirt is completely gone. Dark stockings and pale thighs lead to smooth pussy lips topped with a tuff of brown hair.
You crawl into place. There is not a lot of head room. You reach for her sex with your fingers before remembering that she requested a licking. Lowering your head and tilting your neck, you press your lips to her sex and take a lick.
Pale thighs quiver. The typing continues.
You start with gentle licks. Your tongue works up one side of Mrs. Lowe’s sex and down the other. When you complete a full circuit, you wipe your tongue back and forth from side to side.
There is the faint sound of a groan. Did it come from you or Mrs. Lowe?
You part Mrs. Lowe’s pussy lips with your tongue. Working slowly, you kiss and nibble with your lips. A sudden shift in Mrs. Lowe’s hips tells you where to focus. A clenching of her thighs tells you when to lick. A pause in the typing tells you to kiss and lick harder.
A hand touches the back of your head. Mrs. Lowe shifts in her seat, sliding her sex closer to you. There is a low moan that she is no longer trying to hide.
Your tongue searches for her clitoris. When you find it, you apply the same gentle pressure. A growl rises from your throat. The vibration of your lips causes Mrs. Lowe to gasp.
There you go. You hum deliberately. Lips close around the clit as you continue your slow lapping. Juices dripple down your chin.
“One finger,” Mrs. Lowe whispers.
You do as she asks. Working in the limited space, you keep your mouth on her pussy as you bring your hand up. Your middle finger slides into her wet sex up to your knuckle. Tight muscles clench around your finger as you continue to nibble and lick.
The hand on your head pushes down harder. It gets difficult to breathe but you keep licking. Pale thighs and dark stockings close around your body.
“Yes, yes, yes,” Mrs. Lowe whispers.
Wicked thoughts fill your mind. How many other Attendants have earned their certification under this desk? What will Mrs. Lowe say when she comes? How does your licking compared to the alleged porn star partners she has had?
“Stop!” Mrs. Lowe says suddenly. The hand releases your head.
You freeze, uncertain if something is the matter. You pull your finger our and move your head back from her pussy.
“Here you go,” Mrs. Lowe says. She passes you a small piece of paper. It has your name, the date and time, and her signature. An imprint of her lips in pink lipstick fills the note.
“You may go, Mr. Gregory,” Mrs. Lowe says.
You hide your disappointment in being dismissed. She did say that she was busy this morning. You crawl backwards out of the desk and stand up.
Mrs. Lowe resumes typing on her computer. Her cheeks are a deeper shade of pink than you remember. There is a slight smile to her lips but it quickly fades.
You quickly leave her office. The blonde receptionist is working with a costumer. The young black woman looks at you and smiles.
“Better wash your face,” she says.
Oh shit! You quickly wipe your mouth of any obvious pussy juices. The young lady giggles as you hurry away to your room.
The portrait of Mrs. Milford looks pleased with your messy appearance. You duck into the bathroom and quickly wash your face. While you are there, you also brush your teeth and double-check your appearance. Everything is good to go.
Time is running out. You need to report to Mrs. Winterslick’s office. You wave goodbye to Mrs. Milford and head on out.
The portrait of Mrs. Milford smiles with approval.
> [[Go to Mrs. Winterslick Office for your Morning Shift->page_030]]# I Go to Mrs. Dunn and Request That the Demanding Chef Test Me
Challenges excite you. Or maybe you have a low sense of self-preservation. Whatever the reason, you can’t pass up asking Mrs. Dunn for a certification. No matter what happens, it will make a for a good story.
You wolf down the rest of your breakfast and drop off your plate at the sink. Mrs. Dunn spots you and points you towards the exit.
Instead of getting upset, you smile and walk over to her. The woman’s scowl gets deeper the closer you get.
“The exit is over there,” Mrs. Dunn says.
“I was hoping you could give me my certification,” you say.
The chef is speechless. She stares at you with her dark brown eyes. It feels like your very soul is being peeled away.
“I cannot fucking believe your fucking audacity,” Mrs. Dunn. “I don’t know about your dick, but you certainly have giant goddamn balls to interrupt my job during morning service just so I can examine your junk.”
Oh boy. This was a bad idea.
“Sorry to bother you ma’am,” you say. “I’ll get out of your hair.”
“Oh no you don’t,” Mrs. Dunn snaps as you turn to leave. “Let’s do this, sunshine. Face me and whip your dick out.”
There is a noticeable drop in activity in the kitchen. Mrs. Dunn looks around and everyone gets back to work. You see Troy and Henry quickly make their exit.
“I don’t have all day,” Mrs. Dunn says. “Whip it out now. I might not certify you, but I can sure as fuck get you reprimanded for disobeying a senior manager.”
Well, shit. You have no choice. Standing straight at attention, you undo your belt and unzip your pants. You start to reach inside your boxers when Mrs. Dunn snaps her fingers.
“Drop them,” Mrs. Dunn says. “Pants and underwear to the ground. I want to see all of this cock that was so important for you to show me.”
A shiver of fear runs through you. Several of the kitchen staff, all of them women, are staring at you. A cruel smile spreads across Mrs. Dunn’s lips.
You pull your pants and underwear down to your ankles and stand back up. Surprisingly, your cock is as hard as a rock. You are unsure what to do with your hands so you hold them to the side.
“Is that it?” Mrs. Dunn asks. “Is that little pastry even hard?”
You look down at your cock. Is she serious? Your shaft is like an iron bar.
“Stroke it and see if you can get it harder,” Mrs. Dunn says.
“Ahh, okay, ma’am,” you say, unable to think of a reason not to.
You grab your cock and pump it. A shudder runs through your body. You keep your lips tight so no one can hear you moan.
The kitchen grows quieter. Some of the staff puts down their knives and spatulas to watch. A few whisper to each other. There is a lot of giggling.
Shame burns through you, but also desire. You want to cover your crotch and at the same time, show it to everyone. Adrenaline forces your grip to tighten and your hand to stroke faster.
Mrs. Dunn stares at your cock. She tilts her head wrinkles her nose. She almost looks confused.
“Are you sure that you are an Attendant?” Mrs. Dunn asks. “There must be some kind of mistake. They usually have bigger dicks than that.”
You keep jacking your cock.
“Well, answer me!” Mrs. Dunn says.
“Oh, uh, yes ma’am! I am an Attendant! This is my first day unsupervised,” you say.
“God help your guests,” Mrs. Dunn says.
Laughter ripples through the kitchen. Many of them return to work. Do they share the opinion that your cock is not worth watching?
“Stop that,” Mrs. Dunn says.
You let go of your cock. As soon as you do, Mrs. Dunn steps closer and takes your organ in hand. Hot hands squeeze tightly.
“Fuck,” you groan, unable to contain yourself.
“You might be able to satisfy someone with this,” Mrs. Dunn says, staring directly into your eyes. This close, you smell oranges and rosemary coming from her.
“Thank you, ma’am,” you say.
Mrs. Dunn squeezes a little bit tighter. You wince and she lets go. As she steps back, she wipes her hand on her apron like it is filthy.
“Cover your strudel up,” Mrs. Dunn said.
You gratefully pull your pants and underwear back up. As you do that, Mrs. Dunn pulls out a small notepad and writes on it. When she is finished, she presses the note to her lips and hands it to you.
It is a Certification of Arousal. It has your name, Mrs. Dunn’s name, the date and the time. A light red lip print is on the center of the note.
“Thank you, ma’am,” you say, a little surprised and truly grateful for her approval.
“Get the fuck out of my kitchen,” Mrs. Dunn says, pointing to the exit.
You quickly obey. On your way out, Mrs. Dunn yells at you one last time.
“Brush your teeth! Your breath smell like eggs and stupidity!”
That is good advice, though you are not sure what stupidity smells like. You briskly walk past the reception desk and back to your room. The portrait of Phryne Milford smiles cruelly at your recent humiliation. You nod respectfully towards her and go into the bathroom.
That was not what you were expecting! As you brush and floss your teeth, you relive the scene in the kitchen. Mrs. Dunn’s hostility was frightening, but her passion was formidable. What did the staff think of you? Were they glad to see someone else suffering her abuse, or did they agree with her harsh words? Never had so many people looked at your naked cock and bare ass at the same time.
You finish brushing your teeth and rinse your mouth. Remembering your manners, you wave respectfully at the Mrs. Milford before leaving.
The portrait of Mrs. Milford smiles with polite acknowledgement.
> [[Go to Mrs. Winterslick Office for your Morning Shift->page_030]]# Go to Mrs. Winterslick Office for Your Morning Shift
Mrs. Winterslick’s office has a wide window with an unimpeded view of the Smoky Mountains. You are stuck once more by the natural beauty of the mountains. Vibrant green trees cling to the sides while a light haze cloaks the mountain tops. The morning sunlight bathes everything in a warm glow. You can almost taste the crisp air.
Equally beautiful, if not more, is the sight of Mrs. Winterslick. The stylish woman sits at her desk with her back to the window. Waves of blonde hair, streaked here and there with silver, spills around her shoulders. Today she is wearing a white blouse with a deep neckline. Full breasts form a formidable mountain range of their own. Numbers from the computer screen are reflected onto her large round glasses. Dark red lips are pursed in thought.
“Sit down, Mr. Gregory,” she says when you walk in.
You take a seat in front of her desk. Mrs. Winterslick finishes her typing and then turns to face you. The crystal blue eyes seem to bore into you from behind her wide glasses.
There is a brief silence. Your eyes are drawn by gravity towards Mrs. Winterslick’s bust. There is a peak in the left contour. Is that a nipple?
“Your certification?” Mrs. Winterslick asks.
“Yes, ma’am,” you say. You pull it from your pocket and hand it to her.
Mrs. Winterslick takes the Certification of Arousal and reads it. A small smile creases the corners of her lips as she reads who signed it. She holds it up to the light as if scrutinizing the lip print. Does she have everyone’s lips memorized? It would not surprise you.
“Very good,” Mrs. Winterslick says. “I am afraid that I have some challenging news for you today. Due to a foreseen shortage in manpower, you will be required to work a triple shift today. Time shall be allotted for meals of course.”
Cold fear swirls in your stomach. A triple shift? That means working this morning, this afternoon and this evening! You are going to be servicing a lot of guests today!
“Is that a problem, Mr. Gregory?” Mrs. Winterslick asks.
“No ma’am,” you say. Your voice is more confident than you are.
“Very good,” Mrs. Winterslick says. “Since you will be pulling a triple shift, I will allow you to have first pick of the guest duties. This is usually reserved for the senior members of the team, so I hope you appreciate the privilege that you are being given.”
“Yes, ma’am,” you say. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Two guests have requested attendance this morning,” Mrs. Winterslick says. “The first is Mrs. Hickley. She is a frequent guest of ours and has been coming here for ten years. She is a very demanding but at also a bit shy. I doubt she will require any sort of intimate touch from you, but that may change. Mrs. Hickley is usually sated by the sight of a handsome naked body. Your services will be of mostly a performative nature.”
There is a throbbing in your boxers. Did Mrs. Winterslick just call you handsome? You are intrigued by Mrs. Hickley’s description. No touching would suck, but maybe it will help pace yourself for the rest of the day.
“The other guest is Mrs. Cobb,” Mrs. Winterslick continues. “She is enjoying her first stay at the Milford Hotel and arrived last evening. Her request was for someone to attend her while she bathes. We know little about her except that she ravished one of the bellhops last night when he brought her bags up.”
“The bellhops also attend guests?” you ask.
Mrs. Winterslick smiles. Dimples form on her perfect cheeks. “Staff are not expected to engage in sexual service with the guests,” Mrs. Winterslick says. “But there is no rule preventing them from doing so if they choose. According to Mr. Henry, she was, and I quote, ‘wet enough to flood Knoxville,’ unquote.”
That is a pleasant thought. After what you have experienced this morning, you would not be averse to drowning your cock in such a pussy. It is going to be a long day, so maybe you should kick off right with a hard fuck.
Mrs. Winterslick turns back to the computer. “Which guest shall it be, Mr. Gregory?”
**Who shall you attend to this morning?**
> [[I perform for the shy Mrs. Hickley->page_034]]
> [[I bathe the eager Mrs. Cobb->page_039]]# I Perform for the Shy Mrs. Hickley
Mrs. Hickley’s room is on the fourth floor. You walk with a slight bounce to your step. This is your first time attending a guest on your own and it is hard to contain your excitement. Your cock throbs inside your boxers as you imagine what kind of services you will be called on to perform.
You knock on Mrs. Hickley’s door.
“Come in,” a voice calls out.
You take out your keycard and slip it into the slot. The light flashes red. You have the card upside down. Exasperated, you fumble with the card and out it in the right way. The light turns green.
It is a standard suite. A narrow entryway is flanked by a closet to the right and the bathroom to the left. It opens into a large room with a television stand, a couch and a desk on the right side. On the left is the King size bed and two nightstands with lamps. On the far wall is a plush chair with a nearby ottoman. The curtains on the far wall have been opened to shed light on the right side of the room while the left is cloaked in shadows.
Mrs. Hickley sits in the dark part of the room. She is on a plush chair in the corner. The green Milford hotel bathrobe is around her shoulders. A large white comforter is laid across her waist, completely obscuring her legs. She pulls the comforter up to her shoulders, leaving only her face exposed.
It is a lovely face. Dark intense eyes scrutinize you. She has short brown hair, parted to the side like that actress from the 90’s. Her makeup is fresh and natural looking. She reminds you of a realtor smiling from a billboard.
Remembering what you were told about Mrs. Hickley, you come into the room but stop at the foot of the bed. You can’t help but notice a pair of black lace panties is lying on the bed. Trying to stay professional, you keep your eyes on the guest.
“Hello ma’am,” you say. “My name is Gregory. How may I be of service?”
Mrs. Hickley licks her lips. There is movement under the comforter.
“Strip, young man,” she says.
“Right away, ma’am,” you say. You take off your jacket and lay it across the nearby desk. As you undo the cuffs on your shirt, you slip out of your shoes.
Mrs. Hickley’s eyes are on you as you unbutton your shirt. There is more movement under the comforter. It is so bulky, that it is hard to tell what exactly she is doing. Is she stroking her hidden pussy already? You would like to think so.
There is an appreciative sigh from Mrs. Hickley as you take off your shirt. You try not to smile as you lay your shirt next to your jacket. Leaning on the desk, you bring a foot up one at a time to remove your socks. Your belt is next, followed by unbuttoning your pants. Remembering your training, you slowly unzip your pants for maximum drama before pulling your pants down quickly to reveal your boxers.
“Wait,” Mrs. Hickley says. “Just stay there for a second.
You do as she asks. Your cock is a tentpole inside your boxers. You put your hands behind your back and stand at attention.
There is movement under the comforter. “Turn to the side,” Mrs. Hickley says.
You turn as directed. Your bulge casts a long shadow on the floor. Excitement pulses through your body. You feel like a piece of meat being scrutinized. No, a sexy piece of meat.
“Now take off your boxers,” Mrs. Hickley says.
Still standing to the side, you pull down your boxers. Your cock springs free and points to the ceiling. You place your boxers on the ground next to your socks and then resume your stance.
“Mmmm,” Mrs. Hickley says. She cracks a brief smile before resuming her neutral expression. “We can work with this.”
“I’m glad, ma’am,” you say.
Mrs. Hickley shifts under the comforter. You think she might have spread her legs. It is hard to say. She continues to look at your cock and she lets out a sigh.
Wait, is she masturbating? You think she might be. There, she bit her lip again. Now she just shuddered. You are almost certain that she is masturbating to the sight of your naked body right now.
Too bad that you can see none of it, or none of Mrs. Hickley for that matter. What kind of pussy does she have? Is she shaved or bushy? What does her breasts look like? It is hard to even tell how large her tits are with that comforter. The uncertainty is maddening.
But then again, you are not here for your pleasure. You are here for the guest’s fantasy. Your cock bobs as you remember your duty.
“I want you to stroke for me,” Mrs. Hickley says.
“Yes, ma’am,” you say. Your hand goes to your hard shaft. A shiver runs down your spine as you take yourself in hand.
“I know it is hard for some men to stroke while I am covered up like this,” Mrs. Hickley says. “That is why I left my panties there. Feel free to use them if you need to.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” you say.
The black lace panties do look nice. They would feel great wrapped around your hard member. You wonder if they were clean, or if she had worn them already. Would they be wet?
Something Mrs. Hickley said makes you pause. Some men have a hard time stroking for her? Maybe it is your youth and inexperience, but that almost sounded like a challenge. Surely, you wouldn’t have such problems, would you?
Then again, if you are wrong, you risk disappointing the guest. How confident are you that you don’t need her panties? Or maybe it is not about confidence and it is about wanting Mrs. Hickley’s intimate belongings around your dick? It might be the closest you come to touching her.
**How do you masturbate for Mrs. Hickley?**
> [[I use her lace panties->page_045]]
> [[I use my hand.->page_056]]# I Bathe the Eager Mrs. Cobb
Mrs. Cobb is on the second floor. You bring along some extra towels and a small basket of body washes, shampoos and washing implements. The thought of getting wet with a naked guest gets your heart racing. It sounds like a perfect way to start your day.
You knock on Mrs. Cobb’s door. Standing straight, you hold the towels and basket in front of you.
The door swings open. Mrs. Cobb is standing there in the green Milford Hotel bathrobe. It barely contains her abundant curves. Twin mountains fill the front of the robe. Long straight blonde hair surrounds a smiling face. Bright blue eyes look you over from head to toe.
“Hello, ma’am,” you say. “My name is Gregory and I will be attending you this morning.”
“Come right in,” Mrs. Cobb says. She licks her lips as you step inside.
You close the door behind you. The bathroom is to the right of the door and you head right in. You set the towels and basket down on the sink counter. A large mirror dominates the wall above the sink. You notice how flushed your face is looking.
Mrs. Cobb walks in and stands next to you. She looks at the bottles in the basket. “Aw, how sweet of you to bring stuff.” She holds up a big sponge. “I best this will feel great.”
“We aim to please our guests in every way possible, ma’am,” you say. You look down at her and try to look at her cute face, but the expansive cleavage draws your eyes.
Mrs. Cobb looks up at you. “Does that include kissing?” she asks. “I saw a movie once where they said kissing was too-“
You answer her question by placing your hands on her cheeks and lowering your lips to hers. It is rude to interrupt a guest, but you feel it was the right thing to do. You can always ask Mrs. Winterslick later.
Mrs. Cobb receives your kiss and opens her mouth. Your tongues meet with ready passion. She reaches around and grabs your ass. Pulling you to her, she squeezes you against her body while her mouth devours yours.
You groan into Mrs. Cobb’s lips. Your cock surges and presses against your pants. You kiss her harder as one hand slips down from her face and onto a robed breast.
Now it is Mrs. Cobb’s turn to groan into your mouth. She lets go of your ass to pull her bathrobe to the side. Her heavy breasts fall free and you take it into your hand. It is a massive amount of flesh that threatens to overwhelm your large hands.
You welcome the challenge. As you continue to kiss Mrs. Cobb, your fingers sink into her soft breast. Your other hand slides down Mrs. Cobb back; keeping her pressed against you.
Fingers dig into your ass. Mrs. Cobb kisses you harder. Hungry lips consume your mouth as her tongue dances with yours.
It is getting harder to breathe. You don’t care. All you know is that you want more. You pull on her robe and open it completely. It slides off her shoulders and falls to the ground.
Mrs. Cobb wants more too. She lets go of your ass and pulls on your jacket. It falls to the floor and she tugs at your shirt. She fumbles with the buttons and you are afraid she might just rip them off.
“Let me,” you say, reluctantly breaking the kiss. You quickly unbutton your shirt.
“I’ll help,” Mrs. Cobb says. She undoes your belt and undoes your zipper.
As you undress, you admire Mrs. Cobb’s body. There is a lot to love. She has the biggest breasts you have ever seen in your life, with dark pink nipples and vast tracts of pale flesh. Wide hips taper down to thick thighs. Fuzzy blonde hair covers her sex in a thick bush.
Mrs. Cobb pulls down your pants and boxers as she squats to the ground. Your cock pops free and lightly slaps her in the face. She laughs and plants a quick kiss on the tip of your cock.
“Oh fuck,” you groan. The brief touch sends a shiver up your spine. You quickly take off your shirt and toss it to the sink.
“That is a healthy looking meatstick,” Mrs. Cobb says. She is inches away from your cock. A grin spread across her face as she looks at it from different angles.
“Thank you, ma’am,” you say.
“We forgot to take off your shoes,” Mrs. Cobb says.
“I’ll take care of it,” you say.
Mrs. Cobb stands back up. Before you have a chance to do anything, she pulls your head down for another kiss. Your nearly-naked body presses against yours. She is a delightful combination of softness and heat.
Fortunately, you have trained for this. You slip off your shoes and keep kissing Mrs. Cobb. With one hand on a breast, you use it for support while your legs wiggle and kick off your pants and boxers. Soon you are naked and Mrs. Cobb never had her kissing interrupted.
Mrs. Cobb breaks the kiss and pulls your head down to her left breast. You happily follow her lead and kiss her tit. She lifts her breast and offers you a nipple. Your lips close around it while your tongue flicks the hard point of flesh.
“Holy shitcakes, that feels good,” Mrs. Cobb says.
You suck more of her nipple into your mouth while your tongue flicks faster.
Mrs. Cobb grabs your dick. You moan into her tit as her fingers wrap tightly around you. She pulls you from her breast so she can get a better look at your member. She is content to just hold on as you throb in her hand.
“Should we go to the bedroom?” you whisper.
“Well, I do need to bathe or shower,” Mrs. Cobb says. “I am driving to meet a friend later.”
Your cock pulses in Mrs. Cobb’s grip.
“We can certainly get you clean, ma’am, while making sure your other needs are met,” you say.
“I like the sound of that,” Mrs. Cobb says. She is still holding onto your dick.
“Would you prefer a bath or shower?” you ask.
“You pick,” Mrs. Cobb says. “Whatever you think will get all the needs met the best.”
As Mrs. Cobb grips your dick, you consider your options. The bathtub is quite large. Mrs. Cobb could lay in it comfortably by herself. That would mean you would be outside the tub as you clean her, but that’s okay, you’re here to get her clean, not yourself. If you have to, you think you could even squeeze in there with her.
On the other hand, there is more than enough room for both of you to stand for a shower. That would increase your options for cleaning and pleasure, though as direct as Mrs. Cobb has been, you might be overthinking it.
**How will you clean and please Mrs. Cobb?**
> [[I bathe Mrs. Cobb->page_050]]
> [[I shower with Mrs. Cobb->page_062]]# I Use Her Lace Panties
The black lace is too tempting. You pick them up off the bed and resist the urge to smell them. The fabric is damp in your hand. Oh yes, Mrs. Hickley has worn these, and recently. She probably peeled them off right before you knocked on her door.
Mrs. Hickley groans. A bulge appears in the comforter and disappears. She is clearly pleased with your choice.
You wrap the panties around your cock. The soft lace feels wonderful. The damp spots cling to your skin. You do a slow stroke to test for friction. The fabric is remarkably smooth.
“Stand by the window,” Mrs. Hickley says. “Face me.”
Good, she wants you closer. You come around the side of the bed and stand by the window. Outside you see the parking lot on the ground and the Smoky Mountains in the distance. Can anyone see you? You don’t think so but there is something thrilling about standing naked next to a window.
You turn around and face Mrs. Hickley. One of her legs stretches out and you see a bare foot. The toes are curled. She pulls her foot back under the comforter and shudders.
“A very nice dick,” Mrs. Hickley says. “Stroke it.”
You pump your cock. The wet panties slide over your shaft. The lace drags across your skin.
“Point it towards me,” Mrs. Hickley says.
You shift the angle of your hand. Like a dowsing rod, your dick points to where you think Mrs. Hickley’s pussy is located.
Mrs. Hickley’s eyes are rivetted on your cock. A strand of brown hair falls across her forehead. She purses her lips to blow the strand away, unwilling to lift her hands from under the comforter.
The pucker of lips and blowing of air does something to your libido. Maybe it is seeing a small hint of how she might use that mouth. Whatever the reason, you shudder and let out a loud groan.
“Yes, good,” Mrs. Hickley says. “Groan for me. Groan like the horny young man that you are.”
You groan again. You force yourself to be a little louder than usual. A little acting can go a long way towards pleasing the guest.
“A little slower,” Mrs. Hickley says. “Slower, slower, right there. Keep going like that.”
You groan again and this time there is no acting needed. The new pace is very challenging. It takes almost two seconds to complete a stroke. The slow sliding of wet lace across your hard shaft is heightening your sensitivity.
“Yes,” Mrs. Hickley says and it is almost a growl. More movement occurs under the thick comforter. Her mouth opens in a silent pant. She stares at your cock as her eyes begin to close.
Is she about to come? Maybe. You wonder how she is getting herself off. There is no sound of a vibrator, but you never know. Maybe she is using a thick dildo and ramming it inside her. Or perhaps she is just using her fingers as she watches your naked body? You would give anything for just a peek.
“Slower,” Mrs. Hickley says.
Oops. In your excitement, you started to speed up. You resume the maddeningly slow pace that Mrs. Hickley had dictated.
Another groan comes from your mouth. You groan again, even louder this time. It feels good to give voice to your desire and frustration.
“Good boy,” Mrs. Hickley says. “Turn towards the window a little. I want to see those balls.”
You do as she asks. On your own initiative, you pull your dick to the side and turn your left leg slightly.
“Perfect,” Mrs. Hickley says. “Hold them. Show them to me.”
You reach down for your balls. Pulling gently, you give Mrs. Hickley a better view. It is a strange experience. You feel objectified, but your cock is throbbing harder.
Mrs. Hickley shudders. A leg stretches out and you see the flash of pink toenail polish before the foot pulls back under the comforter. She closes her eyes and shudders again.
Yes, she definitely just climaxed. You groan with your own excitement. Despite the pulsing of your cock, you keep the same slow pace with the sliding panties.
Mrs. Hickley opens her eyes. They focus on your face before sliding down your chest and down to your cock.
“You can let go of your balls. Stop stroking. Let me see the tip of your dick,” Mrs. Hickley says. Her voice is huskier.
Your hand stops but your dick continues to pulse. Breathing hard, you pull away the black panties from the head of your cock. There is a glistening drop of pre-come. Mrs. Hickley nods with approval. There is more shifting under the comforter.
“Let’s play a game,” she says.
“What kind of game, ma’am?” I ask.
“There are two that I like,” Mrs. Hickley says. “One is Red Light, Green Light. Have you ever played it?
“Uh, is that the game where you walk towards a line, but only when someone says green light? If you walk when someone says, red light, you’re out?”
“Close,” Mrs. Hickley says. “But when I say green, you jack that dick.
When I say red, you stop. You have to come during the green light.”
“All right, that seems easy enough, ma’am,” you say. “What’s the other game?”
“I give you a countdown,” Mrs. Hickley says. “I’ll count down from a number, let’s say twenty, and you can’t come until I hit zero. But you have to jack that dick as hard and as fast as you can.”
A shudder runs through you. Twenty sounds like a lot. “Okay,” you say.
“It is your choice,” Mrs. Hickley says. “I’m going to come either way.”
Mrs. Hickley shifts under the comforter. This time you can tell she is spreading her legs. Somewhere under that thick blanket, her thighs are wide open and her pussy is ready to play.
**Which game will you play with Mrs. Hickley?**
> [[I play red light, green light->page_068]]
> [[I play the countdown game->page_078]]# I Use My Hand
“That won’t be necessary, ma’am,” you say. “I find myself quite aroused in your presence.”
“Oh, do you?” Mrs. Hickley says. There is mischief in her eyes. Maybe she thinks you are bullshitting her. Well, she will find out soon enough.
You take your dick in hand and give it a squeeze. It feels harder than stone. As Mrs. Hickley watches, you stroke your shaft. You start slow, letting her get a good look at how hard you are for her.
Mrs. Hickley licks her lips. There is movement under the comforter. She shifts in her chair. Is she undressing under that blanket?
“Come closer,” Mrs. Hickley says. “Stand by the window in the light.”
You walk around the corner of the bed and stand by the window. The sun feels warm on your naked body. Mrs. Hickley and her chair are just a few feet away. She is still out of arm’s reach, but the proximity turns you on.
Outside you see the parking lot on the ground and the Smoky Mountains in the distance. Can anyone see you? You don’t think so but there is something thrilling about standing naked next to a window.
“Let go of your dick for a minute,” Mrs. Hickley says. “Hold it by the head and let me see every angle.”
“Yes, ma’am,” you say. You use your thumb and forefinger to hold the tip of your cock, angling your arm up to let Mrs. Hickley have an unobstructed view. Slowly, you guide your shaft to lean one way and then the other.
“Good enough to eat,” Mrs. Hickley says. There is a bulge in the comforter around her waist. The bulge keeps moving as she performs some sort of repetitive activity.
Your cock throbs. Mrs. Hickley is masturbating. No, she is masturbating to the sight of you. Pride fills your body. You feel like a sexy model for an older woman’s fantasies.
“Turn around,” Mrs. Hickley says. “Let me see that young ass.”
“Right away, ma’am,” you say. You turn around and present your backside to the appreciative guest. A little self-conscious, you stand up straighter.
“Clench those cheeks,” Mrs. Hickley says. There is a huskiness to her voice that wasn’t there before.
You clench. Was that a moan you just heard?
“Grab your dick,” Mrs. Hickley says. “Keep your hand still and fuck your grip. I want to see what your ass looks like when you fuck.”
Your cock throbs in your hand. “Yes, ma’am,” you say. You pump your hips slowly, letting your shaft fuck your tight grip.
“Yes,” Mrs. Hickley moans. “So nice and fit. It is nothing like my husband’s ass.”
You are not sure how to respond to that. It is the policy of the Milford Hotel to not disparage the spouses of guests, but what if the guest starts it? You might want to consult the handbook when your shift is over.
“Go faster,” Mrs. Hickley says. “Fuck your hand like it was a wet snatch.”
“Yes, ma’am,” you say and your voice is nearly a growl. Your hips buck and you loosen your grip. You reach out and place a hand on the window for balance. Properly supported, you fuck your hand as fast as you can.
There is another moan behind you. Mrs. Hickley is doing something, just out of your sight. Is she using her fingers or does she have a toy under there? You don’t hear a vibrator but as thick as that comforter is, that doesn’t prove anything. Whatever is happening is beyond your knowing.
“Stop!” Mrs. Hickley says. “Face the window and keep going.”
“Yes ma’am,” you say. You pivot in place and turn to the window. Once more you look out at the parking lot. Two dark-haired women are getting out of their car. A thrill goes through you as you imagine them looking up and seeing you.
“Fuck your hand, young man,” Mrs. Hickley says.
Oops, you got distracted there for a moment. You quickly obey and resume fucking your hand. The excitement of the situation causes you pump faster than before.
“Good,” Mrs. Hickley says. “Just like that.”
You turn your head to look at her. The comforter has slipped from her shoulders and down to her waist. The green bathrobe is still tightly around her but you can see the swelling of her breasts under the terrycloth. There is a small opening around her throat and you can see her swallow as she stares at you.
Mrs. Hickley stares at your crotch. The movement under the comforter is steady. One leg stretches out and you see that her toenails are painted pink. A strand of brown hair falls across her face and she purses her lips to blow it out of the way without using her hands.
You groan. That tiny movement of her lips sends a delicious shiver down your back.
Mrs. Hickley looks up at your face. Your eyes meet. There is a slight flushing of her cheeks.
You say nothing. You maintain eye contact as you continue to fuck your hand.
Mrs. Hickley shudders. Her eyes close and the movement under the comforter suddenly stops. She shakes again and a moan comes from her mouth.
Did Mrs. Hickley just climax? You think she did. Etiquette prevents you from asking so you just keep fucking your hand.
Mrs. Hickley slowly opens her eyes. She notices the comforter has fallen to her lap and starts to pull it back up, but then changes her mind. Looking up at you, she bites her lip and makes a decision.
“Stop, I don’t want you coming just yet,” Mrs. Hickley says. “Also, turn around and face me.”
“Yes, ma’am,” you say. As soon as you stop, you feel a slight burn in your thighs. You were so turned on that you didn’t notice how hard you were going. Moving slowly, you turn to face her.
“What would you do with me?” Mrs. Hickley asks. “If you could fuck me that is.”
Your cock bounces in response. Mrs. Hickley snorts with laughter. It is not a dignified laugh, but the honesty of her snort warms your heart.
“I would do anything you want, ma’am,” you say.
“No, no,” Mrs. Hickley says. “I know about the Milford Hotel’s policy on pleasing guests. I am talking hypothetically; what would you do if you could do anything you want to me, right now?”
Several ideas pop to mind. You push them away and think about your training. Attendants are usually called upon to fulfill one of two fantasies. Sometimes they are asked to be romantic, like a hero in a romance novel or movie. Or they are asked to be rough and passionate, like a stranger in a bar. There are other variations, but those are the two you were most drilled in.
Mrs. Hickley is waiting for an answer.
**What do you tell Mrs. Hickley?**
> [[I tell her a seductive fantasy->page_088]]
> [[I tell her a rough fantasy->page_099]]# I Bathe Mrs. Cobb
“Get in the bathtub and I will wash you,” you say.
“I would love to,” Mrs. Cobb says. She lets go of your dick and starts to mess with the bathtub faucet.
“Allow me, ma’am,” you say. You reach across and manipulate the controls. The faucet knobs are counter-intuitive and should really only be used by someone who read the manual like you.
As you do that, Mrs. Cobb thoughtfully gathers your clothes and put them on the sink counter so they don’t get wet. “What was your name, again?” she asks.
“Gregory, ma’am,” you say.
“Mmm, Gregory,” Mrs. Cobb says, relishing your name in her mouth.
She does not offer you her first name.
“How is that temperature, ma’am?” you ask.
Mrs. Cobb places one foot in the water. “Ohhh! It is perfect.” She steps fully inside the tub and starts to sit. You offer your hand for support and she gladly takes it.
The water continues to run as Mrs. Cobb settles into the tub. She cups the water in her hands and pours it onto her chest. The wet breasts shine in the bathroom light.
As the tub fills, you kneel at attention beside Mrs. Cobb. “Would you like to use your own soap, ma’am, or would you like to try one of the ones I brought?”
“I have a blue bottle right there on the sink,” Mrs. Cobb says. “It has my body wash. It works best with a sponge.”
You grab her bottle and set it on the rim of the tub. Next, you take the large sponge that is in the basket. You wet it in the water and give it a good squeeze.
“That should be enough water,” Mrs. Cobb says. It comes halfway up her enormous breasts.
You reach across the rub and turn off the water. Mrs. Cobb leans back in the tub and sighs happily. Most of her body submerges into the water until only her face is still dry. You watch her tits just under the surface.
As Mrs. Cobb soaks, you pour bodywash onto the sponge. It is a pink liquid and smells of strawberries. You rub the sponge together until the soap turns into a rich foam.
Mrs. Cobb sits up. The water cascades along the curves of her body. She holds an arm out for you to wash.
You slowly wash Mrs. Cobb’s arm. Starting at the shoulder, you rub the sponge into her body. Down her arm you go, scrubbing and cleaning with gentle swipes. You apply the same gentle care to each finger.
“That feels great,” Mrs. Cobb says.
You let go of Mrs. Cobb’s arm and she lets it sink into the water. She turns slightly in the tub and presents her other arm. Your eyes are drawn to the large shiny breasts half-sunken into the water. Still, you wash her other arm with the same slow gentle care, finishing at her fingers.
“Oh, Gregory, that feels so good,” Mrs. Cobb says. She sits up in the water and leans forward until she is almost bending in half. Her wet back is stretches beside you.
You apply the sponge to her back. Mrs. Cobb groans at the first touch. You wipe in a circular motion, slowly covering her back in thick pink foam. She groans louder when you reach the bottom of her spine, just above the water line.
“Fuck,” Mrs. Cobb says, suddenly sitting up in the tub. For a moment you worry that you did something wrong. She looks at you with an intensity in her blue eyes.
“Wash my tits, Gregory,” Mrs. Cobb commands.
“Glady, ma’am,” you say.
You press the soapy sponge to one of her breasts. Mrs. Cobb closes her eyes and groans. You rub a little harder, pushing the mass of her breasts from side to side as you wipe.
“Use both hands and get in there,” Mrs. Cobb says.
“Of course, ma’am,” you say. You lift her breast with one hand and bring the sponge down to the underside of her tit. Back and forth you wipe under her heavy breast.
“I love the way that you touch me,” Mrs. Cobb says.
“Good, I love touching you,” you say. When the breast is completely covered in soapy suds, you move to the next breast. You lift it in your hand and work the sponge around and round her plump tit.
Mrs. Cobb sighs happily. She also parts her legs under the water. >Her hand goes to her submerged bush and presses down on her mound.
“You’re making my kitty wet,” Mrs. Cobb says. “It feels filthy down there. You should clean her right away.”
“As you wish, ma’am,” you say. You were planning to rinse her soapy tits, but the guest is always right. If she wants her kitty washed, then that is what you will do.
You submerge the sponge and Mrs. Cobb moves her hand out of the way. As soon as the sponge touches her sex, Mrs. Cobb cries out. She leans back in the tub and her breasts half sink into the water.
“Right there!” Mrs. Cobb says.
You press down harder. The thin sponge compresses and your fingers graze her sex lips. You rub back and forth, wondering how much of the soap is really cleaning her under all that water.
“Fuck,” Mrs. Cobb cries. She doesn’t care about the soap. Her hand wraps around your wrist and locks tight. She holds you there as she rocks and forth. The water sloshes from side to side in the tub like artificial waves.
You keep your hand where it is but you lean down and kiss Mrs. Cobb’s lips. She groans and grabs the back of your head with her free hand. You kiss her hard as she grinds her pussy on your sponge. Your tongues wrestle almost as tightly as her hand holds your wrist.
Water splashes. You are getting wet. So is the floor of the tub. It doesn’t matter. You hold onto the sponge with your hand and hold onto Mrs. Cobb’s mouth with your lips.
Mrs. Cobb suddenly sucks in her breath. You pause in your kissing, your mouth hovering against her lips. She grinds harder against your sponge and then lets out a tremendous scream.
You wince from the scream but stay where you are. Mrs. Cobb keeps grinding, her scream oscillating as she rides out her orgasm.
When Mrs. Cobbs finally stops screaming, she lets go of your hand. A big smile spreads across her face. She leans back in the water, sinking back until her face is almost covered.
You brush her sex with the sponge and Mrs. Cobb babbles, “No, no, no. I’m too sensitive. Once I come, that’s it. I am done being touching down there.”
“I understand,” you say, pulling the sponge out of the water. There is no more soap on it.
“Don’t worry, I’m not done with you yet,” Mrs. Cobb says. She sits up in the tub. Water glistens on her face and giant breasts. There is a lustful look in her blue eyes.
“I want to see that meatstick pop its juice,” Mrs. Cobb says. “If you want, I can suck you off. Or maybe you want to fuck my jugs. Either is fine with me, as long as I am up close and personal with your meat.”
It is a wonderful offer. You lick your lips and make your choice.
**How will Mrs. Cobb work your cock?**
> [[I have Mrs. Cobb suck me->page_073]]
> [[I fuck Mrs. Cobb’s large tits->page_083]]# I Shower With Mrs. Cobb
“Let’s take a shower together,” you say.
“That sounds great,” Mrs. Cobb says. “I want you to get wet with me.” She lets go of your dick and turns towards the shower knobs.
“Allow me, ma’am,” you say. You reach across and turn the dials. The faucet controls are confusing to most people, which is why you were required to read the manual and pass a written exam. The water blasts forth from the shower head.
As you do that, Mrs. Cobb thoughtfully gathers your clothes and put them on the sink counter so they don’t get wet. “What was your name, again?” she asks.
“Gregory, ma’am,” you say.
“Mmm, Gregory,” Mrs. Cobb says. She places her hand on your bare ass and squeezes.
You notice that she does not offer you her first name. That’s fine. It adds a touch of mystery.
“How is that temperature, ma’am?” you ask.
Mrs. Cobb holds onto your ass while reaching with her other hand into the stream of water. “Nice and hot,” she says.” Mrs. Cobb steps insides the shower and lets the water run down her body.
You admire the sight of the water glistening on Mrs. Cobb’s curves. Water droplets cling to her breasts like sparkling diamonds. She wets her blonde hair and it turns into slick gold. Leaning forward, the water hits Mrs. Cobb’s back and runs over her plump ass like a water fall. She stands up straight again and turns to look at you. Blue eyes flash at you as she smiles. One hand waves for you to get in the shower.
“Would you like to use your own soap, ma’am, or would you like to try one of the ones I brought?” you ask.
“I have a blue bottle right there on the sink,” Mrs. Cobb says. “It has my body wash. It works best with a sponge.”
You grab her bottle and the large sponge that is in the basket. Mrs. Cobb steps aside as you climb into the tub. Once in, you pull the curtain close.
Mrs. Cobb steps forward and embraces you. The warm naked body presses against you, but now it is slick with water. She pulls you down for a kiss and your mouths meet again. The kiss is twice as fierce as before.
Your hands are full but that doesn’t stop you from wrapping your arms around Mrs. Cobb. She moans in your mouth and wiggles against you. Your hard cock presses against her, delightfully sliding against her wet body.
Mrs. Cobb breaks the kiss. She steps back into the water. Most of the hot water strikes her back and shoulders, while a bare minimum of the streams hits your legs. Water clings to her large tits and wide hips. The front of her bush is soaked.
