Table 17byEnglish Bob©
The first time that Dean Stone saw her – saw either of them – was in the breakfast room overlooking the river. "Dine in style", the brochure said. "Gaze out over the beautiful valley and the undulating hills behind. But Dean wasn't interested in beautiful valleys or hills; undulating or otherwise. Dean was interested in Mrs. Claire St. John.
When Dean had arrived for work at the Cross Keys Hotel early that morning, his friend and co-waiter, Marc James, had been the first to speak to him. Both were still at university but Marc was having a few problems finding enough money to pay his tuition and consequently had worked the hotel reception overnight.
"They arrived last night," Marc said as they both hurried into their black and white uniforms. "You'll like her; blonde, a bit tarty and a few years older – just the way you prefer!"
"Did you say they?"
"Yeah," Marc continued, "she had her old man in tow. But since when has that bothered you?"
Dean smiled. This was a game that the two friends played on a regular basis and, so far at least, had got away with. Mr. Carmichael, the hotel manager, highly disapproved of any fraternisation between staff and guests and Dean guessed he would go into meltdown if he knew that the two friends spent their entire days dreaming up ways to get into the female guests' panties – often with great success! Although Dean was more successful in his endeavours than Marc, this was mainly due to the type of women that the two young men preferred: While Marc enjoyed the intimate company of girls of a similar age to his twenty-one years – and therefore in fairly short supply at such an expensive establishment as The Cross Keys - Dean preferred the more mature woman and was therefore in a much better position to pick and choose.
"Table seventeen!" Marc hissed to his friend as Dean walked out into the opulent restaurant with a pot of coffee in his hand.
Ignoring a few attention-seeking glances from other diners, Dean made straight for table seventeen that was tucked away in the far corner of the room. As he approached the table he got his first glimpse of Mrs. Claire St. John. Her husband was hidden behind a large broadsheet newspaper but Dean couldn't have cared less; he was only interested in the blonde woman nibbling at a small piece of toast. Marc had been entirely correct in his assumption of Dean's interest. The woman's long blonde hair tumbled over her shoulders and draped either side of a large, firm chest. Her face, while not beautiful, was at least a little attractive and was adorned by more make-up than was necessary giving it, in Marc's words, a slightly tarty look. Just what Dean liked.
"Er, coffee, madam?" Dean announced as he cleared his throat and tried his best not to stare too avidly at Mrs. St. John's ample chest.
The woman smiled up at him and nodded – their first eye contact – and Dean felt a shiver run up his spine. He smiled back as he poured the steaming beverage. He had made contact and there was most definitely a connection there, he thought.
"And for you, sir?"
A noncommittal grunt came from behind the newspaper. Dean knew better than to push the question and, smiling again at the current object of his lust, wandered back to the waiters' station. If St. John wanted more coffee he could ask for it!
By 10.30 breakfast had finished and Marc and Dean were clearing the breakfast room. As Dean moved to table seventeen, he saw the newspaper that had hidden Mrs. St. John's husband folded on the table. It wasn't the sort of thing that he would usually bother with but the paper gave him an idea.
"What's going through that warped brain of yours now?" Marc asked as he passed by the table with a tray of dirty dishes.
"Just thought I'd take his paper back to him." Dean answered with a sly grin. "he seems to have forgotten it."
"What? Don't be crazy, man! If the lazy jerk has forgotten his paper that's his prob.. Ah, I get it. Trying to get yourself noticed, huh? Go for it, my friend, I'll finish up here!"
As Dean walked across the foyer towards the stairs (staff were strictly forbidden to use the guest elevator), He saw the hotel manager, Mr. Carmichael, out of the corner of his eye. Dean moved quickly but it was too late – he'd been spotted by his ever vigilant boss.
"Stone, come here."
Dean walked over and stood subserviently in front of Carmichael.
"What are you doing? Shouldn't you be helping to clear breakfast?"
"Nearly finished in there, Mr. Carmichael." Dean replied. "A guest left his newspaper. I was just returning it."
