The two travellers struggled to get through the swinging glass door entrance to the hotel. Ingrid, the maitre d', hissed for the young porter who was usually to be found lounging at the back of reception. But he was nowhere in sight and now the men and their bulky luggage were through the entrance and walking grim-faced towards the front desk.
In an attempt to deflect any initial dissatisfaction, Ingrid put on her friendliest smile and, even though it was almost the end of a very long shift, greeted them with energetic efficiency. Mr Entwisle and Mr Chapple were early and Ingrid explained that their rooms were not fully prepared yet.
'Look lady,' said Chapple in an impatient American drawl. 'We've just flown 15 hours, been fucked around by your immigration Nazis and waited half an hour for a fucking cab.' He gave her a mean look as if she were personally responsible for all this. 'We just want to drop our bags, have a shower and get into some fresh clothes. OK?'
Ingrid smiled reassuringly and passed them forms to complete. As the two men jotted down details she quickly looked them over: in their mid-30s, tall and well built, gym bags and sponsorship logos. She guessed they were sportsmen or athletes. Both had dark cropped hair and firm tanned features. Chapple was taller with small beady eyes, his thin lipped mouth in a slight downturn. His square jaw and thick neck gave him a look of physical strength and he had an air of narcissistic confidence. His long fingers with manicured nails held the pen awkwardly and he wrote untidily.
Entwisle had a more languid casual attitude. He smiled at Ingrid as if apologising for his companion and she found herself automatically responding to his large brown eyes and lazy grin. She coded and passed across their key cards and they headed to the elevator, their bags on a trolley to be taken up later by the porter.
Ingrid looked at the wall clock - ten more minutes before the end of her shift – then rang housekeeping. The two rooms had been made up but towels and toiletries still had to be taken up. No answer. She was the only one in the lobby – where was that porter? – otherwise she'd go herself and find the maid.
What was going on? She'd phoned housekeeping three times in the last five minutes and still no answer. Just then the evening manager came in and after hurriedly handing over to him, Ingrid rushed down to the basement and pushed through the heavy swing doors to the laundry. She pulled up short in shock. There on her back on a pile of sheets was Anita the 24 year old chambermaid that had only been with them a week, legs spread wide round the waist of that lazy kid who was supposed to carry bags. At the noise of her entry, the youth staggered back and reached for the pants that were around his ankles. Before he managed to pull them up, Ingrid saw his stiff cock, glistening with Anita's juices. Stammering apologies and still doing up his belt, he rushed past Ingrid and out through the swing doors. With a smug, almost insolent smile, Anita casually sat up and pushed down her short black maid's skirt, Ingrid catching a glimpse of dark bush. Not bothering to pick up her panties she said she had finished her shift and was going home now.
Ingrid could see in her eyes the triumph of a younger woman able to attract a lover and the pitiable contempt for the older single woman. Ingrid wanted to fire her on the spot but knew it was wrong to act hastily. And anyway she didn't have time right now. Telling the slut to be in her office at 8 am sharp, Ingrid grabbed a bundle of towels and hurried out.
As she headed up the stairs she looked in the overhead corner mirror and saw the young porter peak out of the utility room at her retreating back. She went round the corner, waited a moment, then took off her shoes and crept back down. Quietly easing open the laundry door a fraction she peered in. Anita was energetically French kissing the boy, her hands busy at his belt. She got his pants down and grabbed his still hard cock, wanked it a couple of times then slid to her knees and teasingly touched the boy's red knob with her tongue. After a moment he grabbed her head and pulled it down on his straining cock, both of them moaning as it went deep into her throat. She fellated him as energetically as she'd kissed him and Ingrid could see that the tart was enjoying it as much as the boy. The boy started to pant, going up on his toes each time Anita pulled back. For a moment longer she continued then, having brought him to the brink of orgasm, let his cock out of her mouth so that it slapped up against his shirt, and sat back on her haunches smiling up at his red face. Then she stood, turned around and put her hands on the pile of sheets, strong tan legs straight and wide. Looking over her shoulder she made a kissy mouth at her lover and flipped her skirt up. Ingrid saw that not only was her snatch heavily furred, but the dark hair led thickly into the cleft between her plump cheeks. She bit her lip thinking about how sweaty and humid it must be in that crack. Then her view was blocked as the porter stepped up and fitted his cock between the spread legs.