“Would you like me to wash your front or your back first, ma’am?" you ask.
“Front,” Mrs. Cobb says. She smiles at you with hungry eyes. It is clear that she has been looking forward to this.
You pour bodywash onto the sponge. It is a pink liquid and smells of strawberries. You rub the sponge together until the soap turns into a rich foam. Setting the bottle down, you press the sponge onto Mrs. Cobb’s breasts.
“Oh yes,” Mrs. Cobb groans. “Get my dirty jugs clean.”
“Yes, ma’am,” you say. The sponge coats Mrs. Cobb’s tits with foam. You take the initiative and use your other hand to lift her heavy breast so you can wash under it. The massive tit has a lot of flesh to clean and you make sure to get every inch.
“Fuck, that feels good,” Mrs. Cobb says. She grabs your dick and squeezes. “This feels good too.”
“Yes, it does, ma’am,” you say. You turn your attention to her other breast. Round and round you rub the sponge while your other hand lifts and supports the tit. Soapy nipples harden under your attention.
“Your meatstick is so hard,” Mrs. Cobb says. She strokes your cock.
“I have a lot of inspiration in front of me,” you say. You move the sponge up to Mrs. Cobb’s shoulders. With tight circles, you scrub her skin.
“Fuck washing my arms,” Mrs. Cobb says. “Wash my kitty instead.”
You bring the sponge down to her slick bush. Mrs. Cobb spreads her legs slightly as you press the sponge against her sex. The thin sponge collapses and your fingers graze her lips.
“Gently,” Mrs. Cobb moans. “Just tease me, Gregory. Rub too hard and you’ll get me off and I want to save popping until I get this meatstick inside me.”
“Yes ma’am,” you say. You carefully rub the sponge up and down against Mrs. Cobb’s sex. It is difficult going slow while Mrs. Cobb is tugging on your cock, but you make it work.
Mrs. Cobb sighs happily. Her blue eyes half close and her cheeks grow red. She keeps pumping your dick, causing her soapy tits to jiggle.
“Stop, stop,” Mrs. Cobb says. “Wash my thighs.”
“Yes, ma’am,” you say. You pull the sponge away and begin to squat. Mrs. Cobb reluctantly releases your wet dick. You hunch down in front of Mrs. Cobb and apply the sponge to her thick thighs. The running water washes the suds as fast as you apply them, but Mrs. RCobb doesn’t seem to mind.
At this position, you are face-to-face with Mrs. Cobb’s soapy sex. It is too tempting to resist. You lean forward and let your nose brush her pussy lips.
“Oh!” Mrs. Cobb cries out. She grabs your hair. You freeze in place, ready to follow her lead.
“Careful, Gregory,” Mrs. Cobb says.
“Yes, ma’am,” you say. You wash her other thigh. Soap and water run down her leg as you work. As you wash, you keep one eye on Mrs. Cobb’s soapy pussy. It is so damn tempting to nuzzle that wet bush.
Mrs. Cobb’s self-control is weaker than yours. She suddenly pulls your head towards her crotch. You brace yourself as she rubs your face against her sex. Up and down she grinds and then lets go.
“Sorry, I just need that meatstick of yours right now,” Mrs. Cobb says.
“That is no problem, ma’am,” you say as you wipe soap from your face. “How may I fill your needs?”
Mrs. Cobb tightens her grip in your hair. “Part of me wants you to turn me around and fuck my kitty from behind. The other half of me wants to lay you down on the tub and sit on your meatstick. I’m too horny to think straight. You pick one.”
You like the sound of both ideas, but you take it upon yourself to decide for the guest.
**How will you fuck Mrs. Cobb?**
> [[I will fuck Mrs. Cobb from behind->page_093]]
> [[I will have Mrs. Cobb get on top of me->page_104]]# I Play Red Light, Green Light
“Let’s play the light game, ma’am” you say. “Do I keep the same slow pace?”
Mrs. Hickley shakes her head. “No, feel free to jack as fast as you want,” she says. “But when I say red light, you have to stop instantly.”
“I understand ma’am,” you say.
“Come a little closer,” Mrs. Hickley says. “Turn a little towards me. There, perfect. Keep your head uncovered. I want to see you come.”
Your cock throbs in response. “Where should I come, ma’am?”
“Come on the floor, right in front of me,” Mrs. Hickley says. “The maids will clean it. They are used to it.”
You have a sudden vision of one of the maids, on her hands and knees, scrubbing your jizz from the carpet. It is a lovely thought. You wish you could be here to see it.
“Ready?” Mrs. Hickley says.
“Yes, ma’am,” you say. You hold the damp panties tightly against your cock.
“Green light,” Mrs. Hickley says.
You pump your cock. The lacy panties slide back and forth over your cock. Nothing is restraining you now as you jerk at a rapid pace.
Mrs. Hickley moans. She slides down a little in the chair. There is a flash of teeth as she bites her lip. There is steady movement under the comforter.
Your endurance surprises you. As aroused as you are, you thought that you would come right away. Maybe your cock is enjoying itself too much to release just yet.
“Red light,” Mrs. Hickley groans.
You pause your hand instantly. Your cock however, continues to throb. Shit, this is harder than you thought it would be.
Just because you have stopped, doesn’t mean Mrs. Hickley has. She shudders and smiles. The comforter continues to shift. She is still playing with herself while you suffer.
“Green light,” Mrs. Hickley says.
You groan as you start again. Mrs. Hickley laughs at your eagerness. It is a surprisingly girlish laugh.
“Red light,” Mrs. Hickley says.
What? You had just started! Your hand freezes in place, right at the head of your cock.
Mrs. Hickley states at you. A slow smile spread across her face. She’s enjoying this.
“Green light,” she says.
This time you are going to come. You pump your dick with an urgent fury. The panties cling to your cock. You look at Mrs. Hickley’s face, imagining your sperm flying through the air and landing on those smiling lips.
Mrs. Hickley cries out. Maybe she is imagining the same thing. There is movement under the comforter near her chest. Is she grabbing a breast? Could she be pinching a nipple?
There is another shudder and Mrs. Hickley closes her eyes. She is coming again; you are sure of it.
“Red light!” she gasps.
You stop. Your cock is hot and eager in your hand. It would be so easy to shift your hips and fuck your hand but you stay where you are. The reputation of the Milford Hotel demands it.
Mrs. Hickley slowly opens her eyes. She sits up straighter. A part of the comforter slips from her left shoulder, exposing the green bathrobe she is wearing. Oh, how you wish the bathrobe would fall as well!
“Green light, young man,” Mrs. Hickley says.
You jack your cock with Mrs. Hickley’s panties. There is no need to go fast. You are almost ready to pop. Strong steady strokes pump your cock.
Mrs. Hickley opens her mouth in a mocking smile. The comforter around her crotch bulges and shifts. You get the feeling she is using both hands.
“Red light!” Mrs. Hickley snaps.
You stop. A needy groan falls from your lips.
“Green light!” Mrs. Hickley says.
You go back to stroking. There is a tightness in your balls. It is about to happen.
“Red light!” Mrs. Hickley says.
“Fuck,” you gasp. Your hand stops.
“Don’t you dare come,” Mrs. Hickley says with a laugh.
Your fingers cinch around the base of your cock. Through sheer force of will, you stop your approaching orgasm. You whimper a little.
“Green light!” Mrs. Hickley nearly shouts.
You loosen your grip. Two strokes later, your cock erupts. A strand of seed flies through the air, landing just shy of the edge of the comforter on the floor.
“Fuck!” you yell as you keep pumping. Another stream flies and lands on the carpet.
Mrs. Hickley shakes and she moans. Her eyes stay open as she climaxes once more. She watches as you keep pumping load after load of seed onto the floor.
When there is no more jizz to spray, Mrs. Hickley says “Red light.”
Now it is your turn to laugh. Mrs. Hickley laughs with you.
You feel weak in the knees. Right now, you would like to lie down but you stay on your feet. You give your cock one more squeeze to make sure you are finish.
“That was so hot,” Mrs. Hickley says. “I needed that.” She pulls the comforter tighter around her. You see the pink of her toenail polish again.
“I am happy to have been of assistance, ma’am,” you say.
“You did very well,” Mrs. Hickley says. “I’ll be sure to leave you a good review. You may go now. Please leave my panties on the floor.”
“Yes, ma’am,” you say. You unwind the panties from your dick and let them drop to the floor. Walking carefully, you move towards your clothes and get dressed. You are much quicker getting dressed than when you were stripping.
Mrs. Hickley watches as you get dressed. She says nothing, but the sated smile stays on her lips. That is a well-satisfied guest.
“Have a good day ma’am,” you say and then you leave her room.
> [[Go back to your room->page_109]]# I Play the Countdown Game
“The countdown game sounds fun, ma’am,” you say.
“It is a favorite of mine,” Mrs. Hickley says. “Remember, stroke as hard and as fast as you can, but you can’t come until I say zero.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Mrs. Hickley adjusts herself under the comforter. A bulge appears over her crotch. Was that a toy she was slipping in?
“Twenty,” Mrs. Hickley says.
You jack your cock. The lacy panties slide back and forth. The damp spots have dried but it doesn’t matter. You are stroking your cock with a woman’s panties, that is exciting enough.
“Nineteen,” Mrs. Hickley says. Her eyes are locked onto your dick.
You quicken your pace. After going slow, it feels nice to let loose. It feels even nicer having a woman like Mrs. Hickley watching you. Besides, with a count of twenty, it won’t be long before you need to come.
“Eighteen, seventeen, sixteen,” Mrs. Hickley says.
This is a nice surprise. Why is she going faster? Is she not allowed to come until she says zero as well? The two of will be racing towards your orgasms.
“Fifteen, fourteen, thir-uhhhhh!”
Mrs. Hickley interrupts her count with a loud groan. The movement in the comforter stops. She bites her lip and tilts her head forward. Is she coming?
Are you supposed to stop? You don’t think so. Your cock sure as fuck doesn’t want to stop now.
“Thirteen,” Mrs. Hickley says again. She lifts her head and looks at you. More hair falls across her face. This time, she doesn’t stop to brush them back.
“Twelve, eleven, ten, nine,” she says. The hidden hands move under the comforter. One leg stretches back out and flashes pink toenail polish.
You are caught in the heat of the moment. Faster and faster you jack your cock. Your hips begin to buck as you fuck your hand and the lacy panties around your cock.
“Eight,” Mrs. Hickley says. She looks at you and smiles.
You smile back.
“Seven,” Mrs. Hickley gasps. She shudders.
You groan. It is loud and primal.
Mrs. Hickley laughs. “Don’t come, not yet.”
“I won’t,” you groan, though you wouldn’t mind slowing down. Too bad that it isn’t allowed.
“When you do, point it at the carpet,” Mrs. Hickley says. “Shoot your spunk in front of me. The maids will clean it up.”
You picture a maid kneeling in front of your sperm. A thrill goes through you as you imagine them cleaning your mess. Would they be tempted to take a lick?
“Six,” Mrs. Hickley says.
You groan. She is dragging this out. You are so close. So very, very close.
“Five,” Mrs. Hickley says. A corner of her mouth is curled into a smirk. She is feeding off your discomfort.
You play into it and whimper a little. Your hand keeps the same rapid pace. You bite your lip.
“Are you close, young man?” Mrs. Hickley says.
“Yes, ma’am,” you say.
“Good. Four.”
Mrs. Hickley shudders. She closes her eyes and her mouth hangs open. The movement under the comforter is furious. She shakes once, twice and then is still. Mrs. Hickley just came again, you’re sure of it.
You keep stroking your cock. Your own climax is fast approaching, but it is too soon. You have to wait. Your hand tightens around your cock.
Mrs. Hickley is silent. Fuck, is she done? Will she never hit zero? Should you say something.
You know better. You keep quiet and let the guest enjoy her moment.
Mrs. Hickley’s eyes pop open. She looks up, her mouth open and panting. The cruel smile is back on her lips.
“Three,” she says.
You groan and keep pumping your cock. It is a wonder that you haven’t made a mess already.
“Two,” Mrs. Hickley says ever so softly.
There is a familiar tension in your balls. You bite your tongue and try to will the orgasm away. Is that even possible?
“One,” Mrs. Hickley says, almost as a whisper.
You are fighting back your orgasm so hard that it almost hurts. Your vision blurs. Are those tears?
“Zero,” Mrs. Hickley says in a loud voice. It is like thunder in the quiet bedroom.
“FUCK!” you cry out. You pump your cock and seed shoots from your shaft. It flies across the room and splatters the bottom of the comforter.
“Yes, yes,” Mrs. Hickley says. “Get all that young come out.”
You obey and keep pumping. Seed flies from your cock in thick strands. It lands on the floor, leaving white streaks in the brownish carpet.
Eventually, you run out of semen to ejaculate. A weakness comes over your legs. There is a cramp in your hand. You could really do with a nap right now.
“That was so hot,” Mrs. Hickley says. “I am going to be floating all day.” She pulls the comforter tighter around her. You see the pink of her toenail polish again.
“That is how we like our guests to feel, ma’am,” you say.
“You did a good job of it,” Mrs. Hickley says. “I’ll be sure to leave you a good review. You may go now. Please leave my panties on the floor.”
“Yes, ma’am,” you say. You unwind the panties from your dick and let them drop to the floor. As you walk to your clothes, you feel your own version of floating. It must be contagious. Now that you are no longer performing, you get dressed a lot faster than when you stripped.
Mrs. Hickley watches as you get dressed. If you were expecting a final word, she has none to give. She got what she needed from you.
“Have a good day ma’am,” you say.
Mrs. Hickley waves as you leave the room.
> [[Go back to your room->page_109]]# I Tell Her a Seductive Fantasy
“The first thing I would do ma’am, is come over there and kiss those pretty lips,” you say.
Mrs. Hickley gasps. Is she aroused, or did you cross a line and offend her? The silence stretches for two seconds.
“Tell me more,” Mrs. Hickley says.
Your heart starts beating again.
“You wouldn’t have to get up,” you say. “I would walk over there, bend down and place my hand under your chin. I would tilt your head up and kiss those full lips of yours. My tongue would open your mouth and then I would taste you.”
“Yes,” Mrs. Hickley whispers. There is more color in her cheeks. Her hands move underneath the comforter.
“Some guys don’t like to kiss,” you say. “But when I kiss a woman, I like to take my time. I like exploring their mouth. Our tongues would meet and I wouldn’t stop until both of us are breathless.”
“Breathless, huh?” Mrs. Hickley says.
“Yes, and I should tell you, ma’am, I like to sing a lot, so I have a lot of breath control,” you say. “It takes me awhile to run out of breath.”
“I bet,” Mrs. Hickley says. “There’s some lube in the dresser behind you. Why don’t you put it on your dick?”
“Yes, ma’am,” you say. You turn around and open the top drawer. Knowing that Mrs. Hickley is looking at your ass, you make sure to clench your buttocks. The lube is nestled between bundles of rolled panties. You take the lube out and turn back around.
“I am happy to lube myself, ma’am” you say. “But in my fantasy, you would do it.”
“Would I?” Mrs. Hickley says.
“Oh yes, ma’am,” you say. “After our kiss, I go get the lube and bring it to you. I would stand next to you as you sit in your chair. You would use those hands, which are so busy right now under the comforter, and you would apply that same expert touch to my hard dick. I am sure it would feel wonderful.”
Mrs. Hickley moans. The movement under the comforter is more urgent. She shifts in her seat, and the bathrobe opens a smidge to revel the first hints of her bare chest.
You open the bottle of lube and squirt it into your hand. It is a little chilly. You set the bottle down and rub your hands together. The lube warms and you apply it to your cock.
Mrs. Hickley watches. She licks her lips. Underneath the comforter, she spreads her legs and plants her feet. Pink toenails slip out from under the comforter.
“Once I was properly lubed, ma’am, I would ask what position would work for you,” you say.
“You choose,” Mrs. Hickley says. Her dark eyes are riveted to your cock.
“Well, I would take you to bed, ma’am,” I say. “I would scoop you up and lay you gently on the bed with your legs hanging off the side. Then I would stand between your legs and rub my hands on your thighs.”
Mrs. Hickley cries out. She closes her eyes and shudders. The movement under the comforter suddenly stops. Hair falls over one eye as she shudders again.
Did she just climax? It looks like it. Should you stop?
Mrs. Hickley opens her eyes. “Go on,” she says, her voice a whisper. “And jack your dick.”
“Yes, ma’am,” you say. You slowly pump your cock. The lube feels so nice and your cock is so hard, that you have to go slow to make it last.
“I would spread your legs and reveal your sex,” you say.
“Say cunt,” Mrs. Hickley instructs.
“I would spread your legs and reveal your cunt,” you correct. “I would be tempted to lick it, but I am too turned on. I just want to enter you right away with my dick.”
“Yes,” Mrs. Hickley says. The movement resumes under the comforter. She is back to stroking herself.
“I would slip right into you,” you say, pumping your cock. “I would fill your cunt up with my dick and I wouldn’t stop until my balls are touching your lips.
“Yes,” Mrs. Hickley growls.
“It would feel wonderful,” you say. “My dick would throb inside your wet cunt. Then I would grab that robe and pull it apart to see your breasts.”
“Say tits,” Mrs. Hickley says.
You groan and jack your dick a little harder. “I would grab your tits. Both hands would hold onto your tits while my hips moved. I would fuck you slowly, Mrs. Hickley. I would take my time and enjoy every thrust.”
Mrs. Hickley growls. She stares hard at your cock. One hand comes up from under the comforter and slips into the top of her robe. She squeezes a breast while her other hand continues to work under the comforter.
“Nice and slow,” you groan, jacking your slippery cock with the same speed. “Hard and deep. Taking my time and filling you up with every movement.”
“Fuck,” Mrs. Hickley groans. “Come for me, right now. Shoot it onto the floor in front of me.”
“I much rather come inside you,” you say, stroking your cock as hard as you can. “I would come so hard inside of you. I would shoot my seed deep in your cunt while I hold onto your tits. And when I came, you would feel my hot come inside of you.”
You climax. Seed flies from your cock and land just short of Mrs. Hickley’s pink toenails. You let out a loud groan as you continue to pump more loads onto the brownish carpet.
“Fuck!” Mrs. Hickley cries out. She closes her eyes and shudders. Her hand freezes in place around her breast. The comforter is still. She shudders once, twice and then a third time before slowly opening her eyes. Mrs. Hickley lets out a long breath and slips her hand out from her robe. The other hand stays under the comforter.
“That was amazing,” Mrs. Hickley says.
“It was, ma’am,” you say. “Careful with your feet. I almost got them messy.”
Mrs. Hickley pulls her feet back quickly. “It’s okay,” she says. “The maids will clean it up. Wow, that is a lot of jizz.”
“You are an attractive woman, ma’am,” you say.
“Thank you,” Mrs. Hickley says. “Thank you for everything. You may go now. I will be giving you an excellent review.”
“It was my pleasure, ma’am,” you say. You have been dismissed but your hand is a mess. Luckily a box of tissues is near your clothes. The tissues are flimsy and it takes a dozen to clean your hands.
Mrs. Hickley says nothing as you get dressed. The comforter is still around her lap. There is a contented smile on her face. Your job here is finished.
> [[Go back to your room->page_109]]# I Tell Her a Rough Fantasy
“First of all, I would walk over there and pull that damn comforter off your body,” you say.
The movement under the comforter freezes. Mrs. Hickley’s mouth drops open. It is hard to read her expression. Shit, did you just fuck up?
“I bet you would,” Mrs. Hickley says. Her voice is a whisper. The comforter shifts as she moves her hands. Your ass unclenches with tension you didn’t know you had.
“Tell me more,” Mrs. Hickley says.
“After I take that comforter off of you, I would open up that robe,” you say. “I would spread it wide so I could see your breasts and give them a squeeze.”
Mrs. Hickley moans. “Call them tits,” she says.
“Fine, I’d squeeze those tits of yours,” you say. “You’ve been hiding them from me, but in my fantasy, I would grope them as I bit your nipples.”
“Yes,” Mrs. Hickley hisses. “There’s some lube in the dresser behind you. Why don’t you put it on your dick?”
“Sure, ma’am,” you say. You turn around and open the top drawer. The lube is nestled between bundles of rolled panties. You take the lube out and close the drawer.
“In my fantasy, there wouldn’t be a need for lube, ma’am” you say.
“Why is that?” Mrs. Hickley asks. She stares intently at your cock. The comforter rises and falls where her crotch is.
“Because I would have you get my dick wet with your mouth,” I say. “You would spit on it, and get it nice and slick before I jam it down your throat.”
Mrs. Hickley gasps. She shudders and her eyes close. The comforter is still. She shudders again and you know that she has climaxed.
As Mrs. Hickley recovers, you squirt the lube into your hand. It is damn cold. You set the bottle down and rub your hands together. The lube warms up and you apply it to your cock. It feels wonderful as you grip your hard shaft.
“Down my throat you said,” Mrs. Hickley says. The movement under the comforter has resumed.
“Oh yeah,” you say. “I would let you sit in the chair but I would pull your head onto my dick. Think you could swallow it all?”
“Yes,” Mrs. Hickley groans. She pulls a hand up from under the comforter and slips it into her bathrobe. There is a tantalizing glimpse of skin as the robe pulls away slightly but Mrs. Hickley’s hand blocks the view of her breast. She cups her tit and squeezes.
“Tell me more,” Mrs. Hickley says. Her eyes are locked on your shiny cock as she gropes her tit.
“I would fuck your face,” you say. “I mean, I probably would get fired for doing something like that to a guest, but I wouldn’t be able to help myself. You are so sexy and I just need to push my dick into those pretty lips.
Mrs. Hickley groans. She arches her back. The robe pulls slightly apart and you catch a glimpse of side boob from the breast she isn’t squeezing.
“But that is just the appetizer,” I say. “After I fuck your face, and you get my cock wet and sloppy, then I would pull you up out of that chair.”
“Yes,” Mrs. Hickley says.
You pump your cock faster, getting caught up in your own fantasy.
“I would pull that robe off your body and take a look at your pussy,” you say. “I’m so curious about it. Is it hairy? Do you shave?”
“I keep it trimmed,” Mrs. Hickley says. Her cheeks redden slightly. “There is a little hair but I keep it real short.”
“Sounds lovely,” you say. “After I take a good hard look, I would bend you over the back of that chair and get behind you.”
“Oh fuck,” Mrs. Hickley says. She pulls harder on her breast. The movement under the comforter is intensifies.
“I would bend you over and slip my wet dick right into your neatly trimmed pussy,” you say, jacking your cock harder.
“Call it my cunt,” Mrs. Hickley says. She shifts in her seat and the robe slips off her shoulder. You can see her hand now and hints of the modest breast underneath.
“I would fill that cunt of yours,” you say. “With you bent over the chair, I would grab your hips and pound that cunt. I would give you the hardest, deepest fuck of your life.
“Yes,” Mrs. Hickley moans. She is enraptured by your story. Her hands moves and you get a peek of her pink nipple. She sinks lower in her chair as the movement under the comforter becomes a frenzy.
“My dick would claim your cunt,” you say. “You see how hard I am jacking my dick? Imagine that inside your cunt. I would slam the shit out of you while you are bent over the back of that chair. My hands would keep you in place as I fuck your brains out. I would keep fucking until I shot my load deep in your cunt.”
“Yes!” Mrs. Hickley growls. “Shoot your load now,” she says. “Shoot it onto the floor right in front of me. Show me how much come you would give me!”
You were so close to the edge and her words were the final push. You cry out as you climax. Seed shoots from your cock and flies in the air. Some of it reaches the comforter while the rest lands on the carper. You keep stroking and more strands of come fly forth. Pleasure washes over your body as you pump your loads onto the brownish carpet.
“Fuck!” Mrs. Hickley cries out. She shudders and her eyes clench shut. Her hand crushes her breast. The movement under the comforter stops. She shudders once, twice and then a third time before slowly opening her eyes. Mrs. Hickley lets out a long breath and slips her hand out from her robe. Her lovely breast, glowing with a pink hand print is clearly visible. You savor the rare sight before Mrs. Hickley covers her breast once more with the robe.
“I feel like I have run a marathon,” Mrs. Hickley says.
“Me too, ma’am,” you say. “I also got some come on your comforter.”
Mrs. Hickley looks down and laughs. “Thanks for letting me know,” she says. “The maids will get me a new one and clean up the floor. You made a huge mess.”
“It was a hot fantasy, and I had great inspiration in you, ma’am,” you say.
“Thank you,” Mrs. Hickley says. “I am going to need a nap. You may go now. I will be giving you an excellent review.”
“It was my pleasure, ma’am,” you say. It is time for you to go but your hand is sticky with come. Luckily a box of tissues is near your clothes. You dirty about a dozen of the tissues before your hands are clean enough to get dressed.
Mrs. Hickley says nothing as you get dressed. The comforter is still around her lap. Her eyes are closed. Is she napping already? You leave as quietly as you can.
> [[Go back to your room->page_109]]# I Have Mrs. Cobb Suck Me
“Your mouth, please,” you say.
“So polite!” Mrs. Cobb says. “Stand up so I can reach it.”
You stand up beside the tub. Mrs. Cobb rises out of the water and gets on her knees while still inside the tub. Soap and water cling to her generous curves. She pulls her wet hair back while staring at your cock. You lean closer and she giggles.
“Eager puppy!” Mrs. Cobb says. She grabs your cock with a wet hand. Her grip is tight. She leans closer and sticks out her tongue. Looking up at you, she slowly licks the head of your shaft.
You let out a groan. Your dick throbs in her hand. It is tempting to thrust forward, but you control yourself.
“Now this is a yummy meatstick,” Mrs. Cobb says. She puckers her lips and leans closer. The tip of your cock slowly penetrates her mouth. She stops just short of taking your entire head between her lips.
“Yes,” you groan. Your self-control crumbles and your hips shift.
Mrs. Cobbs laughs, with your dick in her mouth. The laughter causes her lips to vibrate. She takes more of cock into her mouth until half your shaft disappears. Her hand wraps around the base of your member as she closes her lips tightly around you and pulls back. Your cock pops from her lips.
“I shouldn’t tease you,” Mrs. Cobb says. “Especially after how hard you made me come.”
“It’s okay,” you lie. “I am yours to play with.”
“I like the sound of that,” Mrs. Cobb says. “Play with my jugs while I suck you.”
“Yes, ma’am,” you say. You grab her tits with both hands. Mrs. Cobb goes back down on your cock. This time she takes most of your hard length before stopping.
You throb in Mrs. Cobb’s mouth as you squeeze her breasts. They are wet and hot to the touch. Your fingers are drawn to her plump nipples. Each are as hard as candies. You rub your thumbs over her nipples.
Mrs. Cobb groans onto your cock. You love the vibrations. She turns her head slightly so that her cheek bulges from the head of your dick. Her blue eyes look up at you the entire time. She watches you react as she swipes her tongue back and forth over your cock.
It feels wonderful. Mrs. Cobb is consuming your thick dick. You grab handfuls of her plump breasts and knead them as she sucks. Every squeeze of her heavy tits makes her groan on your pulsing cock.
Mrs. Cobb tries to take more of your dick but chokes partway through. She pulls her head back and your shaft is shiny with her spit. Laughter spills from her mouth as she shakes her head.
“Almost too much meat for me to handle,” Mrs. Cobb says. She leers up at you. “Almost,” she says.
Mrs. Cobb takes you back into her mouth. This time she stops halfway down your shaft. Her hand wraps around the base and she tugs on your dick. She is jacking the bottom half of your dick while her mouth sucks hard on the top half.
Fuck, your legs tremble. It feels like she is trying to suck and stroke the come right out of you. It might just work.
Mrs. Cobb opens her mouth and gasps for air. She keeps stroking. Her hand is a blur as she jacks you. She pulls back and sticks her tongue out again. Her tongue licks you like a lollipop while her hand pumps you.
You hold on for dear life. Your hands crush her breasts but she doesn’t seem to care. Biting your lip, you thrust with your hips. You fuck the hand that is jacking you as Mrs. Cobb continues to lick your head.
Suddenly, Mrs. Cobb takes you back into your mouth. She lets go of your cock as her lips wrap around you. Her mouth keeps a tight grip as she bounces her head back and forth. Now it is her mouth that is stroking you and her lips are as strong as any hand.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you groan. You let go of her Mrs. Cobb’s tits and grab her shoulders instead. Tremors run down your legs. Ragged gasps come from your lips.
Mrs. Cobb grabs your hips. She pulls on your hips and guides your thrusts. Back and forth, your cock fucks her mouth. It is all under her control, but it doesn’t make it any less hot.
“Oh fuck, Mrs. Cobb,” you say.
Mrs. Cobb grins with her lips tight around you. There is joy in her blue eyes. She pulls and pushes your hips, making you fuck her hot mouth just a little faster.
“Oh shit,” you groan. You catch yourself bending over in pleasure and force yourself to stand up straighter. The Milford Hotel always demands good posture from their employees.
There is a familiar tension. “I am going to come, Mrs. Cobb,” you announce.
Mrs. Cobb lets go of your hips and grabs your cock again. She pulls back and releases your dick from her lips. It is shiny again with spit. Both hands jack your cock as Mrs. Cobb opens her mouth.
“Pop your juice into me, Gregory,” Mrs. Cobb says. She sticks out her tongue.
You come almost instantly. Pleasure grips your body as seed flies from your dick. It shoots straight onto Mrs. Cobb’s tongue.
Mrs. Cobb keeps her tongue out. A second load goes into her mouth. The third load lands on her tongue. She closes her mouth to swallow and the next load splatters against her lips. She opens her mouth again as you keep pumping.
When no more come is left, Mrs. Cobb leans forward and takes your dick back into your mouth. You cry out as she sucks the last drops from your cock.
“Sweet Jesus,” you swear.
Mrs. Cobb lets your dick fall from her mouth. “Yum, yum, yum!” she says.
You laugh and let go of her shoulders. Angry red marks dot her shoulders from where you squeezed. You try to stand on your own and barely keep from wobbling.
“That is the dirtiest bath I have ever taken,” Mrs. Cobb says. She rises out of the water and stands up. “Help me out.”
“Yes, ma’am,” you say and you help the woman out of the tub. Without waiting to be told, you grab a towel and vigorously dry her. You try not to linger too much on her lovely breasts but it is hard.
Mrs. Cobb coos as you dry her. “This is nice. When you are done, I’ll get my purse and tip you.”
“No need, ma’am,” you say. “Tipping Attendants is not allowed. We are more than happy to serve and your lovely mouth was compensation enough.”
“And my jugs too, right?” Mrs. Cobb says.
“I can honestly say that touching your beautiful tits would be worth an entire paycheck,” you say.
Mrs. Cobb beams with pride as you finish your toweling. Sometimes the right words are better than an orgasm. She is still beaming as you help her put her bathrobe back on and begin to get dress yourself.
“Well young man, you were certainly worth the price I paid for my reservation,” Mrs. Cobb says. “And to think, I still have three more days to stay!”
“Enjoy your stay, ma’am,” you say. “And if you need a bath, a shower, or anything else, feel free to ask the front office and myself, or someone else would be happy to attend you.”
Mrs. Cobb almost glows with excitement. “I certainly will, Gregory,”
> [[Go back to your room->page_109]]# I Fuck Mrs. Cobb’s Large Tits
“I want those lovely breasts,” you say.
Mrs. Cobb grabs a hold of both breasts. “My jugs are all yours,” she says. “Put some more body wash on them. We don’t need the sponge.”
You grab the body wash and pour a generous amount onto Mrs. Cobb’s tits. She rubs the pink soap onto her breasts. White suds cover her chest and your cock throbs just looking at it.
“Stand up,” Mrs. Cobb commands.
You stand up and present your cock to Mrs. Cobb. She grabs your hips and pulls you closer. You brace yourself on the shower rod and hopes it holds your weight. Mrs. Cobb taps your dick on one breast and then the other. You love the way her fat breast jiggles with each impact.
“I have always had big jugs,” Mrs. Cobb says. “Boys love to kiss them and they love to squeeze them, but do you know what they love most of all?”
You have a guess but you feign ignorance. “What is that?” you ask.
“They love to fuck them,” Mrs. Cobb says.
She leans forward and sandwiches your cock between her soapy tits. Wet warmth encases your dick. She grinds her breasts against your hard shaft, looking up at you with her bright blue eyes.
“Fuck, that feels great,” you say.
“It feels good for me too,” Mrs. Cobb says. “I love having a hard meatstick between my jugs. It feels natural, like your meat just belongs here. I wish I could have you right here all day long.”
Your cock throbs at the thought.
“Fuck my jugs, Gregory,” Mrs. Cobb says. “Fuck them hard. They can take it.”
You grunt and thrust your hips. Mrs. Cobb moans as your cock emerges from between her soapy breasts. It sinks back down and it emerges back up again. Over and over your dick rises and falls.
There is a sexy noise as you fuck Mrs. Cobb’s tits. It is like a cross between a slap and thud. It sounds almost like ‘CHUF’. The water and soap keep everything slick. The sound gets louder and louder as you build a steady rhythm.
“Oh yes,” Mrs. Cobb says. “Fuck my jugs, Gregory. That is what they were made for. They were made for young men to slam their meatsticks into. They were made to be used and squeezed. Fuck them harder!”
You growl and buck your hips faster. The chuffing sound grows louder. The head of your dick rises and falls like a motor piston.
There is a sharp noise above you. It is the shower rod. There is a crack from where you were pulling. Shit. You let go of the rod and brace your hand on the nearby wall instead.
Despite damaging the shower rod, your hips never stop moving.
“Good boy, gooood,” Mrs. Cobb groans. “Oh, I feel how badly you want it. You need a little more soap though, wait a second.”
Mrs. Cobb releases her breasts from around your dick. There is an angry red area between her tits. She grabs the soap bottle and squirts more body wash onto her chest.
You watch as she rubs the soap back into her tits. Your cock bounces impatiently. Blood is pounding in your ear from how fast your heart is racing.
“There we go,” Mrs. Cobb says.
You lunge for her soapy breasts. Mrs. Cobb laughs as you wrap her tits back around your cock. You hold onto her breasts as you resume fucking them.
“Yes,” Mrs. Cobb with a hiss. “Fuck those jugs. Show me how badly you want them.”
Mrs. Cobbs slips her hands around your backside. She grabs a buttock with each hand. Sharp nails dig into you, urging you to fuck harder.
You give Mrs. Cobb what she wants. You also take what you want. The chuffing sound returns as you rapidly pound her chest. The soapy tits nearly slip out of your hands but you keep a tight grip on them.
Mrs. Cobb leans into you. Soap flies from the impact of your thrusts. A cocky smile appears on her face and grows with each bounce of her tits.
“Pop your juice for me, Gregory,” Mrs. Cobb says. “Pop hard and make a mess all over my jugs.”
“Yes,” your groan.
“Cover my jugs with your juices and get them dirty all over again,” Mrs. Cobb says.
You pick up speed. The chuffing echoes in the large bathroom.
“I am not letting you out of my jugs until your meatballs are completely empty,” Mrs. Cobb promises.
Pleasure explodes through your body. You cry out and a load of seed flies from your cock, hangs in the air, and then rains down on Mrs. Cobb’s tits.
You freeze with ecstasy. Mrs. Cobb takes over and grabs her breasts. She squeezes them around your dick as another load flies up and comes back down on her breasts.
Mrs. Cobb continues to milk your cock. Your legs shake and you grab the walls to stay on your feet. Mrs. Cobbs keep squeezing and more jizz pops from your sensitive dick.
Finally, there is no more left to come. Mrs. Cobb releases your cock from her tits. She sits back in the water and admires the mess you made.
“Damn, that is a lot of juice,” Mrs. Cobb says. “We’re going some more soap.”
You laugh and drop down to one leg. Your cock is red from the soapy friction. It is going to be a while before it is up and ready again.
“Let me get the sponge, ma’am,” you say.
Mrs. Cobb settles back into the water. You wash her breasts a second time. It is a tremendous mess. You had never seen so much come.
The washing goes a lot faster this time. Mrs. Cobb is as exhausted as you are. When you are done, you help her step out of the bathtub. She stands there like a queen as you dry every inch of her gorgeous body.
“I feel so pampered,” Mrs. Cobb says as you help her put on her bathrobe.
“You deserve to be pampered, ma’am,” you say. “And the Milford Hotel will make sure of it.”
“I know they will,” Mrs. Cobb says. “Let me get my purse and I will tip you.”
“No need, ma’am,” you say. “Tipping Attendants is not allowed. We believe our compensation comes from serving you.”
“Is that what you call fucking my jugs, compensation?” Mrs. Cobb says with a smirk.
“No, I call that fucking awesome,” you say.
Mrs. Cobb laughs. She leans against the doorway and watches you dry off and get dressed. You take your time dressing, knowing it is all part of the service.
“I can’t believe I have three more days here,” Mrs. Cobb says.
“I’m glad to hear you will be staying for a while, ma’am,” you say. “If you need a bath, a shower, or anything else, feel free to ask the front office and myself, or someone else would be happy to attend you.”
Mrs. Cobb almost glows with excitement. “You can count on it, Gregory.”
> [[Go back to your room->page_109]]# I Will Fuck Mrs. Cobb From Behind
“Turn around, Mrs. Cobb,” you say. “I want to pound your kitty.”
“Yes,” Mrs. Cobb hisses. She lets go of your hair.
You drop the sponge and stand up. Before Mrs. Cobb can turn around, you dip down for a kiss. Mrs. Cobb returns the kiss and your tongues passionately embrace. You place a hand on her soapy tit and squeeze. Warm flesh fills your hand.
Mrs. Cobb groans into your mouth. She reaches down and grabs your dick again. Her hand is soapy and slippery as it slides over your cock.
You break the kiss. Before you can say anything, Mrs. Cobb turns around in the shower. She presents her round ass and bends forward. The shower water strikes her back and splashes onto your body.
Mrs. Cobb wiggles her hips. “Fuck my kitty hard,” she demands.
“Yes ma’am,” you say. You step forward and grab Mrs. Cobb’s hips. She spreads her legs as you guide your cock to her sex. You rub the length of your dick against her soapy pussy lips. She shudders from head to toe.
“Fuck me,” Mrs. Cobb pleads.
It is not good to keep a guest waiting. You slide into Mrs. Cobb. It is incredibly wet. You sink inch after inch of your cock inside of her and she takes it all.
Powerful muscles clench around your dick. Mrs. Cobb grinds her ass against you with your cock trapped inside her. Water runs down her back and onto your crotch.
You begin to fuck. Short, hard thrusts spear her pussy. You hold onto her hips as you slam the force of your pelvis into her backside.
“Fuck!” Mrs. Cobb cries out. Shockwaves ripple through her plump ass.
You keep going slow, taking care to make every buck of your hips harder than the last. Thrust by thrust, you claim Mrs. Cobb’s pussy. You are a controlled invasion, sinking deep inside of her.
“Holy shitcakes!” Mrs. Cobb yells. She thinks she likes it.
Mrs. Cobb’s sex clenches tighter around you. The heat of her pussy is hotter than the shower water. You can feel her juices gushing onto your balls.
Yes, Mrs. Cobb certainly likes it.
“Oh-My-God!” Mrs. Cobb cries out.
You stay at the same slow pace. It is hard to do when you just want to fuck her like a rabbit but you control yourself. When something works, it is best to keep doing it.
Mrs. Cobb straightens slightly. She grabs your right hand and brings it up to her tit. You take the hint and squeeze her breast. The hard nipple is caught between your clenching fingers.
“Oh fuck!” Mrs. Cobb yells. “Smash that meatstick into me!”
“Gladly, ma’am,” you grunt between thrusts.
You drive your dick deep inside of her. There is a slapping sound as your hips crash into her ass. Your grip around her tit tightens and she clenches tighter around.
“Right there!” Mrs. Cobb yells.
You keep going. Your hips and thighs have the steady rhythm of a machine. The power of your thrusts makes her other breast flop and jiggle.
Mrs. Cobb shudders. She pulls your hand away from her breast and leans forward. Bracing her hands on the far wall, she leans over enough for her back to be a flat plane.
“Now go fast!” Mrs. Cobb commands.
You do as she wishes. Holding onto both hips. You fuck her fast as you can. Water flies as you collide into her wet ass.
“FUCK!” Mrs. Cobb yells.
There is a tightness in your cock. Your climax is coming. You fight against it. The guest needs to come and you don’t want to ruin it. You bite your lip and thrust faster.
Mrs. Cobb moans. It is a sexy sound that goes deep into your libido. You try to ignore it and focus on her bare back instead.
That doesn’t help. Mrs. Cobb writhes in place as you fuck her. There is a dip in her back that impresses you with her flexibility.
You close your eyes. Faster and faster you go. You try to fuck an orgasm out of her before your own orgasm arrives.
“Fucking shitcakes!” Mrs. Cobb yells. “Oh fuck yes! Pound my kitty! Make that bitch yours! Give me that meatstick!”
A groan rumbles up your throat. Mrs. Cobb’s filthy words are pushing you near the edge. You bite down on your lip, expecting to taste blood at any moment.
Mrs. Cobb screams. It is ear-piercing inside the bathroom. The tight pussy muscles spasm around your cock. She grinds back against you as her sex continues to clench around you.
You can’t hold back any longer. The tight sex is just too damn strong. You come and shoot your load inside Mrs. Cobb.
Mrs. Cobb cries out. “Yes! Pop your juice inside me! All of it!”
You laugh. It is not like you can hold back. Your cock keeps pumping and Mrs. Cobb’s pussy keeps clenching. She milks your cock for every drop.
