Five Star Service

What I'm about to tell you cannot leave this forum. I'm writing anonymously mostly to protect myself but also the business I work for; I still want to have a job after this after all. Sometimes though something happens to you, something amazing or incredible, and you have to share it with someone. Anyone would do really, just no one who actually knows me. I don't regret what happened, and it will become clear why the further you read on, but if I was to tell anyone I know about this, the fact they might not understand would be the least of my worries. Sorry for the long preamble, I'm both nervous and excited to actually write this down.

For the sake of privacy, let's say my name is Samantha, or Sam if you like. I am in my mid to late thirties and like a lot of women I've spread out slightly with age. Not necessarily in a bad way, at least not in hindsight I suppose, but I'm not the relatively skinny little thing I used to be in my early twenties. Back then I was reasonably endowed in my boobs, a 36C if I remember correctly, but the rest of me was slim with a hint of an hourglass figure, the exception being my slightly chunkier thighs. The years have added inches to me in more places than one; I started using a contraceptive implant that as a side effect caused my existing assets to swell out and there they have stayed. I now use a 38E bra (think of it as going from a grapefruit to a cantaloupe melon if you're not familiar with bra sizes) and would struggle to get any jeans or fitted trousers I wore back then past my knees as my thighs have nearly doubled in size and taken my butt and hips along with them. My once hourglass is now distinctly more pear shaped, but I guess I just accepted that this is what happens as you mature.

It was hard at times to move past it, however. I felt I had a certain allure to me in my twenties that meant I was at least desirable enough to be approached fairly regularly by guys if I was on a night out with friends. Nothing ever really caught, a few flings and one night stands here and there, but never anything long term. Once the changes caused by my contraceptives fully kicked in, things seemed to dry up pretty quickly. Granted it was harder to find clothes that both fitted my style and my ever-expanding assets so that wouldn't have helped, but still the creek ran pretty dry. I've tried a slew of dating sites since then but no joy, not even the occasional quickie. I have been tempted to try the kind of sites that are literally just designed to connect you with people who only want to meet and fuck, but I couldn't shake the feeling that would be like prostituting myself only without the benefit of being paid.

Anyway, that's the background on me covered, or at least on my body and my personal life. As I mentioned at the start, I work for quite a reputable business, a chain of hotels that typically cater to young aspiring businessmen and the occasional couple on a romantic retreat. I work as a member of the housekeeping staff, going room to room and preparing the space for the next customer. I have always been told that a good hotel room should appear as if the customer is the first person ever to have used it. Our customers know, of course, that isn't the case and never really could be but it's all part of selling the illusion that ultimately makes people more comfortable than knowing exactly who has been in the bed they're sleeping in (and what they've done in it for that matter).

The chain's slogan is 'Five Star Service Guaranteed or Your Money Back!'. A bit of a mouthful but it gets the message across. I am proud to say that in my years of doing this job, I feel that is what I have always provided, if in an indirect way. Many people would look down on me and what I do, but those same people have probably slept soundly in a bed prepared by me or one of my many colleagues in the industry and have been kept warm, dry and safe thanks to our efforts. Plus, and this isn't a brag just a point, the benefit of having worked there for a few years and it being a well renowned chain is that the pay is actually pretty good. Chances are I earn more than most of the people who would criticise the job, which makes the occasional uppity glare or snobbish remark a far sweeter pill to swallow.

Occasionally, I also deliver food or packages as art of the hotel's room service. Typically, this will be the odd bottle of champagne or an important letter dropped by a courier for one of our business clients. I don't mind taking these to the rooms because on occasion the customer will be grateful enough to tip. Not that I need it to survive, but any tips I get are my own and feel like little sporadic bonuses to my wage. It was on one of these errands that the thing I want to share with you happened.

I had almost finished my shift with nothing left to do but change out of my work tunic and trousers and check out. The receptionist, a small ditsy woman who was perfect for greeting people and not much else, called me over before I had a chance to duck into the staff changing area.

"We've had a call from the gentleman in room 217 asking for more towels," she told me in her sing-song customer services voice.

"I would, but I've just about finished..." I began.