Ingrid felt her face flush with arousal as the young cock slid deep into Anita's pussy and the chambermaid grunted in satisfaction. She watched them rut for a minute or two, the boys pale buttocks clenching and balls slapping, Anita bucking back to take his thrusts as deep as she could, the two of them grunting and groaning. Then she eased the door quietly shut and went back up the stairs.
Making her way to the third floor she thought about how long it had been since she'd enjoyed the company of a man. Her marriage had been over for nearly three years, the divorce settled and lawyers' fees almost paid off. She hadn't had sex in all that time, and not for a good few months before they'd separated. She'd now turned 40 and even though she'd had no children, her body was beginning to get heavier around the waist, butt and thighs, and she had to colour her dark blond hair to camouflage the grey coming in. When she looked in the mirror she saw lines drawing her mouth down, tiredness round the eyes. She wondered how her life had come to this.
Mr Chapple's door was ajar and she knocked lightly, stepped in with the towels held before her. There was no sign of him other than his hand valise open on the bed. Ingrid headed towards the bathroom to lay out the towels, then came to a sudden halt at the half open door.
She stood motionless, looking through at the mirror on the bathroom wall. In the reflection she could see the big American. He was naked, sitting on the toilet, his deep tan and dark hairy chest a contrast to the sterile white of the tiles and chrome fittings. She watched transfixed as a moment's strain passed across his face. The splash as a turd dropped into the toilet made her shiver involuntarily. He must have caught the movement in his peripheral vision. His eyes looked up and locked with hers in the mirror. She couldn't break that piercing stare even when he strained again – his eyes never leaving her. Another splash and again she shivered.
Her mind was cast back to the first year of her marriage, the discovery of her bent towards messy sex, they way they explored it together, six years of thrilling perversion and increasing depravity. She felt afresh the pain of the discovery of her husband's 'other' life, his gay friends, the betrayal, the intense rejection when he left her, the almost overpowering need for his body and the abasement he put her through.
The American stood now, hand stroking and shaking his lanky uncircumcised cock. Ingrid wanted to move, but couldn't. Now he spoke, his voice a combination of irritation and accusation. 'What's with this excuse for a hotel? No help in the lobby. No bags. No towels. No fucking toilet paper, either.' Her mouth was dry but she was as powerless to swallow as she was to move any other muscle. 'This is beginning to really piss me off,' he continued in his menacing drawl. 'First a guy can't take a shower. Then he can't wipe his arse after taking a dump.' Ingrid shivered again at the word 'dump' and the man smiled knowingly.
'Fact is,' he said moving toward the door and swinging it open so they were now face to face. 'Guy's got shit smeared all in his crack,' another knowing gleam in his eyes as Ingrid blinked rapidly, 'and nothing to wipe it clean with.' He held up a long blunt finger and reached back, eyes hooding slightly as he stroked between his buttocks. He brought his hand round between them, the finger smeared brown and smelling of faeces.
Ingrid's heart was pounding, her head light and spinning, as he brought that stained digit slowly to her mouth and slid it between her dry lips. Her eyes closed as he wiped the foetid finger on her gums and tongue, the earthy taste and acrid smell making her knees go weak
'Seems to me that a decent hotel would do something to rectify the situation.' He turned around, put one foot on the toilet seat and pulled his buttock wide with a large hand. 'Why don't you kneel down here and see the condition I'm in,' he said in that drawl, his eyes holding hers in the mirror.
Ingrid stepped forward and knelt on the cold tiles. Her face was close to his buttocks and she felt her arousal building as she looked at the taut globes and their covering of light brown hair, smelt his maleness mixed with the rankness of his dirty crack and the unflushed toilet. She was taken back to her marriage, her pleasure in her husband's rear end, her need for the filth to be found there.
Not needing to be bidden, she leant forward and ran her tongue down the sweaty divide to the slimy anus, collecting first the salty taste then the full gagging acrid flavour of raw shit. She held there, tongue flattened in the messy crease, excited by having her face once again pressed in a man's bottom, revelling in the taste and stench. The American gave an impatient hiss and she started lapping, steadily cleaning his gummy butt and washing the dark hairs that circled it.