Depending on Carmichael's mood, Dean knew that this could now go either way and he was relieved when he saw a wide beaming smile break over the old man's face.
"Good." Carmichael breathed, adjusting Dean's tie so that it was exactly centred beneath his chin. "Very good, Stone. We must look after our guests, mustn't we. Off you go then!"
Taking his opportunity, Dean trotted off towards the stairs and began the long trudge up to the fourth floor. He didn't know how long the St. Johns' were going to be staying at the hotel but he didn't want to waste any time in getting himself noticed.
Claire St. John had answered the door to Dean's knock. Clearly she had been in the middle of dressing for a morning walk in the warm sunshine and wore only a pair of cut-off shorts and a black, sleeveless top. In an instant, Dean's eyes flicked up and down her lean frame quickly taking in her long tapered legs, dainty bare feet and exposed midriff. His eyes finally flitted over the swell of her firm breasts; under the thin top he was certain that she was not wearing a bra.
"Sorry, Mrs. St. John." He said quickly. "But your husband left his newspaper downstairs."
"Well, what a diligent young man you are." Claire St. John smiled. She moved slightly to the side and turned back into the room. Dean followed her, the paper still in hand.
"Just put it on the table, will you?"
Mrs. St. John had her back to Dean as he followed instructions and placed the folded paper on the table. She was clearly fishing around in her purse for a gratuity and Dean waited respectfully. As a folded banknote changed hands so both Mrs. St. John and Dean's eyes locked. For a moment there was silence until Claire St. John finally spoke.
"Surely you didn't come all the way up here just to give my husband back his paper?"
Her voice was almost a whisper and the question seemed to hang in the air between the couple. Dean wanted to answer but the words stuck in his throat. He hadn't expected to make this sort of contact so soon; usually he would have to work on a woman for a few days at least before she succumbed to his charms.
"I saw you looking at me at breakfast," Claire continued in the same whispered tone, "You were looking at my breasts, weren't you? - just like you are right now!"
Suddenly Dean realised that he had indeed been staring straight at the older woman's chest. He knew for a fact now that she wasn't wearing anything underneath the black top; he could clearly make out the shape of her nipples as they projected through the material.
"Oh, er...sorry Mrs....er...I didn't mean to...."
"That's quite alright....Dean," Claire St. John lifted the name tag from Dean's lapel and read his name, "Most women are really quite flattered when a younger man notices them! So, do you like my tits?"
The way that she rolled the word around on her tongue gave Dean an instant erection and all he could do was manage a weak nod.
"Would you like to touch them?"
It seemed to Dean that the woman's voice was now coming from far, far away; his attention was all consumed as he continued to stare blatantly at the firm breasts in front of his eyes. He nodded silently again but did nothing. But when he felt Claire St. John's hands close around his own and guide them to the front of her shirt, Dean suddenly seemed to wake up. His head snapped up and he glanced around the room.
"What about...er...well, what about your husband?"
"Do you see him here?" Claire countered quickly; her hands pressed Dean's fingers firmly to her breasts and encouraged him to squeeze the nipples through the fabric.
"Er...well, no. I guess..."
"Well don't worry about him, then! Just feel me up!"
Dean could tell that Claire was becoming a little excited; her nipples seemed to harden under her top and her breathing was becoming shorter and more laboured. He could feel his erection pressing hard against his pants and decided that the explanation of her husband's whereabouts – or lack of them – if good enough for her, was definitely good enough for him. He moved closer to her and gently pecked at her swan like neck with his lips. His hands had found the hem of her top and he heard her gasp slightly as his hands touched her warm flesh of her abdomen, up to her stomach and then to her breasts. His fingers closed gently around each crinkled nipple and he smiled as Claire moaned while he rolled them.
As Claire groaned and sighed, Dean moved his hands down to the front of her shorts and slowly unzipped them. His fingers quickly found the smooth skin of her shaved pussy and as he explored further downwards and inside her underwear he encountered a slick, silky moisture.
"Mmmm...nice and wet!" He murmured into her neck. "Just the way I....."