"It shouldn't take long and Denise hasn't turned up yet or I'd ask her," she cut me off.

Fucking Denise. I always hated being on the shift before hers. She was a lovely person, but good god she would've been late for her own funeral. It was amazing she had managed to keep her job at the hotel for so long when this was something that happened so often, but I got the feeling that management just didn't have the heart to let her go.

"Ok, fine," I sighed, thinking of the potential tip. "Which room was it again?"

"217, thanks," she beamed back, taking a phone call before I could change my mind.

I sighed again as I turned and made my way back to the laundry room to pick up the extra towels. The request itself wasn't entirely unusual, particularly for guests who had been staying at the hotel for a little while, but as I recalled I'd only turned that particular room over last night so there should have been plenty. It was possible the resident of the room might be a dirty old man who just wanted someone to walk in and see his shrivelled nutsack and was using 'more towels' as an excuse. Regrettably that has happened to me on more than one occasion. What has been seen can never be unseen. There was also every chance of course that this was just a simple request that would involve nothing more than a knock on the door and a handover of the towels. I hoped that would be all it was so I could get home.

Towels in hand, I took the elevator up to the second floor of the hotel. I wondered what I might do tonight after work, I had no real plans just anything that wasn't work would be fine. Maybe I should catch up on that TV series everyone says I should watch? Or finally sort all of my old clothes out of my wardrobe, particularly the ones I knew were never going to fit me again. What was I holding onto them for anyway?

I was basically daydreaming as I knocked on the door of 217 and proclaimed the usual 'room service' call. I waited about half a minute and then knocked again. Still no answer. I could have just left the towels on the floor outside the door. It really wasn't my fault or my problem that the person in this room either didn't hear me or didn't want to acknowledge me. But then again that wouldn't've been 'Five Star Service' now would it? With a sigh, and partially preparing myself for old man wang, I knocked again and announced I was coming in to deliver the towels. After I still didn't get a response, I used my master key card and let myself in.

The room itself was still very neat, with the only real change to it being a travel bag placed on the seat in the corner of the room. There seemed to be a little steam coming from the bathroom and I could hear the shower blasting away. That at least explained why he hadn't heard me and it also meant I could just drop the towels on the bed and be on my way. I walked over to the bed, not noticing the sound of the shower stopping, and went to place the towels on the end.

"Pass me one of those will you?"

I almost jumped out of my skin as I turned towards the voice I had just heard. Standing naked and dripping wet before me in the doorway to the bathroom was a frankly stunning model of a man. He was ruggedly handsome, at least six feet tall or thereabouts, with short, dark hair. His body, whilst not exactly like a body builder, was toned and nicely muscular. What I was almost immediately drawn to, however, was what was hanging between his legs. I wouldn't have been able to guess at the time, but in hindsight what I saw before me was a cock almost five inches in length soft. I had never seen one that big before.

My face must have told the story of what I was thinking, because he suddenly gave a polite cough and asked again. I quickly apologised and averted my eyes, handing him the towel as he asked and doing everything I could to avoid looking at his bare cock. He swiftly wrapped the towel around himself and covered up his manhood. I was finally able to look him in the eyes, if only to apologise once again.

"No problem, my fault really, I had a little situation with the towels before I got in the shower. Forgot they were hanging over the side as I got in, the whole bunch were soaked in seconds."

I laughed nervously as I acknowledged what he had said.

"You wouldn't mind taking them away with you would you? I'm guessing they'll dry faster in a tumble dryer or whatever you use here than they will on the floor there."

"O-of course," I stammered, still not fully over what I had seen.

He smiled and moved to the side as I shuffled past him and bent to pick up the damp towels. They say we have a sixth sense as human beings to be able to tell that we're being watched. If that's true, mine was practically screaming at me. I felt his eyes boring a hole into me as I collected the towels. I was used to being stared at whilst I was just trying to do my job, but I felt particularly vulnerable in the position I was in. I decided the best thing I could do was just to grab the towels up as quickly as I could and leave.