There is a tap on your thigh. “Slowly, slowly, pull out,” Mrs. Cobb says.
You pull your wilting dick from her tender sex. Mrs. Cobb sighs as you pull free. Seed spills from her pussy and joins the soapy water on the tub floor.
“Whew,” Mrs. Cobb says, standing up. “Now I really need a shower.”
You pick up the sponge and get more soap. Mrs. Cobb turns around with a wide smile on her face. You go to work washing her. This time you do a thorough job. From her shoulders, to her back, to her hips and down her legs, you even take the time to clean between her toes.
Mrs. Cobb waves you away from her hair. “I’ll wash it later,” she says. “I’m starting to prune.”
You turn off the water and grab a towel. Mrs. Cobb is remarkably passive. The smile on her face tells you she is still in afterglow. She groans happily as you dry her.
As soon as Mrs. Cobb is dry, you step out and grab the bathrobe. You help Mrs. Cobb put on her robe and the embrace of the terrycloth elicits another groan from her lips. It is tempting to kiss her again, but she looks like she is about to fall asleep.
“While you dry off, I will get my purse for your tip,” Mrs. Cobb says.
“No need, ma’am,” you say. “Tipping Attendants is not allowed. Trust me, I feel tipped already.”
“I think I am the one who got the tip, Gregory,” Mrs. Cobb says with a smirk.
“Ha, that’s true,” you say.
Mrs. Cobb smiles. She leans against the sink and watches you dry off. When it is time to get dressed, she hands your clothes one at a time. You take your time dressing, knowing it is all part of the service.
“What am I going to do with three more days here?” Mrs. Cobb says.
“Whatever, or whomever you want, ma’am,” you say. “Myself, or someone else would be happy to attend you.”
Mrs. Cobb stands up and straightens your tie. “My kitty is getting wet just thinking about it. Go on and get before I wear myself out too early. I need to pace myself.”
“Yes ma’am,” you say.
> [[Go back to your room->page_109]]# I Will Have Mrs. Cobb Get on Top of Me
“Let go of my hair so I can lie down, ma’am,” you say.
“Yes,” Mrs. Cobb hisses. She releases your hair and takes a step back.
You scoot back in the tub. It is pretty damn spacious. You lean back and rest your shoulders on the back wall. Your cock stands up at attention, waiting to be mounted.
Mrs. Cobb carefully places her feet to either side of your hips. She towers above you. Soap and water drips from her curves and onto your body. She strokes her sex as she looks down on you.
“Think you can take my weight, Gregory?” Mrs. Cobb asks.
“Looking forward to it, ma’am,” you say.
Mrs. Cobb smiles and squats down. She comes to a stop just shy of your cock. You grab it and guide it into her waiting sex lips. Mrs. Cobb moans and then goes down to her knees. She impales herself on your hard dick.
“Holy shitcakes,” Mrs. Cobb moans. “Your meatstick is even bigger than it looks.”
Wet heat cocoons your cock. Fuck, she is wetter than the shower. Tight muscles clamp around your shaft.
“Fuck,” Mrs. Cobb moans. She closes her eyes and relishes the moment.
You can’t resist those giant soapy tits of hers. Both hands go to her breasts and squeeze. The warm flesh fills your hands. You give them a slight push and enjoy their weight.
Mrs. Cobb opens her eyes. Blue diamonds sparkle down at you. The shower water arcs down over her head and splatters against you.
“You just sit right there with your meatstick,” Mrs. Cobb says.
She grabs the edge of the tub with one hand and plants the other hand against the shower wall. Her hips begin to move. Back and forth and side to side, she grinds on your lap with your dick trapped inside her tight pussy.
“Oh, fuck!” you groan. Mrs. Cobb has surprising agility. She wiggles and moves in all the right ways on top of you.
Unable to do much else, you hold onto Mrs. Cobb’s breasts. Your thumbs go to her hard nipples and gently rub them. The rest of your hand clamps onto her tits like handlebars.
“Fucking yes,” Mrs. Cobb moans. “You are so hard inside of my kitty.
You are like a rock. You are a damn mountain inside me. I’m going to squeeze that rock into a diamond.”
You groan. As tight as Mrs. Cobb is, you don’t doubt that she can do it.
The shower continues to spray you as Mrs. Cobb grinds. Water runs down her back and over her ass and onto your crotch. The hard tub underneath you is slick with water and soap. Some of the water runs down her chest, soaking your hands as you hold onto her massive breasts.
“I’m going to make you pop your juice inside of me, Gregory,” Mrs. Cobb says.
“Yes, ma’am,” you say.
“But you are going to make my kitty scream first,” Mrs. Cobb says. “You’re going to make it scream so hard.”
“Yes, ma’am,” you say.
Inspired, you let go of one of her breasts and move your hand down to Mrs. Cobb’s pussy. She leans back a little give you better access. You press your thumb to the top of her lips and feel for her clitoris.
“Ohhh, that feels good,” Gregory,” Mrs. Cobb says.
You find Mrs. Cobb’s clitoris. It is soaking wet. Using only your thumb, you rub her clit as she grinds on you.
“FUCK!” Mrs. Cobb yells. She grinds harder on your lap.
You cry out. Your hard cock is pulled and tugged in every direction. The hard tub provides no give as she fucks your ass into the ground.
“Don’t stop! Don’t stop!” Mrs. Cobb cries.
You keep rubbing her clit while still holding onto one of her tits. The sight of her writhing body is hypnotizing. The hot water causes her skin to have a red glow. The free breast bounces and jiggles as she moves. Her mouth hangs open as if begging for a cock to enter it.
“Oh!” Mrs. Cobb cries out. She suddenly stops moving. Her pussy clenches tight around you.
Did she come? It is rude to ask so you just wait. You let go of her breast and her clit in case she is too sensitive.
“Don’t move,” Mrs. Cobb commands. She brings her legs up and plants her feet. Letting go of the tub and the wall, she plants her hands on your chest. She leans forward and lifts her body up from your lap, still keeping your cock inside of her.
Mrs. Cobb slams back down on your cock. You both cry out as your dick goes deep inside of her.
She rises up and drops down again. Over and over, she keeps going. Every drop of her body sends your cock deep up inside of her.
You can’t hold back. Clenching your fists together; your hips arch up to meet her pussy. Your cock erupts and shoots your seed up into her.
“FUCK!” Mrs. Cobb yells. She drops back down on your lap and stays there. Her pussy spasms around your ejaculating cock. She sinks her fingers in your chest as she shudders
A few moments later, your dick finally stops coming. Mrs. Cobb opens her eyes and lets out a loud sigh. There is a glow to her cheeks.
“Don’t move,” she says.
Mrs. Cobb rises from your lap. Seed spills from her fucked pussy. She slowly stands up and then motions for you to join her.
You sit up and slowly rise to your feet. Mrs. Cobb steps back to give you room. You stand up and lean on the wall. Your legs ache and your cock feels like it has been in a sandwich press, but you feel great.
“I think we should get you clean,” you tell Mrs. Cobb.
You pick up the sponge and get more soap. Mrs. Cobb stands there with a wide smile on her face. This time you wash her for real. You start with her shoulders and do each arm. From there you wash her breasts and admire the hand prints you left on her tits. You wash her hips and ass next, working your way down her legs. Last, you wash her sex, although you work carefully because she is so sensitive.
“Don’t bother with my hair, I’ll wash it later,” she says. “I have a special process.”
She turns off the water and you grab a nearby towel. Mrs. Cobb is beaming as you dry her. She groans happily and you think she enjoys the drying almost as much as the fucking.
You step out and grab the bathrobe. Mrs. Cobb is as regal as a Queen as you dress her in her robe. You cinch the robe around her and resist the urge to grab another kiss.
“You dry off,” Mrs. Cobb says. “I’ll go get your tip.”
“That is not allowed, ma’am,” you say. “The Milford Hotel forbids tipping.”
“Then how are we supposed to show our appreciation?” Mrs. Cobb asks.
“You did that when you came, ma’am,” you say.
Mrs. Cobb laughs. She leans against the sink and watches you dry off. When it is time to get dressed, she hands your clothes one at a time. You take your time dressing, knowing it is all part of the service.
“I have three more days here,” Mrs. Cobb says. “Is it okay if I request you again?”
I would be thrilled, ma’am,” you say.
“So would I,” Mrs. Cobb says.
> [[Go back to your room->page_109]]# Go Back to Your Room
Back down to the first floor you go. You nod politely to the receptionists on duty and smile at a flustered janitor coming out of the public restrooms. The hallway you live on is empty and you slip your card into the key slot. The light turns red and you try again. Now it turns green and you step into your room.
The portrait of Phryne Milford looks at you with pride. Her nipple seems to be a bit harder than you remember. Maybe she approves of your first shift on the job.
You stand in your room and think about what to do next. Technically, you are supposed to take a shower but that seems unnecessary considering what you just did. You strip off your clothes and stop by the bathroom sink instead. Some direct cleaning to your dick and balls with soap and water should be enough.
The water is hot and feels pleasant on your spent cock. You think about the guest you just served and how it felt to be lusted for by an older woman. Will all of your guests be that sexy? You certainly hope so.
Once your equipment is clean, you put on more deodorant and walk over to your computer. Conscious of Mrs. Milford watching, you clench your ass before sitting down.
The computer powers on. You log into the Milford Attendant site and file your report. The form guides you, asking for what the guest requested, what was her mood and what sex acts you performed. The questions about your impressions of the guest take a little more time but that is because you want to do a good job. Future Attendants will be relying on this information to best serve the guest.
By the time you finish the report, it is another hour before your next shift. That is plenty of time to get something to eat and get another Certificate of Arousal. Your cock hardens at the thought.
You wear a new set of clothes per hotel policy. It would be bad form for your clothes to smell of another guest. It also feels nice to wear something crisp and fresh when meeting a new person.
“I’ll be back later, Mrs. Milford,” you tell the portrait. “Wish me luck.”
The portrait of Mrs. Milford says nothing, but you feel that is because she has full faith in your abilities.
You leave your room and close the door shut. The hairs on the back of your neck tingle. Down the hall, a tall woman silently watches you. It is Mrs. Ogawa, the Chief of Security and Privacy.
“A moment, Mr. Gregory,” Mrs. Ogawa says, her heavy Tokyo accent caressing your ears. She walks purposely towards you, her hips swinging with each step inside her tight skirt. The black jacket she wears hug the round curves of her breasts. Long black hair falls around her shoulders like a shimmering curtain and her dark eyes pin you to your spot.
“Ma’am,” you say. You have never talked to Mrs. Ogawa before. She and her all-women security force keep to themselves.
“This is your first day,” Mrs. Ogawa says as she stands next to you. RShe folds her hands behind her back.
“Yes, ma’am,” you say.
“I have been authorized to give certifications,” Mrs. Ogawa says. “If you require one this afternoon, I will be in the surveillance room. Do you know where that is?”
“Yes, ma’am,” you say. It is in the basement near the laundry room.
Mrs. Ogawa nods. “Carry on,” she says and then she continues down the hallway.
You stand there and try to analyze what just happened. Mrs. Ogawa offered to certify you, but her tone was somewhere between indifference and boredom. You could be wrong; Mrs. Ogawa’s accent and neutral facial expressions make her hard to read. For all you know, she could have been acting flirty.
The growl of your stomach snaps you out of your speculation. You head quickly towards the dining area and pass into the kitchen. It is busier than before and Mrs. Dunn stands in the middle of the chaos. She spots you and snaps her fingers towards the employee table in the back before turning to critique a cook’s plating technique.
You refrain from making any sort of facial reaction to Mrs. Dunn’s directions and go straight to the back. A small buffet of baked chicken breasts, green beans and salads had been laid out. There is also a vegan stew and simple burgers for variety. You make your choice and sit at the employee table.
A woman is finishing her meal as you sit down. It is Mrs. Rowe, the Head Gardener. She is wearing a plaid shirt but a few of the buttons have popped open to reveal her tanned cleavage. Short blonde hair, sticky with sweat, forms a curly crown on her head. There is a smudge of dirt on her cheek.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Gregory,” Mrs. Rowe says. “I see you like early lunches too.”
“I have a triple shift today so I need to grab my meals when I can, ma’am,” you say.
Mrs. Rowe nods knowingly. “They are still doing the triple shift for the new boys? Well, it is one way to break someone in. Think you will last all day?”
“It won’t be a problem,” you say.
“Confidence is always attractive,” Mrs. Rowe says. She takes a sip of her water, studying you with her hazel eyes as she drinks.
You take a bite of your meal and admire the way Mrs. Rowe’s throat bobs when she swallows.
“I need to get back to work,” Mrs. Rowe says. “But I will be doing paperwork in my office for the next half hour. Do you know where it is?”
Heat rises to your face. “Yes, ma’am,” you say.
“Good, come on by if you need to get certified,” Mrs. Rowe says. “I always like to help the new boys out.”
“Yes ma’am,” you say. “Thank you, ma’am.”
Mrs. Rowe smiles knowingly and gets up from the table. She takes her tray and leaves. You watch the way her tight jeans hug her hips and round ass.
Well, that is a pleasant development. You wonder what kind of test Mrs. Rowe would put you through. Hopefully it would involve grabbing hold of those tanned tits or that round ass.
Of course, if you go see Mrs. Rowe, you will be passing up the chance to follow up with Mrs. Ogawa. The stoic Chief of Security intrigues you and you are curious what kind of certification she might give. But is finding out worth missing out on Mrs. Rowe’s obvious interest?
You eat quickly, and debate your options.
**Who do you go to after lunch?**
> [[I visit the enigmatic Mrs. Ogawa->page_114]]
> [[I visit the inviting Mrs. Rowe->page_119]]# I Visit the Enigmatic Mrs. Ogawa
Curiosity is a powerful aphrodisiac. You can’t stop thinking about Mrs. Ogawa’s dark brown eyes. What do they see when they look at you? Does she consider you worthy enough to invite to her office, or was she just fulfilling her duty? You need an answer.
When you are finished eating, you get up and dispose of your plates. Other employees are coming in and you give them polite hellos. When you pass into the kitchen, Mrs. Dunn points you towards the exit. Thinking of Mrs. Ogawa, you don’t have time to be annoyed.
The reception area is crowded. Check-ins are common at this hour. Two rows of gorgeous mature women line up in front of the reception desk. The first-timers fidget and are a little stiff while the experienced guests are relaxed and daydreaming about their future appointments.
You cross the room and try not to stare at the assembly of lovely ladies. The women don’t hesitate to stare at you. You can almost feel your clothes being peeled away by their eyes. A few women smile happily as they imagine you performing intimate acts on their bodies. One or two blush, as if shocked by their own thoughts.
Your heart pounds with excitement. The tension in the air is electric. One false move, or maybe the right move, and it feels like every woman in the lobby would jump you right there and then. It is tempting to linger but you move on.
You take the service elevator to the basement. The doors open to an unfamiliar hallway. This area is still new to you. There is not much need for attendants down here. You were given a quick tour but you feel a little uncomfortable here. Part of you is expecting a maid or a janitor to challenge you.
The surveillance room is to the left. You walk briskly. Three maids pass by you. None of them gives you a second glance. They have their own work to do.
You stop outside the surveillance room and knock. There is a buzzing sound and a light near the knob flashes green. Everything must be automatic here. You turn the knob and step inside.
It is dark inside. Two dozen monitors are fixed to the wall. The multiple screens bathe the room in dim light. Most of the screens depict halls and walkways around the hotel.
Mrs. Ogawa sits in a chair in front of the monitors. She is wearing a headset with a microphone and her hand is on a mouse. All of her attention is on the screens.
“Mr. Gregory, close the door,” Mrs. Ogawa says, without looking at you.
You close the door. Unsure what else to do, you walk over to Mrs. Ogawa. When you stand to her right, she waves you over to her left. You take the indicated position and stand beside her.
“Present your root,” Mrs. Ogawa says, again not looking away from the screens.
Your root? Mrs. Ogawa means your dick, right? Well, it is what you are here for. You undo your belt and unzip your pants. Since Mrs. Ogawa doesn’t stop you, you feel confident enough to pull your pants and boxers down to your thighs. Your cock, hard and eager, juts forward.
Mrs. Ogawa spits into her left hand. Not taking her eyes off the screens, she reaches for your dick. Slick fingers wrap around you and squeeze.
You moan. Shivers go up your spine. Your cock throbs in Mrs. Ogawa’s hands.
“Jennifer, the outside door to the gym is open,” Mrs. Ogawa says.
Your eyes go to one of the screens. The gym door is slightly ajar. One of Mrs. Ogawa’s security woman enters the frame and closes the door.
Mrs. Ogawa tugs on your dick. Soft fingers slide back and forth. She smears her spit onto your sensitive dick.
You groan again. The urge to thrust into Mrs. Ogawa’s hands is incredible. You look down and see that the top button of Mrs. Ogawa’s jacket is undone. You see the swell of her pale breasts, as well as the hint of a red bra. Is she not wearing a shirt under the jacket?
Mrs. Ogawa is surprisingly dexterous with her left hand. The slick fingers pick up speed. When Mrs. Ogawa reaches your tip, she does a half-twist before going back down your length. She maintains a perfect rhythm as her other hand guides the computer mouse. At no point does she turn and look at you.
“Molly, please assist the delivery man in the lobby,” Mrs. Ogawa says. “He looks lost, but he might also be lingering.”
You let out another moan. If you came, would Mrs. Ogawa even notice? Your dick could spurt, sending your seed into the air and down the canyon of her cleavage and she wouldn’t know until she felt your hot load. Is that her goal? Will you get in trouble if you come? Especially with you working a triple shift? Maybe you should ask.
“Maya, please begin your patrol of the stairs,” Mrs. Ogawa says.
A tremor runs through your legs. Mrs. Ogawa adds a twist of her hand when she is near the base of your dick. Your self-control crumbles and you thrust into her hand.
Mrs. Ogawa lets go of your cock. Oh shit, you must have fucked up. She brings her hand to her mouth and spits again. Without looking at you, she grabs your cock again with her slick fingers.
You groan loudly. Mrs. Ogawa’s fingers feel even slicker now. She squeezes harder and jacks your dick. There are no twists now. She is just pumping your sensitive cock.
“Jennifer, a man has parked in the parking lot alone,” Mrs. Ogawa says. “Go see what business he has here.”
Mrs. Ogawa’s hand suddenly stops. She rubs her thumb over the tip of your dick. It swipes back and forth.
“Fuck,” you groan, unable to keep quiet any longer.
Mrs. Ogawa lets go of the mouse and picks up a familiar pad of paper. As her thumb continues to rub the slit of your cock, she picks up a pen with her other hand. You watch in amazement as she writes on the pad.
You are going to come. There is no ignoring that familiar tension. You are going to come on Mrs. Ogawa’s thumb and make a huge mess but you don’t give a damn. Consequences be damned, you are going to shoot everything you got.
Mrs. Ogawa’s hand drops to the base of your dick. Her hand tightens like a vise. It stops your orgasm before it can even begin.
You gasp. It is not quite painful, but it is not very pleasant either. At least you won’t have to worry about making a mess.
Mrs. Ogawa tears the top sheet off the pad with one hand. She brings it to her lips and kisses it. Only then does she let go of your cock.
A sigh of relief escapes your lips.
“Here,” Mrs. Ogawa says, passing you the note. It is your Certificate of Arousal. It has her name, your name, the date and time. Mrs. Ogawa’s lip print is in the center of the certificate.
“Thank you, ma’am,” you say. You pull your underwear and pants up. The soft fabric feels nice on your sensitive dick.
Mrs. Ogawa nods. “Molly, please begin your patrol of the service area.” It appears that she is done with you.
You head out the door, taking care to make sure it closes completely.
> [[Report for your afternoon shift->page_124]]# I Visit the Inviting Mrs. Rowe
It is hard to stop thinking about Mrs. Rowe and her flirty attitude. The Milford Hotel instills a certain professionalism in their employees so that even when they flirt, there is a plausible deniability in how they act. The Head Gardener appears to have missed that memo. She wants you and was not subtle about it at all.
You hurry through your lunch and dispose of your plates. More employees arrive for lunch but you are already heading out. Mrs. Dunn directs you towards the exit but your daydreams about Mrs. Rowe’s cleavage keep you from taking offence.
The reception area is crowded. This is the prime time for check-ins. Everywhere you look, beautiful older women stand around dressed in their nicest clothes. Some are relaxed and at ease while others are nervous and looking a bit anxious. The few that are talking to each other are loud and a bit giddy.
As you cross the reception, you feel the eyes of every guest upon you. The chatter dies away as you walk by. Dozens of eyes undress you. Some women smile as they imagine you between their legs. Others lick their lips as they picture you knocking at their door.
Your heart pounds with excitement. The tension in the air is electric. One false move, or maybe the right move, and it feels like every woman in the lobby would jump you right there and then. Maybe you should hang around for a bit?
No, your duties await.
Mrs. Rowe’s office is located outside near the tool shed. The quickest way there is out the back. You make your way to the rear of the hotel and out the doors. The path to the left goes to the pool. You take the path to the right until you arrive outside a small cabin.
The door to the cabin swings open before you can knock. Mrs. Rowe stands in front of you, wearing nothing but her plaid shirt that is now completely unbuttoned. Your eyes bounce back and forth between her smooth sex lips and her exposed tanned breasts.
“Get in here,” Mrs. Rowe says. She grabs you by the tie and yanks you inside.
The cabin is brightly lit. A desk and chair are up against the side wall. A long couch sits on the far wall. There is a fridge and a sink on the other wall. Shelves dominate the walls, holding endless boxes.
Mrs. Rowe pulls you to the center of the office. “Take off your pants,” she says, still holding onto your tie.
“Yes, ma’am,” you say. Part of you is disappointed that you are not going to the couch. You kick off your shoes before undoing your belt. Mrs. Rowe licks her lips as you pull down your zipper, followed by your pants. Your boxers remain, forming a tent around your hard cock.
“Your underwear, too,” Mrs. Rowe says. She strokes her pussy lips. Gushy sounds come from between her legs.
“Yes, ma’am,” you say. You pull your underwear down and step out of them.
“Perfect,” Mrs. Rowe says. She takes the hand that she was using to stroke herself and she wraps her fingers around your dick. Slick tightness grips your cock.
“Oh, fuck,” you whisper.
“Now, now, we can’t fuck,” Mrs. Rowe says. “We’re just testing your arousal. Being hard is the easy part. The hard part is staying hard, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yes, ma’am,” you say, though to be fair, you would agree to damn near anything.
Mrs. Rowe lets go of your dick. Her juices glisten on your shaft. She turns around and presents her round ass to you. Reaching back, she grabs your tie again. She pulls you to her backside.
You happily press against her. The smell of grass and sweat fills your nose. Your cock throbs against the crack of her ass. The juices she smeared onto you keep everything slick. When she grinds her hips, your dick slides up and down between her buttocks.
“Grab my tits,” Mrs. Rowe says. “Go nuts. I want to have bruises.”
“Yes, ma’am,” you growl. You reach around and cup both breasts. They fill your hands. Hard nipples rub against your fingers. You grope and squeeze.
“Just like that,” Mrs. Rowe hisses. She holds onto your tie but her other hand goes back between her thighs. You hear her fingers roughly fuck that wet pussy.
“Damn,” you whisper. Hearing Mrs. Rowe’s pussy getting fingered is making you jealous. Your cock pulses between Mrs. Rowe’s buttocks. If she leaned forward just a little bit, and you lowered yourself just a smidge, it could be your dick pummeling Mrs. Rowe’s pussy.
But you can’t, and so you won’t.
“Harder,” Mrs. Rowe says. Her ass keeps sliding against your dick. “My neck too.”
You dip your head down. The smell of sweat gets stronger. You press your lips to her neck and kiss.
Shiver runs through Mrs. Rowe’s body. Her ass clenches against your cock. The wet sound of her pussy-fingering gets louder.
Your mouth waters. The urge to fuck Mrs. Rowe is so strong but you can’t give in. You channel your frustration into crushing her breasts. Your kissing turns to bites on her neck. As she continues to grind, you grind back in a futile hump of her ass cheeks.
“Good, good, good,” Mrs. Rowe says. “Bite harder!”
You clamp down with your teeth. Mrs. Rowe sinks down and you worry that you have bitten too hard, but Mrs. Rowe cries out and you know it is just right. You hold onto her breasts and neck as she strokes faster.
Mrs. Rowe shakes in your grip. Her ass shudders against you. She lets out a low moan that seems to last forever.
Something wet taps against your forehead. “Let go,” Mrs. Rowe gasps.
You remove your teeth from Mrs. Rowe’s neck. There is a lovely bite print on her skin. You reluctantly let go of her breasts. She steps forward and releases your tie.
“Oh fuck, that will hold me over,” Mrs. Rowe says. “You can put your clothes back on.”
You pull your boxers back up as Mrs. Rowe walks to her desk. She bends over and writes something. The pale round ass has red marks from your rubbing. It is hard not to stare at that ass while you put the rest of your clothes on.
Mrs. Rowe finishes writing and tears the top page form a pad. She presses it to her lips. As you finish putting on your shoes, she brings the paper to you.
It is your Certificate of Arousal. It has Mrs. Rowe’s name, your name, the date and the time. Mrs. Rowe’s lip print covers most of the note.
“You’ve earned this,” she says.
“Thank you, ma’am,” you say. “It was fun earning it.”
“I have Mondays off, if you ever want to spend more time in the garden,” Mrs. Rowe says.
“Well, I do now,” you say.
“You better!” Mrs. Rowe says. “Now get. I got to get dressed and plant some bushes.”
You head out the door and back to Mrs. Winterslick’s office.
> [[Report for your afternoon shift->page_124]]# Report for Your Afternoon Shift
Mrs. Winterslick is eating at her desk when you come in. The giant window behind her frames the woman within a view of the Smoky Mountains. The silver streaks in the wavy blonde hair catch the noon light and shimmer. A flash of red in her plunging white neckline catches your eyes. Is that a bite mark?
A large salad sits in front of Mrs. Winterslick. She stabs a cherry tomato and brings it to her mouth. Instead of biting down, she uses her lips to pull the small tomato from the fork. Her lips form a tempting pucker shape before the tomato is sucked into her mouth.
You walk up to her desk and stand at attention. There is an obvious bulge in your pants from your certification. You debate trying to hide the bulge but decide not to call any attention to it.
It is too late. Mrs. Winterslick’s clear blue eyes, behind her round glasses, dart to your crotch. The corners of her mouth turn as she chews. Is that a smirk or a frown?
“You may sit, Mr. Gregory,” Mrs. Winterslick says.
You sit down and fold your hands over you lap in a futile attempt to cover your bulge. It is clearly too late but it feels rude to sit here with a hard-on. Especially while your boss is eating.
Mrs. Winterslick takes another bite of her salad. This time it is a thick piece of romaine lettuce. Her cheek bulge as she chews.
Shit! You almost forgot your certificate. Leaning back, you reach into your slacks pocket. It is a tight fit and you have to fumble to get it out. The entire time you are trying to extract the note, you can feel Mrs. Winterslick’s eyes on your lap.
You finally get the note out and place it on the desk. Mrs. Winterslick brings another bite of lettuce and red onion to her mouth. A small dab of white salad dressing is on the corner of her dark red lips. Unaware of the white dot, she slides the note towards her. She reads who wrote it and smiles.
“Very good, Mr. Gregory,” Mrs. Winterslick says. “Despite serving a shift already, this certification gives me confidence that you are ready to attend to another guest.”
“Yes, ma’am,” you say. “Uh, you have something on your lip.”
Mrs. Winterslick’s tongue snakes out from between her lips. Damn, it is quite longer than you expected. She licks the white cream from the corner of her mouth and continues.
“This afternoon we have two very demanding guests,” Mrs. Winterslick says. “The first is Ms. Gonzales. You may know her by her professional name of Angela G.”
“The singer?” you say. “Oh wow. My older brother had all of her posters. I must have heard ‘Naughty Mama’ a million times growing up.”
“The same,” Mrs. Winterslick says. “She has been coming to the Milford Hotel since her first hit in 2001. Ms. Gonzales is one of our most treasured guests and we usually only allow our most experienced Attendants to service her. However, she has a fondness for new hires and I know she would be delighted for you to attend her. Just understand, that she can be very physically demanding.”
You nod your head. Angela G! Your older brother would be so jealous!
“The other guest is Mrs. Williams,” Mrs. Winterslick says. “She has stayed with us before, and she is one of our more eccentric guests. Tell me, Mr. Gregory, are you especially superstitious?”
“No ma’am,” you say.
“Good,” Mrs. Winterslick says. “Mrs. Wilkins is a practicing witch, though she prefers the term, ‘Erotic Magician’. She has reserved Activity Room 2 and has been preparing it all morning. You will be expected to help her conduct a ritual, and judging from past reports, the ritual will be sexual in nature. Will that be a problem?”
“When you say witch, do you mean, like spells and stuff?” you say.
“That is exactly what I mean, Mr. Gregory,” Mrs. Winterslick says. “Don’t worry. Previous attendants have enjoyed the experience, for the most part. Just do what Mrs. Wilkins says and don’t think too much about it.”
Well, those are stark choices. You can attend a sexy former pop star or help out with a witch’s sex spell. It is never a dull day at the Milford Hotel.
**Which guest do you attend to this afternoon?**
> [[I attend to Mrs. Gonzales, better known as Angela G->page_128]]
> [[I attend to Mrs. Wilkins and her sex magic needs->page_134]]# I Attend to Mrs. Gonzales, Better Known as Angela G
The guest is located in one of the two penthouse suites. Mrs. Winterslick provides you with a gold card that lets you access the penthouse elevator. You take the elevator up and your heart begins to pound faster. This is no ordinary guest; this is a celebrity and a world famous one at that.
The elevator door opens into a short hallway. You turn to the right and your heart beats even faster. This won’t do. You stop and take several deep breaths.
Calming thoughts pass through your mind. Angela G is famous for sexy songs and risqué videos. That person is a media creation. The real woman, Mrs. Gonzales, is just a regular woman who enjoys younger men. Treat her like any other guest, and you will be fine.
You release your final breath. Your heart is slower now. Good. It is time to do your job. You press the buzzer on the door.
One second after pressing the buzzer, the door swings open. A gorgeous woman with dark tanned skin stands in front of you. Golden brown hair crowns her head and shoulders. Silver eye shadow highlights intense dark eyes. Natural pink lips are tightly closed but no less sexy. Thick rubies, the color of blood, hang from dangling silver earrings.
“Uh, hello . . .” you start to say but then you see the rest of the guest’s body.
Mrs. Gonzales is wearing a sheer red lace gown. Floral designs decorate the gown but the transparency upstages the delicate flowers. Firm brown breasts topped with dark nipples lurk under the lace. Toned abdominal muscles are framed by a midriff window. A small strip of pubic hair flashes you under the lace. The gown extends all the way down to her legs but doesn’t conceal a single inch of her fit muscular legs.
“Fuck,” you whisper.
Mrs. Gonzales grabs you by the collar. She pulls you into her room and slams the door shut. Before you can react, she grabs you by the head and pulls you down for a kiss.
Hard lips press against you. A passionate tongue invades your mouth and claims it for itself. The taste of mint fills your mouth.
You melt into the kiss. This is happening so fast. You try to redeem yourself and put your hands around the woman.
Mrs. Gonzales shrugs your arms off. One hand pins you to her mouth while the other hand tugs at your belt. You help her and she immediately pops your pants open. Realizing what she is doing, you quickly kick off your shoes before she breaks the kiss. She pulls down your pants and underwear in a single motion.
You gasp for air. Angela G is squatting down in front of you. Your cock is inches from her face. No, wait. She is Mrs. Gonzales, not Angela G. You need to regain your professionalism and act more like an Attendant and not a star-struck fan.
“Hello, Mrs. Gonzales,” you say. “My name is-“
Mrs. Gonzales stands back up and kisses you again. The force of her tongue inside your mouth causes you to forget your name for a moment. A hand pulls at your jacket. You help her once more and pull your jacket off. It slides to the floor.
The kiss is broken but then Mrs. Gonzales bites your bottom lip. Sharp teeth sting your lip. You freeze, unsure of how to respond. Mrs. Gonzales grabs your shirts and pulls it apart with both hands. Buttons go flying.
Mrs. Gonzales spits out your lip. “Call me Angela,” Mrs. Gonzales says. It is the first thing she has said to you. “Ms. G if you’re dirty.”
Before you can answer, Angela grabs your tie. She holds onto it as she pulls down your shirt. You remove your shirt, leaving your tie around your neck. She pulls on your tie like a leash and you step out of your pants. Wearing only your socks and tie, you follow Angela into the rest of her suite.
This is your first time in the penthouse. The main room is as large as three normal suites. There are two large couches, a massage table, a full desk and a small dining table. Up against one wall is a kitchen area while windows fill another wall. An open door leads into a bedroom.
You don’t see much more before your eyes are drawn to Angela’s butt. That world-famous ass is just as big and as perfect in person as it was on your brother’s poster. Your hands feel drawn to her ass but your self-control kicks in and stops you. Something does appear to twinkle underneath the lace but you can’t be sure.
Angela pulls you to a couch. As soon as you stop, she grabs your shoulder and spins you around. A hard push sends you down onto the soft couch. Angela quickly straddles your lap, planting both knees to either side of your hips. She stays up in this position, hovering above your cock but not sitting down.
You look up at the aggressive woman. Angela’s breasts are right in front of you. The urge to suck and bite is overwhelming.
Angela looks down at you. Now she smiles. Her eyes stare at you like a hungry cat.
“Hello, ma’am,” you say.
“Angela,” she corrects. “You’re going to fuck Angela G, you understand that?”
“Yes, ma- Angela,” you say.
Angela nods her head with approval. She reaches down between the two of you and wraps her hand around your hard dick. Fingers squeeze tightly and she nods her head again.
“I don’t need your name,” Angela says. “All need is your hammer and your mouth if I sit on it.”
Now you smile. That is a line from her song, “Shut up and come.” You are starting to understand. The guest is not Mrs. Gonzales, it is Angela G with her raunchy lyrics and sexy music videos.
“Grab my ass,” Angela commands.
You slip your hands under the lace gown and grab two handfuls of Angela’s ass. Damn, it is fucking firm. You forget yourself and squeeze a little too hard.
Angela doesn’t mind. The smile gets bigger.
You let your hands roam around Angela’s legendary butt. Your fingers brush something hard in the middle. What is that?
“That’s my anal plug,” Angela says, reading your mind. “I always like something thick and hard in my ass. I wasn’t lying when I sang ‘Chute-Stuffer’.
You almost say something but stay quiet.
Angela approves. She sinks down just a little bit. The lips of her sex brush the head of your dick. Juices smear onto your cock.
“Alright, Fuckboy,” Angela says. “It is time for the moment of truth.
Do you think you can handle fucking Angela G?”
You are going to say yes, no matter what, but it is a damn good question. Angela is staring right into your eyes. She will know the answer.
**Are you up to fucking Angela G?**
> [[Hell yes, I’m going to fuck Angela G senseless->page_140]]
> [[No, Angela G might make me come too quick->page_152]]# I Attend to Mrs. Wilkins and Her Sex Magic Needs
Activity Room 2 is on the first floor, near the gym. You head there with a little bit of trepidation. They did not cover magic rituals in your training. Are you expected to dance? Will it be like a séance with candles and a crystal ball? What exactly is sex magic? By the time you reach your destination, you find yourself more nervous than when you began.
The sound of flutes comes from the other side of the door. You knock and there is no answer. You are about to knock again when the door swings open.
An older black woman stands before you. Black and gray braids are wound around her head and hang from her left side. One of the braids is a dark purple. She wears silver glasses with strange half-lenses. Crimson lips express no emotion as she stares at you.
You stare back. It is not polite to stare but she is topless. Her plump black breasts are remarkably perky for a woman her age. Both nipples are tattooed in the shapes of purple stars. A long skirt of rainbow colors falls from her wide hips and obscure her legs.
“Are you the Attendant?” Mrs. Wilkins asks.
“Yes, ma’am,” you say, forcing yourself to look up at her face and regain a sense a professionalism. “My name is Gregory and I shall be attending your needs today.”
“Come in of your own free will,” Mrs. Wilkins says. She steps back and allows you access
You walk into the activity room. Strong scents fill your nose from a dozen diffusers, each of them spewing a different colored mist. The window blinds have been drawn shut. The piping music comes from two large speakers, usually used for the conference room.
In the center of the room hangs a large sex swing. You recognize it from the hotel inventory. It is the Slut-Cradle, made by Von Madd Laboratories. The complex pulley system allows for a variety of positions. Cripes, you hope the guest doesn’t need help working it because it is awfully complicated.
“Stop!” Mrs. Wilkins says. “Don’t cross the line of salt! Take off your clothes and leave them on the ground!”
You look down. In front of the door is a small half-circle of coarse salt. You close the door, careful not to cross the line. When the door closes, you start to take off your clothes.
Mrs. Wilkins ignores your undressing. She picks up a bundle of flowers from a table and slowly walks around the room. The sensual sway of her hips is hard to take your eyes off of. Every few seconds, she shakes the flowers in the air. You think she is whispering something but it is hard to make out over the sound of flutes.
It doesn’t take long to strip when no one is watching. In less than a minute, you are naked with your clothes neatly folded. You almost announce your nakedness, but you don’t want to disturb whatever Mrs. Wilkins is doing.
The topless woman returns to you. The crimson lips part to flash white teeth. She stands in front of you and holds her hands in air.
“By the Power of the Silent Guardian, I command any spirits inhabiting this boy to be gone from this place!”
You frown at being called a boy. Your dick is too entranced by Mrs. Wilkins’ black tits to care and throbs happily. It doesn’t feel like any spirits have left you, but then you wouldn’t know, would you?
Mrs. Wilkins offers you her hand. “Come with me,” she says.
You take Mrs. Wilkins’ hand. She holds your hand at chest height and pulls you across the line of salt. You are careful not to disturb the half circle. Guiding you by the hand, she walks clockwise around the room.
“There are spirits and entities that lurk among us, Gregory,” Mrs. Wilkins says. “There are nature spirits and there are spirits of cities, corporations and concepts. Anything that has a name can take shape in the Immaterial World. And do you know what each every one of those spirits like to do?”
“No, ma’am,” you say.
“They like to fuck,” Mrs. Wilkins says.
You hear a moan. You look around but the room is empty except for you and Mrs. Wilkins. It probably is part of the flute recording.
Mrs. Wilkins leads you to the left wall. There are erotica paintings sitting on chairs. The humanoid shapes are vague and hard to make out, but the sexual organs are very vividly done. Purple is a common color.
“Anywhere a person has fucked, these spirits have gathered,” Mrs. Wilkins says. “At a hotel like this, the spirits are so thick that they are an orgy onto themselves.”
Something pinches your butt. You jump and look down. Mrs. Wilkins looks at you with an innocent smile. She must have pinched you when you were looking at the paintings.
Mrs. Wilkins guides you by the hand to the other wall. Chairs are arranged in a row. Each chair has a personal item. One chair has a pair of panties, another has a picture of Mrs. Wilkins’ gorgeous breasts. A dildo sits in one chair and blindfold sits in another.
“We can communicate with these spirits,” Mrs. Wilkins says. “But spirits without bodies can be hard to understand. They can be even harder to please, but give them a vessel to inhabit, and the art of intercourse becomes easier. A vessel can be worshipped in ways that a word cannot.”
Someone kisses the back of your neck. You jump and then glance at Mrs. Wilkins. She is too far away to have kissed you. You look up and smile. There is an air vent right above you. Wow, you are really jumpy.
Mrs. Wilkins takes you to the last wall. There is a table and arranged on the table are six masks. Each is unique and weird. They look hand-crafted.
“I need you to be a vessel, boy,” Mrs. Wilkins says. “Take up a mask and you will become the mortal representative of the spirit for which the mask was made. I will worship the spirit and please it in the hopes of having its blessing.”
“Which mask do I take, ma’am?” you ask.
“I cannot tell you,” Mrs. Wilkins says. She lets go of your hand. “Pick up the one that attracts your interest. That will be the spirit you have the most affinity with.”
Well, this is weird. You don’t believe in spirits or vessels, but you can certainly put on a mask. This reminds you on your lessons on roleplaying. Some women like to imagine fucking pirates or princes, Mrs. Wilkins apparently has a kink for ghosts. You can work with this.
But which mask? You rule four out right away. The first one is shaped like a chrome skull and looks heavy to wear. Beside it is a mask that looks like an ugly green pig with a black mohawk. There is a pointed mask made of the Confederate flag that you want nothing to do with. Last is a mask that looks just like an asshole politician that you can’t stand.
That leaves two that you like. One is more like a cowl that covers the top half of the head. It is made of eight different leathers sewn together. Each separate piece has a different fashion brand logo. You like the mask because it is one of the few with an open mouth. There is also something decadent and luxurious about it that you can’t put your finger on it.
The other interesting one is shaped like a face shield. It appears to be made of pebbles and small stones. There are narrow slits for eyes. There are no expressions or facial features. You find yourself drawn to the anonymity of the mask, as well as the impersonality of the stone. This mask radiates strength.
Mrs. Wilkins watches silently as you make your choice.
**Which mask do you pick up?**
> [[I pick the leather mask with the fashion logos->page_146]]
> [[I pick the blank stone mask->page_158]]# Hell Yes, I Can Fuck Angela G All Day Long
“Yes,” you say. It comes out more like a growl.
Angela G licks her lips. “I think you just might,” she says.