"Oh, don't mind me!" Said Mr. Henry St. John as he wandered out of the bathroom. "I would think if you stopped now you would have a very frustrated woman on your hands – quite literally!"
Dean mouth gaped as he watched Claire's husband stroll casually across the room completely naked and sit himself down in a chair by the bed. He could hardly believe that the man was being so cool about this. Couldn't he see that Dean currently had two fingers inserted into his wife's very wet pussy and was groping her tits for all he was worth? In answer to Deans unasked question Henry St. John simply waved his hand casually indicating to Dean again that he should not cease his ministrations.
"So long as you don't mind me watching." The older man smiled, "I think Claire would appreciate you continuing!"
Dean's attention was suddenly drawn back to the woman in his arms – and on his fingers – who had now begun to undulate her hips back and forth; pressing herself further down onto Dean's wet digits. Dean shrugged. This was definitely the first time that he'd had an audience, but there was a first time for everything, he reasoned. Besides, his hard cock that was pressing against his stomach was virtually ordering him to continue.
Having so quickly accepted the rather strange situation, Dean was determined to enjoy it. Dropping to his knees he grasped the waistband of both Claire's shorts and her panties and roughly tugged them down her tanned thighs. His face was now in a direct line with her glistening pussy and as soon as he touched his tongue to her visibly throbbing clit the woman erupted into an immediate and powerful orgasm. Dean felt her hands on the back of his head pulling him into her and greedily drank the copious juices that flowed from her slit.
"She's definitely going to want to suck you now."
Dean heard Henry St. John's voice as it drifted over from the other side of the room and glanced over at him. The older man was sitting – quite comfortably, it seemed to Dean – with his legs wide open and a small, but fiercely erect cock grasped between his fingers. Again, Dean's attention was quickly drawn back as he felt Claire's hands unbuttoning his shirts and fumbling at the belt of his pants.
Claire worked quickly and in a matter of moments Dean found himself naked and with his erection protruding proudly from his body. He groaned as Claire's fingers cupped his balls and held his breath as her mouth neared him.
As Claire St. John's mouth slowly swallowed his throbbing cock head, Dean gasped loudly. His eyes closed and his head fell backwards as the ecstasy engulfed him. His mind was reeling. All his senses seemed to be concentrated around his penis; the nerve endings tingling and alive with glorious sensation. From a seemingly great distance he could hear the faint groans from Claire's husband as he continued to masturbate and, far from disturbing Dean – as he thought it might – he found the idea of his lover's husband in the same room a huge turn on.
Dean's hands lay on the top of Claire's head in a parody of his own earlier position and his fingers entwined themselves in her long blonde hair. Gently he urged her head forward; rocking his hips slowly as more of his stiff tool disappeared into her mouth. He could hear her humming softly around his weapon and felt the sensations ripple through his body. He knew that he would have to maintain his concentration if he was to avoid unloading directly into her mouth at this early stage.
"Would you like to fuck my wife?" Henry St John suddenly gasped from his seated position. "Would you like to fuck her wet pussy and feel it tighten around your cock?"
Dean was well aware that Claire's husband was the one who really wanted his wife to get fucked – probable just as much as Dean wanted to fuck her and Claire wanted to get fucked! Maybe a moment or two of teasing would be in order, he thought wickedly.
"You want to see you wife get fucked?" Dean said as he looked directly at the masturbating Henry. "You want to watch as I fill your wife's cunt with my hard, young cock? Does that thought get your cock hard?"
Henry's answer was nothing more than a series of guttural moans as Dean felt the female mouth on his tool withdraw slowly and Claire stand up beside him.
"Well, if you boys want me to get fucked then who am I to argue?" Claire said demurely as she licked her lips. Both Dean and Henry watched enraptured as she peeled off the black top and finally stood completely naked in front of them.
"Would you like me on the sofa?" She asked with a wicked smile.
Clearly this was a rhetorical question and Dean and Henry looked on as the blonde woman moved to the white leather couch.
"Time to fuck Mrs. St. John!" Claire laughed as she bent over and spread her legs. "It's time to put that big juicy cock inside my cunt!"