I turned back around and made my way towards the door to move past him, avoiding eye contact as before. I felt something brush against my side as I moved past him and assumed he'd tried to grab my waist. Another minus of the job I had unfortunately experienced before. I moved my body away from him and turned to look, hopefully convincingly angry enough to get him to back off, but saw his hands behind his back, propping himself up against the wall. Looking further down I gasped again as I saw his massive erection tenting the towel around his waist.

He followed my shocked gaze down to his crotch and looked shocked himself as if he was noticing it for the first time. He moved his hands to try and cover himself, although it was entirely pointless as he couldn't have hoped to cover it all.

"I must apologise," he began, "I was clearly enjoying the view a lot more than I thought..."

At this point I should have just called him a creep and left the room. I must admit, however, I was a little overwhelmed. As shocking a sight as his cock had been before, seeing it, or at least getting an idea of it, at it's full length was a little too much. I had really never seen anything like it, not even in porn, and certainly not in real life. And his word's caught me too, 'I was clearly enjoying the view...' No man had 'enjoyed the view' of me for a long time, at least not to my knowledge. Knowing I had inspired this kind of a reaction in a man after so long on the side lines was a little thrilling...

But it was also wildly inappropriate. I had to break my stupor and leave before things got completely out of hand.

"Your husband is an incredibly lucky man," he continued.

"I-I'm not married," I said, stumbling over my words to correct him.

"Oh? Well, your partner then..."

"No, nothing like that. I'm single."

Why had I told him that? It was no business of his whether I was with someone or not!

"Seriously?" he asked with a sound of shock that seemed very genuine.

"Yeah, I don't tend to get that kind of... reaction from guys too much these days."

I didn't know where all of this was coming from, but at least it was all true. I hadn't even touched a cock that wasn't made of silicone or plastic for years.

"Well, then I guess I'm not as sorry then. Could I get your name?"

"Why?" I suddenly shot back.

"I'd like to make sure that when I review this place I can let the management know how discreet and helpful you were."

"Oh, um, thanks I guess. My name's Samantha..."

"Thanks Samantha," he smiled. "I'm Ethan. I would shake your hand but, y'know," he added with a grin.

"What about you? Is there a lucky lady waiting somewhere for you?"

This boldness was alien to me. Had I been without a man for so long that the slightest hint of attraction was bringing out my inner 20 something again?

"Ha, no," he smiled. "Kind of you to say though."

He must have noticed my eyes were still firmly glued to his crotch, still being uselessly covered by his hands and still clearly rock solid.

"I don't want to assume but, would you like to see it?" he suddenly asked.

Knowing I should say 'no', my eyes met his and I felt my head quickly nod, before they glued back to what I so desperately wanted to see.

He moved his hands out of the way and went to undo his towel. It dropped to the floor and finally unveiled what was hidden beneath it. I fought not to gasp again but lost. Not only was it long, but it was also thick, like the body of a deodorant can. I could feel my pulse starting to race and my breathing getting a little heavier as my neglected body started to kick back into gear at what I was seeing.

"H-how big is it?" I asked through a gulp.

"About 12 inches, give or take," he replied.

12 inches. Any toys I'd used before didn't go beyond 10 and certainly weren't as wide. My body was starting to flare up as my mind conjured images of what it would be like to be fucked by that cock. At the same time, part of me was desperate to leave. What should I do?

"Would you like to touch it?"

The decision was made for me. The dial in my head flitting between stay and leave was now firmly affixed to stay. I dropped the damp towels on the floor and moved slightly hesitantly towards him. I took his cock in my hand but wasn't able to get my fingers around it. On instinct, I started to slowly pump it up and down, taking my time to work my way up and down the full length of the shaft.

"It's huge!" I finally said to Ethan.

"Yeah I mean it definitely seems a little bigger than usual," he replied with almost a shrug in his voice.

"Bigger than usual? You mean it's not normally like this?"

"Normally it caps off at about 10, 10 and half, but damn, I'm not surprised it's gone into overdrive with you here."

I blushed slightly and bit my lower lip. I really wasn't used to this kind of praise anymore. I wanted more of it.

"So, what about me got this thing into overdrive?" I baited him, granting him permission to compliment me more.

"Well, when I saw your huge tits to begin with, I thought I'd have to cover up sooner. And to have such a pretty face above them too..."