You decide that actions work better than words. Holding onto Angela’s amazing ass, you lean forward and stand up with the pop star on top of you. Pain shoots up your back and your arms shake but you manage to stand up. Thank heavens that the other Attendants made you practice that move with some of the maids during your training.
Angela G lets out an almost girlish squeal. Her firm legs wrap tight around your waist. She looks down at you with something that is almost respect.
“Not bad, Fuckboy,” she says.
You grunt and keep walking. The bedroom looms ahead. It might be presumptuous to take the guest straight to bed, but fuck it. You are better off matching her own forward aggression.
The bedroom is huge. The bed seems to stretch forever. It is freshly made but it won’t be for long. You set Angela down gently and she untangles her arms and legs from around you. She takes a quick moment to pull your tie off and toss it aside. Maybe she no longer feels the need to leash you.
“I guess you’ve earned a lick,” Angela says. “Maybe even a bite.” She pulls aside her lace gown to expose a nicely tanned breast. The dark nipple is hard and waiting.
You bend over her and take her offered nipple into your mouth. A thrill goes through you as you realize that you are sucking on Angela G’s breast. You lick her nipple with rapid flicks before remembering what she has allowed. Your teeth close gently around her nub of flesh and you suck hard.
“Oh, good Fuckboy!” Angela groans. Her hand goes to the back of your head and pins you to her breast. She grips your dick with her other hand and gives it a squeeze.
You groan into her breast and thrust with your hips. Angela’s grip loosens and the length of your cock slides through her fingers. The head of your dick taps her pussy lips but her grip will let you go no further.
Angela pulls you to her other breast. “Show me how much you want it,” she says. “Bite down hard, Fuckboy.”
You bite down hard this time. Your teeth clamp around Angela’s nipple and she lets out a loud moan. Feeling brave, you grab her other breast with your hand and pinch her nipple.
“Fuck!” Angela yells. You fear that you have fucked up but Angela guides your cock against her sex. The tip of your cock is now between her pussy lips.
“That’s what I want, Fuckboy,” Angela says. “Give Mami what she needs.”
Bravery has worked so far so you decide to push your luck. You reach down and pull Angela’s hand away from your dick. She easily lets go. As soon as your cock is free, you slam it into her slick pussy.
“Fuck!” Angela cries again. She lets go of your head and pushes you to a standing position. Her powerful legs wrap around your waist. She rises up on her elbows and stares at you intensely.
You grab her thighs and begin to fuck. Starting slow is not an option but you also don’t want to wear yourself out. You set a quick and steady pace as you fuck Angela G.
“Fuck,” Angela groans. She grabs her nipples and twists them savagely. Her sharp nails dig into her skin.
You keep fucking Angela. She is incredibly wet. Your cock fills her pussy with every thrust. When you hit bottom, you feel the solid weight of her anal plug deep inside.
“Right there, Fuckboy,” Angela moans. “Give Mami her medicine! Faster! Faster!”
Angela’s legs part and you grab her thighs. She moans as you put one leg over your shoulder. Holding onto her thigh, you quicken the pace but keep it at something you can sustain.
“Oh fuck!” Angela says. She pulls hard enough on her nipples to make her tits stretch. A tremor runs through her and she lets out a loud scream that shakes the windows.
The volume of Angela’s orgasm takes you by surprise. You stop in mid-thrust.
Angela lets go of her nipples and grabs the bedsheet. “Don’t fucking stop, Fuckboy!” She is still shaking from her climax.
You resume fucking. Motivated by fear and lust, your hips go faster and slam into Angela. Your cock is a piledriver into her slick pussy.
“Fuck!” Angela screams. Her body shakes and you think she just came again. She rolls over onto her side as you hold onto her out-stretched leg. The flexible pop star doesn’t seem inconvenienced in the least.
You pound Angela’s pussy. She grabs the bedsheet and holds on. Her breasts jiggle from every thrust of your hips. The lacy gown rubs against your skin in wonderful ways.
“Make Mami come again, Fuckboy!” Angela commands. A second later, she screams another orgasm.
Your ears are ringing but you don’t care. As soon as Angela stops shaking, you let go of her leg and push her onto her stomach. The pop star is limp in your hands as she rolls over. You grab her thighs and pull her legs straight out as you guide your cock back into her.
“Oh, fuck me!” Angela says. You can’t tell if she is surprised or if that is a command. It is probably both. Her legs curl and you feel her heels touch your back.
You give Angela what she wants. As you fuck her from behind, you get your first good look at her anal plug. A large crystal is set in the pommel of the plug. No, wait. You think that crystal might actually be a diamond. Damn, no wonder you saw it sparkling.
Angela screams again. Her ass clenches and the diamond-base of the plug jiggles. She pulls on the bed sheets as you keep fucking her.
You give Angela everything you have. Tossing caution to the wind, you fuck her as fast as possible. The bed shakes and bangs against the wall.
“YES, FUCKBOY, YES!” Angela yells. She screams and as soon as that scream dies, she screams again.
You let go of Angela’s legs. They drop to the floor and you lean over her. Planting your hands on her powerful ass, you accelerate your hips to new levels of passion.
“FUUUUUUUCK!” Angela screams.
The scream is so loud that you actually stop so you can cover your ears.
“Enough, enough,” Angela says. She pushes you back and your cock slides out of her pussy. As you take a step back, Angela looks over her shoulders at you.
“How do you want to finish, Fuckboy?” Angela asks. “Want to pull that plug out and fill my ass? Or do you want to fuck Mami’s face like you fucked her pussy?”
Your cock throbs as you consider.
**How do you want to finish?**
> [[I will fuck Angela G’s ass->page_163]]
> [[I want to fuck Angela G’s face->page_174]]# No, Angela G Might Make Me Come Too Quick
“Yes, ma-, I mean, Angela,” you say.
“Hmm,” Angela says, looking down on you. The dark eyes pass judgement on you. There is a slight shake of her head, just enough to make her ruby earrings swing.
“No, I think we need to keep your dick away from my pussy for now, Fuckboy,” Angela says. “But don’t worry. I’ll give your mouth a taste.”
Before you can respond, Angela pulls her feet onto the couch. She stands up and towers above you. The red lace gown covers her legs but only for a moment. She pulls the gown aside to reveal her pussy.
Angela’s sex lips are nearly bare. A tiny tuff of curly brown hair sits above her pussy. The hair seems to be pointing down to her sex, which is already glistening with her desire.
“You better eat my pussy like my abuela made it for you, Fuckboy,” Angela says.
“Yes, Angela,” you say. You have no idea what an ‘abuela’ is, but you intend to eat the fuck out of that gorgeous pussy.
“Shut up and lick,” Angela says. She grabs your head with both hands and pulls you to her crotch.
A musky smell washes over you and your mouth waters. Your mouth opens on its own and you kiss Angela’s pussy lips. You take a long lick, savoring the taste of her.
Sharp nails dig into your scalp. The hips buck and the pussy butts your face. Pussy lips grind against your nose and lips.
Your tongue pushes inside Angela. A shiver runs through her body. You stretch your tongue as far as possible and take slow, deliberate licks of her juicy fountain.
“Not bad, Fuckboy,” Angela says. There is a sharp gasp. “Not bad at all.”
You want more. The delicious juices flowing onto your tongue are just a tease. You reach up under her gown and grab Angela’s ass. Each buttock is harder than a brick. You groan into her pussy as you clench that world-famous ass.
Meanwhile, you cock throbs in your lap. You are rock hard but Angela wants your mouth, not your dick. You keep taking slow licks, hoping that soon your mouth will earn your cock her pussy.
“Faster, Fuckboy,” Angela says. She pulls on your hair. “Lick me like you’re trying to clean the pudding bowl!”
You nod your head, grinding your face into Angela’s pussy. It also helps you burrow your face into the lips of her sex. You quicken the pace, exploring her inside with rapid flicks. Juices run down your chin and drip onto your chest.
Angela groans. She pushes you back against the couch with her hands and pussy. One of her legs swings up and over your shoulders, hanging off the back of the couch. The weight of her body pins to the couch. There is nowhere for you to go.
It is not like you want to be anywhere else. You hold onto her ass and help pin yourself to the couch. The angle helps your tongue reach deeper into her never-ending spring. It gets harder to breathe but, in the moment, you believe you can live on pussy juice alone.
Your cock pulses between your legs. The bottom of Angela’s gown brushes against it. Every slight touch makes your dick bounce.
Angela screams. It is sudden and loud. Your tongue freezes. Did you hurt her?
“Keep . . .fucking . . .licking!” Angela says.
You adjust your grip on Angela’s ass and resume licking. The hard butt plug brushes your fingers. Feeling brave, you push down lightly on her plug while you lick faster.
“Fuck!” Angela yells. “You are nasty, Fuckboy!”
The compliment is appreciated. You get a good grip on her plug and slowly thrust it in and out of her tight ass. It is locked deep in there but you manage to move it an inch or two. Your own hips move in response, as your cock yearns to be buried in her ass instead of the plug.
The effect on Angela’s pussy is immediate. There is a gush of juices that threaten to choke you. The hips buck as she fucks your tongue.
Angela screams again. You are ready for it this time but it is still intense. You try to look at her face, but all you can see is the red lace covering her lovely breasts.
A hard nub pushes against your lips. It is Angela’s clitoris. You tenderly lick it but get little reaction from her. Your licks get harder and harder until you feel like you are jabbing her clit with your tongue.
“Fuck!” Angela cries out. She screams. Sharp nails scratch your scalp as she clenches her fingers.
Angela’s hips buck harder. You lose track of her clitoris as she slides her slit across your face. She moves faster and her hips grind from side to side. The pop star is literally dancing against your face.
You enjoy the ride. Angela is moving too fast for you to play with the butt plug so you just hold onto her ass. You can feel the play of muscles under your fingertips. This is an ass made for fucking and right now that perfect bottom is working to fuck your face.
“Take Mami’s pussy, Fuckboy!” Angela yells. “Get that shit down your throat!”
You groan. The vibration of your lips only makes Angela grind faster. It feels like she is going to rub your face off at any moment but there is no place you would rather be. This is a pussy worth breaking your nose for.
Angela screams and it is painfully loud. You lean your head against her thigh to cover your ear. The scream keeps going and you can feel it in your teeth.
The humping stops. Angela’s ass clenches in your hands. You realize the screaming has stopped but your ears are ringing.
Angela lets go of your hair. She unslings her leg from the back of the couch and dismounts from your face. You suck in air as she lowers herself to a squat before you. Angela’s cheeks are almost as red as the ruby earrings dangling beside her face.
You still have your hands on your ass and don’t plan to move them until she tells you too. There is a tingling sensation in your lips. You wonder if they are bruised. Shit, you wonder if your whole face is bruised considering the pounding you just took.
“Alright, Fuckboy, your mouth has game,” Angela says. “I haven’t come that hard from a mouth in a while.”
“Thank you, Angela,” you say. “It was my pleasure.”
“It will be, Fuckboy,” Angela says. “Ready for me to ride that dick of yours? Or would you rather I return the favor and give you the Madre of all Blowjobs? It is your choice; your face has earned it.”
Before you can answer, Angela leans forward and licks her juices from your chin. Her tongue is damn long. She takes slow licks of your face and you can’t help imagine that tongue around your cock.
Angela’s ass clenches in your hands as she licks. It reminds you of how she moved when she fucked her face. You wouldn’t mind feeling that same movement on your cock.
It is a damn tough choice.
**What do you say to the waiting pop star?**
> [[“Please sit on my dick, Angela.”->page_185]]
> [[“Please blow me, Angela.”->page_195]]# I Pick the Leather Mask With the Fashion Logos
You lift the mask from the table. It is heavier than it looks. The edges of your vision blurs. There is a tickle in the back of your throat. You feel a little buzzed. Could there be something in the dozen diffusers that are running in the room?
“You have chosen the Mask of Opulence,” Mrs. Wilkins says. “This is the spirit that creates artificial necessity through the power of brands and advertising. It is a powerful entity and a personal nemesis of mine.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” you say. “Should I pick another, ma’am?” you say.
“No!” Mrs. Wilkins says forcefully. “This is the mask you have chosen and this will be the spirit that we tame today. Come with me, but do not put the mask on yet.”
The flute music changes. The speakers are now broadcasting something with stringed instruments. It sounds like violins, playing in some cavernous room. You didn’t notice Mrs. Wilkins operating a remote. It must be part of a playlist.
Mrs. Wilkins walks over to the sex swing. You notice another circle has been drawn around the swing in a large arc. Instead of salt, the circle is made of green stones. She steps over the circle and turns her back to the Slut-Cradle. There is a small suitcase by her feet.
“Stand in front of me,” Mrs. Wilkins commands.
You take your place in front of Mrs. Wilkins. She grips the waists of her skirt and pulls it down. When she stands back up, you see wide hips, a thick bush of black pubic hair and tattoos of snakes covering both thighs. She tosses the skirt outside of the circle.
Mrs. Wilkins squats down and opens the suitcase. Inside is a bunch of strange objects including jars, bundles of herbs and a large bell. She pulls out a slender piece of black wood, about nine inches in length and about a quarter-inch thick.
“It that a wand, ma’am?” you ask.
“Shh, from here on out you don’t speak unless I call upon you to speak,” Mrs. Wilkins says.
You nod your understanding.
Mrs. Wilkins stands up and holds the wand in front of her. She traces weird patterns in the air with her wand. The quick motions cause her lovely breasts to jiggle.
“I call upon the Spirit of Opulence to take hold of this vessel,” Mrs. Wilkins says. The half-moon lenses of her glasses sparkle in the candle light. “He is young, drenched in sexual energy and empty of mind. Possess him so we may bargain!”
Wait, did she say you were empty of mind? You’re not sure. You were distracted by the sight of her swinging large tits.
“Put on the mask,” Mrs. Wilkins whispers.
You slip the half-hood over your head. It is a loose fit at first but when you pull down on the sides, it tightens around you. The fabric covering the eyes is a transparent brown gauze. There must be patterns in the fabric because you swear that you see shapes lurking around the room.
Mrs. Wilkins taps the wand on your forehead. The leather fabric is thick but you feel each tap on your skin. The sound of the tapping echoes through your skull.
“You are Opulence, the force that compels us to purchase and consume.”
TAP. TAP. TAP.
“You are Opulence, the spirit that thrives on greed and fattens on demand.”
TAP. TAP. TAP.
“You are Opulence, the siren that tempts poor and wealthy alike.”
TAP. TAP. TAP.
Mrs. Wilkins points the wand at your mouth. The tip brushes your lips. She traces the outline of your mouth with her wand.
“This vessel gives his mouth to you, Opulence,” Mrs. Wilkins says. “Use his mouth for your own cravings.”
The wand pushes through your lips and slides over your tongue. You taste leather and perfume. Your mouth waters and your stomach growls despite just having had lunch.
Mrs. Wilkins pulls the wand from your lips. She drags the tip of the wand down your throat, down your broad chest, over your flat stomach and past your hips. The wand touches the base of your cock and travels the length to your tip.
Your dick throbs. The tip of the wand stays on the tip of your cock. As your dick bounces, the wand stays connected to your head.
“This vessel gives his manhood to you, Opulence,” Mrs. Wilkins says. “Use it as your rod, your staff and your wand. Bring forth your blessing when you are ready.”
Well, you like the sound of that.
Mrs. Wilkins moves the wand away from your cock and points it at herself. The tip of the wand brushes one of her star-tattooed nipples. She flicks her hard nipple with the wand tip.
“As for myself, I offer my breasts for your consumption, Opulence,” Mrs. Wilkins says. “Bite them, lick them, kiss them and consume them as you wish. I offer both to you as my sacrifice.”
Mrs. Wilkins removes the wand from her nipple and brings it to your lips. Without being told, you open your mouth. The wand slips in and glides over your tongue. You know it is impossible, but you swear that you can taste flesh.
Your mouth waters. The urge to bury your face in Mrs. Wilkins’ tits is incredible. Your teeth snap around the wand without thinking.
Mrs. Wilkins pulls the wand from your mouth and guides it down to her hairy sex. The wand pushes through the thick bush of her hair. You can hear the wet sound of her pussy being entered by the wand.
“I also offer you my chalice,” Mrs. Wilkins says. “Drink me, lick me, bite me and consume me as you wish. I offer my cup for your thirst.”
Mrs. Wilkins takes the wand from her sex. She brings the wand up to your lips. You open your mouth and she slides the wand in.
You taste the tangy juices of her sex. It is delicious. Your mouth clamps down and your throat aches with thirst.
Mrs. Wilkins pulls the wand from your tight lips and sets it down in the suitcase. She steps backwards into the sex swing. Maintaining eye contact with you, Mrs. Wilkins easily climbs into the swing. She is in a sitting position, with her arms up in the air and her legs spread wide.
“I offer myself to you, Opulence, in exchange for freedom from your influence,” Mrs. Wilkins says. “Take from me what you wish and in exchange, spare me from your whispers.”
That’s your cue. Mrs. Wilkins expects you to take her offering on behalf of the spirit of Opulence. From what she said, she expects you take her offering with your mouth, though you hope your cock comes into play at some point. As for what is offering, she was clear on that too.
**What do you hunger for?**
> [[I want Mrs. Wilkins’ breasts->page_168]]
> [[I want Mrs. Wilkins’ pussy->page_179]]# I Pick the Blank Stone Mask
You lift the stone mask. The rocks are smooth to the touch. You glide your fingers over the pebbles and imagine cool waters flowing over each and every stone. It is a vivid image and one that lingers. You feel a little light-headed. Is there something in the air from the diffusers?
“You have chosen the Mask of the Mountain,” Mrs. Wilkins says. “This spirit is strong in this region. He endures despite the best efforts of water, air, sun and man.”
“Yes,” you say. Maybe it is because you grew up near these Smoky Mountains, but you know that every word she says is true.
“Come with me, but do not put the mask on yet,” Mrs. Wilkins says.
The speakers stop playing the flute music. There is quiet but only for a moment as a gong rings. It is a low-pitched sound that you can feel in your chest.
That’s weird, you didn’t notice Mrs. Wilkins using a remote. This music must be on a playlist. Then again, you were so busy looking at the mask that you weren’t really paying attention.
Mrs. Wilkins walks over to the sex swing and you follow. Another circle has been drawn around the swing in a large arc. The circle is made of green stones and you wonder if they came from the same river as the stones on the mask. She lifts her skirts and steps over the circle. You step over as well.
Mrs. Wilkins turns her back to the Slut-Cradle. There is a small suitcase by her feet.
“Stand in front of me,” she commands.
You do as Mrs. Wilkins commands. She grips the waists of her skirt and pulls it down. When she stands back up, you see the thick bush of black pubic hair covering her pussy. On both of her thighs are tattoos of snakes. She balls the skirt up and tosses it far outside the circle of stones.
Mrs. Wilkins squats down and opens the suitcase. You look down on the dark curves of her beautiful ass. She stands back up and is now holding a pink crystal, about the size of her palm. It is huge.
“What kind of a crystal is that, ma’am?” you ask.
Mrs. Wilkins shakes her head. “Mountains don’t speak.”
You close your mouth like a good Mountain.
Mrs. Wilkins holds the pink crystal to her chest, right between her lovely breasts. She closes her eyes and takes six deep breathes. Each breath causes her chest to rise and fall.
“I call upon the Spirit of Mountain to take hold of this vessel,” Mrs. Wilkins says. The half-moon lenses of her glasses sparkle in the candle light. “He is young, drenched in sexual energy and empty of mind. Possess him so we may bargain!”
Empty of mind? That seems mean. Then again, you have no fucking idea what is happening.
“Put on the mask,” Mrs. Wilkins whispers.
The mask opens on a hinge. You open the mask and see a black mouthguard on the inside. Mrs. Wilkins wasn’t kidding about you not talking. You bring the mask-front to your face and bite down on the plug. Held in place, you swing the back half down over your head. You are encased in stone.
Two narrow slits let you see. You breathe through your nose and are surprised by how good the air flow is. The mouthguard fits perfectly against your teeth. This is a mask you could wear for quite a while.
Mrs. Wilkins places the pink crystal against the forehead of your mask. You peek through the narrow slits at the purple star tattoos on her nipples. Both nipples are as hard as your mask.
A drumbeat joins the gong. The beat is steady and booming. It echoes within your mask.
“You are Mountain, jutting from the earth in all your majestic glory,”
Mrs. Wilkins says. “You are Mountain, connecting the world and sky. You are a monolith of strength until you crack in an orgy of fury.”
Mrs. Wilkins brings the crystal down your chest. It feels warm against your skin. It must collect a lot of heat from her fingers.
“Lend me your strength, Mountain,” Mrs. Wilkins says. “And in return, I will honor you.”
What does that mean? The mouthguard prevents you from asking and besides, Mountains don’t talk. You simply stand there and wait.
Mrs. Wilkins glides the crystal down your chest. The warm crystal traces over your stomach and past your waistline. When it reaches your dick, you feel the crystal being pulled away.
You look down but the mask limits the mobility of the neck. Mrs. Wilkins squats down and disappears from your limited view.
Warm breath brushes the head of your cock. Gentle lips give the tip a kiss. A warm tongue takes a lick, and then another, and then a third before your dick is encased in wet lips.
You groan. The mouthguard mutes the sound to a low rumble.
Mrs. Wilkins takes you into her mouth. It is a slow process. Long seconds pass before an inch of your shaft passes through her lips. Twice as long passes before another inch slips into her. All the while, her tongue licks your dick with the same glacier-like speed.
Your hands curl into fists. The urge to thrust is strangely muted. For some reason, you are content to just stand here and take her oral worship. It feels peaceful. No, it feels right.
The drums are gone. Has the music stopped? No, there is that gong again. It is louder but also lower in pitch.
Mrs. Wilkins is halfway down the length of your cock. Her tongue licks and then waits forever before licking again. Softs hands grip your thighs and you feel impervious to her blunt nails. As she sucks, you swear that your cock is only growing in girth.
You close your eyes. It is not like you can see much with the mask on anyway. This also makes it easier to get into the role of Mountain. Standing here, your cock being slowly sucked, you can almost believe that you are a giant hunk of rock enduring forever.
But it does not mean you are dead inside. Every slow lick of Mrs. Wilkins’ tongue makes you aware of that. Tension builds in your body. The urge to stand still is strong, but equally strong is the urge to fuck the shit out of her wet mouth. This must be what tectonic plates feel like before they shake the world.
Mrs. Wilkins pulls back from your dick. You open your eyes as she stands up. She grips your wet dick and squeezes.
“Mountain, do what you wish,” Mrs. Wilkins whispers.
Another gong rings from the speakers.
**On behalf of Mountain, what will you do?**
> [[I will stand, indifferent to hands, mouths and the weather->page_190]]
> [[I will crack and fuck Mrs. Wilkins with the fury of an avalanche->page_200]]# I Will Fuck Angela G’s Ass
“Your ass, Angela G,” you say. “I want your ass.”
“Of course, you do,” Angela says. “Everyone wants my ass, but you actually get to have it, Fuckboy. Get the lube on the nightstand.”
You turn to the nightstand. There is a quart-size bottle of lube. The Milford Hotel logo is on the bottle. You pick up the bottle and bring it to her.
Angela stands up just long enough to pull her lace gown completely off. Fuck, she has an incredibly fit body for her age. Hell, anyone’s age.
Naked, she lies back down on the side of the bed with her legs hanging off. She pulls her legs up and spreads them. You admire her flexibility as she reaches for her plug. Slowly, she starts to pull it out.
Inch after inch of shiny steel leaves Angela’s ass. Good grief, you are amazed at how much she can take. It is even more amazing when you consider this monster plug has been inside her since before you came to her room.
When the giant plug is out of her ass, Angela reaches for the lube. You hold the bottle as she works the squirt top. She gets a palmful of lube and rubs it into her asshole. Two fingers slip easily inside her ass. Angela is very thorough and you don’t mind watching.
When Angela is done doing with her ass, she gets another palmful and rubs it onto your dick. The lube is cold but Angela’s hands are warm and soft. She is just as through with your cock as she was with her asshole.
“Just promise me one thing, Fuckboy,” Angela says, still stroking your shaft.
“Anything,” you say.
“Make you sure you tear Mami’s ass up,” she says.
“I will,” you say and you mean it.
Angela lets go of your cock and leans back on the bed. She brings her knees up to her chest and then grabs her ass. Strong fingers pull apart her tanned ass to give you access to her asshole.
You toss the bottle of lube onto the bed and step up to Angela’s bottom. The gaping asshole is waiting for you. Taking your cock in hand, you press the head up against her anus. It slides right in like it was made for it.
The opening is loose but the inside is incredibly tight. Strong muscles clench around your cock. The lube helps. You keep going and sink the entire length of your dick inside Angela’s world-famous ass.
“Show Mami what you got, Fuckboy,” Angela says. She places the heels of her feet against your chest.
You groan and grab her knees. Angela’s ass is so tight around your cock that it is tempting to just stand there and enjoy it, but that is not what you promised. You begin fucking her ass, gaining momentum with every pump of your hips.
“Oooh!” Angela wails. She reaches between her spread thighs and fingers her pussy. Your dick in her ass is not enough; she needs to play with herself too.
That’s fine. You are feeling greedy too. One of your hands goes to Angela’s breast and squeezes. Remembering how hard she pinched her nipples; you grope her tanned breast as hard as you can.
“Oh, Fuckboy!” Angela cries out. She looks up at you with new respect. Her fingers are plunging in and out of her wet pussy.
You fuck Angela’s ass. It is tighter than any pussy. It is tighter than any hand. Fuck, it might be the tightest ass you will ever fuck in your life and you plan to enjoy every second of it.
The bed shakes. The sound of a lubed ass getting fucked fills the entire suite. Sweat trickles down your back. The smell of dick, ass and pussy fills your nose.
“Give it to Mami, give it, give it, give it!” Angela moans.
Always give the guest what they want. You drill Angela’s ass with your dick. The force of your thrusts causes her tits to jiggle wildly but you hold on tight with your hand. The sound of your crotch smacking into her ass turns into a rapid drum beat.
Angela screams. She clenches her eyes shut and arches her back. Both heels dig into your chest. Her hand shakes as she strokes herself. Incredible forces constrict around your cock.
But you keep fucking. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. You pound the ass that you have seen in a hundred music videos. You fuck the ass that you have dreamed of kissing, much less fucking. You nail the ass of a living legend.
Angela screams again. The fit ass clenches tightly around your dick. Both eyes roll into the back of her head.
You pause in your fucking. Angela’s ass is too tight to fuck. The pop star shudders and her ass unclenches. It is just a tiny relaxation, but it is enough for you go back to fucking her.
“Fill my ass up, Fuckboy,” Angela says. “I want to feel your hot crema inside me. Put it in me so deep that I can taste it!”
That doesn’t seem possible but your cock doesn’t agree. You feel the coming of your orgasm fast approaching but a curious thing happens. Angela G’s ass is so tight that you feel your seed slowly traveling up the length of your dick. It stretches your climax for an extra second, but that feels like a lifetime in that wonderful ass.
You let out a shout when you finally come. Angela’s eyes roll back into her head as she strokes herself. Your cock pumps seed deep in her ass while the pop star screams another orgasm.
The windows shake. So does your knees. Your dick struggles to keep shooting loads into Angela’s clenching ass.
Finally, your cock goes limp. Only then does Angela’s ass relaxes. You pull your dick from her ass and there is an audible ‘POP’.
“Mmmm, good job, Fuckboy,” Angela says. She lowers her legs and pulls her fingers from her slick sex. Her lips open wide and she crams her slick fingers into her mouth.
Your cock twitches. Despite coming, you are getting turned on watching Angela be so nasty.
Angela sits up and surprises you with her energy. It is like getting fucked in the ass has recharged her. She springs to her feet and walks into the main suite.
You follow behind Angela. Seed trickles from her asshole and down her thighs. Your exhausted cock pulses again.
Angela walks over to the desk. She takes something out and bends over the desk. Your eyes are glued to her bare ass while she writes.
You stand a few feet behind her, waiting patiently.
“Here you go,” Angela says. She turns around and hands you an 8x10 photo of her. It is full body shot of her turned around and presenting her ass in tight white shorts. In the corner, she has written “Stay dirty, Fuckboy,” and she signed it Angela G.
You smile so hard that your face hurts. “Thank you, Angela.” Your brother is going to be incredibly jealous.
“De nada,” Angela says. “Now get dressed and go. Limp dicks like that depress me.”
You quickly dress and take your offending appendage out of her sight.
> [[Go take your memento back to your room->page_205]]# I Want to Fuck Angela G’s Face
“Your mouth,” you say. “I want to fuck your pretty face.”
“Damn right you do,” Angela says. Staying on her stomach, she spins around on the bed towards you. The red lace gown covers her back but she pulls the skirt apart so you can see her perfect ass and diamond butt plug. She rises up on her elbows and looks up at you with her intense brown eyes. The dangling ruby earrings catch the light. Golden-brown hair falls from her face and hangs off the bed. She licks her lips and opens her mouth wide.
You take your cock in hand and step up to Angela’s face. She doesn’t flinch from your juice-smeared dick. Your cock goes into her mouth and you feel her tongue slide over you. You keep going until your balls are resting on her chin.
Angela closes her mouth. Tight lips lock around you. She flicks the underside of your cock with her tongue, driving you insane.
You look down in wonder. Angela G is sucking your dick! You stare and try to lock the image forever in your memory.
Angela G looks up at you. Silver eye shadow highlight dark brown eyes. They seem to judge you.
Of course. Angela didn’t offer to blow you, she offered you the chance to fuck her face. That nasty pop star knows what she wants.
You grab Angela by the hair. The older woman moans as you twist her golden locks around your fists. The vibrations of her moans encase the entire length of your dick.
“I’m going to fuck your face harder than the drum beat in ‘Booty Party’,” you say.
Angela groans again, deeper and longer this time. Referencing her music was a good choice. The vain pop star loves a callback.
You pull your cock nearly all the way out of Angela’s mouth and then slam it back in. The head of your dick batters the back of her throat. Your balls rest on her chin for a full second before you are pulling back to ram her mouth again.
Angela relaxes her mouth. Both eyes stare up at you with lust. Her tongue presses against the length of your shaft with every thrust. Spit falls from her mouth and onto the floor. The ruby earrings swing like pendulums as you fuck her face.
The diamond butt plug wiggles. Angela clenches her ass while you use her face. The perfect ass rises and falls. She is humping the bed.
What was that line she said? Yes, you remember now. “Ms. G if you’re dirty.” You can work with that.
“Such a good mouth, Ms. G,” you say.
Angela moans louder. The vibrations feel wonderful. ‘Ms. G’ is certainly a turn on for her. She humps the bed harder. The rise and fall of her butt plug is hypnotic.
Inspired, you fuck Angela’s face faster. Short, savage thrusts fill her mouth. Your balls bounce off her chin like small basketballs.
Angela chokes. You pull out of her mouth and give her a moment to recover. She looks up at you and grabs your leg. Sharp nails stab your thigh.
“Don’t fucking stop, Fuckboy!” Angela snaps.
“Alright, Ms. G,” you say and you ram your cock back into her lips.
Angela chokes on your cock again but this time you don’t stop. You keep humping her face, driving your dick straight down her throat. She chokes again and you just go faster. The ruby earrings swing wildly.
More spit falls from Angela’s lips. She lets go of your leg and brings her arm back under her. The dark brown eyes shimmer with tears.
Her nostrils are flaring and you finally know what that looks like.
You push deep into Angela’s mouth and stop. Your cock throbs inside her mouth. Letting go of her hair with one hand, you reach under her chin and close her mouth around your dick. You hold her there, grinding your crotch and pubic hair into her face.
Hot air gushes from her nose as she tries to breathe. The skilled tongue rapidly licks your cock. She rises up on her knees and her ass humps the air.
You release her chin and grab her luscious hair again. You slide back and Angela gasps for air. Not giving her time to recover, you resume fucking her face.
Angela G moans. She reaches between her legs and you can hear her gushy pussy getting fingered. Her jaw relaxes as you continue to abuse her face.
“Take it, Ms. G,” you say. “Fuck me with your sexy mouth.”
The diamond butt plug is a blur. Angela has gone from humping to twerking. That is pretty impressive for someone her age, especially since she is getting face-fucked at the same time. She truly is a living legend.
Angela screams on your dick. It sounds weird with your cock in her mouth but that was definitely another orgasmic scream. The pop star has come again!
“It is my turn to come, Ms. G,” you say. “Should I come right into your mouth?”
“AhhAhh!” Angela says as you pump her mouth.
You take that as a yes. You slow down and Angela closes her lips around you. She sucks hard and you pass the point of no return. Pleasure explodes through your body as your cock shoots its first load.
Angela keeps sucking. Her ass twerks in the air as you pump another load into her mouth. She swallows it and keeps her lips tight around you. Her tongue flicks the underside of your dick, coaxing more and more seed down her throat.
“Whoa, whoa,” you say and you pull your cock from Angela’s mouth. Her tight lips hold on and sucks your dick clean. When you finally get your shaft out, it is almost dry.
“Good work, Fuckboy,” Angela says.
“Thank you, ma-Angela,” you say.
Angela rolls onto her back and sits up. She nearly jumps out of the bed and stands up. The older woman has a lot more energy than you do at this moment. She walks right past you and into the main area of the suite.
Unsure what to do, you follow Angela. The red gown covers her ass but you can still make out the amazing curves through the sheer lace. The diamond butt plug sparkles underneath the red lace.
Angela walks over to the desk. She takes something out and bends over the desk. Your eyes are glued to her lacy ass while she writes.
Should you get dressed? Could you even perform if Angela wants to keep going? You doubt it, but if called upon, you will give it your best.
“Here you go,” Angela says. She turns around and hands you an 8x10 photo of her. It is headshot with a great view of her dark cleavage. In the corner, she has written “Stay dirty, Fuckboy,” and she signed it Angela G.
Your exhausted dick throbs. “Thank you, Angela.” You can’t wait to send a picture of her autograph to your brother.
“De nada,” Angela says. “Now get dressed and go. Limp dicks like that depress me.”
You quickly dress and take your offending appendage out of her sight.
> [[Go take your memento back to your room->page_205]] # I Want Mrs. Wilkins’ Breasts
The dark heavy globes glisten in the flickering candle light. The purple star tattoos around her nipples seem to twinkle. Just the sight of them makes your jaw ache to bite on them.
You stride over to Mrs. Wilkins. The mask is snug around your face. You step between her parted legs and grab a handful of her luscious tit. The hard nipple pokes your palm as you grind your hand into her flesh.
“They are yours,” Mrs. Wilkins says. “Satisfy your cravings as you wish.”
“Yes,” you growl. The hood makes your voice sound higher pitched then it usually is. What a weird side-effect.
You shift your grip on Mrs. Wilkins’ breast so you can lift it up. Squeezing your fingers, the tattooed-nipple juts out. You lean down and take a long lick of her nipple. You taste something sweet. It must be her perfume or maybe a lotion she uses.
Mrs. Wilkins groans. She grips the straps holding her arms up. The half-lens glasses slide a little bit down her nose.
The violin music swells to a crescendo. There is the sound of trumpets.
You open your mouth and bite down on her breast. The trapped nipple presses against your lapping tongue. You suck and your teeth grind around her plentiful tit.
“Ow!” Mrs. Wilkins cries out. The swing creaks as she pulls on the straps. She makes no move to stop you.
Good. You don’t want to be stopped. Spitting out her nipple, you turn your head and bite the side of her other breast. The flesh quivers and your tongue rapidly licks the skin.
“Ohhhhh,” Mrs. Wilkins moans. She arches her back; thrusting her breast into your mouth.
You growl and release her breast from your teeth. You turn and bite the breast that you are still squeezing. After a few glorious seconds of sinking your teeth, you let go and return back to the other tit. Back and forth you go, biting and sucking your way around both of her gorgeous mountains.
The violins and trumpets are joined by saxophones. Picturing the golden instruments sends a shiver goes down your back. You catch yourself biting in time to the beat of the music.
“My Lord Opulence, give me a moment to better present my treasures,” Mrs. Wilkins says.
You grunt and let go of her tits. Spit covers your chin. In your urge to bite and lick, you have been a bit sloppy.
Mrs. Wilkins reaches up and pulls on a strap. The ropes supporting her shoulders lengthen. Mrs. Wilkins’ back is soon parallel with the ground with her head hanging down. The long braids stop just short of the ground.
You walk around to the other side. Mrs. Wilkin’s stares up at you but you only have eyes for her tits. You take hold of both of her breasts and sink your fingers. They are warm clay underneath your grip.
Mrs. Wilkins tips her head back and opens her mouth. The tip of your cock brushes her lips. She flicks your head with her tongue.
You are too distracted by Mrs. Wilkins’ breasts to care about her mouth. In your urge to get a better grip, you take a step forward and sink your cock into her mouth. She swallows you whole with no problem at all.
It is good to have your dick in Mrs. Wilkins’ throat, but the real prize is her tits. Bite marks cover her dark flesh. You flex your fingers and knead the firm dough of her breasts.
There is a muffled sound. It is Mrs. Wilkins, trying to say something. You can’t tell what it is with your dick in her mouth. Some part of you, the reluctant part that cares about your job, decides to pull your cock out and see and what she wants.
Mrs. Wilkins gasps. Your dick is covered in her spit. “Fuck my tits, and give me your blessing.”
Your cock throbs in response. Yes, you accept this offering. Mrs. Wilkins lets her head drop and you take another step forward. Your cock presses against her chest as you wrap her tits around your hard length. Mrs. Wilkins’s head hang between your legs as you use her breasts.
It is an awkward position for Mrs. Wilkins but perfect for you. The large tits are warm around your cock. The spit makes for decent lube as you fuck her breasts. The purple star tattoos jiggle as you fuck.
The swing creaks as you thrust. The sound joins the music of the trumpets, violins and saxophones. There is a groan from Mrs. Wilkin’s head between your thighs. The course texture of her braids brush against your legs.
Mrs. Wilkins reaches between her own legs. You had forgotten about her hairy sex. She fingers herself with savage thrusts as you fuck her tits. The thick bush of her sex glistens with her juices.
You turn your attention back to Mrs. Wilkins’ tits. That is all you care about. Your cock slides back and forth between her dark mounds. The hard nipples point to the sky. The heavy mounds quake with each thrust.
“Cover my breasts with your blessing,” Mrs. Wilkins says.
Yes, you must shower Mrs. Wilkins’ tits with your seed. You pull your cock from between her breasts and stroke yourself. Your dick is hot to the touch from being encased in her flesh. You pump with both hands and your orgasm approaches fast.
“Fuck!” you cry out and your seed flies from your cock. A load flies through the air and splatters on a purple star tattoo. Another load lands on the other breast and paints it white. You alternate between breasts, spreading your blessing equally among her mounds.
The music stops. Your cock is out of seed. A voice calls out between your legs.
“Take the mask off,” Mrs. Wilkins says.
You take a step back and pull the mask from your head. The candlelight is too bright and hurts your eyes. Exhaustion sweeps over your body. It is hard to stand.
Mrs. Wilkins pulls on a strap and her body is returned to a sitting position. She pulls herself out of the sex swing and stands up. Your come clings to her large breasts. Damn, that is a lot of come.
“You did good,” Mrs. Wilkins says. “I can already feel the blessing working. There will be no shopping trip on this vacation.”
“Uh, I’m glad, ma’am,” you say. Now that the mask is off, you feel the responsibilities of your job resettling on your shoulders. “I’m not sure if you reached climax. If you need release, I will be happy to assist.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Mrs. Wilkins says. She looks down and admires the mess on her chest. “You have done all that I need and more.”
Mrs. Wilkins squats down and picks up the large bell and a small hammer that were in her suitcase. She stands up, holding both.
“Opulence, we have sealed our bargain,” Mrs. Wilkins says. “Now leave this young man and remember your promise.”
She hits the bell with the hammer three times. The bell rings and each note echoes through the activity room. After the last strike, she stands silently for a minute until the bell stops ringing.
“That should free you of Opulence’s presence,” Mrs. Wilkins says. “Though you may find yourself being unusually picky in your tastes for a week or two. You may also experience an increase in supernatural phenomenon for a few days as well.”
“Good to know,” you say.
“And with that, I no longer need your services,” Mrs. Wilkins says. “Please get dressed and leave. I need to prepare the room for the next ceremony.”
“Should I return this mask to the table, ma’am?” you ask.
Mrs. Wilkins shakes her head. “No, that is yours now. Keep it and maybe one day, you will make your own deal with Opulence.”
Hmm, tipping is not allowed but receiving masks wasn’t covered in your training. You decide to take it with you rather than offend a guest. If there is a problem, you can always ask Mrs. Winterslick later.
You get dressed and carefully leave the room.
> [[Go take your memento back to your room->page_205]] # I Want Mrs. Wilkins’ Pussy
The smell of sex fills your mouth. Juices drip from the curly hairs of Mrs. Wilkins’ pussy. The open thighs are more than an invitation, they are almost a taunt. There is a dryness in your throat that burns to be quenched.
You stride over to the sex swing, almost in a run. Mrs. Wilkins nods silently as you kneel between her legs. You place a hand on each thigh and press your hooded face against her pussy. The hairs tickle your face as you open your mouth.
“My chalice is yours,” Mrs. Wilkins says. “Use it as you wish.”
“Yes,” you growl. The hood makes your voice sound higher pitched then it usually is. What a weird side-effect.
You press your tongue against Mrs. Wilkins’ pussy lips. Tangy juices greet your tongue. Your mouth opens her lips and takes a lick inside. Deliciousness coats your tongue.