Dean didn't need to be asked twice and in a second he was up behind Claire and nudging his throbbing weapon at the entrance to her wet slit. He heard both Claire and her husband moan in unison as he stabbed the first two inches inside her. His hands went under her body and grasped each pendulous breast as they hung down invitingly. The nipples seemed to stiffen yet again under his touch and as he fed another two inches of his inflamed meat into her glistening pussy he tugged and twisted on the swollen buds while Claire groaned ecstatically.
Dean could see Henry's hand moving faster up and down his small penis as he drove his own weapon deep into Clair's vagina; the older man seemed to be trying to time his masturbatory strokes with Dean's deep thrusts. Claire was gasping and moaning deep in her throat as she was penetrated so expertly and, as Dean rammed home slapping his balls loudly against her skin, he felt her whole body go taught as a second orgasm crashed over her.
Dean was in his element now; masterfully in control of the situation and his own body; striving ever nearer to his own eventual climax.
"Turn over, honey," he said with a little grin, let's see your face while I fuck your pussy!"
Claire's body was still trembling as she twisted herself over onto her back and lay expectantly on the sofa.
"Spread those legs." Dean commanded, "I want to see that little pink slit!"
Claire obeyed wordlessly. Her legs parted almost ceremoniously and she propped herself back against the cool leather cushions.
"Ahhhhh!" Dean cried out loudly as he once again drove himself deep into the older woman's body. "You got a real hot pussy, baby!"
"Oh yesssss!" Claire gasped, "My hole is burning up! Fuck me baby, fuck my hot cunt!"
As Dean slammed in and out of Mrs. Claire St. John's pussy, he heard what he knew was a final and fulfilling groan from her husband. He looked over just in time to see the older man's hips straining upwards and a thin stream of watery cum ooze from the head of his cock. Dean smiled to himself; he knew that when he shot his own load that Claire St. John was going to know all about it!
"Any time you want, baby." Dean mumbled through clenched teeth as he relentlessly ploughed into Claire's sexy body. "Anytime you want it!"
"Yes! Yes, I want it!" Claire cried lustily. "I want it. I want your cum. Do it baby. Cum for me!"
Dean was happy to oblige. With a long moan he wrenched his tool from Claire's dripping slit and gripped the head. With his other hand he quickly thrust two fingers back into her gleaming hole and finger-fucked her frantically while jerking his cock. Claire's head lolled back and her mouth opened in a long, searing wail as yet another climax washed over her. Dean could hold back no longer. His balls felt ready to explode and with a quick rub of his cock head against Claire's engorged nipple he felt the cum screaming up through his shaft. The air was alive with the sounds of sexual excess. Cries and moans echoed around the room as Dean's cum continued to surge from the head of his cock and splash obscenely onto Claire's breasts and trickled down through her ample cleavage. Her fingers cupped his balls again, teasing him and encouraging every last drop of the precious liquid from his loins.
"That was quite a display of prowess!" Henry St. John said as the sweat stained bodies finally rolled apart. "I just wish I could have joined in."
"So why didn't you?" Dean asked, attempting to regain control of his gasped breathing, "I wouldn't have minded and I'm pretty sure your wife wouldn't!"
"You're right there!" Henry continued with a laugh, "Claire would have loved it, wouldn't you, honey?"
Mrs. St. John nodded wordlessly before her husband continued a little sadly
"But it's only watching that does it for me, I'm afraid. That's why we come to these large impersonal hotels; in the hope of finding a willing young bartender or waiter that is prepared to give Claire what she wants – what she needs."
Suddenly there was a knock at the door and Henry St. John quickly pulled a robe around his naked body and got up to answer it.
"Er...I found these on table seventeen," Marc said with a grin as he stood in the doorway surveying the scene inside. "I thought I should come straight up and see if you needed them!"
"There's only one thing I need right now!" Claire St. John purred as she stretched her naked body back on the sofa. "And I think you can most certainly provide it!"
Dean watched his friend grin wickedly as he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.
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