I didn't want to him to stop; he was giving me the attention I had craved all these years and more. The pace of my hand quickened.

"... but then you bent down to pick up the towels and there was no stopping it. I haven't seen an ass, hips and thighs as big and as hot as yours in all my life. I guess I started daydreaming about what I'd like to do to you and completely lost track of where I was until you squeezed back past me."

'Big' I would have expected, but 'hot' caught me off guard. The parts of me I had blamed for my lack of attention (because let's face it, bigger boobs would only have ever helped) were now responsible for the massive, throbbing cock I was caressing with my hand. Modesty be damned, I was going to have this cock one way or another.

"What sort of things?" I almost pleaded.

He gently stopped my hand, which had reached an almost feverish pace, and led me over to the bed where he sat, his throbbing member pointing up towards the ceiling. I understood what he wanted. I removed my tunic and flung it down on the floor before releasing my bra and letting it drop to the floor. My nipples were already hard and stuck out like cigar butts topping the large mounds of boob hanging freely from me. I was about to drop my work trousers when he halted me.

"Turn around so I can see it all," he seductively commanded.

I did as I was asked. Thinking I might put on a little show for him I made sure to bend down as I slowly edged the waistband of my trousers down and revealed myself to him.

"Fuck me, you are stunning," he said, in awe of my ass it seemed.

I let my trousers drop down, kicked off my shoes and socks and directed myself back towards him to remove my underwear. As before, I slowly lowered my underwear revealing even more of my ass than before. Once I'd reached the bottom of my ankles, I felt sure he was going to jump up and ram his cock straight inside me and to be honest, I wouldn't have minded. Scratch that, I'd have fucking loved it. But to my only slight disappointment, he remained where he was, with a look of hungry desire I hadn't seen in a while. His cock twitched impatiently. I was feeling impatient too. I moved towards him to mount his cock, sure he would slip right in with how wet I was, but was once again halted by him.

"I'd love nothing more than for you to just drop yourself on me right now, but I want to warm you up first. I don't want to hurt you after all."

I wanted to argue with his logic, but I couldn't, as horny and belligerent as I was feeling.

"How do you want to warm me up?" I asked seductively.

He laid himself back on the bed and beckoned me forward. He was going to eat me out. I almost shuddered in anticipation at the thought as I moved forward but then stopped for a moment as my brain assessed the situation. 15 years ago, I would have had no problem mounting a man's face like that, especially if he had asked me to. But now with the combined size of my hips, ass and thighs, there was a very good chance I could suffocate the guy if I tried it.

"I can tell what you're thinking but trust me, I'll be fine."

"Are you sure? I don't want you to suffocate or something..."

"Oh, I'm sure. Getting beneath you like this was the first thing that came into my mind and I would rather lose a little air than miss out on it."

"Well, when you put it like that," I grinned.

I knelt myself just above his head, each of my thighs already squeezing the sides of his head, his arms tucked to the sides to allow for me to move into position. Already I could feel him kissing and pecking at my inner thighs, sending little bolts of pleasure through me.

"Are you ready?" I asked.

I saw his thumb move up on one of his hands. Ok, if this was what he wanted...

I sat myself down across his face, his tongue immediately leaping to my waiting pussy and drawing a short moan from me as he lapped away. The movements of his tongue were frantic and frenzied as if this was everything he had ever dreamed of and he couldn't control himself. I smiled at the thought and gave a quick 'ooh' as another blast of pleasure rode through me. His cock was standing even stiffer than before, as if that should have been possible, and a trail of precum spouted out of the top of it. It looked very enticing.

I leant myself forward slightly and took his cock in my hand once more. Given his size, it didn't take much of a lean to get there. It also wouldn't take much more of a lean to taste him myself. I licked my lips in anticipation, opened wide and leant my mouth over the head of his cock. It was more of a struggle than I thought, but I managed to fit the whole head in and lapped my tongue around it in circles. This pulled a short moan from between my legs followed by faster, even more frantic licking of my pussy. From the position he was in, it almost felt like he was trying to penetrate me with his tongue and I was loving every second.