Mrs. Wilkins groans. The thighs start to close but your hands hold them apart. The hips buck in mid-air, her body suspended by the straps.
The violin music swells to a crescendo. There is the sound of trumpets.
You want more. Removing your hands from Mrs. Wilkins’ thighs, you reach around and grab her hanging ass. You pull on her buttocks to grind her pussy into your masked face. Moving your face up and down, you burrow against her thick bush.
“Yes,” Mrs. Wilkins moans. “Drink me. Drink me. Drink me.”
That is exactly what you do. Your lips seal over her sex, careful not to miss a single drop. You lick, swallow and lick some more. When licking is not enough, you push a finger into her tight lips. Your finger fucks her pussy while your tongue laps the river that flows forth.
The sex swing creaks as Mrs. Wilkins pulls on the straps. She grinds her pussy against your face. Tight muscles clench around your thrusting finger. Her thighs close and then open as she succumbs to your licking.
It isn’t enough. You gently chew the lips of her sex. Your finger reaches deeper and deeper. No matter how wet she is, you still crave more. There is a thirst inside you that just can’t be quenched.
“My chalice is yours,” Mrs. Wilkins says again. “Consume me. Drink me. Swallow me.”
You pull your finger out and slip it into your mouth. After sucking the juices clean, your mouth returns to Mrs. Wilkins’ sex. You try to suck the juices out of her body. Mrs. Wilkins bucks against your face but you keep sucking.
“Back off, but just for a moment,” Mrs. Wilkins groans. “I will make this easier for you.”
Quitting is nearly impossible but you force yourself to pull back from Mrs. Wilkins’ sex. As soon as you do, Mrs. Wilkins pulls on a strap. The pulleys roll and the Slut-Cradle changes position. The guest’s legs and crotch moves up while her head and shoulders drop down. When the swing stabilizes, Mrs. Wilkins is hanging upside down. The ends of her long braids settle on the floor.
You stand up. Mrs. Wilkins, and her delicious pussy, is facing the other way. You walk around and are pleased to see that her sex is at the same height as your mouth.
“I approve,” you say. You take a step forward and press your mouth to her upside-down pussy. Reaching around, you grab her ass and hold her in place as you lick her sex. The thick bush rubs against your face fills you with her musk.
The violins and trumpets are joined by saxophones. Picturing the golden instruments sends a shiver goes down your back. You catch yourself licking in time to the beat of the music.
Something touches your cock. It is Mrs. Wilkins’ mouth. In your haste to eat her pussy, you forgot about the rest of her body. A tongue guides your cock to waiting lips. A hand pulls on your ass and you thrust into a willing mouth. Tight lips close around you as she sucks.
You groan into Mrs. Wilkins’ pussy. The circuit is complete. Juices flow into your mouth and your dick pushes into her lips. In your aroused state, you can easily imagine that some sort of power is flowing between your two bodies in a perpetual circle.
Where did that come from? Wow, there must be something in those diffusers because you are having the weirdest thoughts. Maybe you should keep your nose buried in this wet pussy and try to block out any foreign airborne substances.
Mrs. Wilkins sucks harder. Even upside down, she gives you an amazing blowjob. Her head bobs back and forth; adding a wonderful swivel to her head that drives you crazy. When you thrust into her mouth, it doesn’t break her rhythm at all.
As wonderful as her mouth feels, it doesn’t stop you from devouring her offered pussy. You grind your face into her hairy sex as you tongue laps her sticky juices. Pussy juice goes up your nose and you don’t care. If you could snort this pussy into your lungs, you would.
Mrs. Wilkins groans. Vibrating lips caress your dick. She sucks more of you into her and you feel her nose brushing against your balls. A hard nub of flesh brushes against your tongue. It is Mrs. Wilkin’s clitoris. Where has that been this whole time? Now that you have found it, your tongue rapidly flicks it.
Mrs. Wilkins bucks in the grip of the sex swing. The suction around your cock gets tighter. There is a new tanginess to the taste of her pussy. She is coming.
The swing creaks as she wiggles. The sound joins the music of the trumpets, violins and saxophones. It is followed by the moans of pleasure around your dick.
Your orgasm comes without warning. You cry out into Mrs. Wilkins’ pussy a split-second before your seed fills her mouth. After you cry out, you resume licking. You continue to lick even as your cock pumps into her mouth. Only when you are finished coming do you come up for air.
The music stops. Your dick falls out of Mrs. Wilkins’ mouth. You lick your lips and your thirst is gone.
“Remove your mask,” Mrs. Wilkins says.
You lift the mask from your head. The candlelight is too bright and you shield your eyes. You take a step back on weary legs. It feels like you have been running stairs.
Mrs. Wilkins pulls on a strap. The Slut-Cradle returns her body to a sitting position. There is a big smile on her face she dismounts and stands up.
“That was good,” Mrs. Wilkins says. “The blessing is filling my body. I won’t be running up any credit card debt this year.”
“Uh, I’m glad, ma’am,” you say. Now that the mask is off, your jaw is starting to ache. You ate a lot of pussy. There is a bloated feeling in your stomach.
Mrs. Wilkins squats down beside the suitcase. She picks up the large bell and a small hammer. The golden bell catches the light as she stands up.
“Opulence, we have sealed our bargain,” Mrs. Wilkins says. “Now leave this young man and remember your promise.”
She hits the bell with the hammer three times. Each note echoes through the activity room. Pressure pops in your ears. After the last strike, Mrs. Wilkins holds the bell high in the air until the ringing stops.
“That should free you of Opulence’s presence,” Mrs. Wilkins says. “Though you may feel a desire to own things beyond your means. You may also experience an increase in supernatural phenomenon for a few days as well.”
“I’ll keep an eye out for that, ma’am,” you say.
“I also no longer need your services,” Mrs. Wilkins says. “Please leave the area as soon as possible. I need to prepare the room for the next ceremony.”
“Where should I put this mask, ma’am?” you ask.
Mrs. Wilkins shakes her head. “Keep it. It will hold onto Opulence’s power and bring you good luck. Another practitioner can help you make your own deal with Opulence.”
Hmm, tipping is not allowed but receiving masks wasn’t covered in your training. You decide to take it with you rather than offend a guest. If there is a problem, you can always ask Mrs. Winterslick later.
You get dressed and carefully leave the room.
> [[Go take your memento back to your room->page_205]] # Please Sit on My Dick, Angela.”
Angela smiles. “Mami will give you what you need, Fuckboy.”
She leans against you. Her lace-covered breasts press into your wet face. A hard nipple pokes against the fabric and rubs against your lips. You instinctively open your mouth and suck the nipple, lace and all, into your mouth.
A hand grabs your cock. It holds you in place as Angela sinks down. The wet heat of her sex touches the head of your dick and your lips opens in a groan. Angela leans back, pulling her breast away from your mouth as she sits down.
Slick tightness engulfs your cock. The warmth is incredible. The rest of your body feels cold by comparison. Angela sinks down until her ass is on your thighs and your dick is completely inside of her.
“Oh fuck,” you whisper. It is too much to process. You are inside Angela G’s pussy! A pop star is sitting on your cock! The woman of so many of your masturbation sessions is about to fuck your brains out!
Angela grabs your jaw. “Stay with me, Fuckboy,” she says. There is a smirk on her lips. “Don’t come too fast on me. If you do, I’ll keep fucking you until I break it off inside me. Understand?”
It is a vivid image. You nod your head. Your cock throbs in agreement or protest, it is hard to tell which.
Angela lets go of your chin. She puts both hands on your shoulders. Looking you in the eyes, she begins to move her hips.
Holy shit. It is slow but the grip is so tight. She rocks back and forth and side to side. It is an intricate pattern that you can’t quite follow but it sure as fuck feels good.
You feel the butt plug inside of her. The heavy weight sometimes presses against your cock. It is a constant reminder that you are not the only thing inside the beautiful pop star.
“There you go, Fuckboy,” Angela says. “Just sit there and let Mami take care of you.”
Angela grinds a little faster. Her fit ass rubs against your thighs. The couch creaks from her shifting weight. The red gown sways, brushing against your body in exciting ways.
Your eyes are drawn to her breasts. There is a wet spot on the fabric covering the nipple you sucked. The other nipple is hidden behind a floral design. Both tits sway and jiggle as her dancing becomes more pronounced.
“Want to have a little suck, Fuckboy?” Angela asks. She doesn’t wait for answer. She pulls the lace aside to expose a perfect breast. It is darkly tanned and topped with a hard nipple.
Angela leans towards you and rises slightly. Her pussy stays on your dick and she continues to fuck. She is so much more agile than you.
You lean forward and take her tit into your mouth. It tastes better without the gown fabric in the way. A thrill goes through you as your tongue flicks Angela G’s nipple. So many people dream of seeing her nipple, but you are actually sucking on it.
Angela groans. Her hand crushes your face to her breasts. Once more you are smothered, but by tit instead of pussy. Your tender lips tingle but you keep licking. Nothing could make you let go of this nipple.
There is a tight clenching around your dick. You gasp and Angela’s nipple fall from your lips. It is covered in your spit.
“Now the other one,” Angela says. She pulls on the other side of her gown and the breast pops out. Guiding your head, she pulls you onto her exposed nipple.
You clamp your lips around the aureole. A moan rises from your throat and vibrates against her breast. Your cheeks pucker as you suck. As Angela arches her back towards you, your tongue makes lazy circles around her nipple.
“That’s right, Fuckboy,” Angela says. “Suck on that fat nipple while I destroy your dick.”
Angela’s pussy clenches tighter around your cock. This time you are ready for it and don’t gasp. You hold onto her nipple as her hips oscillate wildly. They buck in wild directions, taking your trapped dick with it.
“Holy shit,” you groan into Angela’s nipple. Your fingers hold on tighter to her ass. It doesn’t slow her down a bit.
“You like that, Fuckboy?” Angela says. “Think you can hold off on coming?”
A shudder runs through you. Her nipple falls free from your lips. You lean back into the couch and stare at the beautiful woman.
“No,” you admit.
Angela smiles. She bites her bottom lip. There is a wicked gleam to those dark eyes.
“Just hold . . .for a few . . . more seconds. . . Fuckboy,” Angela says.
You try. It is too damn hard. Both of her lovely tits are jigging in front of you. That amazing ass clenches under your fingers. The tight pussy is pulling, twisting and tugging you in all sorts of directions.
Somehow, you keep from coming.
Angela closes her eyes. She throws her head back and lets out another scream. This one is louder than the others, or maybe you don’t have the padding of her thigh to help block your ears. The windows shake behind you.
As she comes, Angela’s pussy keeps moving. There is a circular motion that is almost familiar. It is like a small letter ‘e’.
Now there is a straight grind up and down like a line. Or a small letter ‘l’.
Angela’s hips shift into a circle with a slight addition. It is a small letter ‘a’.
Holy shit, she is writing her name with your dick!
You come. Seed shoots through your cock and into her tight clamp of a pussy. You let out a scream of your own as Angela keeps moving. She spells her name again, A-n-g-e-l-a as you come.
“Stop, stop, stop,” you groan. It is way too much for your sensitive cock.
Despite her threats, Angela instantly stops. She rises up and your cock flops out. It is smeared with her juices and your seed.
Angela climbs off the couch and stands in front of you. She tucks her tits back into her gown and smooths the dress down over her legs. When she is done, she looks at your spent cock with a smug look on her face.
“You didn’t do bad,” she says. “Get dressed.”
Angela turns around and walks over to the large desk. You are almost relieved that she is done with you. It is an act of will to rise from the couch. Your ass feels like it has been hammered into the seat cushion. You stumble around the room, collecting your clothes and slowly putting them on.
Angela bends over the desk and writes something with a black marker. When you are dressed, she turns to you and gives you a piece of paper. It is an 8x10 autograph of her squatting on a stage.
She is wearing a tight white catsuit. You can almost make out her pussy lips through the spandex.
There is something written in the corner. “Stay dirty, Fuckboy.” It is signed, Angela G.
“Thank you, Angela,” you say. “By brother is going to be jealous as fuck.”
“If he is as cute as you, bring him next time,” Angela says. “Now go. I got a massage scheduled later.”
You nod and wearily head for the door.
> [[Go take your memento back to your room->page_205]]# “Please Blow Me, Angela.”
Angela smiles. “You have no idea how many men say that to me. The good news for you, Fuckboy, is Mami will actually give it to you.”
She climbs off the couch and stands up. You look up at her towering beauty. She uses her foot to spread your legs and then steps between your thighs. Smooth as silk, she sinks down to her knees in front of you.
Your cock bounces in front of Angela. She licks
her lips and then grabs your cock. Tight fingers squeeze as she leans forward. Hot breath from her lips tickle the tip of your dick.
“Oh shit,” you groan. You want to grab that beautiful golden-brown hair but you resist. Your hands go to either side of you and grip the couch cushion.
Angela looks up at you. A red tongue almost slithers out from between her pink lips. The red of her tongue matches the rubies dangling from her ears. The long tongue presses flat against the underside of your cock head. She takes a long lick.
“Oh fuck,” you groan. Your right leg trembles. There is a pounding in your ears from how fast your heart is beating.
“You like that?” Angela teases. She takes another slow lick of your dick tip. The tongue is insanely long and wet.
“Fuck, yes, Angela,” you say.
“Call me Ms. G when I am licking your dick, Fuckboy,” she says.
“Yes, Ms. G,” you whisper.
Angela smiles and then swipes her tongue over the tip of your cock. Her long tongue nearly wraps around your girth. She holds your dick still while her tongue polishes your cock head. The tip of your dick is sta
rting to shine.
You want more but you know better than to move. Your hands clench the couch cushion until your knuckles turn white. Instead of thrusting towards her mouth, you bite down on your lip and try to keep cool.
It is futile. Angela opens her mouth and sucks the tip of your dick into her mouth. You cry out and your hips rise. Angela tightens her grip and prevent you from fucking her lips.
Angela chuckles. Her lips vibrate around your cock tip. The long tongue slips out from between her tight lips and snakes down the length of your shaft.
“Oh fuck, Ms. G,” you moan.
Angela’s mouth slides down your cock. You watch as your length disappears between her lips. She swipes her tongue across your dick as it passes into her lips. All the while, her intense dark eyes stare up at you.
The long hair brushes your thighs. Angela reaches under and touches your balls. Delicate fingers massage your testes. She is like a one-handed juggler.
Angela lets go of your cock. She reaches up and pinches one of your nipples. The sharp pain is a slight distraction from the ecstasy of her mouth. She lifts and lowers her mouth on your dick, sucking and slurping loudly as she goes.
“Yes, fuck, yes, shit, fuck, yes,” you babble.
The sharp nails dig into your nipple. The intense brown eyes look up at you expectantly.
“I mean, fuck yes, Ms. G,” you say.
The fingers relax. Angela still has a hold of your hard nipple but she is no longer pinching. The sharp nails remain to remind you of your manners.
Angela’s head bounces on your dick. Spit falls from her mouth like a running faucet. She slurps the spit back up when she goes down and leaves it all behind when her mouth moves up. Some of the spit drizzles down to your fondled balls and soaks them.
You cry out again. The suction on your cock is incredible. The only thing keeping you from fucking the pop star’s face is the deft grip she has on your balls.
Suddenly, your cock pops free of Angela’s mouth. She looks up at you and licks her lips. One hand wraps around your dick and pumps it. The strong hand jacks your cock with your tip resting on her bottom lip.
“You’ve lasted longer than I thought, Fuckboy,” Angela says. She jacks your slick cock with incredible speed.
You try to answer but all that comes out is a groan.
“But I think it is time you gave Mami your crema,” she says. “I want you to glaze my face. I need that young fuckboy crema for my skin.
Think you are ready to give it to me, Fuckboy?”
“Yes, Ms. G,” you gasp.
“Don’t you dare come in my mouth, Fuckboy,” Angela says. “You tell me when you are about to go. Understand?”
“Oh, fuck yes, Ms. G,” you say.
Angela takes you back into her mouth. Her hand sinks down to the base of your dick. There is no change in tightness. Her lips and suction are as strong as her hand.
You shudder. Angela’s head bobs on your dick. The ruby earrings bounce along with her golden-brown hair. The fingers pull gently on your balls, coaxing your seed to come out.
It happens quickly. “Oh shit, I’m going to come!” you shout.
Angela pops her mouth from your dick. It is soaked in her spit. She jacks your cock with confidence. Her face hovers above your swollen cock.
You come. Pleasure shoots through your body as seed flies from your dick. A load splatters against Angela’s tight lips. She turns her head to get the second load on her cheek. The third load lands on her neck and she lets go of your balls to rub it into her skin. The rest of your seed splashes against her other cheek.
When there is no more come left, Angela lets go of your cock and stands up. She got her wish; you glazed her face almost perfectly. There is a big smile on her face as she rubs it into her skin.
You stay on the couch, drained and exhausted. The pounding of your heart thrums in your ears. Hard gasps escape your lips.
“Cover that up and get dressed, Fuckboy,” Angela says. “Limp dicks offend me.”
“Yes, Ms. G,” you say.
Angela turns around and walks over to the large desk. You force yourself to rise from the couch. Your sweaty ass sticks to the seat cushion. When you stand up, you nearly fall over. Angela certainly sucked the life out of you. It is slow going, but you gather your clothes and get dressed.
Angela bends over the desk. She is writing with something. You see the butt plug sparkle under the lace robe. After you are dressed, Angela turns around and presents you a piece of paper. It is an 8x10 picture of her face and a generous view of her cleavage wrapped in a black corset.
There is something written in the corner. “Stay dirty, Fuckboy.” It is signed, Angela G.
“Thank you, Ms. G,” you say. Just wait until your brother sees this! He is going to be so jealous!
“Jack off to that and maybe next time you’ll last a little longer,” Angela says. “Now go. I got a massage scheduled later.”
“I certainly will, Ms. G,” you say and you head for the door.
> [[Go take your memento back to your room->page_205]]# I Will Stand, Indifferent to Hands, Mouths and the Weather
Mrs. Wilkins squeezes your cock. You throb in her hand but otherwise do not react. She gives your cock a slow stroke and pauses for your response.
There is none.
Mrs. Wilkins smiles. “I understand, but please, come with me.”
She takes a step back, pulling on your cock. You deign to follow her. It is slow going. Your arms and legs feel heavy. It is hard to move faster than the slow beat of the gong.
Mrs. Wilkins brings near the Slut-Cradle. Still holding onto your dick, she climbs backwards into the sex swing. The straps hold her ass in the air with her legs spread apart. The other straps go around her shoulders, supporting in a sitting position. It is like she is hovering in the air, her furry sex near your cock.
You take your final step. The tip of your dick brushes the hairs of her pussy. A single push would send you inside her but Mountains do not thrust. Your arms hang by your side, dragged downwards by imaginable weight.
“I can feel your power radiating from you, Mountain,” Mrs. Wilkins says. She runs a hand over her breast. Her fingers graze the purple star tattoo around her nipple. She flicks the nipple with her thumb and the breast jiggles.
You throb in her other hand, but say nothing.
Mrs. Wilkins moves her hand down to her sex. She pushes into her wet pussy. The mask prevents you from looking directly at her crotch but you can hear her fingers plunging into the wet well.
“The sun blasts you, but you remain,” Mrs. Wilkins says. “The wind scrubs your surface but never penetrates. Water flows over you, smoothing you by fractions but you are too great to be worn down. Life clings to you and digs into your flesh but your bones are too deep to break. This is the strength I admire and wish for you to lend me.”
A low growl rises through your throat and is muted by the mouthguard. Mrs. Wilkins’ flattery fills your spirit. Yes, you are all of that. Your cock throbs in her hand, bursting with pride.
Mrs. Wilkins lets go of your dick with one hand but grips you with the other. Slick fingers wrap around your length. Pussy juices soak into your skin.
Wet sounds tell you that Mrs. Wilkins’ other hand is now in her pussy. You might have also guessed that from her gasping mouth or the way her breasts are jiggling as she strokes herself. She stares up you with lust from behind her half-lens glasses.
You stand there and simply watch. The slow drum beat returns and you swear your heart is slowing down. Even your cock is throbbing at a slower pace as Mrs. Wilkins’ slick hand holds onto you.
“It is time,” Mrs. Wilkins groans. She pulls her hand out of her pussy and grabs your hip with wet fingers. Her legs stretch out from the straps and wrap around your waist. Using her legs, she pulls her body towards yours. She guides your hard dick into her warm pussy.
You slip inside Mrs. Wilkins. Molten slickness embraces your cock. You barely feel the urge to pump your hips. Heels press into your ass as Mrs. Wilkins locks her legs around you.
“Oh fuck,” Mrs. Wilkins moans. Candlelight sparkles on her half-moon glasses. She bites her lip. The tight pussy spasms around your dick.
You throb inside of her. Long breaths come in and out of your nose. It feels like your legs stretch down into the floor, past the basement and into the very rock itself. Nothing could move you from this spot.
Mrs. Wilkins places her hands on your stomach. She pushes herself back a few inches, sliding your cock inside her, then tightens her legs around you, pulling herself back onto your cock. The swing creaks as she slowly fucks you.
You stand there and watch. Pleasure takes control of Mrs. Wilkins’ face. She groans, clenches, smiles and groans some more. Her dark tits jiggle as she humps you. She turns her head from side to side, swinging her braids back and forth. Shudders ripple through her body and your pussy spasms around you.
“Give me your strength,” Mrs. Wilkins babbles. “Give me your power. Give me your endurance. Give me your FUCKING HARD DICK!”
The sex swing creaks from the exertions of her body. The drums grow louder and echo inside your mask. The air grows thicker with whatever the diffusers are spraying. The candles seem to flare but it is hard to tell with your limited vision.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Mrs. Wilkins repeats. It could be a command or an exclamation; it is hard to tell which.
There is tension in your cock. You know this feeling well, though you have never felt it so intense before. It means you are going to come. In fact, it usually happens a second or two before you climax. You have never had it drawn out this long before.
You could hurry it. A single push of your dick inside this wet pussy would be enough. Hell, if you just grabbed one of those large breasts and pinched that hard nipple, you would come in a heartbeat.
But you don’t do any of those things. You stand and you let your cock get fucked. You don’t move a muscle as Mrs. Wilkins fucks herself on your shaft. You are Mountain and you will do nothing.
“Oh shit,” Mrs. Wilkins groans. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Mrs. Wilkins grinds against your dick. Heels dig into your ass but you are invincible. Powerful pussy muscles clench around your cock but you cannot be crushed. She swings back and forth, slamming her round ass into your thighs but you will not be moved.
The tension in your dick increases. You might be Mountain but you are also a man. Slowly, ever so slowly, you feel your seed traveling the length of your shaft. You are coming in slow motion.
Your cock erupts like a volcano. A single shudder runs through your body. You grind the mouthguard between your teeth. Seed ejects from your dick like a river of lava.
“Yes!” Mrs. Wilkins cries. She stops humping and clenches down on your cock. Her head goes back as she lets out a loud moan. Her hanging braids shake as she shudders.
You come. Every ejaculation is intense. You keep coming. Every load of seed passes through with the force of an earthquake.
When the last drop of seed has been wrung from your dick by Mrs. Wilkins’ clenching pussy, she unhooks her legs. Your cock falls out of her. She slaps a hand over her sex, trapping your seed inside of her.
“Mountain, leave this vessel and return to the earth. Take off your mask, boy,” Mrs. Wilkins commands.
You unhinge the mask and spit out the mouthguard. The mask lifts from your head and you feel exhausted. The room is too bright, which is weird considering it is just candlelight. You take a step back and nearly fall over.
“Careful,” Mrs. Wilkins says. “Give yourself a moment to recover.”
“I’m fine,” you say. “Where should I put the mask?”
“Keep it,” Mrs. Wilkins says. “It is yours now. Wear it when you need an extra reservoir of strength, though I wouldn’t wear it for more than a few minutes a day.”
“Okay, thank you, ma’am,” you say. Tips are not allowed but no one said anything about freaky stone masks. Maybe you will ask Mrs. Winterslick about it later.
“Leave me now,” Mrs. Wilkins says. “I wish to meditate before preparing for the next ritual.”
Meditating appears to involve leaning back in the Slut-Cradle and closing her eyes. Oh well, it is not your concern. You have been dismissed.
You carefully step over the stone circle surrounding the sex swing and then step even more carefully over the salt ring around the door. Mrs. Wilkins sits in the swing while you dress. She is still there when you open the door and leave.
> [[Go take your memento back to your room->page_205]] # I Will Crack and Fuck Mrs. Wilkins With the Fury of an Avalanche
You reach out and grab her dark breast. The hard nipple gets trapped between your fingers. You squeeze and crush her tit with the force of a falling rock.
“Good,” Mrs. Wilkins groans. The hand around your cock tightens. “Crash into me, Mountain.”
You lunge towards Mrs. Wilkins, her tit still in your hand. She takes a step back, pulling on your dick. You quickly close the distance between you as she backs into the Slut-Cradle. As you grab her hip, she is climbing up into the straps.
There can be no escape. Still holding onto her breast, you dip your head down to her other breast. The purple star tattoo around her nipple lures you downward. The front of your mask presses against her breast and you bite down on the mouthguard. You had completely forgotten about the mask.
As you stand back up, Mrs. Wilkins settles into Slut-Cradle. The straps pull her dark legs apart to expose her hairy pussy. Mrs. Wilkins’ feet point towards the ceiling. She leans back and straps support her shoulders and arms. The lovely woman is suspended on her back with her long braids dangling beneath her.
“Stab me with your pillar,” Mrs. Wilkins says. It is less of a command and more of a plea. She grips your cock and rubs the head against her pussy. The hairs tickle your cock but the slick lips make you throb.
You grab both breasts and thrust with your hips. Mrs. Wilkins cries out as you impale her with your cock. All of your length sinks into her. You fill her tight pussy and pulse inside of her. Your balls rest against her round ass.
“Fuck me, Mountain,” Mrs. Wilkins intones. “You the outburst of tectonic forces. You are the ground, rising and falling in an earthquake. You are the smiting hammer of falling rocks.”
Damn right. You slam into her. It is impossible to be gentle. You let of her breasts and switch your grip to her thighs. Mrs. Wilkins swings in the Slut-Cradle as you pound her. The sound of your hips smacking into her ass adds another beat to the drums already playing.
“Fuck,” Mrs. Wilkins moans. “Batter my chalice. Fill my cup with your seed. Impale me with your strength.”
You grunt. The mouthguard doesn’t let you do much else. Through the narrow slits, you watch the purple stars tattoos jiggle on her breasts. There is a crisp smell under the mask that reminds you of granite sitting under the noon sun. There is a pounding in your ears from the rapid beating of your heart.
“Feel my worship, Mountain,” Mrs. Wilkins says. “My wet chalice honors your power. My Kegels are prayers singing to your glory. All this I give to you!”
The swing creaks. The pulleys strain. The Slut-Cradle is guaranteed to be able to hold seven hundred pounds but you feel like you could rip it down with the power of your mountainous cock.
“FUCK!” Mrs. Wilkins cries out. She shouts with her entire chest.
You slam harder into her wet cave. Your cock explores her depths. Every inch of your gushing chasm is yours to claim.
Mrs. Wilkins reaches up. She grabs a strap and pulls. The pulleys whine as some of the straps retract. Tug by tug, Mrs. Wilkins’ legs go down while her chest and shoulders rise. When she is finished, her body is now in a sitting position facing you.
Your cock never left her pussy. When it was no longer convenient to hold her legs, you reached under and grabbed her round ass instead. You keep fucking her; your hips possessing unlimited stamina. Juices run down your dick and soak your balls before dripping onto the floor.
“Yes,” Mrs. Wilkins moans. You are face to face with her. The dark eyes behind her half-lens glasses look a little glazed. Is she under the influence, or is she just drunk on your dick?
You have no doubt that it is your dick. You are harder than stone.
Mrs. Wilkins wraps her arms around you. Her plump breasts press against your chest. The hard nipples are tiny pebbles rubbing against your skin. She kisses the front of your mask but you feel nothing.
You fuck her faster. The Slut-Cradle makes it easy. You lift Mrs. Wilkins up and then drop her down hard onto your shaft. Gravity opens her pussy with each drop. Juices gush from her sex. The straps shake but hold the woman in place.
“Deeper, Mountain!” Mrs. Wilkins cries. “My chalice is yours!”
The drums pick up speed. The gong rings over and over. Your hips move in time to the music. You stop lifting and dropping Mrs. Wilkins and just hold her still so you can fuck her with all of your speed and fury.
“FUCK!” Mrs. Wilkins cries out. She digs her fingers into your back as she holds on. Her face presses against your shoulder. Pussy muscles spasm around your dick.
“Make me come,” Mrs. Wilkins begs. “Make me come on your rod, Mountain. Fill me with your power. Bless me with your seed!”
You slam into Mrs. Wilkins and she cries out. Her pussy clenches tight around your dick. You feel her body shudder followed by a gasp on your shoulder. The witchy woman has climaxed.
There is an eruption from your cock. Hot seed is ejected from your dick with incredible force. You shout your climax but the mouthguard turns it into a dull groan. While you come, your hips keep slamming your pumping dick deep into her pussy.
Only when the last load of seed has passed through you do you stop. Your cock is still inside Mrs. Wilkins’ clenching pussy. The two of you shudder in each other’s grasp as you try to catch your breaths.
Mrs. Wilkins recovers first. She reaches down and gently pushes you away. Your wilting dick flops out of her. She clamps a hand over her sex, trapping your seed inside of her.
She places her other hand over your beating heart. It is pounding hard.
“Mountain, leave this vessel and return to the earth.,” Mrs. Wilkins says. Then, in a softer voice, she addresses you. “Take off your mask, boy.”
You pull on the front of the mask and the hinge opens. The mouthguard slips out and you lift the mask from your head. The candlelight is too bright and you shield your eyes. The previous exertions catch up to you and you are unsteady on your feet.
“Careful,” Mrs. Wilkins says. “Take a moment to return to your body.”
“Okay,” you say. You feel like you have already returned to your body and it is fucking exhausted. “Where should I put the mask, ma’am?”
“Take it with you,” Mrs. Wilkins says. “It has bonded to your soul. When you need a piece of Mountain’s strength or energy, put it on. I wouldn’t wear it for more than a few minutes at a time.”
“Uh, thank you, ma’am,” you say. The manual didn’t cover stone masks under the tipping policy. You think it will be okay to accept. Maybe you will ask Mrs. Winterslick about it later.
“Please go now,” Mrs. Wilkins says. “I wish to meditate before preparing for the next ritual.”
Mrs. Wilkins leans back in the Slut-Cradle and closes her eyes. Meditating looks a lot like napping. It makes sense. Getting fucked is just as exhausting as fucking.
The important thing is that you have been dismissed. You leave the stone circle surrounding the sex swing and return to the salt ring around the door. While Mrs. Wilkins meditates, you get dressed. When you are finished, you quietly see yourself out of the activity room.
> [[Go take your memento back to your room->page_205]] # Go Take Your Memento Back to Your Room
It is a long walk back to your room. Attending to the previous guest has drained your stamina as well as your balls. The satisfaction of doing a good job helps you put one foot in front of the other. When the body is weak, the pride of good service can carry you through.
You run your keycard through the lock outside your door. It flashes red. You try again. It still flashes red. You lean against the door, sigh, and try again. It flashes green and the door opens.
The portrait of Phryne Milford greets you as you walk in. The exposed breast is a little more flushed than you remember. She appears to be amused by your exhaustion. In fact, you almost think the smile is from gloating.
“Hello, ma’am,” you say.
There is no response from the portrait.
You look at your souvenir and debate where to put it. On top of your desk seems to be as good a place as any. You place it under your lamp. Now, every time you look at it, you will be reminded of your singular experience.
With the last of your endurance, you plop down in the desk chair. You need a shower, and maybe a nap but right now, you just want to sit down. The chair is terribly comfortable. You sit there and relish not doing anything.
Do you have what it takes to do another shift? You hope so, but you have a few doubts. It has been a long day and you have attended to two guests already. Do they really expect you to attend to a third?
You think of Mrs. Winterslick. Images of her dark red lips, intelligent eyes behind her round glasses and her luscious blonde hair flash before you. You think of her demanding standards and professional manner. Yes, she would expect you to attend to a third guest, and maybe a fourth and a fifth if called upon.
With that doubt settled, you turn on your laptop. You should file a report on the previous guest before taking your shower. Maybe writing your report will revive your spirits and your limp cock.
The laptop powers up and you receive a notification that you have mail. It is for your Milford Hotel work account. Is it a compliant? Did you do something wrong?
You don’t recognize the name of the sender. AFGood? Is that a name or a department? The subject line is more telling. It reads “Attendant Certification Information”.
Oh good. You relax a little. That seems harmless enough. You open the email.
There is a single line of text but your eyes are drawn to the image embedded in the email. It is a pair of giant pale breasts, held up by feminine hands. Both nipples are pierced with little steel bars.
The message reads, “You are invited to come by the IT Office for your third shift certification.”
Well, that is certainly an invitation. Your dick stirs within your pants. Looking at those fat tits, you regain your faith in being able to attend to another guest.
You log into the Milford Hotel Attendant page and give your report. It isn’t easy to describe what you had just been through but you do your best. Mrs. Winterslick will want to know what the guest demanded, and future attendants will appreciate the forewarning. In many ways, your report is the last service you do for a guest. It will help ensure that their next experience at the Milford Hotel is even better than the one they had with you.
When the report is finished, you go to the bathroom for your shower. The hot water revives your tired body. You go through your routine, cleaning every inch of your skin in preparation. There is no telling what part a guest might wish to put in their mouth.
After your shower, you feel much better. Steaming hot water and good shower pressure works wonders. You dry off in the shower and go into your room to get dressed. A fresh new pair of boxers, slacks, shirt, socks and tie make you feel ready to take on the world.
The growling of your stomach decides your next step. You wave goodbye to the portrait of Mrs. Milford as well as your new memento. Neither of them answers back as you walk out the door, but perhaps it is better that way.
You walk towards the kitchen. Guests are milling about the open lobby. It is that period where guests are either traveling out to eat or coming back from their visits to the local scenery. You smile warmly to everyone you pass and wonder who you will attend to before they leave.
A striking woman is working at the front desk. It is Mrs. Yarnell, the evening Front Desk Manager. She is an older African-American woman who is always dressed like she is about to pose for a fashion magazine. Today she is wearing a yellow blouse that hangs loosely on her slender body and small breasts. Her short hair clings to her head in tiny curls. She is answering a guest’s question with a bright smile and intelligent eyes.
You lick your lips as you pass through the lobby. This isn’t the first time Mrs. Yarnell has caught your eye. You have been sneaking glances at her for quite a while. She carries herself with an elegance that is beyond your small-town experience. You have been too intimidated to speak to her, but now that you need a Certification for Arousal, this could be your chance.
The restaurant is quickly filling up. You go straight into the kitchen to find the area more chaotic than usual. Mrs. Dunn is here, but the chef is too busy giving orders to even notice you. That is fine with you. Keeping your head down, you go straight to the employee’s buffet.
There is a mouth-watering range of food. A large pot roast sits next to a tray of fried chicken. Potatoes, mashed, baked and steamed are next to green beans, corn, collards, peas and macaroni and cheese. Tonight, they have both corn bread and biscuits. There is a small section for salads but it looks like no one has taken any.
You help yourself, keeping in mind that you will be engaging in strenuous activities later. Maybe after attending to your guest, you can come back for a slice of the Apple Bundt cake. That is if any is left.
The employee’s table is crowded. You take a seat between a bellhop and one of the security guards. No one is really talking as they focus on eating. What little conversation that does happen usually involves the weather or college sports. Having no interest in either, you think about where you are going to go for your certification.
The offer from the IT office is tempting. You have no idea who works there. Heck, you are going to have to consult a map to find out where the IT office is. All you do know is that someone there has big breasts with pierced nipples. Oh, and they have no hesitation in showing you those tits. Dealing with someone that straightforward has its appeal.
That would be the total opposite of asking Mrs. Yarnell. You doubt the sophisticated woman would send you selfies of her breasts. No, you would have to approach her and initiate the conversation. That is a little bit scary. Fucking guests is one thing, but asking a beautiful woman to look at your dick is another. Would she be friendly to your request, or would she be annoyed? Ugh, it is almost better not to find out. Then again, if she agreed, you would kick yourself for never asking.
It doesn’t take long before your plate it empty. You debate going to get a slice of that Apple Bundt cake. No, you are just stalling. It is time to make a choice.
**Who do you go to for your third Certification of Arousal?**
> [[I go to the busty, but unknown, woman in the IT Office->page_211]]
> [[I go to the elegant Mrs. Yarnell->page_216]]# I Go to the Elegant Mrs. Yarnell
A smile comes your lips. Why not? So many great things have happened today. The worse she can do is say no. Well, and maybe humiliate you. Technically, the worse she can do is get you fired on your first day, but let’s not think about that.
You get up from the table and dispose of your dishes. The kitchen is an obstacle course of moving cooks but you thread your way through. When you reach the lobby, you are disappointed to see that it is still busy. If you were hoping for a quiet environment, that won’t be happening.
Mrs. Yarnell is working at the front desk. A guest is checking in and Mrs. Yarnell is patiently listening to the woman’s questions. A clerk is working the desk with her and there is a long line. Behind them, another clerk is filling out paperwork.
Maybe this is the wrong night to ask. Still, you want to try. You walk up to the desk on Mrs. Yarnell’s side and stand at attention.
The guest has a lot of questions involving towels. It gives you time to examine Mrs. Yarnell up close. Her dark skin has a perfect complexion. The light red lipstick mesmerizes you. There is a small red scarf around her delicate throat. The top button is undone on her yellow blouse and you get a hint of her collarbone.
The last question is answered, and the guest turns to leave. Mrs. Yarnell glances at you and gives you the same friendly smile she gave the guest. There is movement in your boxers from the smile. Mrs. Yarnell gives you a small nod and turns to the clerk working behind her.
“Kelly, please take over the desk,” Mrs. Yarnell says.
The other clerk sets down her pen and takes Mrs. Yarnell’s place at the desk. Mrs. Yarnell walks to the office door behind the desk. She opens the door and waves you in.
You enter the Manager’s office. The room is huge for an office space. One wall is covered with rows of cabinets. On the other wall is a large couch. There is a couch up against the wall. A large desk sits across from the front door.
“Mrs. Yarnell,” you start to say but she interrupts you.
“Stand in center of the room, facing the desk,” Mrs. Yarnell says.
Your mouth closes. The door clicks shut and the sounds of the lobby are cut off. You walk to the middle of the room and stand at attention. Does she know why you are here?
The clicking of heels approaches you from behind. Mrs. Yarnell leans against your back. Dark hands reach around and undo your belt. You stare straight ahead as she unzips your pants. Her fingers hook into your waistband. She squats down, pulling your pants down to your ankles.
Oh yes. Mrs. Yarnell does know why you are here.
Still squatting behind you, Mrs. Yarnell pulls down your boxers. A shudder runs down your leg. You feel hot breath on your naked ass.
You keep staring straight ahead. Speaking might interrupt what is happening and you do not want that.
Mrs. Yarnell reaches around and cups your balls. An involuntary groan escapes your lips. She leans closer and presses her nose to the crack of your ass. Warm lips glide over your skin.
The room is eerily quiet. The only sound is your beating heart. You wonder if she can hear it.
If she does, Mrs. Yarnell doesn’t comment. She wedges her nose and mouth between your buttocks. Something wet wiggles against your cheeks. It is her tongue. The beautiful and elegant Mrs. Yarnell is licking your ass.
“Fuck,” you whisper. You can’t help yourself.
Mrs. Yarnell reaches around her other hand. Delicate fingers wrap around your dick. The other hand is gently stroking your balls. Either hand would be enough to make you gasp but having both is overwhelming.
The wet tongue touches your asshole. Your buttocks clench against Mrs. Yarnell’s face. It doesn’t stop her. She presses harder against your ass. Her lips brush your asshole and she takes another lick.
You groan and stand up straighter. Your feet feel glued to the floor. The urge to be helpful kicks in and you grab your ass cheeks. You hold your buttocks apart and give the Front Desk Manager better access.
It is the right thing to do. Mrs. Yarnell moans into your ass. Her tongue swipes up and down against your tight hole. The hand around your cock slowly strokes your length. The other hand pulls lightly on your balls.
You are trapped between Mrs. Yarnell’s mouth and hands. There is no lube, but Mrs. Yarnell’s soft hands almost don’t need any. The tugging on your balls is wonderfully seductive. The nimble tongue lapping at your most vulnerable spot is hyper-sensitizing your body. You can’t take much more of this.
“You’re going to make me come,” you said.
“If you come, I’ll fail you,” Mrs. Yarnell says. She returns to licking your asshole.
Oh shit. You stare down at the desk in front of you, desperate to find something to distract you. There are a few papers, but they are all upside down. That’s good. The harder the pages are to read the better distracted you are from the mouth on your ass.
Mrs. Yarnell licks harder. You keep your buttocks apart as she laps at your tight hole. The tip of her tongue probes your asshole and you feel it slipping in.
“Fuck,” you moan. Mrs. Yarnell jacks your dick a little faster. She is not making this easy. It is impossible to read the pages on the desk. You are just too damned roused.
Will Mrs. Yarnell really fail you for coming? You believe she will. There is no reason for her to lie. It looks like you underestimated how demanding the beautiful desk manager could be.
The tip of Mrs. Yarnell’s enters your ass. You cry out and shudder. There is a tightness in your balls.