'Oh fuck that's nasty!' grunted the man as Ingrid made her tongue pointy and probed at the centre of his rubbery pucker. She felt him bearing back and her tongue slid into his humid rectum. 'Unngghh fuck,' he moaned as she reamed the spongy muscle then probed beyond. Ingrid was enjoying the taste of this man's buttery bowels and lapped hungrily.
She would have been happy to keep licking and sucking this man's arse but he pushed her back onto her heels. He turned around and her heart thudded when she saw his large cock standing stiffly out from his hairy groin. Putting his hand behind her head he pulled her face towards it. 'Suck me,' he ordered in a hoarse voice.
Ingrid took the glistening head between her lips, closed her eyes and lost herself in the tastes and textures she had so long gone without – the slickness of the glans emerging from the foreskin, the cheesy residue under the foreskin, the musk of the shaft.
'Oh yeah, you like to suck cock!' The man held her head and started bucking his hips, gently at first the, once she was taking half his penis, more insistently, driving deeper. She gagged the swallowed, remembering the technique, the spongy helmet entering her throat.
'Uh huh, suck it bitch! Take it all the way.' He tightened his grip on her head and drove all the way until her lips were stretched wide and pressed against his hairy belly.
'Mmmmmmm,' he sighed and she felt his cock pulse along her tongue and in her throat. He tightened his grip again and started to rock. Ingrid gave herself up to it, let it happen, felt herself slide into that almost forgotten state of sexual submission. For the next five minutes she simply knelt there and sucked as he thrust sometimes deep, sometimes shallow, sometimes pulled all the way back so just that fleshy knob was between her lips, presented his balls – first one, then the other, then forcing both in her mouth at the same time – then gave her the full length of his magnificent cock again.
She was unthinkingly absorbed in sucking him when he pulled all the way out and urged her to her feet. He told her to undress and went through to the bathroom. She quickly took her clothes off and was standing naked, arms across her small slack breasts, worried that he would find her unattractive. He returned unscrewing the lid of a hotel-issue plastic bottle of moisturising lotion and, barely glancing in her direction, told her to go to hands and knees. He pushed her legs wide, rubbed his hand between her buttocks then smeared moisturiser over her anus.
'Nice tight butt,' he said, worming a finger through her ring, hand heavily on her back to prevent her moving. 'You like cock up there?'
'Yes,' she replied, panting a little at the rough invasion, the stretching of her anus.
'Good,' he said. She watched over her shoulder as he smeared lotion all over his cock, apprehensive at what was happening. He slapped her cheeks, knelt behind her and wedged his hard cock in the entrance to her little brownie. She focussed on accepting him, remembering how to bear back, relax her anal muscles.
'Oh yeah!' he grunted as his cock pushed her wide, entered her rectum. She moaned, pushed back, felt him slide a little deeper. He laughed, smacked her a couple of times and started to work his hips. His cock slid back and forth and in a minute or two was going all the way inside her, rocking her forward each time his hips thudded into her buttocks.
'Uh! Uh! Uh!' she grunted, the force of his thrusting rocking her whole body, making her breasts sway. She arched her back, lowering her nipples so they grazed the rough carpet, making her parts clench. The man laughed again and gripped her hips hard, fucked her faster. She felt a deep seated wantonness building in her, pushed back to receive the hammering shaft, panted at each thrust.
Ingrid knelt on the carpet feeling the big cock throbbing deep in her rectum. The man had stopped fucking and she wondered if perhaps he had come and somehow she hadn't realised. Then he leant sideways and picked up the phone. She looked back over her shoulders, through a screen of disarrayed hair, and watched as he dialled another room. 'Hey Chad,' he said into the handpiece. 'Got a hot bit of action going here. You wanna come by and get a piece of it?' He hung up and winked at Ingrid before jagging his cock deep in her gut. Ingrid's eyes closed in pleasure and she resumed moaning under the steady pounding, unable to think of anything other than the pole arrowing up her backside, so that she was startled a minute later when there was a knock on the door.
'That'll be Chad,' the man grunted, pulling his long cock free of her clasping anus and getting to his feet. He walked to the door, his soiled cock swaying heavily, and opened it. Ingrid saw the man's companion walk in, a big grin on his handsome face.
'Why don't you get your gear off while Ingrid here cleans her shit off my dick.'
