Back in the early '90s I worked for a major corporation owned by a French holding company. Although we were expected to pinch pennies (Post-It Notes were not an approved expense!) we were REQUIRED to stay at the $250 per night Sofitel O'Hare when on business in Chicago. That was a total waste of money, as all we did was sleep and shower in the hotel room, and we were gone all day and well into the evening elsewhere. Funny thing, Sofitel is a French hotel company. Hmmmm.

Anyway, I'd been there all week and our business wrapped up early by mid morning on Friday, but my flight didn't depart until like 6:00 PM, so I requested a late checkout to have a luxury hotel lunch, use the fancy health facilities, and in just a few hours generally try to derive some of the benefits of this fancy hotel my company was paying for.

My colleagues were all able to get earlier flights, so I was just there on my own entertaining myself. I drank a bottle of expensive wine with a giant lunch, none of which I could pronounce but all of which was delicious, then headed back to my room to change into trunks. Only then did I fully realize what a fancy room I had: fruit wood furniture, nice oil paintings NOT bolted to the wall, and a small frij full of complimentary snacks, imported beers, and a bottle of French wine.

I stuck the beers in my gym bag and headed to the health club to enjoy a cycle of steam room, Jacuzzi, and sauna over and over as I downed the beers. I was pretty tipsy, but bored as hell, as I was the only person in the whole health club, and still had 3 hours to kill before needing to catch the shuttle bus to O'Hare.

A drunk prune, I finally left the health club and wandered about the huge but nearly devoid-of-all-people hotel. Craving some sort of excitement and noticing that the elevators were particularly fast, I rode them up and down like a carnival ride. A grown man has to be pretty bored to do that.

I'm the kind of guy who never met a stranger, so I was trying to socialize with some of the hotel staff, but they were all French and seemed to be just bothered by me, so I gave up on that.

I figured the airport would be a more interesting place than here--at least there are people there to watch--so I went back to my room to shower, dress, and pack.

As I stepped out of the enormous bath, it was uncomfortably warm in there from my scalding hot shower, so I stepped around into the room to crank up the A/C. And there was the maid making the bed, though she did not notice me right away.

She had on a, well, French Maid's uniform, a doily-looking thing in her hair, short black skirt, tight bodice with white see-through lace up the front, and white stockings held up with a black garter belt, the clips of which were quite visible as she bent over to pull up the sheet.

Damn, she was so cute, too! With a bottle of merlot and 4 large Grolsh beers in me, I did not even remember I was buck naked as I stared at this young beauty. She noticed me, blushed big time, smiled, and said something in French.

Then I realized I was naked and semi-erect, becoming less and less semi with each moment, so I started to apologize and cover up with a towel, but she just stared back at me and said, "No, no, no, nice man, nice man!" Bored, drunk, and horny, I needed no further invitation.

In my best imitation of the old TV private eye Mannix, I rolled across the bed like a car hood towards "Fifi" and clasped her with my legs in a tight scissors, hiking her skirt up in the process. To my delightful surprise, I found the black garter belt but no panties and just a thin stripe of pubes. Knowing next to no French but struggling to say something she'd understand, I pointed at it and blurted out, "Maginot line!" This utterly stupid joke amused me so that I was laughing uncontrollably, and she did not get my trench warfare reference, but began giggling anyway just from the contagious effect.

Wasting no time, I twisted her around into a 69, buried my face in that beautiful bare twat, and licked her wet as the Seine, pausing only to shout, "Liberte, Egalite, Fraternite!" in yet another ludicrous comment that amused me to no end. (You gotta remember I'd had pretty much to drink and been in steam, sauna, jacuzzi, and a hot shower for a total of about 2 hours--which has a way of softening the brain.)

Totally into my pussy eating, she wriggled out of the tight bodice to reveal two luscious peaches to caress my stomach as she licked and sucked what she generously nicknamed "Eifel Tower," which cracked me up. Her pussy was so wet that I made some gurgling sounds on it with my mouth, then said, "Jacques Cousteau." Well, she got that dumb joke and started laughing, which caused her super-soft titties to dance about on "Eifel," a wonderful sensation, and patriotic only in a way the French would understand.

Well, over the next 2 hours we fucked and sucked in most positions on most of the furniture and the maid's cart, chock full of neat things to insert in her orifi, such as the toothbrushes. Just because I'm a devil, I inserted the handle of each one individually in her pooper, then carefully replaced them back in the nice ceramic container on the cart. I mean I wouldn't want them to fall on the floor or anything!

The first time I came I was pounding her missionary while we were on top of the big desk, which was thankfully sturdy, though we broke the lamp, paper holder, and phone. Not to worry, the room had a ridiculous 3 MORE PHONES. "Fifi" had the tightest little pussy, too tight, but I was fortunate that I had drunk so much that I could go the distance.

We took a break, cracked open the last bottle of wine in the mini-frij, and scarfed down the remaining snacks before she sucked the tower back up and rode me as smooth and soft as a Peugot presidential limo. Gazing up at her and playing with her bouncing boobies, I started my Pidgen French routine of nonsense, "Oui, oui, Fifi, frere a jaqua dorme vous Charles de Galle? You had to be there, but it was funny.

Finally, I took a notion that I wanted her on the balcony. Only it wasn't a real balcony, more like a ledge, and for safety reasons, the window would not open more than a few inches. I tried to open it further but it would not budge. Then "Fifi" fished a strange looking tool out of her cart, made a few twists and turns here and there, and the whole large window turned loose.

Perfect, now we stepped out onto the ledge naked. Woe, we were way up high, and the motherfuckin' March Chicago wind must have been blowing 40 MPH. I bent her way over the ledge and did her doggy. It was so damn cold my scrotum drew up tight as a golf ball and her nips hard as nails, but that just made the warm, wet fuckin' feel that much better.

Gazing about, I noticed a guy in the nearby high rise watching us. "Fifi" saw him, too. Great, we had an audience, so we would perform. And perform we did, adding much more movement and exaggerated facial expressions than we would have had we been alone. Down deep, that's why I'd wanted to come out on this ledge in the first place, a way of saying, "Look everybody, look at the cute young naked French maid I found, look at me fuck her! Extra, extra, read all about it!"

After a good while out there and getting the attention of several more men and one woman in that building, we came back in and she sucked me to climax and swallowed every drop as I sat in the big leather desk chair. Ahhh. Yes, I was at last getting the benefit of that $250 a night rate my crazy company was shelling out

Still enjoying her after-licks, my eyes focused on the clock. Shit!!! 4:55 PM. The hotel shuttle leaves at 5:00. My flight's at 6:00. I jumped in my clothes, smashed the rest of my stuff in the garment bag, gave "Fifi" a kiss and a smack on the butt, and flew out the door.

"Orovois, Eifel," I heard her say.

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