Mrs. Yarnell suddenly releases go of your cock. She pulls her face away from your ass and stands up. Without saying anything, she walks around to the front of the desk and pulls out the familiar notepad. She bends over and fills out the top sheet. The top of her blouse opens to reveal small breasts inside a black bra.
You stand completely still, afraid to make a move. Your cock feels like it might pop with the slightest touch. Looking down Mrs. Yarnell’s blouse isn’t helping.
Mrs. Yarnell tears off the top of the notepad and brings it to her lips. She locks eyes with you as she kisses the page. Smiling, she passes the note to you and then comes around the desk. She keeps walking and leaves the office.
You look down at the Certification. It has your name, Mrs. Yarnell’s name, the date and the time. The red lipstick encircles your name. You are sure it is deliberate.
“Thank you,” you whisper to the empty room. Moving slowly, you get dressed.
> [[Go report to Mrs. Winterslick for your evening shift->page_221]]# I Go to the Busty, but Unknown, Woman in the IT Office
You turn to the bellhop sitting beside you. “Excuse me, but where is the IT Office?”
He swallows his bite before answering. “In the basement. You take a left from the elevator and go all the way to the end.”
“Thanks,” you say and stand up. You dump your plate and glass at the sink and exit the kitchen. The lobby is still busy and will be for another hour. There is a line at the elevators but fortunately you can take the service elevator nearby.
Mrs. Yarnell is working at the front desk. She doesn’t notice you. A guest is checking in and Mrs. Yarnell is patiently listening to the woman’s questions. She is likely too busy to have time for your certification anyway.
You take the service elevator down to the basement. A group of maids are waiting when the doors open. They smile at you and some of them snicker. The rest look like they are about to laugh. As you step out, they quickly file into the elevator. You wonder what that was all about.
It is a long walk to the IT Office. The thrum of large machines fills the halls. You stop outside the office and knock on the door.
A speaker crackles. “Who is it?”
“My name is Gregory,” you say. “I got an email to come by.”
“Wait,” the voice says.
A minute later, the speaker crackles again. “Come in.”
You open the door. It is brightly lit inside. There are stacks of working computers on both walls. Three desks fill the room, but only one desk is occupied. A plump brunette sits at the desk, wearing nothing but a blue band holding back her long brown hair. She spins in her swivel chair towards you. You recognize the giant breasts with the pierced nipples from the email.
“Hey Gregory, my name is Mrs. Good,” she says.
“Yes,” you say, distracted by her exposed body. A large pink vibrator sits between her open thighs. It is buried in her hairy pussy.
“Am I interrupting anything?” you ask.
“I was warming up for you,” Mrs. Good says. “Get over here.”
You walk to Mrs. Good desk. Three monitors are arranged in a row. The center screen has lines of code, but the right screen shows a naked woman getting eaten out by a fully dressed man in a suit. The left screen has a pinup of a naked blonde woman. There is something familiar about her blue eyes.
Mrs. Good leans back in her chair. The seat locks into place. She throws one foot up on the edge of her desk and grabs her vibrator. It slides partway out and the plastic glistens with her juices.
“Get it out,” Mrs. Good says. “Show me you can get hard and I might let you suck a titty.”
“Yes, ma’am,” you say. You undo your belts and unzip your pants. There is a bulge already in your boxers. You reach in and pull out your hard cock.
“Not bad,” Mrs. Good says. She turns a dial on the vibrator base and it roars to live. A shudder goes through her and the plump breasts jiggle. She fucks herself with the vibrator as you watch.
“Get one knee, and have yourself a titty,” Mrs. Good says.
You drop to one knee beside her. Feeling bold, you place one hand on her bare thigh as you lean in. You take her pierced nipple into your mouth and close your lips. The metal is cool on your tongue.
“Ohhhh,” Mrs. Good moans. “Use that tongue, Gregory.”
You flick your tongue over her nipple. The bar piercing bounces inside your mouth. You moan a little and the vibrations makes Mrs. Good cry out.
“Don’t move,” Mrs. Good says. She reaches down and grabs your cock. It is a tight grip. She makes no move to jack it. Mrs. Good is perfectly fine with just holding your throbbing dick.
The monitor with the naked blonde catches your eye. The curve of her nose tickles a memory. You know that you have seen that woman before. The hair is a fluffy style that was popular in the nineties, but you just can’t place her.
“Don’t stop licking,” Mrs. Good moans.
Oh, right. You divert your attention back to Mrs. Good’s wonderful breast. Your teeth bite gently as you lick faster. You let go of her thigh and grab her other breast. The soft flesh is hot in your hand.
Mrs. Good hisses. The grip around your dick tightens. She fucks her wet pussy in a passionate frenzy. It sounds like she is plunging a mop into a bucket of water. The chair must be getting soaked.
Fucking herself makes Mrs. Good’s tits jiggle in your mouth and in your hand. You open your mouth wider and suck more of her plump breasts between your lips. Your hand kneads the other breast, relishing its soft warmth. One metal piercing grinds against your palm while the other bounces against your tongue.
“FUCKING YES!” Mrs. Good shouts. She releases your dick and grabs her vibrator with both hands. Her body writhes in the chair. You hold onto her breasts, sucking on her pierced nipple as she strokes herself to one orgasm after another.
It takes a few minutes for Mrs. Good to finish. That is fine; you can suck nipples all day long. Only when she turns off the vibrator do you let her breast fall from your lips. Letting go of her breast with your hand takes a little longer. It is a really nice tit.
“Yeah, you’re ready for some more fucking,” Mrs. Good says. “Stand up. Don’t put your dick away yet.”
“Yes, ma’am,” you say. You stand back up with your hard cock on display. It looks a little red from the intense squeezing she gave it.
Mrs. Good looks at your dick with a sated look on her face. One breast has a red print from your hand and the other has a nice imprint of your mouth around her nipple. Her legs are still open and you can see how wet she has left the seat. The woman should really lay down a towel first.
“Yeah, that dick is certainly aroused,” Mrs. Good says. She turns the chair towards the desk and reaches for a notepad on her desk. Her hand shakes a little as she fills it out. She tears the top sheet off and presses it to her lips. A flesh-colored print glistens in the note.
“There you go,” Mrs. Good says, passing you the note. “Let me certify that dick six times and you get to fuck my tits. Is that a deal?”
“Yes ma’am,” you say. “Should I keep track of it?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll keep track of your achievements,” Mrs. Good says.
You have no doubt that she will.
> [[Go report to Mrs. Winterslick for your evening shift->page_221]]# Go Report to Mrs. Winterslick for Your Evening Shift
The curtains have been drawn in Mrs. Winterslick’s office. A fire crackles in the fireplace, illuminating the room with orange flames and flickering shadows. There is a faint musky smell. Someone has either had sex here recently, or there is a soaking wet pussy nearby.
Mrs. Winterslick surprises you by not being behind her desk. She is sitting on it instead. Her white blouse has a few more open buttons than from your earlier meeting. The wavy blonde hair seems more vibrant in the firelight. A brown skirt covers her legs but only just over her knees. Black stockings cling to her legs. For some reason, she isn’t wearing any shoes.
“Sit down, Gregory,” Mrs. Winterslick says, pointing to the chair that is in front of her. Twin reflections of the fire sparkle in her large round glasses.
“Yes ma’am,” you say. You hand her your Certification of Arousal before taking your seat.
Mrs. Winterslick looks at your Certification and laughs. “Well, I now know you had yourself quite the experience and are ready to go.”
“Yes, ma’am,” you say. You catch yourself licking you lips just thinking about your recent encounter.
“Move your chair closer,” Mrs. Winterslick says.
You pull your chair towards Mrs. Winterslick. She reaches out with a stocking-clad foot towards your crotch. You stop and she beckons you to come closer. She only stops you when her foot is pressing against the bulge of your pants.
“Ready for your next assignment?” Mrs. Winterslick asks. She rubs her foot against the outline of your erection.
“Yes, ma’am,” you said, a little breathlessly.
“Your first possible guest is Mrs. Cross,” Mrs. Winterslick explains. “She is an annual visitor to our establishment. In the last two years, she has developed a preference for being dominated. If she was more into the bondage and spanking side, I would defer her to an Attendant with more intense bondage training. As it is, Mrs. Cross enjoys a blackmail fantasy where she is lightly coerced into sex with possible handcuff play. Do you feel confident in your roleplaying training to handle this guest?”
You are about to answer when Mrs. Winterslick pulls her foot away and crosses her legs. There is a flash of hair and skin under her skirt. She is clearly not wearing any panties.
“Mr. Gregory?” Mrs. Winterslick asks.
“Yes, ma’am,” you reply. “I enjoyed my roleplay training and I have been reading interactive erotica in my off time as recommended. I feel confident that I can meet Mrs. Cross’ needs.”
“Very well,” Mrs. Winterslick says. She bounces her crossed leg a little. The foot hovers above your crotch.
“As for the other assignment, it is a double,” Mrs. Winterslick says. “Mrs. Eaton and Mrs. Letsinger are here on holiday. They have been visiting for the past ten years and have built quite a reputation as party women. I am not sure what their home lives are like, but they cram a lot of carnal activities in a short time where they are here.
Don’t let their ages fool you. They are voracious. Right now, they have reserved the Private Hot Tub and will have it for the rest of the night.”
Mrs. Winterslick uncrosses her legs. There is another flash of her hairy sex. You have a flashback to eating it when you first apply for this job. Mrs. Winterslick places her foot once more on the bulge in your pants. She gently presses down with her stocking-clad foot.
“So, which assignment will you take?” Mrs. Winterslick asks.
**What do you tell your boss?**
> [[I will attend to Mrs. Cross and be her roleplay blackmailer->page_225]]
> [[I will attend to Mrs. Eaton and Mrs. Letsinger in the hot tub->page_231]]# I Will Attend to Mrs. Cross and Be Her Roleplay Blackmailer
Mrs. Cross is on the third floor. On your way to her room, you review the printout that Mrs. Winterslick gave you. It is a description of the fantasy that Mrs. Cross has developed. She wants her Attendant to pretend to have salacious information about her. It is a preference of the guest to be called a whore. Mrs. Cross also requests that the Attendants take compromising pictures of her. Mrs. Winterslick has provided you with a disposable instant camera for this purpose.
The sheet also has a list of forbidden activities and topics that Mrs. Cross does not want to come up. Chief among them is any sort of anal play or penetration. Finally, Mrs. Cross has chosen a safeword that can be used to terminate the session instantly. The safeword is ‘Mothman’.
When you memorize the page, you tuck it into your pants pocket. Taking a moment outside her door, you get yourself into character. You examine the instant camera and familiarize yourself with it. This is going to be fun.
You walk up to the door and pound on it as hard as you can. The door shakes from the force of your blows. Belatedly, you worry that you might scare some of the other guests.
“Who is it?” a timid voice asks from the other side.
“Open the door, whore,” you yell. “Or I’ll air your dirty laundry out here in the hall!”
There is an audible gasp on the other side of the door. You hear the deadbolt slide in a hurry. The door cracks and you see a woman with thick red hair peek through.
“Please be quiet,” Mrs. Cross says. She sounds scared, but there is a wide smile on her freckled face.
You push the door open and stride into the room. Mrs. Cross squeals and backs into the room. The door slams shut behind you.
Mrs. Cross is wearing a green dress that hugs her body. The neckline revels her plump breasts. A gold necklace and sparkling earrings suggest she was about to go out. The dark hose and high heels confirm it.
“What are you doing here?” Mrs. Cross says. Her tone is defiant, but her eyes are on your crotch. “What do you want?”
“I have been monitoring your internet usage here,” you lie. “I know all about the young men you have been sexting online. You’ve been sending dirty pictures to men in the area, inviting them to your room and promising to fuck their brains out like some kind of whore.”
“Oh my God,” Mrs. Cross says. You almost believe her distress. “Everything?”
“Yes, everything,” you say. “And I am this close to calling the police and letting them know there is a dirty, filthy, sexy whore working this room.”
“Whoa, whoa, don’t do that!” Mrs. Cross says. She smirked when you called her sexy. “We can work something out! I have money I can pay you! My husband is rich!”
You pretend to look appalled. “Are you trying to bribe me, whore? I should call Mr. Cross right now and tell them what you are doing!”
“No!” Mrs. Cross snaps. It is so forceful you wonder if she was genuinely scared by the idea. “Don’t do that! Please. I’ll do anything. Just don’t call the police or my husband.”
“Hmm,” you say, crossing your arms.
Mrs. Cross smirks. You like the way her freckled cheeks dimple when she does that.
“Why do you have a camera?” she asks.
“I was planning to take pictures so we can post your face in the lobby,” I said. “That way you can never check in again without us knowing you are a whore.”
“I see,” Mrs. Cross says. She fingers the neckline of her dress. “Maybe you can take other pictures, personal pictures, in exchange for not calling anybody.”
“That might be doable,” you say. “Strip, and I’ll think about it.”
“Strip?” Mrs. Cross says with faux outrage. “You can’t be serious? I was thinking maybe a few pictures of my cleavage or maybe my butt.”
You shake your head. “Your ass needs to get naked right now, or I’m calling the police.”
Mrs. Cross groans. She bites her lip in an almost girlish pout. Letting out a deep sigh, she pulls one strap down over her shoulder. More freckles appear.
You lift the camera to your face. Mrs. Cross flushes. You haven’t even taken a picture yet.
Mrs. Cross turns around and presents her back to you. Ah yes, the zipper. You grab the top of the zipper and pull it down. A long freckled back appears. There is no bra strap. You are tempted to cup her ass but you remember your role and let go.
She turns around. You take a step back to get Mrs. Cross into the view of the camera. She pulls down one of the shoulder straps and then the other. Her hands go to her waist and loosens her belt. Just as she reaches up to grab the top of her dress, she looks away in shame.
That’s your cue. You press the camera button. The flash fires and a small photo comes out of the front. You grab the photo and shake it until an image of Mrs. Cross appears.
Mrs. Cross flinches. Or maybe she is shuddering. Either way, there is a deeper flush to her face.
She pulls down the dress, exposing large pale breasts, covered in freckles. The nipples are pale and hard. Mrs. Cross lets the dress drop down to the floor. Lacy white panties cover her sex. You can just make out the smooth hairless lips underneath the cloth.
“Wait,” you say. You set aside the first picture and snap one of Mrs. Cross’s exposed breasts. Mrs. Cross covers her chest and almost looks embarrassed. You take another picture, this time making sure to get her face in the shot.
“Please,” Mrs. Cross says. “That’s enough.”
“I’ll tell when it is enough,” you say. “Pull down your panties.”
Mrs. Cross pouts. It is not very convincing. She tugs down one side of her panties and then the other. Ever so slowly, she pulls her white panties down to her thighs and then releases it. The underwear falls, revealing her smooth pussy.
You take a picture of her sex. Mrs. Cross lowers her hands but stops herself from covering her pussy. You take a step back to take a full body picture of her nearly-naked body.
“What are you going to do with me?” Mrs. Cross asks. For a blackmail victim, she is eager to know her fate.
You glance at the bed. There is a set of furry handcuffs next to a vibrator. It is a large Von Madd Earthshaker model, the one with the wide hemisphere attachment. That is a powerful toy. The lady must be a motor mother.
The handcuffs give you an idea. The bed frame has bars at the headboard. You could handcuff Mrs. Cross to the bed and torment/pleasure her body with the vibrator. That sounds like something a blackmailer would do.
On the other hand, maybe you don’t need the handcuffs at all. You could have Mrs. Cross use the vibrator on herself while you take more pictures. The not-really-reluctant blackmail victim would love that.
Mrs. Cross awaits your demands.
**What will you do with your ‘blackmail’ victim?**
> [[I handcuff Mrs. Cross to the bed and use the vibrator on her->page_237]]
> [[I make Mrs. Cross use the vibrator on herself and take pictures->page_250]]# I Will Attend to Mrs. Eaton and Mrs. Letsinger in the Hot Tub
The Private Hot Tub is located on the first floor. It takes a number code and a keycard to get in. Today the keycode is 6942. The door unlocks on the second swipe of your card.
The air is hot inside. Murals of the Smoky Mountains are on all four walls. There are two lounge chairs on either side of the hot tub. To the side is a large white air mattress. A small tray with drinks is sitting on a tray next to the tub.
The hot tub itself is sunken into the floor. Two gorgeous brunettes soak in the water. They turn towards you in the tub. Both rise and prop themselves on their elbows on the rim. Their large breasts, barely held by their tiny bikinis, sit on the rim of the tub.
“Hello, ladies,” you say. “My name is Gregory and I will be attending you this evening.”
“Hey, Gregory,” the woman on the left says. “I’m Mrs. Eaton.” She has her wet brown hair held back by a ponytail. The bikini she wears is an electric blue. She sucks on her bottom lip as she looks you over.
“Hi, Gregory,” the woman on the right says. “My name is Mrs. Letsinger.” Her wet brown hair is down and clings to her face and shoulders. There are streaks of blonde in her hair. She wears a deep red bikini. She stares right at your crotch.
“Quick question, Gregory,” Mrs. Eaton says. “Who do you think has better tits?”
They both smile as they wait for their answer. It is an unfair question. Both pairs are plump and large. Mrs. Letsinger has slightly larger breasts, but Mrs. Eaton look a bit firmer. Water glistens on their tits, giving them a slippery shine. You wouldn’t mind being smothered by either of them.
“Sorry, ladies,” you say. “That’s like choosing between chocolate or steak. I just want to take a bite of both.”
Both women smirk at you. “I like this one, Tammy.” Mrs. Letsinger says. “He’s a charmer.”
“And smart too,” Mrs. Eaton says.
“Not smart enough to get naked already,” Mrs. Letsinger says. “Come on, Gregory, strip!”
“My apologies, ma’am,” you say. You walk over them and take off your jacket. The women reach for their drinks and take a sip while they watch. You lay your jacket on a nearby lounge chair and take off your tie. Mrs. Eaton purrs excitedly as you unbutton your shirt. When you undo your belt, Mrs. Letsinger lets out a whistle.
You kick off your shoes and pull down your pants. Both ladies giggle at the large tent your erection has formed in your boxers. The giggling stops as you pull down your underwear and they get their first good look at your cock.
“Oh lordy,” Mrs. Eaton says. “They sent us a horse, Lori!”
“Don’t worry,” Mrs. Letsinger says. “I’ll eat whatever you can’t finish.”
Mrs. Eaton laughs. “You’re terrible!” Still laughing, she scoots away from her friend. “Come on Gregory, the water is hot and wet.”
You step up to the hot tub and squat down. Both women look greedily at your cock. You sit down and both legs into the water up to your knees. The heat is more intense than you were expecting. You take a second to adjust to the temperature.
A second is too long for these ladies. Mrs. Letsinger puts her hand on your leg. Pink-painted fingernails squeeze your thigh. Mrs. Eaton grabs your other thigh with her red fingernails. They squeeze and your cock bounces in response.
“Quit teasing us and get in the water, stud,” Mrs. Letsinger says.
You nod and brace your arms on the rim. With their hands on your thighs, you lower yourself into the steaming water. The heat embraces your balls, your cock, your ass, your stomach and up your chest. You bring your arms in and put them under the water.
The heat is amazing. It reminds you of being inside a pussy. The hot water sensitizes your skin and relaxes you at the same time. You understand why people like this. It is instant foreplay.
Mrs. Eaton and Mrs. Letsinger move closer to you from each side. They bring your arms up and over their shoulders. Plump breasts press against you from both directions. Mrs. Eaton puts her thumb on your nipple and rubs it. Mrs. Letsinger reaches for your inner thigh and squeezes, just missing your hard cock.
“So, Gregory,” Mrs. Eaton says. “Tell us a little about yourself. Where are you from?”
“Well, ma’am, I grew up in a small town near-“ you start to say, but Mrs. Letsinger turns your head towards her and presses her mouth your lips. Her tongue opens your mouth and you drown in the force of her kiss.
“No one really cares, Gregory,” Mrs. Eaton says. “We’re just messing with you.”
You mutter a response into Mrs. Letsinger’s mouth. The older woman is a forceful kisser. You taste the mango margaritas she has been drinking. She presses her plump breasts into your side. The hand on your thigh moves down to your balls. She cups your sack while kissing the life out of you.
“Share, Lori,” Mrs. Eaton says.
Mrs. Letsinger breaks the kiss and turns your head towards Mrs. Eaton. You barely have time to gasp for air before Mrs. Eaton’s mouth is on yours. Her tongue invades your mouth and you taste her Peach Bellini. She ravages your mouth with hungry kisses. Both breasts rub against your chest in the water.
You kiss back as best you can. Just when you regain your composure, Mrs. Eaton breaks the kiss and turns you back to Mrs. Letsinger’s waiting mouth. The other woman mauls your mouth as she grinds against you.
They take turns using your mouth. You feel like you are getting a contact buzz from their liquor-soaked tongues. The hot water sensitizes your body, making you aware of every inch of their large tits rubbing against you. Back and forth they trade your mouth like a dessert they are both sharing.
At one point, when Mrs. Letsinger turns your head to kiss her friend, Mrs. Eaton half rises from the water. She pulls down the blue bikini cup to reveal a pale breast and a nearly invisible aureole. The nipple is tiny, barely an eraser head. She pulls your head towards her tit.
You suck on Mrs. Eaton’s small nipple. It hardens from your rapid licking. You taste water and something faintly chemical. Mrs. Eaton presses you harder against her breast. You open your mouth to take more of her tit inside your mouth.
Mrs. Letsinger moves her hand from your balls to your cock. You cry out into Mrs. Eaton’s breast as Mrs. Letsinger squeezes. She gives you a short stroke in the hot water.
“The stud is ready to go,” Mrs. Letsinger says.
“Good, because I am randy and ready to go too,” Mrs. Eaton says. “His mouth is damn good.”
“Trade you,” Mrs. Letsinger says.
Mrs. Eaton lets go of your head. Mrs. Letsinger grabs your head and pulls you to her breast. She pulls her red bikini cup to the side to reveal a giant aureole topped with a large nipple. You suck her tit into your mouth. The woman’s plump breast fills your mouth.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Eaton’s hand goes to your cock. She rapidly strokes you under the water. You shudder and groan into Mrs. Letsinger’s breast.
“Let’s get down to fucking,” Mrs. Letsinger says. “I wonder if he can handle both of us at the same time?”
“That might be too much,” Mrs. Eaton says. “The young stud might want to take us on one at a time.”
“Either works for me,” Mrs. Letsinger says. She pulls your mouth from her breast. “What do you say, stud? Take us both of us on, or one at a time?”
“Yeah, what’s your professional opinion, stud?” Mrs. Eaton teases.
**How will you service the horny friends?**
> [[I will pleasure both together->page_243]]
> [[I will fuck them one at a time->page_256]]# I Handcuff Mrs. Cross to the Bed and Use the Vibrator on Her
“Get on the bed,” you tell Mrs. Cross. She starts to slip off her heels and you shake your head. “Leave the heels on, whore.”
Mrs. Cross moans before remembering she is acting like a blackmail victim. She walks over to the bed and climbs onto it. Eying the handcuffs, she moves herself to the center of the bed and raises her hands back to the headboard.
“Greedy slut,” you say. “I knew you were a dirty whore the moment I read your e-mails. I am going to enjoy using you.”
Mrs. Cross shifts her hips. She almost opens her legs for you but stops. The flush on her face has spread to the top of her pale breasts. The stocking-clad legs rub together.
You set the camera down and pick up the furry handcuffs. Mrs. Cross watches with eager eyes as you grab her wrists. Threading the cuffs through the bars, you click them around each wrist.
Mrs. Cross pulls on the cuffs. The bar holds. She bites her lip and looks like she is pulling harder, but you notice the chain is barely pulling against the headboard bar. The captive woman is a good actress.
You need to be one as well. “Open your legs whore.”
Mrs. Cross’s face is distressed but her legs part. The heels drag across the comforter. She bends her knees and plants her heels on the bed. Her legs spread even wider.
“Good, whore,” you say. You pick up the camera and stand at the foot of the bed. Mrs. Cross’s naked body and wet pussy is on full display. You take one picture of her body and then zoom in on her sex.
When the picture of Mrs. Cross’ pussy comes out, you shake it and bring it around to the side of the bed. You hold the picture above Mrs. Cross’ face. She stares at it with lustful awe.
“I’m keeping this one for my private collection,” you say. “It’s going right under my pillow. That way, anytime I want to jerk off, I’ll have this picture to stoke it to. How does that make you feel, whore?”
Mrs. Cross smiles and starts to say something, but she stops. Her smile fades and she assumes her distressed look again. “Please don’t do that. I couldn’t live with myself.”
“I think you’re lying,” you say. You sit down on the bed beside Mrs. Cross, still fully clothed. “I think you’re a dirty little whore who wants to fuck as many men as possible. You love the idea of someone jerking off to pictures of your body.”
You put the photo and camera down on the bedside table. Mrs. Cross tugs again on her handcuffs.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Whatever I want,” you say. You grab one of her freckled breasts. It is soft and pliant in your hand. You run your thumb over the hard nipple.
“No, no, no,” Mrs. Cross pleads. She tries to turn away from you but the cuffs limit her movement. Her legs close and she pushes against you with her knees.
“Open those legs back up, whore,” you say. “Open them up or I am calling your husband right now! Do you want him to see these pictures I’ve taken?”
Mrs. Cross gasps. She shakes her head and then slowly opens her legs back up.
You place your other hand between Mrs. Cross’ legs. Your palm cups the lips of her pussy. It is slick to the touch. You slide your hand up and down against Mrs. Cross’ sex.
“Oh!” Mrs. Cross cries out. Her hazel eyes clench shut. She uncurls her knees and her stocking-clad legs are flat against the bed. One of her heels has fallen off.
You lean down. With one hand on her tit and the other against her pussy, you kiss Mrs. Cross’ lips. Her mouth parts and your tongue dives downward. As the woman groans beneath, you devour her mouth with hungry kissing.
Mrs. Cross melts underneath you. The nipple is hard against your thumb. She lifts her hips to grind against your hand. Moans pass from her mouth and into yours.
You break the kiss. Mrs. Cross is breathing hard. You pinch her nipple lightly. She winces and a glazed look comes over her eyes.
“I want to hear you come, whore,” you say.
“Nooo,” Mrs. Cross whines.
You stand up and walk back around to the foot of the bed where the vibrator sits. Mrs. Cross’ eyes follow you silently. She still says nothing as you turn the machine on. The Earthshaker buzzes and the sound is a dull roar.
“Open your legs, knees up,” you snap.
Mrs. Cross instantly obeys. The other heel falls off her foot as she brings her knees up. She parts her legs and there are two perfect arches flanking her wet sex.
You sit down beside her again. Mrs. Cross watches you with eager eyes. You reach between her legs with the vibrator but keep it a few inches away from her wet pussy.
“Please, don’t use that on me!” Mrs. Cross begs. “Please, please, please!”
“Like this?” you ask. You press the head of the vibrator to her pussy.
“Fucking shit!” Mrs. Cross cries out. She starts to rise but her cuffed hands limit her movement. Her thighs clamp shut around the vibrator.
“Keep your legs open, whore,” you shout.
“Yes, sir!” Mrs. Cross replies. Her legs slowly open. She keeps her knees bent and her thighs quiver.
The vibrator is very powerful. You can see it in the way Mrs. Cross’ stomach shivers. For a moment, you are worried that you should have eased the vibrator onto her body but that doubt soon fades. Mrs. Cross’s wide smile is all the assurance you need.
“You like it, whore,” you say. “Your pussy is so greedy that it takes a big ass vibrator to satisfy you. It is just what I expect from a whore.”
“No, no, no,” Mrs. Cross moans. Her eyes close in bliss. She swivels her hips, grinding her smooth pussy into the vibrator head. Her back arches and thrusts her freckled breasts upwards.
“In fact, I bet you like it so much that you are about to come,” you say.
“Oh God, yes!” Mrs. Cross shouts.
You grab Mrs. Cross’ other tit. She cries out from the contact. You gently pinch her nipple and she grinds harder against the vibrator.
“Come whore,” you say.
There is a tiny squeak from Mrs. Cross’ lips. She shudders and then gasps. Her eyes go wide and a slow smile spreads across her lips. That might be the quietest orgasm you have ever seen.
“I knew you were a whore,” you say. “Only a whore come that fast.”
Mrs. Cross is still smiling. She rubs her cheek against her bound arm. Her eyes focus on you and there is a hungry look in them.
Despite being cuffed, she looks like she is about to pounce on you.
“Don’t you want to use this body?” Mrs. Cross says. “Fuck me if you want. Or use me to jerk off. Do whatever you want. I’m your whore.”
Your cock throbs. Mrs. Cross is your whore, at least until she says her safeword. How do you want to use her?
**How do you fuck this handcuffed whore?**
> [[I take the whore’s cunt->page_262]]
> [[I jerk off onto the whore’s body.->page_272]]# I Make Mrs. Cross Use the Vibrator on Herself and Take Pictures
“Pick up the vibrator,” you tell her. You bring the camera up to your eyes.
Mrs. Cross smiles before remembering her role. She puts on a very unconvincing frown.
“Are you going to take picture of me with it?” Mrs. Cross asks.
“Damn right,” I said. “Now hurry up before I give your husband a call.”
“No, no, no!” Mrs. Cross says. She hurries over to the bed and picks up the vibrator. You snap a quick picture of her ass. The high heels make her buttocks jiggle. Mrs. Cross flinches when you take a picture, but she also pauses to make sure you get a good view.
“Come stand over here, by the desk,” you command.
Mrs. Cross walks over to the desk, carrying the large Von Madd Earthshaker. When she reaches the desk, she turns around and faces you. She spreads her stocking-clad legs without being told. Her hazel eyes lock onto yours, waiting for your next command.
“Spread your pussy lips for me,” you say. “Use one hand.”
“Yes, sir,” Mrs. Cross says. There is a glazed look in her eyes. She reaches down with one hand and opens her sex with her fingers. The thighs quiver with an involuntary clench.
You squat down in front of Mrs. Cross’s hairless sex. The smell of her desire is intoxicating. You take a picture of her pussy and Mrs. Cross lets out a moan.
“This is so embarrassing,” Mrs. Cross says. “I can’t believe you are taking pictures of my cunt.”
“Liar,” you say. “I can smell how badly you want this, whore.”
Mrs. Cross moans again.
You stand up and step back until you reach the bed. Sitting down, you point the camera at Mrs. Cross. Your cock throbs in your pants but you ignore it. The contrast of being clothed while the guest is naked is turning you on.
“Turn the vibrator on and use it,” you tell her.
“Noooo,” Mrs. Cross whimpers. “Please! I’ll jack your cock. I’ll suck you off. I’ll even, uh, fuck you, just don’t make me do this! It is too embarrassing! I don’t want you to take pictures of me doing this!”
You set the camera down on your lap. “Fine. I’ll just call the sheriff. They are very strict about whores operating in this area. They will handcuff you and walk you right out the front door. I’ll even call the newspaper so they can take pictures of you being arrested.”
“Oh God,” Mrs. Cross whispers. She gives her pussy a quick stroke. The wet sound makes your mouth water.
“Do it,” you say with a firm voice.
Mrs. Cross meekly nods her head. The vibrator clicks on and it growls like an angry beaver. She holds the large toy with both hands and brings it between her leg. The large round head presses against her pussy.
She reacts instantly. Mrs. Cross’ eyes clench shut. Her mouth drops and her shoulders shake. She bends forward, her freckled breasts hanging from her chest. Her knuckles go white as she grinds the Earthshaker into her sensitive pussy. Both stocking-clad legs tremble.
You are awestruck by her naked lust. It takes you a moment to remember the camera. You bring it to your eyes and take a picture. The camera flashes and a picture cranks out. You take the photo out and set it aside like it is a holy relic.
Mrs. Cross humps her toy. The vibrator roars with power but it is not enough. Her hips gyrate as she grinds her sex into the buzzing head. She trembles and nearly falls over. Fortunately, the desk is right there, and she leans back for support. One hand grips the edge of the desk behind her while the other hand keeps the Earthshaker at her sex.
You get up from the bed. This needs to be documented fully. You stand to the side and take a profile picture of Mrs. Cross humping the vibrator. Her ass is a half-moon above the horizon of the desk surface. Both nipples are long pebbles pointing to the ground. Red hair masks Mrs. Cross’ face but anyone who knew her would recognize her.
As soon as the picture rolls out of the camera, you walk back around to Mrs. Cross’s face. You reach out and tip her head up with your hand. She still has her eyes clenched shut and her mouth open in bliss. You take the picture, immortalizing her orgasmic expression forever.
“Open your eyes, whore,” you say.
Mrs. Cross slowly opens her eyes. She shudders as the vibrator keeps buzzing. Her mouth stays open and a little spit falls from her lips and onto your hand. She is deep in her fantasy and on the verge of climax.
You leave your hand on her chin and take another picture. Mrs. Cross moans.
“Good whore,” you say.
Mrs. Cross shudders. Her eyes go wide and her mouth clamps shut. There is a tiny squeal from her that you barely hear over the vibrator. She grabs the Earthshaker with both hands and tenses tight.
She just climaxed. It was so quiet but there is no mistaking that climatic clenching of her body. She is vibrating from head to toe.
You let go of her chin and take a few steps back. Mrs. Cross continues to shudder as you take another picture. There is a puddle on the carpet between her legs.
Mrs. Cross turns the vibrator off. “No more,” she whispers. “I can’t take anymore.” She puts the toy on the side of the desk, making sure the wet head isn’t hanging off the edge.
Interesting that she didn’t use her safeword. Your cock is rock hard inside your pants. You have no doubt that she can take more. In fact, you think she craves it. You would be neglecting your duties as an Attendant if you stopped now.
“We don’t stop until I say so,” you say.
Mrs. Cross smiles and then puts on her fake pout. “What do you want from me? Isn’t taking pictures of me fucking my cunt enough?”
“Not even close,” you say.
“What if I suck you off?” Mrs. Cross asks. “I have had a lot of practice. You could take pictures of me with your dick in my mouth.”
Fuck, you like that idea.
“Or maybe you want me to fuck you,” Mrs. Cross says. “You want to try out this whore pussy for yourself. Imagine taking pictures of me riding you.”
Damn, that is a good idea too.
“It is whatever you want,” Mrs. Cross says, lowering her head and trying to sound meek. “You have all the power here. I am just a whore that you caught.”
**What do you do with the willing whore?**
> [[I have the whore suck me while I take pictures->page_282]]
> [[I take pictures of the whore fucking me->page_292]]# I Will Pleasure Both Together
“There is no way that I am letting go of either one of you,” you say. You squeeze both of them closer to you. “Let’s figure out how to get both of you off.”
“He’s ambitious, Tammy,” Mrs. Letsinger says. “I hope we don’t break him.”
“Let’s get on the air mattress,” Mrs. Eaton says. “I call dibs on his sausage.”
“Good, cause I’m going to drown his handsome face,” Mrs. Letsinger says.
The women pull back in the water. You stand up first, rising out of the water like a fish jumping from the lake. The ladies stare at your bright red cock. You step out of the tub and wait by the rim. The cold air feels refreshing after being in the steaming water.
Mrs. Eaton stands up first. She emerges like a Goddess. Water falls from her plentiful curves and coat her in a glistening sheen. She isn’t wearing a bikini bottom. A tiny triangle of dark hair crowns the top of her shaven pussy lips.
Mrs. Letsinger rises next. She is a twin Goddess standing next to her friend. Her large breasts look even bigger out of the water. Like her friend, she isn’t wearing bottoms either. A wet tangle of dark hair covers her sex.
“Ladies,” you say, offering your hands. They grab hold and you help them step out of the hot tub. Still holding onto their hands, you pull them towards the nearby air mattress.
As soon as your foot touches the bouncy surface of the mattress, the women rush towards you. They giggle as they tackle you to the ground. You land hard and are grateful for the mattress. These two are not playing around.
Hot bodies pin you to the mattress. You are on your back, staring up into Mrs. Letsinger’s breasts and red bikini top. Mrs. Eaton straddles your legs, pinning them down. A hand grabs your dick and you are not sure who it belongs to. Another hand pinches a nipple and there is a brief sting that makes your hips arch.
Mrs. Letsinger reaches behind her neck with one hand. Is the other hand on your dick or your nipple? To be honest, you can’t tear your eyes away from her wet breasts to look. Mrs. Letsinger pulls on a string and the red bikini falls free. Both tits flop down into your face and smother you.
It is a happy dilemma. You open your mouth and suck on a wet breast. Mrs. Letsinger grinds her tits into your face but only for a few seconds. She pulls up to a kneeling position. One knee goes over your head and you look up into the wet fur of her bush. She braces her knees to either side of you, her dripping pussy just out of reach.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Eaton crawls forward on her knees until she is straddling your crotch. A wet hand points your had dick towards her sex. She lowers herself, guiding your cock to her bare pussy lips. You push inside her and then she settles down, taking your whole shaft into her.
You cry out. At the same time, Mrs. Letsinger lowers herself onto your face. The furry bush tickles your nose as her pussy lips press against your mouth. You push your tongue into her and take your first lick. The taste is a mixture of pussy and hot tub water.
“Like a fucking horse,” Mrs. Eaton mutters. It is hard to hear her with Mrs. Letsinger’s thighs around your ears.
“He licks as good as he kisses,” Mrs. Letsinger moans.
Mrs. Eaton fucks your cock. Mrs. Letsinger fucks your face. They move with the same rhythm. The air mattress squeaks against the floor as they grind you into their pussies.
Your shoulders are pinned by Mrs. Letsinger’s knees. You can move your hands a little, so you use them to grab her ass. The wet buttocks make for a good handhold as she grinds into your face.
Mrs. Eaton rocks your cock. She moves like a belly dancer on your lap. You wouldn’t think the older woman had moves like these. She must attend dance classes or something. Whatever the cause, she is giving your cock the ride of your life.
“Eat that pussy, stud!” Mrs. Letsinger yells. You can’t see her face due to her mountainous breasts. They jiggle and wobble with every shudder of her body.
“This dick is damn good, Lori,” Mrs. Eaton says.
“Better than that waiter we shared back at the diner?” Mrs. Letsinger says.
“Even better than him!” Mrs. Eaton replies.
You groan into Mrs. Letsinger’s pussy. Juices run down your chin and cheeks. You try to lick as much as possible, but the older woman is gushing into your face. She grinds her sex into her face, rubbing hard against your nose.
“That’s right, stud, eat this hairy pie I got for you,” Mrs. Letsinger says. “Eat it all up. Don’t leave a single piece behind.”
Mrs. Eaton changes her rhythm. She leans forward and your feel Mrs. Letsinger’s weight shift. Mrs. Eaton must be leaning on her friend. Her pussy clenches tight around you. She does a slow swivel with your dick trapped inside of her.
Neither of them is talking. Are they fondling each other, or just lost in sensations? You wonder about their relationship. Are they lovers as well as friends? It wouldn’t matter either way to you, but you are curious.
“Trade you,” Mrs. Eaton says.
“Deal,” Mrs. Letsinger says. “I am about to cream, and I want to do it on that fat sausage.”
“Yeah, I want to come on his face,” Mrs. Eaton says.
They don’t ask for your opinion. Mrs. Letsinger rises from your face. You suck in as much air as possible as Mrs. Eaton crawls forward off your cock. Large breasts press down onto your face. You give them a quick bite before Mrs. Eaton keeps crawling forward. Her smooth pussy lips slide across your chin and onto your mouth.
You push your tongue into Mrs. Eaton’s pussy. The tang of her sex flows into your mouth. She turns around on your face, careful not to step on you as she changes direction to face your lap. When she is turned around, she settles onto your face. Soft buttocks press down on your eyes and head.
Mrs. Letsinger mounts your dick. She is a tighter fit than her friend but takes all of you with no problem. Wet pussy hairs grind against your skin. She rocks back and forth with short, quick motions. What she lacks in her friend’s moves she makes up for it with speed and precision.
You groan into Mrs. Eaton’s pussy. The angle is hard on your nose, but you can breathe through your mouth. She rubs her pussy across your face in a circle, almost using your nose and mouth as something to hump against.
There is not much to do but lay here and take it. Mrs. Letsinger fucks your dick. Mrs. Eaton fucks your face. You can hear them whispering something but you can’t hear what they are saying with Mrs. Eaton’s thighs around your ears.
Maybe it doesn’t matter what they are saying. This is their vacation and you are a sex toy they are using for the night. You just focus on not busting your load until the women are ready.
A few minutes later, there is a scream. You think it is from Mrs. Letsinger judging from how tight her pussy is clenching. A moment later, Mrs. Eaton comes to a stop on top of your face and squeezes with her thighs. The pressure on your skull is intense but you keep licking the flowing pussy.
Mrs. Eaton releases your head from between her thighs. She rolls off to the right. “Oh fuck,” she whispers.
“Shit,” Mrs. Letsinger whispers. She slides off your dick and rolls off of you to your left.
You lay there and suck in air. Pussy juices stick to your face and cock. You try to rise to a sitting position, but your body isn’t cooperating. It feels like the two women have permanently fucked you into this air mattress.
“He did good, don’t you think Tammy?” Mrs. Letsinger says. She turns her body so she is on her side, pressing against you from the left. One of her breasts sits on top of your arm. She reaches for your wet dick and gives it a squeeze.
“He’s a good stud,” Mrs. Eaton admits. She turns her body to mimic her friend from her right side. She kisses your nipple and you shudder. Her hand goes to your cock as well. The two of them hold on as you throb.
