Late afternoon. I stride into the hotel lobby, tits straining against my tight T-shirt. No bra. Nipples poke like diamonds. Manager Jean stares, eyes bulging. He fumbles my request for the best suite. I arch my back, smirking at his flush. Door clicks shut behind us as we climb stairs. His ass sways. Four days without cock. I’m starving.
Suite door swings open. Massive bed calls. I bounce on it. Firm. Perfect fuck pad. ‘Tested it?’ I tease. He stammers no. Price: 250 euros. Too steep. I pout, eyes sultry. Tits harden more. ‘Can’t we deal?’ Door locks with a heavy thunk. My hand grazes his zipper. Bulge throbs. ‘She’s up for it.’ He protests. Weak.
Rising Tension in the Lobby
Chemisier unbuttons. Right tit pops free. Left follows. Top hits floor. He sweats. Pants tight. My jeans drop. Mini-thong barely covers trimmed bush. Fingers tease mound. ‘Fuck me any way. All night. Free room.’ He caves. ‘Till morning. Anything.’ I nod. No violence. He locks door, vanishes. I shower, crash naked.
Caresses wake me. Jean’s naked beside me. Cock huge, thick. Girthier than anything. I grip it. Shiver. Stroke slow. One hand, two. Roll it like dough. He moans, bucks. I edge him. Fingers, mouth. Half hour torture. Mount up. Pussy swallows him inch by inch. Wet heat grips. He groans. ‘Best ever.’
Gentle rides build. He explodes, hips slamming wild. I tumble. He flips me. Pounds hard. ‘Fuck, wreck my cunt!’ Never felt so stretched. He cums again, keeps thrusting. My orgasms crash. One, two, three. Vagina gapes. He bottoms out. Hits cervix. I lose count. Four? Six? Exhausted. Better than Christian. Better than anyone.
Explosive Surrender and Kinky Games
We pant. I doze. Key rattles later. Sore pussy throbs. Hide under sheets. Just him. ‘Wild ride, huh?’ He grins. ‘Not over. Three days. My rules.’ Panic. Home? Kamel’s party? ‘Call him. Tease by phone.’ Locked in. Deal: free suite for total submission. Laugh. Sealed.
Tray arrives. Duck, potatoes, wine. Delectable. Gulp half bottle. Lounge nude, ass up. He returns. ‘Not yet.’ Ties me spread-eagle with silk scarves. Bed creaks. Pot of cream. Foie gras scent. Smears everywhere. Tits, thighs, clit. Toes wiggle.
Blindfold. Earplugs. Kiss. Panic. ‘Bastard!’ He laughs. Unzips basket. Three kittens emerge. Hungry. Pounce. Rough tongues lap cream. Breasts first. Then everywhere. Pussy floods. They zero in. Raspy licks on lips, clit. No rhythm. Tease hell. Hips buck. Claws scratch light. Edge forever. Frustrating bliss.
Realize: cats. Perverted genius. Relax into it. Hours blur. Blind, deaf. One curls on tits. One neck. One thigh-fur tickles cunt. Shudders ripple. Sleep claims me. What next? I’ll pay him back.