'Way to go, Howard,' Chad replied, sitting on the bed to take off his shoes and watching from only a couple of feet away as his friend held Ingrid by the hair and slotted his shit streaked cock into her mouth. As soon as the rank smell hit her nostrils, Ingrid was eager to suck the filthy meat. She was at that stage where she'd eat a turd off a plate if it was presented to her (as she'd done several times in the last year of her marriage). Her own waste, mixed with the strong musk of this big cock and the hint of moisturising lotion, was an aphrodisiac and she sucked and swallowed hungrily. By the time Chad was undressed, Howard's dick was clean and he was ready to resume buggering the middle aged manageress.
'Make it nice and wet, slut,' he said looking down at Ingrid. 'Cos that's all the lubrication its getting till I cream in your arse.' He pulled his large cock dripping from her mouth, walked round and knelt behind her, slapped her upraised buttocks several times with his large hand, then fitted his fat cock head to her reddened anus and pushed against the stretched muscle, grunting that it was a tight hot fit.
Ingrid's eyes shut as Howard rammed through her loosened but still resisting sphincter, her lip caught between her teeth to cut off the deep moan of pleasure and pain. Now as she opened them, Chad was standing before her, his smooth body a contrast to Howard's. 'I'm gonna let you suck me hard,' he said hefting his weighty meat. 'Then I'm gonna fuck that hot mouth.' Ingrid licked her lips and parted them in anticipation. She could think of nothing she'd rather do while being sodomised than suck on a fat cock. 'But first I'm gonna clean that mouth out. Make sure all that shit is gone.'
With that he stepped forward and lifted the head of his cock so it rested on Ingrid's lips. She sucked it and moved forward as much as she could to try and take it into her mouth. 'Uh uh,' said Chad chidingly, pulling his cock free and slapping her cheeks with it. 'Wash mouth clean first, then you can suck it.' He rested the head of his cock on her lower lip again and this time Ingrid waited, her eyes looking up at his face.
Chad let out a long breath and started to urinate. Ingrid accepted the warm bitter liquid, the flow steady enough that she could swallow without spilling. It had been some years since she had drunk urine and she was thirsty for the taste. Her hard nipples ached afresh and she longed for the kind of rough handling that her husband would give them.
'Oh fuck that's hot,' said Chad, pulling back a little and watching as the yellow stream arced across into Ingrid's mouth.
'Way to go!' admired Howard, who had slowed his thrusting to watch. The flow was easing now and Chad slid his dick back between Ingrid's lips. She sucked gently on the flaccid meat, encouraging as much piss out of it as she could, then tonguing round the inside of the foreskin and probing at the weeping eye of the satiny head.
'Get her to eat out your arse, buddy,' encouraged Howard, bucking his cock deep into her gut and grinding his hips against her buttocks. 'She's fucking champion at that.'
Ingrid looked up at Chad hopefully as she nursed on his meaty cock. 'Maybe later,' he said. 'But right now I'm gonna fuck this slut mouth.' Ingrid got a thrill at being called a slut and sucked steadily at the penis, feeling it begin to thicken. Chad pulled back and cock slapped her a few times, the foreskin pulled back from the bulbous knob as it became harder, splat splat splat as it smacked her cheeks. It was almost fully hard now and he grabbed her by the hair, tilted her face up further, and slowly pushed the hefty cock through her eager lips and deep into her mouth. He eased forward till the head was at the back of her throat.
'This is where you show me how good you are at sucking cock, baby,' he said cruelly, his eyes narrowed with lust.
Ingrid's eyes watered as he pressed harder, forcing his cock into her throat. She felt herself begin to gag, then forced it back down and worked her throat muscles in a kind of convulsive swallow. She'd never had such a big cock in her mouth before and was having trouble taking it all even though she'd just given deep throat to Howard and god knows had done it often enough on her ex-husband. Chad's cock finally slid into her throat and he came to rest with his soft pubic hairs against her lips, his scrotum on her chin.
'Oh man,' he gasped admiringly, looking down at the sight of her face hard against his groin, both of them swaying in unison as Howard continued to ram into her backside. Ingrid looked up and as her eyes met his, she rippled her throat and felt his cock twitch. 'Oh fuck,' he moaned. 'This chick is fucking unbelievable!' With his cock still deep in her mouth, he reached under her and grasped her hanging breasts, first squeezing them, then gripping the fat hard nubs. Ingrid moaned in pleasure, sucked harder.