“We should give him a little reward,” Mrs. Letsinger says. “I was thinking we could both blow him.”
“Mmm, that sounds good,” Mrs. Eaton says. “Though his sausage seems to like what we are doing now. Maybe he just wants us to stroke him off together. We could give him our tits to suck while we jerk him.”
“Let’s let the stud decide,” Mrs. Letsinger says.
“Okay, just this once,” Mrs. Eaton giggles.
**What do you want for your reward from the horny women?**
> [[I want them to suck my dick together->page_267]]
> [[I want them to jack my cock and feed me their breasts->page_277]]# I Will Fuck Them One at a Time
“With women this beautiful, I think I will last longer if I can devout my full attention to you one at a time, ladies,” you say.
“Well, we got ourselves a charmer,” Mrs. Eaton says.
“It works for me,” Mrs. Letsinger says. “I want to fuck him before you wear him out.”
Mrs. Eaton laughs and moves away from you two. “Fine, that means I get to break him when you’re done.”
She goes to the other side of the hot tub and rises out of the water. There are no bikini bottoms on her bare ass. Water cascades from her plump bottom. She turns around, revealing smooth pussy lips topped with a tiny triangle of dark hair. Facing you and Mrs. Letsinger, Mrs. Eaton sits down on the edge of the hot tub with her legs dangling in the water. Her hand goes to her pussy and starts to rub.
“Make sure to give me a good show, Lori,” Mrs. Eaton says.
“I’ll give you a show,” Mrs. Letsinger says. She stands up beside you. Water falls from her abundant curves. Like her friend, she isn’t wearing anything below the waist. A slick nest of dark hair covers her sex. She moves in the water so that her legs are to either side of you. Water falls from her pubic hair. The tempting meal of her pussy hovers in front of you.
You rise to your knees in the water. Mrs. Letsinger steps closer and guides your head to her sex. You use your tongue to part her lips and lick inside her. The taste of hot tub water gives way to the tangy delight of pussy juices.
“Grab Lori’s ass,” Mrs. Eaton says. “Pull them apart so I can see her asshole.”
Mrs. Letsinger laughs. “You are so bad, Tammy.”
Interestingly, Mrs. Letsinger didn’t tell you not to do it. You reach up and grab handfuls of Mrs. Letsinger’s round ass. She shudders and grinds her pussy into your face. Encouraged, you pull her cheeks apart as you continue to lick her.
“Oh fuck,” Mrs. Letsinger says. She grabs your head tightly. A fountain of juices flow from her sex and into your mouth.
“That’s perfect,” Mrs. Eaton says. “Just like that.”
You hear Mrs. Eaton fingering her pussy. She is using her short, harsh strokes to fuck herself. The older woman likes it rough. It is something to keep in mind when you fuck her.
But that is later. Right now, you focus on eating Mrs. Letsinger’s pussy. Your tongue does tight swirls inside her. You hold her buttocks apart as you pull her onto your face. It gets harder to breathe, but you get your air between gulps of her pussy juices.
“Oh shit,” Mrs. Letsinger. She pushes your head away. “You got me close, but I want to finish on that sausage. Stand your ass up and fuck me.”
“Yes, ma’am,” you say. You stand up beside her. The transition from steaming water to normal air is a shock to your body. Anything less than near-boiling feels chilly on your skin. Luckily, the hot water coming up to your knees keeps you warm.
Mrs. Letsinger bends over and places her hands on the rum of the hot tub. Her round ass is wet and shiny. She spreads her legs and arches her back. The hairy bush calls to your cock.
You take your place behind Mrs. Letsinger and guide your dick to her sex. A single thrust and you are inside her. The hot tub is hot, but her pussy is hotter. You throb inside of her and enjoy the tight heat.
“Your eyes almost popped out of your head, Lori,” Mrs. Eaton says. “It is so fucking hot.”
“His meat is bigger than it looks,” Mrs. Letsinger moans. “Go on and fuck me, stud!”
“Yes, ma’am,” you say. You grab her hips and begin to fuck her. The sound of your hips smacking her wet ass creates a clapping sound. You speed up your pace until her buttocks sound like a drum solo.
“Oh fuck!” Mrs. Letsinger cries. She holds onto the rim of the hot tub as you pound her.
Mrs. Eaton groans louder. You look over and see the older woman plunging her fingers into her pussy. She holds one of her fat tits as she fucks herself. When she notices you watching her, she pulls her breast up to her mouth and sucks on her small nipple.
You growl and fuck Mrs. Letsinger faster. The clapping sound gets louder. Your cock feels like a train crashing into the slick tunnel of her pussy. The steam rises and clings to your skin like little kisses.
“Keep going!” Mrs. Letsinger yells.
“Take off your top,” Mrs. Eaton yells.
Mrs. Letsinger reaches behind her neck. As you continue to fuck her pussy, she pulls on the string holding her bikini. The knot comes loose and her red bikini falls into the water. You hear her breasts slapping together.
“Yes,” Mrs. Eaton groans. “Make her titties clap!”
“Yes, harder!” Mrs. Letsinger cries.
You obey both of their wishes. The dirty urgings of both women inspire you to find new reserves of strength. The sound of her tits bouncing together gets louder. So does the clapping sound of your hips and Mrs. Letsinger’s ass. You drive your cock into the wet snatch with relentless passion.
“Grab her hair!” Mrs. Eaton shouts. “Pull her head back like a porn star!”
You hesitate. Is that something Mrs. Letsinger wants or is Mrs. Eaton just fucking with you two?
Mrs. Letsinger looks back at you. The naked lust in her eyes takes you by surprise. She nods her head.
You grab a handful of Mrs. Letsinger’s wet brown hair. Her pussy clenches tightly around you. Mrs. Letsinger bends like a bow as you pull her head back. The dip increases as she loses herself to pleasure.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh FUUUCK!” Mrs. Letsinger screams.
The scream rings in your ears. You slow down as Mrs. Letsinger’s pussy spasms around your dick. Her body shudders and her ass clenches tightly in front of you. A few more thrusts of your cock and her hand presses against your stomach.
“No more, no more,” Mrs. Letsinger says. “Oh Jesus.”
You pull out of Mrs. Letsinger. She sinks down into the water with a contented sigh. Down she goes until the water comes up to her face. She settles in with wide smile.
Mrs. Eaton is still masturbating. She lets go of her breast and motions for you to come over. You wade through the water and approach her. As soon as you get close, Mrs. Eaton grabs your dick. She doesn’t care that your meat is covered in her friend’s juices. Her grip is tight as she continues to masturbate.
You can’t resist her shiny breasts. As Mrs. Eaton furiously strokes her pussy, you grab a wet breast. The weight feels great in your hand. You gently knead it as Mrs. Eaton masturbates.
Suddenly, Mrs. Eaton stops. A small gasp comes from her flushed lips. Her thighs close tight around her hand. The grip on your cock tightens to an almost painful level. She shudders from her orgasm.
“Oh, are you done, ma’am?” you ask.
Mrs. Letsinger laughs behind you. “Tammy is just getting started.”
“She’s right,” Mrs. Eaton says. “I’m going to fuck your brains out. Just not here, the hot tub is too hot for sex. I just haven’t decided yet if I want you to destroy my pussy or if I want you to wreck my ass.”
“Let the stud pick,” Mrs. Letsinger says. “He knows his limits better then you.”
“True,” Mrs. Eaton says. “What’s it going to be, stud? Want to get into this pussy or do you want to fuck up my ass?”
**How do you fuck the insatiable Mrs. Eaton?**
> [[I fuck Mrs. Eaton’s slick pussy->page_287]]
> [[I fill Mrs. Eaton’s tight ass->page_297]]# I Take the Whore’s Cunt
“It’s time I sample this cunt for myself,” you say.
“Oh God, yes,” Mrs. Cross says
You turn off the Von Madd Earthshaker and set it to the side. Mrs. Cross lets out a sigh of relief. You stand up beside the bed and pull off your jacket. Mrs. Cross purses her lips and you hesitate. Right, you should stay mostly clothed. You leave your shirt on and kick off your shoes instead. Mrs. Cross licks her lips as you pull down your pants and boxers.
“Whoa,” Mrs. Cross says. “You are much bigger than my husband. That might be too big.”
“For your whore pussy?” you say. “I don’t think so.”
A glazed look comes over Mrs. Cross eyes. That was definitely the right thing to say.
You go to the foot of the bed and then climb on. Mrs. Cross watches you between her open legs as you crawl into place. You reach her pussy and dip your head down to take a lick. It is delicious.
“Christ!” Mrs. Cross cries out. Her back arches and her pussy lifts towards your face.
It is hard to refuse such an invitation. You press down on her thighs and lower your face to her pussy. Your tongue pushes in and you take another lick. Both thighs quiver as you keep licking. You seal your lips over her sex and breath her musky scent into your body.
“Holy fuck,” Mrs. Cross gasps.
You gently chew on Mrs. Cross’ pussy lips. Her thighs try to close but you keep them open. You are lying flat on the bed and your cock is trapped between your body and the top sheet of the bed. As you eat her sex, you catch yourself thrusting into the bed.
“Oh God, this feels so good!” Mrs. Cross says. “You are turning me into a slutty whore! I am so embarrassed! You are turning me on too much!”
Mrs. Cross might be acting but her compliments are turning you on. Your tongue reaches deeper in between light bites of her pussy. Each lick makes her clench while each bite makes her gasp. Your mouth plays her like an instrument.
Your cock can no longer be ignored. You give Mrs. Cross’ pussy a final lick and then rise up on your hands and knees. Pussy juices drip from your chin. Your tie dangles down and barely touches her sensitive pussy.
“Oh God!” Mrs. Cross cries from even that light touch.
You crawl up the bed and over Mrs. Cross’ body. The tip of your tie drags across her stomach and between her breasts. You guide your cock to her pussy and rub the head up and down the slit of her sex.
“No, no, no,” Mrs. Cross pleas. You have familiar now with the twinkle in her eyes.
“I am going to fuck you,” you say. “I’m going to fuck this dirty whore.”
And then you push into Mrs. Cross. She is a tight fit. Her eyes roll into her head and her mouth clamps shut. You keep pushing, slowly opening her tight pussy with your thick cock. Inch by inch, you dick slips in until you are buried inside of her.
Tight muscles clench around you. Maybe she wasn’t kidding about you being too big. You give an experimental push and her mouth pops open. A contented sigh escapes her lips.
“Whore,” you whisper.
Mrs. Cross shudders. The handcuff chain strains as she pulls. Stockings press against your hips as she wraps her legs around you.
You brace yourself and begin to fuck. With tender care, your cock slides in and out of Mrs. Cross’s wet grip. Your words might be harsh, but your motions are gentle. Now is the time to listen to her body.
“So, uh, big,” Mrs. Cross groans. Her stocking-clad legs clamp tighter around you. She moved with you, matching your steady rhythm.
“I am sure the other cocks you have had prepared you for this,” you whisper. “All the men you have fucked in this very room have opened your cunt. All the men that you have lured over the internet has ploughed the slick pussy. You have had hundreds of dicks to prepare you for this large hard cock.”
“YES!” Mrs. Cross hissed. “Oh God, I feel so dirty. I feel fucking filthy.”
She is soaking wet. It gets easier to sink your cock deeper with every thrust. You keep it slow, gradually changing direction with your hips to keep her guessing. The freckled breasts slowly jiggle as you pump her pussy.
“This is damn good whore cunt,” you say. “Maybe I should fuck it every time you come to visit.”
Mrs. Cross whimpers. Her pussy quivers around your dick.
“Oh, you like that?” you say. “That settles it. I’m holding onto these pictures. When I get horny, I’ll give you a call and you’ll have to drop everything to come to me. I’ll fuck you and fill your whore pussy with my come. If you refuse, I’ll drop these pictures in the mail and send them to your husband.”
Mrs. Cross moans. Her hips buck. She quickens the pace, forcing you to fuck her with rapid thrusts. Despite the tightness, she takes your dick with almost professional ease.
“I’m going to come, whore,” you say. “Consider my hot jizz to be the first of many deposits.”
“Yes!” Mrs. Cross hisses again. Her eyes go wide and her lips clamp shut. There is that small squeal again along with her full body shudder. The tight pussy clenches down with incredible force. She has come again.
You come as well. You cry out as your come is squeezed from your cock. Pleasure ripples through your body. It is a forceful orgasm that makes your teeth clench. It might be your third of the day, but you feel like you just pushed a gallon of seed into her.
Mrs. Cross slowly opens her legs. She is breathing hard. There is a shudder, followed by another smile. When it is finished, she opens her mouth.
“Mothman,” she whispers.
You nod and pull out of her. Reaching for the headboard, you feel around for the release button. The cuffs pop open and Mrs. Cross pulls her hands free. You then slowly climb off the bed.
Mrs. Cross rubs her wrists. She is breathing hard. Her legs are still spread and there is a tremendous wet spot on the bed.
“Can I get you anything, ma’am?” you ask.
“Bring me the pictures,” Mrs. Cross says. She reaches for the vibrator and brings it closer.
You walk around the room and gather the pictures. Here is the one you took of her tits. There is the closeup of her pussy. You put them in order and make a nice stack before handing them to her.
“Thank you,” Mrs. Cross says. “That was perfect. You may go now.”
You nod your head at her dismissal. Mrs. Cross watches as you get dressed but doesn’t say anything. You wipe your mouth and then head for the door.
As you leave, you hear the vibrator click back on.
> [[Return to your room for the night->page_303]]# I Jerk Off Onto the Whore’s Body
It has been a long day. You like the idea of just taking care of yourself. Especially if it involves this sexy handcuffed woman. Just because you are jerking off doesn’t mean you can’t keep playing with her body.
You put the Von Madd Earthshaker aside and turn it off. Mrs. Cross watches silently, waiting for your choice. You stand up beside the bed and remove your jacket. Wait, why bother to get undressed?
You remove your shoes and undo your belt, leaving your shirt and tie on. Mrs. Cross licks her lips as you pull down your pants and boxers.
“Whoa,” Mrs. Cross says. “That is way bigger than my husband’s!”
“Good thing you will only get to look at it then,” you say.
“Oh?” Mrs. Cross replies. She squirms a little on the bed. “Are you going to tease me and stroke it?”
“That is exactly what I am going to do,” you say. You climb onto the bed and rise up on your knees. Mrs. Cross keeps her eyes on your hard cock. You get close enough that your dick is above her breasts.
“Get my fingers wet, whore,” you command. You press two of your fingers to her lips.
Mrs. Cross opens her mouth and sucks your fingers in. It is wet inside her mouth. You must make her mouth water. The woman uses her to tongue to lay wet spit onto your fingers.
You pull your fingers from her mouth and slather her saliva onto your hard cock. There is a lot of spit. If her mouth is that wet, how wet is her pussy?
“More,” you command, returning your fingers to Mrs. Cross’s lips.
She takes your fingers back into your mouth. As she licks your fingers, you grab one of her breasts with your other hand. The file says she likes light pinching, so that is exactly what you do. You trap her nipple between your thumb and forefinger and squeeze.
“Mmmmm!” Mrs. Cross moans. Her back arches. She sucks on your fingers before remembering that she is supposed to get them wet.
You pull your fingers from her mouth. “Maybe I just try something wetter.”
Before Mrs. Cross can respond, you release her nipple and slip your fingers into her sex. She cries out as your fingers sink in. Damn, she is incredibly tight, but she is also wet. A few thrusts and your fingers are soaking wet.
You pull out of Mrs. Cross’ pussy and wrap your wet fingers around your cock. The mix if spit and pussy juices is perfect. You grip your cock with your dominant hand and give yourself a stroke. Yes, this will do nicely.
“You’re not going to fuck me?” Mrs. Cross says with a pouting face.
“A whore like you?” you say. “No, this is how I prefer to use your body.”
Mrs. Cross whimpers. She pulls on her cuffed hands but the headboard doesn’t budge. Her hips rock back and forth as she tries to tempt you with her pussy.
You are immune to Mrs. Cross’ temptations. Your wet hand is all you need. Her jiggling tits are right below your cock. You point your dick down and rub her nipple with the tip of your shaft.
“Oh, please fuck me,” Mrs. Cross says.
“Is it because you need dick so badly?” you ask.
“Yes,” Mrs. Cross says. She stares at your cock and lick her lips.
“Say it,” you command. “Tell me how much of a whore you are. Tell me how badly you crave my dick.”
“No, please don’t make me say it!” Mrs. Cross lies. “Just fuck me but don’t make me say it!”
You stroke your dick harder. The head of your cock presses into her freckled breast. You grind your tip into her hard nipple.
“Say it or I email these photos to your husband,” you say.
Mrs. Cross shudders. The glazed look returns to her eyes. You definitely pushed one of her buttons with that one.
“I need dick,” Mrs. Cross says. “I need it all the time. I want your dick, your friends’ dicks, your coworkers’ dicks, and everyone’s dicks! I am a dick-hungry whore and I just want to be stuffed with dicks all the time!”
Still stroking your cock, you grab the Von Madd Earthshaker. Mrs. Cross gasps and nods her head eagerly. With one hand, you turn it on and then press the head between her open legs. The vibrator roars into her dick-needing pussy.
Mrs. Cross’s eyes go wide. She pulls hard on her cuffs and the headboard shakes. Her lips clamp shut followed by a full body shudder. There is a tiny squeal but it is hard to hear over the vibrator. Her legs close shut, open and then clamp shut again around the vibrator.
The sight of Mrs. Cross coming sends you over the edge. You raise your cock and cry out. The first load shoots across one breast and lands on the other. You point your cock towards her pussy and shoot the next load across her belly. The third load goes onto her breast.
“My face!” Mrs. Cross cries. “Give it to my face!”
You quickly point your cock to Mrs. Cross’ face. This was not in her file. The next load lands across her open mouth and she lets out a loud moan. You shift your position and empty the rest of your seed onto her cheeks.
When you are done, you stare down at the mess you made. Mrs. Cross is breathing hard with your seed on her face. You reach for the camera.
“Mothman,” she whispers.
You leave the camera where it is. Leaning over her, you reach for the headboard and her cuffs. You feel around for the release button and press it. The furry cuffs pop open and Mrs. Cross is free. That taken care of, you turn the vibrator off that is still clamped between her legs.
Mrs. Cross rubs her wrists. She is breathing hard. The come glistens on her face. She opens her legs and the vibrator falls onto the bed. The wet spot on the bed is huge.
“Can I get you anything, ma’am?” you ask.
“Bring me the pictures,” Mrs. Cross says. She reaches for the camera and sets it beside her.
You climb off the bed and wipe your hands with a nearby tissue. Disposing of the tissue, you gather the pictures you took. Each one is a dirty moment seared into film. You arrange them in chronological order and hand them over to her.
“Thank you, sir,” Mrs. Cross says. “That was perfect. You may go now.”
You nod your head at her dismissal. Mrs. Cross watches as you get dressed but doesn’t say anything. The come is starting to dry on her face.
As you leave, you hear the click of the camera.
> [[Return to your room for the night->page_303]]# I Want Them to Suck My Dick Together
“Blow me, ladies,” you say. Realizing how that sounds, you quickly add, “Please.”
“Alrighty, but let’s go back to the hot tub,” Mrs. Eaton say. “I like it better in the water.”
“Agreed,” Mrs. Letsinger says.
Before you can say anything, the two ladies grab your arms and rise. They pull you to your feet. The two ladies have endless energy compared to you right now. They return to the hot tub and climb in. Both moan with bliss as they sink into the water.
Mrs. Letsinger pats the floor next to the edge of the tub. “Sit here, stud.”
“Yeah, sit and spread them,” Mrs. Eaton says.
You sit on the edge of the hot tub like they requested. You dip your feet and calves into the water. The hot water feels nice on your skin. It is easy to understand why the ladies wanted to get back in.
Mrs. Eaton and Mrs. Letsinger get between your open legs. Mrs. Eaton is on your left while Mrs. Letsinger is on your right. Wet breasts press against your spread thighs. There is not much room between your legs, and their breasts squeeze together in the water. They look down at your dick, licking their lips. You wonder which one will suck you first.
They move in together with practiced coordination. Their lips press against the length of your cock from both sides. Hot tongues lap against your skin and lick the pussy juices that have been left behind. Their lips touch as if they are trying to kiss each other but your dick is in the way.
Mrs. Letsinger kisses down the side of your cock while Mrs. Eaton kisses up the side. When Mrs. Letsinger reaches your balls, she sucks them into her mouth. When Mrs. Eaton reaches the tip, she wraps her lips around the crown and flicks your head with her tongue. They both look up at you with their mouths full.
You let out a moan. It is tempting to grab their heads but your rest your hands on their shoulders instead. Their skin is hot to the touch and fight the urge to grab as hard as you can.
Mrs. Eaton circles the tip of your dick with her tongue. This rolls your cock round and round with her lips still sealed around you. She reaches up and gently tweaks your nipple. Her fingers hold on as she continues to suck on your cock head.
Mrs. Letsinger pops your balls from her mouth. She kisses your thigh and a shiver runs up your spine. Her plump breasts flatten against your leg.
“Share that sausage, Tammy,” Mrs. Letsinger says.
Mrs. Eaton pulls her head back and you dick falls from her lips. “Okay, but I want to feed it to you,” she says.
Mrs. Letsinger leans towards your cock and opens her mouth. Mrs. Eaton holds onto your dick and grabs the back of Mrs. Letsinger’s head. She pushes Mrs. Letsinger down on your cock with a playful grin.
Your cock disappears into Mrs. Letsinger’s mouth. The older woman takes all of you down her throat. She closes her lips around you and her cock is submerged in spit. Her tongue does slow swipes on the underside of your shaft.
Mrs. Eaton holds her friend’s head down on you cock. She lets go of your cock and reaches for her nipple again. Her fingers roll your sensitive nub of flesh while her friend sucks your dick.
“Oh fuck,” you groan. You try to sit still but it is too much. Your ass grinds against the hot tub rim as you try to fuck Mrs. Letsinger’s mouth.
“I love doing this,” Mrs. Eaton says. “It is like something out of a porno.”
Mrs. Eaton pulls on Mrs. Letsinger’s wet brown hair. Her friend rises halfway up your cock before Mrs. Eaton pushes her down again. It is a slow steady pace as Mrs. Eaton fucks your dick with her friend’s mouth.
Mrs. Letsinger cups your balls with her hand. Wet fingers gently squeeze every time her mouth goes all the way down to the base. When her mouth rises back up, she releases the squeeze and you feel like you might come at any moment.
“I want another taste,” Mrs. Eaton says. She pulls Mrs. Letsinger’s mouth from your dick. Before it can fall into the water, Mrs. Eaton takes your cock back into her mouth. She clamps her lips around the head of your dick and flicks the head.
Mrs. Letsinger wipes her mouth. “Fuck, there’s a lot of meat on that sausage,” she says. Her hand goes around the base of your cock. She strokes you quickly while her friend sucks on your tip.
“Oh fuck,” you groan again. The teamwork is perfect. If you hadn’t come twice already today, there is no doubt that you would have popped your load already.
“Grab our tits, stud,” Mrs. Letsinger says. “You know you want to.”
You reach down and grab a hold of a breast on each woman. Their tits are wet and slippery. You sink your fingers into pliant flesh. There is too much to hold onto.
Mrs. Eaton moans and your dick falls from her lips. Mrs. Letsinger dips down and swallows your length back down her throat. She bops up and down your cock a few strokes before letting go. Mrs. Eaton returns to your dick and sucks on the head.
They keep doing this with perfect coordination. Mrs. Letsinger’s mouth engulfs your dick and then Mrs. Eaton sucks on the head. Her slow tongue drives you crazy before letting Mrs. Letsinger takes you back down her throat. Mrs. Letsinger’s moans with your dick in her mouth before coming up and giving your cock head to Mrs. Eaton to suck on again.
It was during one of Mrs. Eaton’s tip polishings that you felt a familiar surge. “I’m going to come,” you cry.
Mrs. Eaton grabs the base of your dick. Mrs. Letsinger grabs hold of your cock as well. They press their mouths to your tip and look up at you. Their lips pucker and await your come.
You give it to them. A fat load of seed splatters against their pursed lips. The women giggle and lick their lips. You keep coming and Mrs. Eaton takes a load straight into her mouth. Mrs. Letsinger opens her mouth and points your dick to her waiting tongue for the next load. Back and forth they share your seed, giggling and swallowing the entire time.
Eventually, you have no more to give. Mrs. Eaton gives your dick a final lick to get the last of your seed. Mrs. Letsinger licks a spot of come on the corner of her mouth. They both move away from your open legs and go to the holding their drinks.
“Holy shit,” you whisper. You feel drained.
“I can’t believe he lasted as long as he did, Tammy.” Mrs. Letsinger says. She settles into the hot tub and takes a long sip of her drink.
“We should practice our double blowjobs more, Lori,” Mrs. Eaton says. She drains half her glass.
You laugh. “Trust me, ladies,” you say. “You get any better and you will be spoiling guys for future blowjobs.”
The women laugh. “You’re a keeper, stud,” Mrs. Letsinger says. “But lucky for you, I’m exhausted. Ready to cut him loose, Tammy?”
“Yeah, I’m good for the night,” Mrs. Eaton says. “I just want to soak here and drink more Peach Bellinis. In fact, I’m going to order some now. You want another margarita?”
“I do,” Mrs. Letsinger says. “Go on out of here, stud. Just get plenty of rest. We might be calling for you tomorrow night.”
The women laugh and you are not sure if they are serious or not. The idea has its appeal, though your dick feels like it may never be hard again. As Mrs. Eaton calls room service, you dry off and get dressed. The ladies gossip among themselves about a young man in their neighborhood. Neither of them notices as you slip out.
> [[Return to your room for the night->page_303]]# I Want Them to Jack My Cock and Feed Me Their Breasts
“Keep doing this, please,” you say.
“Aww, he said please!” Mrs. Eaton says.
“He is such a polite stud,” Mrs. Letsinger says.
“Stick with us, stud, and we’ll break you of all your good habits,” Mrs. Eaton giggles.
“Gladly, ma’am,” you say.
“Let’s make him a little slicker,” Mrs. Letsinger says. She lets go of your cock and lifts her leg. You hear her plunge her fingers into her wet bush. A few squishy strokes later, she takes her hand out and wraps her slick fingers around your cock.
“Oh!” you cry out. Your back arches with pleasure.
“Good idea,” Mrs. Eaton says. She lets go of your dick and fingers her smooth pussy. The wet sound makes your mouth water.
Mrs. Letsinger strokes your dick with her soaked hand. Slippery fingers slide up and down your length. When she reaches the top, she pauses to run her palm over the head of your cock before gripping you again to slide back down.
“Oh, we forgot to feed him our titties,” Mrs. Letsinger says.
“Go ahead,” Mrs. Eaton grunts. “I’m still getting my hand wet.”
Mrs. Letsinger snorts. “Just remember, we’re supposed to be jacking his sausage, not jilling your clam.”
Mrs. Eaton groans in response.
Mrs. Letsinger scoots herself up along the air mattress. Her hand is still around your dick but now her tits are level with your face. She rolls towards your waiting mouth and her nipple presses against your tongue.
You close your lips around Mrs. Letsinger’s nipple. The older woman moans as you bite down. Your tongue flicks her hard button. She leans in further until her breast is covering your entire face.
Another hand grabs the base of your cock. You cry out into Mrs. Letsinger’s tit. Mrs. Eaton slides her hand up and down the bottom half of your length. Her hand is firm and quick, but the pussy juices keep her grip slick.
Mrs. Letsinger moves to the tip of your dick. She gently presses her thumb against your crown. As Mrs. Eaton rapidly strokes you, Mrs. Letsinger softly massages your cock head with her thumb. The contrast of styles is surprisingly harmonious.
“Share that handsome face of his, Lori,” Mrs. Eaton says.
You release Mrs. Letsinger’s breast from your mouth and turn your head. Mrs. Eaton presents her fat breast for your hungry lips. You open wide and take as much of her large tit as possible into your mouth.
“Suck it, stud,” Mrs. Eaton moans. She leans into your face, still pumping the base of your cock.
You moan and bite down. A delicious shudder runs through Mrs. Eaton’s body. With their breasts in your face, their asses are now in hand’s reach. You grab both of their assess and pull them tight around your body.
Mrs. Letsinger moves her hand down to your balls. She cups your sack and gently rolls your nuts. Her touch is delicate and sensitive, drawing your attention to your most vulnerable area.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Eaton has your entire dick in her grasp. She runs her hand up and down your length, coating your cock with her pussy juices. Her grip twists as she moves, pulling and tugging your skin with every stroke.
Mrs. Letsinger crushes her breast to your face. You let Mrs. Eaton’s breast slip from your lips and turn your head to nibble on Mrs. Letsinger’s tit. A few bites later, you turn your head to lick and suck on Mrs. Eaton’s breast. Back and forth you go, licking, sucking, and biting to your heart’s content.
“He’s getting a little dry, Lori,” Mrs. Eaton says.
Mrs. Letsinger lets go of your balls. The shifting of her leg tells you she is stroking her pussy again. A moment later, freshly wet fingers wrap around you. She strokes her pussy juices back into your dick.
Mrs. Eaton lets go of your cock and does the same. You bite down hard on her breast and she shudders in your arms. She whimpers a little bit as she strokes herself before gripping your cock again. The fingers are even wetter than before.
“I think his sausage is almost done for,” Mrs. Eaton says.
“I’m surprised he has lasted this long,” Mrs. Letsinger says. “We got us a real champ here.”
“Let’s see how high we can make his jizz fly,” Mrs. Eaton says.
The women stroke with perfect teamwork. Their hands slide up and down your slippery cock with increasing speed. They tighten their grip and point to the sky.
You groan into someone’s breasts. Smothered in tits, it is hard to keep track of which breast belongs to who. The pumping of your dick floods your brain with pleasure. You are the sausage in a MILF sandwich.
It doesn’t take long. Your climax orgasm slams into your body as your cock erupts. The force of your ejaculation feels like a rocket blast.
“Holy shit,” Mrs. Eaton says.
“Did he hit the ceiling?” Mrs. Letsinger says.
“I got some on my face!” Mrs. Eaton laughs.
They keep pumping. You shudder and start to sit up but plump breasts pin you to the mattress. It is impossible to fight them. All of your energy is drained as you dick keeps coming.
When you have no more jizz to give, the ladies let go of your dick.
They sit up and lick the come off of their hands. The ladies giggle at your wilted state.
“Stick a fork in him, he’s done,” Mrs. Eaton says.
“Me too,” Mrs. Letsinger says. “I need a drink.”
“Shit, me too,” Mrs. Eaton says.
The ladies rise up from the air mattress and walk over to their drinks by the hot tub. You watch their wet curves as they walk. The women pick up their drinks and nearly chug them.
“I want to get back in the tub,” Mrs. Eaton says. “After I order some more Peach Bellinis. You want another Mango Margarita?”
“Sure,” Mrs. Letsinger says. “Let’s send the stud back now. We need him rested in case we request him tomorrow night.”
“Good point,” Mrs. Eaton says. “Go on home, stud. Get that sausage ready for tomorrow.”
The women laugh and you laugh with them. You are not sure a single day would be enough rest. For that matter, a week might not be enough.
Mrs. Eaton calls room service while Mrs. Letsinger gets back in the hot tub. You force yourself up and to your feet. Too exhausted to dry off, you simply put your clothes back on. Busy with their drink order, neither of the ladies notices as you slip out the door.
> [[Return to your room for the night->page_303]]# I Have the Whore Suck Me While I Take Pictures
“Get your whore mouth over here and suck my dick,” you say.
Mrs. Cross trembles. She nods her head and comes over to you. Her hips swing as she walks on the high heels. She stops right in front of you and sinks down to her knees. Both hands go to your belt.
“Wait,” you say. Mrs. Cross freezes in place. You look down at her with the camera. Mrs. Cross puts on a pouty face next to your bulge.
Flash! The camera spits out the picture. You take the photograph and start to shake it.
Mrs. Cross doesn’t wait. She opens your belt and unzips your pants. You expect her to pull your pants down but no, she reaches into your zipper instead. She feels around for your cock under your boxers. Her fingers guide your dick through the slit in your boxers and out your pants. The older woman prefers you to keep your clothes on.
The picture comes into view. It is a great shot. You can see the lust in Mrs. Cross’ eyes. She is trying to pout, but it is clear how badly she wants it. This is a picture that you wouldn’t mind keeping.
Mrs. Cross leans in close and kisses the base of your cock. Pink lips wrap around the side of your shaft like she is playing the flute. Hazel eyes stare up at you. Her tongue flicks the underside of your dick.
“Fuck,” you mutter and you take another picture.
“Please don’t share these with my husband,” Mrs. Cross begs with your cock against her lips.
“It depends on how good you are at sucking dick, whore,” you say.
Mrs. Cross moans and her lips vibrate. She slides her mouth up your cock and then wraps her lips around the tip. The soft tongue rubs up and down your slit. She takes more of your dick into her mouth, working her way slowly until half of your length is in her mouth.
You raise the camera for another picture. Mrs. Cross freezes in place to pose for the photo. Her tongue stays busy, taking long loving licks of your cock. All the while her eyes continue to look up at you. She has a faux-fear in her eyes that makes you smile.
Flash! As soon as the picture is taken, Mrs. Cross moves her head back and forth. Red hair swings around her face. She fucks your dick with her mouth. The woman can only take half of your length at a time, but she makes up for it with a wet mouth that leaves your dick shining with spit.
You groan. Despite your busy day, you feel hard as a rock. Mrs. Cross might not be a whore in real life but she gives a blowjob like it was her day job. If she keeps this up, you’re going to come.
“Wait,” you say and you grab the back of Mrs. Cross’s red hair. She pauses, but her tongue keeps licking. There is a questioning look in her eyes.
“I need more blackmail photos,” you say. “I got to make sure I have plenty to send to your husband and your entire family.”
Mrs. Cross pops your dick from her mouth. “Yes,” she hisses, forgetting that blackmail victims shouldn’t be so excited to get compromised. She presses your dick to her cheek and looks up at you.
You take the picture.
Mrs. Cross sticks out her tongue. She lays the head of your cock on her tongue like she was plating it for a presentation. The hazel eyes take on a pitiful look of despair and shame.
You take another picture.
Mrs. Cross grabs your dick with both hands. Her mouth opens wide as she tilts her head back. The hazel eyes look a little less sad and more desperate. There is an urgency in her face that makes you cock throb.
You take the picture.
Mrs. Cross takes you back into her mouth. This time she tilts her head so that her cheek is bulging from the head of your dick. Spit falls from her wet mouth. Her eyes are half-closed and drunk with pleasure.
You take the picture. “Now finish me, whore,” you say. “Make me come.”
To your surprise, Mrs. Cross takes your dick out of her mouth. “Come on my face,” she says. Her voice is confident with no trace of her faux desperation. “Please,” she amends.
You respond to the break in character. “I will,” you say softly. Then you drop your voice to a low growl and say “I’m going to paint your face with my jizz, whore.”
Mrs. Cross smiles and takes your cock back into her mouth. She strokes the base of your shaft while her mouth sucks. The tightness of her lips is amazing. Both cheeks cave in as she sucks.
“Oh fuck,” you growl. Mrs. Cross strokes your dick faster. Her tongue flicks your tip. You wait until the last moment and then push her head back. Your cock pops free of her mouth and she keeps stroking. She closes her lips and looks up at you with blissful eyes.
You bring the camera to your eyes. Right as you feel the ecstasy of ejaculation, you click the button. The light flashes as a load of seed takes flight. It lands high on her head and across her nose.
Mrs. Cross moans and keeps stroking. You rip the photograph from the slot as another load lands on her lips. The camera flashes as your Mrs. Cross smiles up at you. You eject the photo and snap another picture as your seed shoots into her open mouth.
The pleasure of your climax is overwhelming. You forget about the pictures as Mrs. Cross continues to jerk you off. One more load flies from your dick and lands on her chin. There is no more seed left to give.
“One more picture,” Mrs. Cross says.
You take it. True to your word, Mrs. Cross’ face is covered in your jizz. The smile she has is radiant.
“Mothman,” Mrs. Cross says.
You lower the camera. “Would you like a tissue, ma’am?” you ask.
“No thank you,” Mrs. Cross says. She lets go of your dick and stands up. Her face is shiny with come. She walks over to the desk and you admire the sight of her pale ass walking away in stocking-clad legs and high heels. When she reaches the desk, she turns around and leans against it with one hand on the vibrator.
“Bring me the pictures, please, and then you may go,” Mrs. Cross says.
“Yes ma’am,” you say. You push your limp dick into your pants and zip back up. Mrs. Cross watches silently as you walk around the room. You gather pictures, taking a moment to admire the beauty of each shot. There are quite a few that you wouldn’t mind taking back to your room.
“Here you go, ma’am,” you say.
“Thank you,” Mrs. Cross says. Your come is beginning to dry on her face. “That was perfect. I hope you get the chance to abuse me again.”
“I would be delighted, ma’am.” You say. “Have a good evening.”
Mrs. Cross smiles and you take your leave. As you close the door behind you, you hear the buzzing roar of the Von Madd Earthshaker coming to life. It looks like Mrs. Cross plans to continue your evening but your part in her activities has been completed.
> [[Return to your room for the night->page_303]]# I Take Pictures of the Whore Fucking Me
“Let’s see how good of a whore you really are,” you say. “Come fuck me on the bed.”
Mrs. Cross nods meekly but when she walks over to you, her posture is confident and aggressive. She plants her hands on your chest and pushes you back until you hit the bed. You go to unbutton your shirt, but Mrs. Cross stops you. She pushes again and you lay down on the bed.
You still have a hold of the camera. Mrs. Cross crawls onto the bed and you snap a quick picture. The film captures the greedy smile on her face, the hanging freckled breasts and the look of desire in her eyes.
Mrs. Cross crawls to your crotch and stops. She undoes your belt and pulls down your zipper. You lift your hips so she can pull your pants down but she reaches into your pants instead. She pulls your hard dick through the slit in your boxers and out of your pants. It appears that Mrs. Cross wants you fully dressed for this fucking.
You reach behind you and grab a few pillows. Piling them under your head, you elevate slightly to get a better view of Mrs. Cross. It also helps with taking more pictures.
Mrs. Cross looks at your cock. “It is so much bigger than my husband’s. I am not sure I can fit this inside me.”
“I’m sure you can, whore,” you say.
Mrs. Cross licks her lips and then rises to a kneeling position on the bed. She crawls forward until her pussy is above your dick. Juices drip from her wet sex onto your hard cock. She reaches down and grabs a hold of you. Her ass shifts towards you, down and then back.
Fuck, she is tight. It is a narrow sleeve around your cock. Maybe you are too big for her.
That doesn’t stop Mrs. Cross from slowly taking all of you inside her. She lays flat on top of you. Both of her freckled breasts flatten against your chest. Stocking-clad legs rub against the outside of your legs.
It is a terrible angle to take a picture but you give it a try. You hold the camera out to the side and do your best guess. The light flashes and the photograph rolls out the front.
Mrs. Cross snatches the picture with you inside her. She shakes the photograph and the film slowly develops. The shaking is felt on your dick by her tight pussy.
“Not bad,” Mrs. Cross says. She shows you the picture. It is a perfect shot of her ass on top of you.
“I do my best, whore,” you say. “Now fuck me.”
Your words have an immediate effect. Mrs. Cross moans and her eyes close. She clenches and the grip on your cock is incredible. The expression on her face changes from aggressive to submissive in a manner of seconds.
Mrs. Cross grinds on your cock. She shifts back and forth, rubbing her breasts against your chest. You have a closeup view of her face as she moans and gasps. Soft red hair brushes against your skin with every movement.
You reach for her ass and grab hold. Mrs. Cross cries out and grinds faster. Your fingers sink into her buttocks. They make excellent handles as the horny woman fucks you.
“That’s right, whore,” you whisper. “Fuck that fat dick.”
Mrs. Cross whimpers. She grinds a little harder. Her smooth pussy lips slide against your crotch.
You let go of her ass with one hand and grab the camera again. Your arm stretches out and you point the camera at your faces. Mrs. Cross turns towards the camera without being told. She points on an expression of shock and alarm. You click the button and the camera flashes.
As the photograph comes out, Mrs. Cross turns back to face you. She fucks you a little faster. Short gasps come from her open mouth.
She has the tightest pussy. You are impressed by the grip. It is amazing that she can fuck you as fast as she can. Every thrust impales her tight sex around your thick dick.
“I see why people pay for this pussy, whore,” you say. “Of course, I’m not going to pay for it. These pictures mean I can have your cunt whenever I want. Isn’t that right, whore?”
“Yes,” Mrs. Cross hisses. She suddenly rises up to a sitting position on your dick. Her hands press down on your stomach as her hips swivel. She does tight circles with her dick-stuffed pussy.
You bring the camera to your face and look through the viewer. Mrs. Cross is deep in lust. She stares right at the camera with her bright hazel eyes and open mouth. One hand goes to her breast and pinches the nipple.
Flash! You take the picture. Mrs. Cross changes her pose. She lets go of her nipple to rub her pussy. Her back arches as she looks up at the ceiling.
Flash! You take another picture. As soon as the photograph is spat from the camera. Mrs. Cross reaches for the vibrator. She turns on the Von Madd Earthshaker and presses it to her pussy and your cock.
You cry out. The vibrations are intense. You fight through the pleasure and snap another picture of Mrs. Cross. As soon as the light flashes, you toss the camera aside and grab her by the hips.
Mrs. Cross comes. Her lips tighten together as her eyes go wide. There is a tiny squeal from her lips that is drowned by the buzzing toy. She shudders and her pussy clenches to new levels of tightness around you.
“Fuck!” you yell. It is too much. Your dick explodes inside Mrs. Cross’ vibrating pussy. Seed flies along the length of your dick like a hundred bullets. You hold onto Mrs. Cross hips as you shake and writhe. Your back arches as you lift the woman into the air. You empty your semen inside of the older woman’s sex.
Mrs. Cross switches off the vibrator. She tosses it aside and then leans forward. Carefully, she crawls forward and your cock falls from her slick sex. Once you are out of her, Mrs. Cross rolls over onto the bed beside you.
You take a moment to stop shaking. It felt like you ejected a day’s worth of come. You wonder if you will ever climax again.
“That was perfect,” Mrs. Cross says. “I have never come that hard before.”
Responsibility pushes through the fog of pleasure you are in. This is not the time to rest. You have a job to do.
“Can I get you anything, ma’am?” you ask.
“Bring me all of the pictures,” Mrs. Cross says.
There is a slight numbness to your cock. You tuck your dick back into your pants and underwear. The pants around your crotch are soaked with pussy juices.
You slowly rise to a sitting position. The pictures are wherever you dropped them. You gather the pictures on the bed and then stand up to retrieve the pictures around the room. It is slow going on your unsteady legs, but at least you don’t fall.
“Thank you,” Mrs. Cross says as you hand the pictures to her. “You may go now. Thank you.” She places the vibrator back against her sex.
“Have a good evening, ma’am,” you say.
As you head out the door, you hear the vibrator buzz back to life.
> [[Return to your room for the night->page_303]]# I Fuck Mrs. Eaton’s Slick Pussy
You move between Mrs. Eaton’s legs. She still has a hold of your dick. Looking her in the eyes, you reach down and palm her bare pussy lips. She gasps as you press against her sex.
“I want this pussy,” you say with a firm voice.
“Oh lordy,” Mrs. Eaton says. The confidence on her face falters for a moment. There is a flush on her face that has nothing to do with the hot water.
“You’re in for a ride, Tammy,” Mrs. Letsinger says behind you.
“Then let’s do this,” Mrs. Eaton says, regaining a bit of her bravado. She lets go of your cock and pulls her legs out of the water. Turning on her bare ass, she stands up and walks over to one of the lounge chairs. She picks one that that has the back down so it forms a flat surface for someone to lay on.
“Well, come and get it, stud,” Mrs. Eaton says.
You climb out of the hot tub. After being in the hot tub for so long, it feels chilly to be out of it. Water drips from your body and forms puddles on the floor. As you approach the lounge chair, Mrs. Eaton points for you to lay down. You eagerly obey.
Mrs. Eaton climbs onto the lounge chair with you. The plastic creaks but the frame holds. The Milford Hotel takes care to only buy furniture than can be fucked on. Mrs. Eaton faces you and swings her legs over your hips. She takes your cock in hand and rubs the head against her pussy lips.
“You better hold on stud,” Mrs. Eaton says. “I don’t want you coming too fast. You better give me at least two more orgasms first.”
“Yes, ma’am,” you say.
Mrs. Eaton sinks down onto your dick. You slip inside her tight wet pussy. She sits up on your cock, moving her legs so she can straddle the chair and plant her feet on the ground. As soon as she is stable, Mrs. Eaton’s hips dance with surprising speed.
You cry out. Circular complex motions grind your dick into Mrs. Eaton’s pussy. She moves like a belly-dancer. You weren’t expecting these kinds of moves from someone of her age and size. It is a delightful surprise.
“I’m going to break you in two, stud,” Mrs. Eaton says with a wicked gleam.
You moan with helpless pleasure.
“We have to pay extra if you break them,” Mrs. Letsinger joked. She climbs out of the hot tub and walks over to the two of you. The busty woman kneels down by your head and looks down at you. Her wet breasts hang over you like twin shiny moons.
“I’ll just break him a little bit,” Mrs. Eaton says. She gives you a wink that might be playful if it wasn’t for the fact that her hips were swiveling faster and faster.
“Pinch her nipples,” Mrs. Letsinger says to you. “That will slow her down.”
It is worth a try. You reach up with both hands and cup Mrs. Eaton’s plump breasts. Her nipples are small, but you trap them between her fingers. You squeeze her tits while also closing your fingers around her nipples.
“Oh!” Mrs. Eaton cries. She does slow down. The hot pussy is still wet and tight around your cock but at least the intricate movements of her pelvis become something you can handle.
“Now pull on her tits,” Mrs. Letsinger says.
You tug gently on Mrs. Eaton’s breasts. The effect is immediate. Mrs. Eaton shudders and her pussy spasms around you. A long low moan comes from her mouth. She shudders again and smiles.
“Oh fuck, I just came on this horse dick,” Mrs. Eaton says. She resumes fucking your trapped cock.
“That’s one,” Mrs. Letsinger says. She leans down closer. Her breasts press against the side of your face. It is tempting to turn your head and suck on a nipple, but you feel that might be rude to the woman fucking your dick. You promise yourself to check the employee manual for the answer to this etiquette question.
Mrs. Eaton grinds with increasing speed. Pulling on her breasts isn’t enough to slow her down anymore. You need to do something else or she is going to make you pop too soon.
“Slap her breasts,” Mrs. Letsinger says. “Lightly. We don’t want to explain to Jerry why his wife has bruised tits.”
“Ha! Like I don’t know what we gets up to on those camping trips with the guys!” Mrs. Eaton says.
You let go of Mrs. Eaton’s breasts. They jiggle and bounce as she moves, presenting constantly moving targets. You take a moment to aim, and then bring your hand across in a glancing blow to the side of her breasts.
“Oh fuck,” Mrs. Eaton gasps. She shudders while impaled on your dick.
You slap her breasts again. As Mrs. Eaton cries out, you backhand her tits with the same hand. Back and forth you slap; forcing her plump mountains to slam against one another.
Mrs. Eaton closes her eyes and comes to a stop on your cock. She clenches tightly and her shoulders hunch up. The clenching around your pussy is rapid and frantic.
“That’s two,” Mrs. Letsinger says. She strokes your hair while her breasts press against your cheek. “You can come now.”
“He won’t have a choice,” Mrs. Eaton says. She braces her hands on your chest and goes to work fucking your dick. The swiveling of her hips before is nothing compared to the intricate patterns she is dancing now.
You come almost instantly. Pleasure shoots through your body. You shout and Mrs. Letsinger digs her fingernails into your scalp. Mrs. Eaton stops grinding, but her pussy clenches tightly around your spurting dick.
“Fuck,” you gasp. Your cock keeps coming, filling Mrs. Eaton’s slick pussy with your seed. It feels like it lasts forever.
“Good work, stud,” Mrs. Eaton says. She climbs off your dick and stretches her back. Seed drips from her drenched pussy.
You lay there, too exhausted to move.
“I need a drink,” Mrs. Letsinger says. “You want another one, Tammy?”
“I wouldn’t turn one or two down,” Mrs. Eaton says. She walks over to the hot tub and picks up her drink from earlier. You are amazed she can walk straight after the fucking she gave you.
“I guess we’re done with you, stud,” Mrs. Letsinger says. “You should go home now before Tammy decides she wants another helping of that sausage.”
“Nah, I don’t think he would survive,” Mrs. Eaton says. Still holding onto her drink, she climbs into the hot tub.
You are inclined to agree. The area around your crotch feels numb. It is an effort to sit up but you force yourself to. As Mrs. Letsinger calls room service, you return to your clothes and get dressed.
Mrs. Eaton comes to the edge of the hot tub nearest you. There is a smug grin on her face. She takes another sip and studies you.
“Oh yeah, you better go now, stud,” Mrs. Eaton says. “You hanging around is just giving me all sorts of tempting ideas.”
“Run, kid,” Mrs. Letsinger says.
You take her advice and hurry out the door.
> [[Return to your room for the night->page_303]]# I Fill Mrs. Eaton’s Tight Ass
You smile as you look down at Mrs. Eaton. She keeps her hand around your cock. You bend over and place your hands around her, grabbing her ass. She moans as you squeeze her round bottom.
“I want to fuck this cute ass of yours.”
“Damn right you do,” Mrs. Eaton says. There is an excited gleam in her eyes that reminds you of Christmas. She lets go of your dick and gently pushes you back so she can get out of the hot tub.
“I’ll get the lube,” Mrs. Letsinger says. “You’re going to need all of it for that horse dick, Tammy.”
“I’ll get mine too,” Mrs. Eaton says. “Lube his dick up while I get my ass ready.”
Mrs. Letsinger stands up from the water and climbs out of the hot tub. Mrs. Eaton walks over to her purse sitting on one of the lounge chairs. Mrs. Letsinger opens one of the courtesy cabinets and takes out a bottle of lube.
You climb out of the hot tub. The air feels cold on your body after the heat of the hot tub. Luckily, the sight of two bare-assed women keeps you warm and hard.
“Looks like I get to play with your sausage some more,” Mrs. Letsinger says.
“Don’t play with it too much, Lori!” Mrs. Eaton yells.
“I won’t!” Mrs. Letsinger giggles. She works the squirt top to the bottle and applies a generous amount to her hands. You walk over to her as she rubs her hands together. When you get close enough, she grabs your dick with both hands. The lube is warm and slippery on your skin.
“Damn, I am tempted to take another ride on it,” Mrs. Letsinger says.
“You better not!” Mrs. Eaton says. “Get his sausage over here before you waste it!”
“Fine,” Mrs. Letsinger teases. She holds onto your dick and pulls you over to Mrs. Eaton. The lube makes her hand nearly slip off, but she keeps a tight grip. You happily follow her.
Mrs. Eaton is on the air mattress. She is on her hands and knees, with one shiny hand on her crack. Her fingers are busy working the lube into her asshole. She already has a finger slipping in and out of her tiny hole.
“I’ll take over,” Mrs. Letsinger says. She kneels beside her friend. “Hold her cheeks apart, stud.”
You get down on your knees and spread Mrs. Eaton’s buttocks. Mrs. Letsinger presses her slippery fingers against Mrs. Eaton’s asshole. She does a thorough job of lubing her friend’s ass. It is obvious how much experience she has doing this.
Mrs. Eaton lowers her arms and her head goes down to the air mattress. She keeps her ass up in the air like an offering. Your cock pulses just to look at it.
“She’s ready,” Mrs. Letsinger says. She steps back from her friend’s ass.
You take her place and get on your knees behind Mrs. Eaton. Her asshole is a glistening target. You guide the tip of your dick to the pucker of her hole. The brown ring easily expands as you apply pressure. A gentle push and the head of your dick slides in.
“Lordy!” Mrs. Eaton says. “He might be too big!”
Mrs. Letsinger rolls her eyes. She silently shakes her head to you. “Quit being dramatic and take your ass fucking, Tammy.”
You keep pushing. Inch by inch, the length of your dick sinks into Mrs. Eaton’s ass. It is a tight fit that only gets tighter the deeper you push. You eventually get all of your cock inside of her and your balls rest against her pussy.
“Goddddddddamn,” Mrs. Eaton groans.
Mrs. Letsinger moves to your side. Her hand goes to your ass. She gives you a little squeeze.
“Go slow,” she whispers.
You hold onto Mrs. Eaton’s hips and do as Mrs. Letsinger says. Your hard cock slowly slides back from the tight ass. When you are almost out, Mrs. Letsinger pushes with her hand on your ass. You follow her lead and sink slowly back into Mrs. Eaton’s ass. After a few strokes, you learn the rhythm on your own and no longer need Mrs. Letsinger’s help. She still leaves her hand on your ass though.
Mrs. Eaton moans. She can no longer form the words for taunts and orders. Every thrust of your dick up her ass makes her moan louder. She reaches between her legs with one hand and fingers her pussy. The wet sound of her pussy getting stroked makes her cock throb inside her tight asshole.
“Keep it slow,” Mrs. Letsinger whispers. She leans in close and sucks your earlobe in her mouth. You feel her plump breasts pressing into your arm and side.
The ear-sucking and the ass-fucking are not helping, but you maintain the slow pace. Mrs. Eaton groans louder and her fingers thrust deeper into her sex. Mrs. Letsinger rubs her tits on your arm while she sucks your ear. Both women grind against you while you keep pumping your hips like a machine. The minutes go by in a tight wet haze.
Mrs. Eaton cries out. Her buttocks quiver in front of you. She grinds her face into the air mattress. The tight asshole clamps around your dick.
“She just came,” Mrs. Letsinger whispers. “Now fuck her as hard as you can.”
You can’t hold back any longer. Sinking your fingers into Mrs. Eaton’s buttocks, your hips pick up speed. You ram your cock harder and faster into the slippery asshole. Your balls bounce against her soaking wet pussy.
“Fuck!” Mrs. Eaton cries out.
Mrs. Letsinger releases your earlobe from her lips. One hand goes to your ass while the other hand flattens against your chest.
“Come,” Mrs. Letsinger whispers. “Come deep in her ass.”
You come in the next stroke. It is a tight squeeze as your come travels up your clenched cock and into Mrs. Eaton’s ass. Hot come splashes back on your dick but you keep pumping multiple loads inside of her.
Mrs. Eaton screams. Mrs. Letsinger jumps and then laughs. You keep going, pounding that round ass until there is no more seed left to pop.
“Stop, fuck, please,” Mrs. Eaton says.
You stop instantly. Mrs. Eaton’s ass quivers around you. Mrs. Letsinger pushes gently on your chest and you pull back. Your dirty cock pops out of Mrs. Eaton’s ass. A stream of seed spills from her gaping asshole.
“Stay there,” Mrs. Letsinger says. You think she is talking to both of you. She gets up and grabs two towels by the hot tub. One towel wraps around your dick while the other is for Mrs. Eaton’s ass.
“Thank you,” you say as you clean your cock. “That should have been my job.”
“Like you could move,” Mrs. Letsinger laughs.
Mrs. Eaton rolls over onto her side, still clutching the towel to her ass. “Lori is always a helper,” she says. “Which is why I always invite her for holiday dinners. She’s the only one who helps clean up.”
“Give me a moment and I will help too,” you say.
They both laugh. “You’re done, stud,” Mrs. Eaton says. “My ass ain’t doing anything for the next week. Except maybe get back in that hot tub and drink more Peach Bellinis.”
“Mmm, I could do with another margarita,” Mrs. Letsinger says. “I’ll go order some.”
Mrs. Letsinger walks over to the phone while Mrs. Eaton slowly walks over to the hot tub. You have apparently been dismissed for the night. After cleaning your dick with the towel, you get up and put on your clothes. You are still a little wet from the hot tub, but too tired to care.
When you are fully dressed, Mrs. Letsinger is still on the phone with room service. Mrs. Eaton has her eyes closed in the hot tub. Neither of them notices as you walk out the door.
> [[Return to your room for the night->page_303]]# Return to Your Room for the Night
The door unlocks with the first swipe of your keycard. You are so surprised by this that you try to scan your card again. The lock stays open and you realize what you have done.
It has been a long night.
You open the door and walk in. It is dark and you flip on the lights. A soft glow descends on the room from the overhead light. The portrait of Phryne Milford gives you a welcoming smile. There is a fresh scent in the air from the fruit basket on your desk.
A fruit basket? Did someone deliver this to the wrong room? You leave your shoes on in case you need to make a delivery. The basket contains an orange, an apple, a bowl of strawberries and a handful of blueberries.
There is a card addressed to you. Inside is familiar handwriting.
*Gregory,*
*Congratulations on your first day as an Attendant. Please enjoy this fruit basket as a sweet treat for your efforts. If you need something sweeter, then stop by my office tonight for a special dessert. I will be working until late.*
*However, considering how hard and long you worked today, I would understand if you wish to delay your visit until later this week. I can easily set aside time for your dessert.*
*Fondly,*
*Andrea Winterslick*
Holy shit. Mrs. Winterslick just invited you to her room! Is this some kind of prank? No, you recognize that elegant handwriting. This is real. The beautiful older woman is offering you dessert in her room, and by dessert, you have no doubt that she is referring to herself.
You take a deep breath and let it out. First things first, you need to file a report on your last assignment. You set the card aside and turn on your laptop. As the computer boots up, you try to ignore the card and replay the events of your recent encounter.
It is hard to focus. You keep picturing Mrs. Winterslick in her office. Is she still dressed? Or is she waiting for you naked? You ate her pussy during your interview, but you didn’t get to touch the rest of her body and she barely touched you. How nice would it it be to sink your cock into her and have her call your name?
Your cock doesn’t respond. It is still trying to recover from your previous orgasm, as well as the one before that and the one before that. It has been a busy day.
The login screen appears for the Milford Hotel staff. You enter your username and password. Working diligently, you enter the details of your last adventure. You take your time, making sure not to leave anything out. In the future, these notes might mean the difference between a good experience or a bad one when the guest returns.
You finish your report and turn off the laptop. Recounting your assignment has brought your dick to a semi-solid state. Maybe there is some life left in you after all. Do you have enough energy to give it one more fuck? That is a tough one. It might be better to wait until you are well rested. Then again, fucking Mrs. Winterslick might be the perfect end to an already unforgettable day.
“What do you think, Mrs. Milford?” you ask out loud.
The portrait of Phryne Milford is quiet. Her smile is hard to read. She can’t help you. This is something you must decide.
**How will you finish this day?**
> [[I will go to Mrs. Winterslick’s office->page_307]]
> [[I will go straight to bed and take a raincheck on Mrs. Winterslick’s offer->page_312]]# I Will Go to Mrs. Winterslick’s Office
Why the fuck not? You have fucked your brains out today, but you think you got one more fuck in you. Besides, when it comes to banging the gorgeous Mrs. Winterslick, why wait a single moment much less the rest of the week? You want to get balls deep in that sexy woman right now.
But first, you need to take a shower. It is hotel procedure after all. You can’t finally get a chance to fuck Mrs. Winterslick and show up at her office smelling of sex and other women. The portrait of Mrs. Phryne Milford agrees with your decision and gives you an encouraging smile.
You quickly strip off your clothes and jump in the shower. The hot water washes away the lingering dirt and scents of your last encounter. You wash quickly but thoroughly, taking extra care to make sure your cock is as pristine as a mountain creek. On a night like this, you don’t want to take any chances.
After your shower, you feel greatly refreshed. The idea of fucking for the fourth time today doesn’t seem so hard now. You dry off as fast as you can and brush your teeth. Once that is taken care of, you go back to your room and get dressed once more.
“Do I look good, Mrs. Milford?” you ask out loud.
The portrait of Mrs. Milford smiles her approval.
You leave your room and walk towards Mrs. Winterslick’s office. There are a lot of people still walking around. The Milford Hotel is rarely quiet at night. You pass by several guests who have contented smiles and other guests with eager looks in their eyes. The coworkers you encounter have similar expressions, although the women you encounter have a tendency to smirk when they see you.
A sensual excitement hangs in the air as people go to and from their erotic rendezvous.
The door to Mrs. Winterslick’s office is slightly open. You hesitate. Is she in? Or is someone visiting? You feel a smidge of doubt and suppress it. She invited you here. You are expected.
“Mrs. Winterslick?” you ask, knocking on the door as you open it.
The desk is empty. Your heart sinks until you spot Mrs. Winterslick sitting on the couch to the side. The business attire from earlier is gone and in its place is a green lace bra. A laptop sits on her knees, but your eyes are drawn to the large breasts barely held by the bra. The pale breasts strain against the lace.
“Come on, Mr. Gregory,” Mrs. Winterslick says. “Close the door behind you and come sit on the couch.”
You nod silently and close the door behind you. It is hard to speak. Thinking about fucking Mrs. Winterslick is one thing, but seeing her dressed like this is another. The situation is very real and a bit intimidating.
As you approach the couch, Mrs. Winterslick stops you by lifting one leg to bare your way.
“Strip before you sit down,” Mrs. Winterslick says.
Once more, you are taking off your clothes. You start with your jacket, intending to put on your best show of the day, but to your surprise, Mrs. Winterslick isn’t watching. She is still typing on her laptop. Reflected numbers scroll across her large round glasses as you take off your clothes.
You don’t let that stop you. If anything, you feel free to act quicker. You strip off your clothes in record time and set them down on one of the chairs facing the desk. Naked, you take your place on the couch beside Mrs. Winterslick.
The leather is cold against your skin. That doesn’t stop your cock from pulsing between your legs. You sit there quietly, not wishing to disturb Mrs. Winterslick.
After several slow minutes, Mrs. Winterslick turns off her laptop and sits it on a nearby table. She turns on the couch towards you and folds her legs under herself. The lamp behind her turns her golden hair into a halo. Dark red lips smile at you with surprising warmth.
Mrs. Winterslick places a hand on your naked thigh. The smile grows wider as if holding back a laugh. Blue eyes study you from behind large lenses.
“Did you enjoy your first day?” she asks.
“Yes, Mrs. Winterslick,” you say. Your cock throbs. Neither you nor Mrs. Winterslick calls attention to it.
“I read your reports, you were very thorough,” Mrs. Winterslick says. Her hand moves up higher on your thigh.
“Thank you, ma’am,” you say. “I know how important they are.”
“They are,” Mrs. Winterslick says. “I am especially impressed considering what a busy day you had. Three shifts are quite a drain, don’t you think?”
Her hand moves up your thigh, just shy of your hard dick.
“It wasn’t so bad, ma’am,” you say.
“I’m glad to hear you say that,” Mrs. Winterslick says. “Having an Attendant work three shifts on their first day is a tradition that dates back to the first days of the Milford Hotel. It was felt that a heavy workload would weed out the weaker employees. I have thought about doing away with the custom, but there is a final bit of the custom that I do appreciate.
Mrs. Winterslick’s hand moves from your thigh to your cock. She wraps her fingers around your hard shaft. There is a gentle squeeze followed by a slow stroke up and down your length.
“And what final part is that, ma’am?” you ask. You try to keep your voice steady but there is a slight gasp between each word.
“After fucking three women, the newly hired Attendant is rewarded with a generous coupling from his supervisor,” Mrs. Winterslick says.
Before you could respond, Mrs. Winterslick leans over and kisses you. You return the kiss, feeling bold enough to place a hand on a lace-covered breast. She groans into your mouth and strokes your dick harder.
The two of you make out on your boss’ couch. Mrs. Winterslick’s mouth tastes like chocolate mint. You squeeze and knead her plentiful tit while her hand continues to pump your cock. Your tongues wrestle together, fighting to devour each other.
Mrs. Winterslick breaks the kiss, then kisses your lips once more before leaning back. “You are going to fuck me, Mr. Gregory,” she says.
“Yes,” you groan. You still have a grip on her breast.
“But are you going to fuck me on this couch, or are you going to bend me over my own desk?” Mrs. Winterslick asks.
It is a good question.
**Which desire will you indulge?**
> [[I fuck Mrs. Winterslick on this comfortable couch->page_317]]
> [[I bend Mrs. Winterslick over her desk and fuck her->page_322]]# I Will Go Straight to Bed and Take a Raincheck on Mrs. Winterslick’s Offer
The thought of fucking Mrs. Winterslick is a dream come true, but your dick is as limp as an Eastern Ribbonsnake. You poke your crotch. The flaccid member doesn’t move. It just isn’t happening tonight.
“It is just you and me tonight, Mrs. Milford,” you say.
The portrait of Phryne Milford smiles warmly at you. She doesn’t say anything, but you get the feeling she approves of your decision. Attendants need to know their limitations.
You consider taking a shower and laugh out loud. That feels like too much work. You unbutton your shirt and undo your pants while sitting down. When it comes time to pull down your pants, you reluctantly stand up and do so. Maybe you should change your underwear but you decide against it. The act of undressing has tapped the last of your reserves.
Some chores must still be done. You force yourself to the bathroom and do your routine. Your teeth brushed, flossed and rinsed, you return to the bedroom and head straight to bed. You had planned to browse the internet on your phone, but as soon as you get under the covers, that plan goes out the window. It is impossible to keep your eyes open for one more second.
You turn the light off and snuggle into your pillow. The women you met today flash before your eyes. You remember their bodies, the sounds they made and how hard they made you come. Despite their exhausted state, your cock makes a half-hearted attempt to get hard. The memories blend into one another as you drift off to sleep.
A gentle kiss on your balls brings your dick to life. Soft hair brushes against your thigh. Warm breath caresses the head of your cock before the lick of a wet tongue.
You are in your bed and on your back. The sheets have been pulled back and your boxers are missing. It is dark but you can feel the bed shift from the weight of another person between your legs. You lift your head and look at your crotch.
There is a soft glow in the darkness, like a dim bulb underneath a thick lampshade. You can just make out the outline of a woman. Short dark hair is cut into a chin-length bob that tapers to sharp points. A birthmark shines like a black star on her right cheek. Strange eyes look up at you while full lips smile knowingly at you.
It is Phryne Milford. You would recognize her anywhere. The founder of the Milford Hotel, who passed away in 1968, is alive and well in your bed. That is who is kissing your dick.
You rest your head back down on your pillow. It’s a dream. You feel relieved. It is nothing to worry about.
Phryne takes your dick into her mouth. She sucks your barely-rigid member into her lips like she is slurping a noddle. A nimble tongue lashes your sensitive flesh with unearthly passion.
You moan. A new life surges through your cock. You harden in Phryne’s mouth and your hips thrust upwards. Your dick pushes deep into her throat with ease.
“Oh Phryne,” you groan.
A hand goes to your chest. There is a reproachful tap of her finger.
“Oh yes, sorry, Mrs. Milford,” you say. The Attendant Manual is quite clear on the use of surnames unless requested otherwise.
Mrs. Milford accepts your apology. Her hand moves up higher and she presses her palms against your nipple. She moves her head, bobbing slowly on your dick while her mouth sucks. Pert breasts brush your thighs with every rise and fall of her head.
You lay there and enjoy Mrs. Milford’s attention. The details of this dream are amazing. Not only can you feel the suction of her lips, but you also feel every lavish lick of her talented tongue. The bed creaks and you smell an exotic perfume in the air. Mrs. Milford runs her hand back and forth against your chest and you notice how the nail on her pinky finger is shorter than the others. It is a remarkably vivid dream.
Mrs. Milford takes your dick from her mouth. She affectionately presses your slick member to her cheek. The silky hair feels wonderful on your skin. Her eyes look up at you and she smiles.
There is warmth in those eyes, but also a playful smolder of mischief. She rubs her face against your cock as if you were a beloved pet.
“You’re so pretty, Mrs. Milford,” you say.
She nods, because this is true.
A moment later, Mrs. Milford lets go of your dick and crawls up your body. Once more, you are impressed with how detailed this dream is. You are aware of her hard nipples as she slides her breasts across your skin. When she grips her shoulders, you feel nails digging into you. Smooth pussy lips drips onto your cock. When Mrs. Milford’s face is above yours, you can smell the sharp bite of moonshine.
Mrs. Milford smiles at you. There is a slight chip in her tooth. She reaches down and grabs your dick. You cry out as she squeezes and then cry out again as she slides her pussy onto your member.
“Oh fuck,” you moan. Mrs. Milford takes your cock insider her. She lets out a small gasp as you hit bottom. Her body is flat against you, squashing her lovely breasts between the two of you. She nips you bottom lip with her teeth and begins to fuck you.
It is amazing. She is tight, wet, hot, slippery, clenching, and other words you can’t think of while dreaming. Her pussy moves in divine ways. She moves with a slow sensuality that feels calculated and wise. This is not just a sexy woman; this is a wise lady granting you the pleasures of your vast experience.
You relish the sensations. Mrs. Milford lets your lip slip from her teeth as she groans. You reach around and grab her ass. She moans as you squeeze her firm buttocks. Her body grinds with cat-like grace as she fucks you.
It is incredible. Wet heat impales itself on your cock. Mrs. Milford’s soft body is a writhing blanket on your naked body. The perfect ass was crafted to fit in your hand. The soft moans from her lips is the loveliest music.
You have had your dick examined, licked, groped and fucked all day but it seems like it was all a prelude to what you are experiencing now. All of your ejaculations were to keep you from coming too soon once you were inside Mrs. Milford’s talented sex. The services you provided and the roles you played were just foreplay for the primal bliss you are enjoying deep inside Mrs. Milford.
No ecstasy lasts forever and it is true now. You come. Mrs. Milford cries out as the first eruption of seed fills her pussy. She clenches around your dick; her nails dig into your shoulders and her mouth trembles before your eyes as she climaxes as well. The two of you continue to come within each other’s arms.
And then you wake up. The blanket is back on top of you. Your boxers are around your hips. There is a wet spot on the pillow from your drool.
It is still dark. You reach down and push your hand into your underwear. Oh! There is an unmistakable sensitivity to your cock that comes from orgasm. The wet dream was so hot, you must have come in your sleep.
But where is the semen? Your dick and boxers are surprisingly dry. If you came, and you pretty sure that you did, then where is your come?
You ponder this question in the darkness. Could you have imagined your orgasm despite no wet mess to show for it? Weird sex dreams that end in non-evidence climaxes might be common when you work at a sexy hotel. It might even be in your employee manual. You’ll have to check in the morning, and maybe ask some of your fellow Attendants.
Or maybe, you will just ask the smiling portrait of Phryne Milford.
[align center]
**The End**# I Fuck Mrs. Winterslick on This Comfortable Couch
“Here,” you say. “I want to fuck you right here and right now.”
Mrs. Winterslick growls like a cat. She lets go of your dick and grabs your head with both hands. Falling back, she pulls you down on top of her on the couch.
You go facedown into Mrs. Winterslick’s breasts. That works for you. Your mouth opens wide and you bite down on her bra-covered breasts. The green lace is a flimsy barrier for your teeth and tongue. Too impatient to undress her, you bite and suck on her tits through the lace.
“Oh, Mr. Gregory!” Mrs. Winterslick cries out. Her legs stretch out on the couch and wiggle under you. She holds onto your head and pulls you from one breast and onto the other. As you bite down on her offered tit, she squirms delightfully under you.
Damp hairs tickle your stomach. It is Mrs. Winterslick’s hairy pussy. You reach between her thighs and press your fingers to her sex. A single push and two of your fingers slip inside her. Soaking wet heat grips your fingers.
“Ohhh,” Mrs. Winterslick groans. “Tease me with your fingers.”
You grunt into her breast and do just that. Your fingers sink deep inside of Mrs. Winterslick and then you slowly rotate them. At the same time, you continue to bite and chew on her lace-covered tits. Your teeth pull while your fingers slowly thrust.
Each stroke of Mrs. Winterslick’s pussy causes her to arch her back. She lets go of your head and reaches for a clasp between her breasts. The bra cups pop free and she pulls them to the side. Now her gorgeous tits are yours for the taking.
You dive back down on them. Naked skin tastes so much better than silky lace. You suck her breast into your mouth while your tongue flicks a nipple. The excitement of her bare flesh obliterates your plan to tease. You plunge your fingers in and out of Mrs. Winterslick as a proxy for your own desire.
“You’re going to make me come, Mr. Gregory,” Mrs. Winterslick says. “I have been teasing myself all day waiting for you. A few strokes here, a little time with a vibrator there and now you are giving me what I crave.”
The thought of Mrs. Winterslick masturbating makes you groan into her breast. You thrust harder into her slippery sex. Your own cock pulses against her thigh, impatient for its turn.
“There, there, YES!” Mrs. Winterslick cries out. She grabs the back of your head and crushes you to her tit. Powerful spasms grip your fingers. She raises her head and slams it back down onto the couch. A gush of juices soaks your fingers.
When the clenching of her pussy subsides, you pull your fingers out of Mrs. Winterslick. You let her breast fall from your lips and push your fingers into your mouth. The tangy taste of her pussy is delicious and you suck every drop.
Mrs. Winterslick looks up at you with hungry eyes. “Fuck me, Mr. Gregory. Right now.”
“Yes, ma’am,” you say. You guide your dick to Mrs. Winterslick’s hairy bush. The head of your dick parts her pussy lips and sinks in. You push all of your length into her slippery sheath.
Mrs. Winterslick wraps her legs around your hips. You feel her feet lock together. Bright blue eyes look up at you from under her large round glasses. There is a gentle flaring of her nostrils as she pants beneath you.
You brace yourself and fuck her. New reservoirs of strength power your hips. It doesn’t matter how many women you fucked today; you are now inside Mrs. Winterslick’s lovely pussy. You fuck her with the fury and urgency of a virgin in the backseat of a car.
“Fuck!” Mrs. Winterslick cries out. The rapid pounding causes her breasts to jiggle wildly. She closes her eyes and bites her bottom lip. The large glasses shake with every hard thrust of your hips. The lamp on the side table rocks as the couch bumps against it.
“Tell me when you’re about to come,” Mrs. Winterslick says. “I want to taste you. Every drop is going down my throat.”
“Yes,” you groan.
Mrs. Winterslick digs her nails into your back. Her legs clench tighter around you. She grinds her pelvis against yours. As hard as you are fucking her, she is meeting you stroke for stroke, thrust for thrust and groan for groan.
There is an ache in your cock. You push through the pain and keep fucking. Your dick isn’t used to this much use, but you can’t stop now. That would mean admitting that you couldn’t fuck the gorgeous Mrs. Winterslick after all. You refuse to accept that.
You ignore the discomfort and focus on Mrs. Winterslick’s wet pussy.
You ignore the soreness of your thighs and stare at Mrs. Winterslick’s bouncing tits and hard nipples.
You ignore the exhaustion in your knees and listen to the increasing gasps of Mrs. Winterslick’s mouth.
In time, you feel the familiar surge. “I’m almost there,” you gasp.
Mrs. Winterslick pushes on your chest. You pull out of her and rise to your knees. Quick as lightning, Mrs. Winterslick sits up, turns her body and leans down to take your dick into her mouth. She grips your pussy-soaked cock and strokes as fast as she can. Her mouth sucks with amazing force.
You come in Mrs. Winterslick’s’ mouth. It actually hurts as your body forces out one more load of semen, but the pain quickly turns to bliss. Pleasure flows through your body as you unload into her mouth. She moans and her throat bobs as she swallows all that you offer.
When you are done, Mrs. Winterslick lets go of your dick. Your tender shaft falls from her lips. You try to rise but end up flopping back on your ass.
“Mmmm,” Mrs. Winterslick says. “Delicious. There is nothing tastier than a young man’s come after a long hard day.”
You groan in response.
“Ah, you look exhausted, Mr. Gregory,” Mrs. Winterslick says, rising from the couch. “Here, lay down and stretch out.”
You do as she suggests and lay down. There is a wet spot under your legs but you don’t care. The soft couch feels so nice.
Mrs. Winterslick throws a blanket over you. Where did she get it? It feels thick and warm. She grabs a pillow and tucks it under your head.
“You can sleep here tonight,” Mrs. Winterslick says. “There is no need to go back to your room. You have tomorrow off so sleep in. If you are up for it, I might bring you breakfast.”
Is that innuendo? You are not sure how you feel about that. Your dick might not survive but on the other hand, what a way to go.
“Goodnight, Mr. Gregory,” Mrs. Winterslick says. She kisses the top of your head and then stands up. You watch her get dressed, but fall asleep before she finishes.
[align center]
**The End**# I Bend Mrs. Winterslick Over Her Desk and Fuck Her
“Go bend over your desk,” you say. “Uh, please, ma’am,”
Mrs. Winterslick laughs. It is a husky, mature laugh that makes your dick pulse in her hand. “How can I refuse such a polite request?”
She lets go of your cock and stands up. Wow, how did you not notice that she isn’t wearing any panties? She walks slowly to her desk; her hips swinging with her natural feminine grace. Her ass is larger than you expected and you admire their perfect roundness.
Halfway there, Mrs. Winterslick pauses. She unclasps something on the front of her bra and then shrugs it off. The green bra falls to the floor and she continues on her way.
Mrs. Winterslick stops short of her desk. There is a space in front already cleared out. Did she prepare for this? You suspect so. She bends over at the waist and rests her elbows on the table. Her fit ass sways back and forth in invitation.
You get up from the couch and approach Mrs. Winterslick from behind. Her lovely ass is irresistible. You palm a buttock and squeeze. The skin is warm to the touch.
“Mmmm,” Mrs. Winterslick says. “Feel free to take a bite first.”
“Yes, ma’am,” you say. That is an offer you cannot pass up. You squat down behind Mrs. Winterslick and she parts her legs. The slick hair of her wet bush tempts you, but you keep your eyes on her ass. Still keeping one hand on her right buttock, you lean in and bite her left cheek.
“Oh!” Mrs. Winterslick says. Both cheeks clench together from your bite.
The ass cheek tastes like peppermint. Did Mrs. Winterslick spritz her ass before you came in? You are impressed by her foresight. Maybe you should do the same with your skin before attending guests. It is something to think about.
But you will think about it later. You turn your head and bite gently on Mrs. Winterslick’s other buttock. The older woman jumps and her ass clenches again. You quickly nip another part of her ass and then another.
“Oh, Gregory,” Mrs. Winterslick moans. She wiggles her ass between bites. The sight of her clenching bottom only encourages you to bite harder. Before long, her plentiful ass is covered in faint pink bite marks.
Your cock is a heavy weight between your legs. It aches to get involved. You stand up and Mrs. Winterslick lets out an excited squeak. Taking your dick in hand, you press the head against her slick lips.
“Don’t tease me anymore, Mr. Gregory,” Mrs. Winterslick moans. “Fuck me!”
You slide into Mrs. Winterslick. The two of you cry out together as your bodies merge. The wet vise of her pussy is tight around the thick length of your shaft. Both of you pause as you relish the sensation.
“Stand right there,” Mrs. Winterslick says. She grinds her ass up and down with your dick trapped inside her sex. Muscles clench and flex along her legs and buttocks. She humps herself on your cock with sensual ease.
You stand there in amazement. Mrs. Winterslick’s back undulates as she moves. Up and down, up and down, up and down her ass moves. Your dick is pulled and tugged as she works herself. It would be so easy to just stand here and take it.
But you can’t resist that lovely ass. You put your hands back on Mrs. Winterslick’s buttocks and squeeze. The clenching around your cock tightens. You spread her cheeks apart to reveal the tight pink ring of her asshole. It is a tempting target. Should you press a thumb against it?
Mrs. Winterslick shudders. The tightness around your dick intensifies. The smooth rhythm of her hips breaks down as she clenches and moans.
You take over. Letting go of Mrs. Winterslick’s ass, you shift your grip to her hips. You brace yourself and fuck her back. Short, quick strokes pound her slick sex.
“Fuck!” Mrs. Winterslick cries out. “Yes, yes, yes!”
You keep fucking Mrs. Winterslick. She goes limp on the desk as you ram her from behind. There is a clapping sound and you realize it comes from her swinging breasts bouncing together. The collision of your pelvis against her ass grows louder as well. You catch yourself shifting your thrusts so the two sounds sync up.
“Yes, yes, FUCK!” Mrs. Winterslick cries. She rises on her hands and tosses her head back. Golden hair streaked with silver swings back in an arc. The tight pussy quakes around your dick.
You just made your boss come. A surge of pride sweeps through you. The adrenaline powers your hips as you fuck Mrs. Winterslick with renewed fury. Your cock is a rocket straining to blast into the deepest reaches of her pussy.
“Don’t come in my pussy,” Mrs. Winterslick says. “Come in my mouth. I want to swallow it all.”
“Yes, ma’am,” you groan.
Your dick is sore. It has taken a beating all day and now you are beating Mrs. Winterslick’s pussy with it. It hurts, but it is a glorious kind of pain. You wouldn’t dream of stopping now.
You can’t stop fucking while Mrs. Winterslick moans in pleasure.
You can’t stop fucking while Mrs. Winterslick’s ass clenches right in front of you.
You can’t stop fucking Mrs. Winterslick’s gushing wet pussy.
Finally, you feel an increasing pressure. “I’m going to come,” you gasp. You pull out of her slick grip
Mrs. Winterslick spins around and drops to her knees with the speed of a tornado. She opens her mouth and gulps your dick down to the root. Red lips tighten around you as she sucks as hard as she can.
You come instantly. There is a flash of pain as your seed leaves your body, but the pain melts into pleasure. Shivers run up your spine as you shoot into her mouth. Mrs. Winterslick looks up at you from behind her round glasses as she swallows every drop you give her.
When there is no more to give, Mrs. Winterslick lets go of your dick. Your wilting dick falls weakly from her mouth. You try to take a step back but wobble on shaky knees.
“Here, let me help,” Mrs. Winterslick says. She reaches up and grabs your hips until you are steady.
“Delicious,” Mrs. Winterslick says. “I can think of no better treat than a young man’s final come of the day.”
You are too spent to think of a response.
“You need a little rest, Mr. Gregory,” Mrs. Winterslick says, gently turning you around. “Go to the couch and lay down.”
That sounds really nice. You walk to the couch with Mrs. Winterslick holding onto your shoulders. She helps you sit and then motions for you to lie down. You settle into the soft couch and savor the joy of not having to stand.
Mrs. Winterslick throws a blanket over you. Where did she get it? It feels thick and warm. She grabs a pillow and tucks it under your head.
“You can sleep here tonight,” Mrs. Winterslick says. “There is no need to go back to your room. You have tomorrow off so sleep in. If you are up for it, I might bring you breakfast.”
Is that innuendo? You are not sure how you feel about that. Your dick might not survive but on the other hand, what a way to go.
“Goodnight, Mr. Gregory,” Mrs. Winterslick says. She kisses the top of your head and then stands up. You watch her get dressed, but fall asleep before she finishes.
[align center]
**The End**