The Grande Futapest Hotel Ch. 04

"I hadn't thought about it that way." Selena said. "I don't watch much pregnant porn, but... I can get into it. I don't know... it looks like we all want what we can't have."

They kept watching until the videos unceremonious end before her climax. Layla could definitely relate.

"What time is it?" Selena checked her phone. "If we hang out here for a little while longer, we could get dinner at that Moroccan place."

Layla's eyebrows went up. That sounded like a great idea. "That sounds fun." Layla said. "But didn't you say your chef was coming over tonight?"

"Ohh, yeah. Shoot." Selena tapped her phone. "Hey, it's me. I'm sorry, but I'm still not back in town. What were you going to cook? ... Well, that just goes straight into the oven, right? Can you put that in the fridge? We'll do it tomorrow. Yes, we. I'll have a friend over. I forgot to tell you that, too. Yeah, I'm in Glendale. I won't be home till too late. ...yes, if you can, make up another one for my friend. She'll still be around then. ... yeah, I'm sorry I won't be home until you're gone. I'll pound your ass twice as hard next time, I promise. OK. Love you always. Mmmwah."

Selena turned back to Layla. "We're good."

Layla's brow was low. "The way you said that... I can't tell if your chef is a man or a woman."

"I said what they were yesterday."

"Did you? Shit, I don't remember."

"Would it bother you if I had sex with a male chef? With his big chef muscles from cutting shallots all

day and his... barely average penis?"

"Is there a word for a lady chef? Like 'cheffe?' C-H-E-F-F-E?"

"I guess it wouldn't bother you."

---

Selena insisted that if their formal wear was enough to hopefully snag Selena a lucrative licensing deal, it would be fancy enough for Wajba, the Moroccan restaurant that Layla had lived across from for over a year without ever having set foot inside or ever paying it much mind.

The outside made some attempt to make it look like a building from another time or another country, like the fake painted stuff at a theme park. The inside was significantly fancier, with high ceilings supported by carved wooden archways, doorways filled with strings of beads, and walls covered with artwork, murals and photographs of Morocco.

Layla looked at her menu and ordered the vegetable tajine and chicken kebabs. Selena closed her menu and told the waiter, "Impress me."

Without missing the beat, the waiter said, "We can do that with the couscous alone."

"Should I have ordered couscous?" Layla tried to ask Selena quietly, but the waiter was still within earshot.

"Did you want some?" His pencil was already off his ear again.

"Never actually had it. Maybe I'll have some of hers to try it." Layla said. "Unless that's a faux pas."

"Sharing? A faux pax? In Wajba?" He laughed. "Never!"

He left them, and Selena and Layla sat for a little while, listening to the music and trying to figure out where the loudspeaker was hidden in the dark red curtains and archways. Selena leaned in to Layla.

Layla recoiled gently. "Should we be doing that here?"

"What? Why not?"

"Is Morocco a country friendly to... same-sex stuff?"

"How do they know we're the same sex?" Selena whispered. "I could be a boring regular old-fashioned woman, and you could be the horny futa who's turned me over to the world of worshiping futa cock."

"Shut up. Don't make me horny. I'm still not wearing any panties."

"I know you aren't. You could have. We were in your apartment!"

"You were the one who said I shouldn't!"

"You're the one who walks around in those leggings all the time. I'm not saying stop, of course."

The waiter came back with a tray with two small cups of a black liquid. "To start, cafe noir."

Layla recognized it immediately, or at least thought she did. As the waiter left, she turned to Selena and said, "How do you feel about espresso?"

"I hate it." Selena said. "It's like someone left the pot on too long until it turned to coffee molasses."

"That's probably because you haven't had good espresso. Even coffee shops make it wrong." Layla took the cup closer to her and took a sip. Her eyes widened a bit. "Well, that's not JUST espresso, that's got some spices in it or something."

Selena took her cup and sipped. "This is definitely better."

"The spices are so strong..."

Selena sipped hers until it disappeared. "That's very nice."

"The coffee is way better, but those spices are weird."

"Nope, I think you've converted me. Just like your huge futa cock made me gay."

"Not so loud!"

When the meal came, Selena was presented with roast rack of lamb served over vegetable couscous with slivers of almond and, in the center, a stylish shaped dollop that looked like whipped cream, but was almost certainly yogurt. The ribs of the lamb were interwoven like lovers' fingers, standing off the dish like a tower. Layla was presented with a vegetable stew served in an earthenware bowl and some nicely charred chicken kebabs resting in a mix of still more vegetables and rice.

Needless to say, it was all delicious. Layla felt a little bad leaving some of it behind, but she was very full by the end.

When the meal was over, a battalion of waiters took all the long tables away from the couches, leaving the middle of the room open. The loudspeaker music ceased for a moment before switching to something with thumping percussion and exotic wind instruments.

From one side of the room, a belly dancer jumped from the entrance into the center of the room, a thousand little bells and metal dealies jingling as she did. She was swarthy and remarkably fit, a blue veil, a scarf and an apron-like sash that hung in front and below her hips the only cloth on her. The rest, the small beaded top and belt, gave the illusion that she was nude underneath.

The dancer spun around the room, her half-skirt rocking around like an upside-down bobblehead. Her abs were perfectly defined without being unattractively muscular. Her breasts bounced as she rolled herself around, her arms waving like two serpents around her body. The set went on for about ten minutes, as the music cycled between a few songs, one with lyrics, but most without. Between the songs, the dancer bowed and the audience applauded.

During the last set, she started moving further out to the couches and chairs, slinging her scarf around the shoulders of a few gentlemen sat across from them. They produced dollar bills and gingerly slid them in the back of her bra strap.

The dancer proceeded counterclockwise around the room in a way where she would likely come to Selena and Layla last. They both went into their purses to be ready, unwilling to stop watching this mesmerizing dance for more than a few seconds. They watched as the woman delicately refused to take a bill that was in a man's mouth, gesturing with one hand curled back in obvious discomfort. She somehow made it look like part of the dance.

Layla felt her heart thump as the dancer grew closer, currently entertaining the Japanese husband and wife sat at the end of their couch. In Layla's mind, she pictured the dancer sashaying up to her and displaying her mostly nude flank to her. Layla leaned forward and clasped the beaded thread of her bottom between her teeth, tugging it outward to place her dollar within, a drop of her sweat touching her nose.

But before she could place the tip in, the waistband of the half-skirt snapped within her mouth, causing the whole bottom to fall into a jangly heap and for Layla to spit out a few beads before she swallowed them. When she looked up, the dancer's skirt had given way to reveal a beautiful thick cock, half-chubbed from the energy of the dance, swelling to full chub at the shock of being exposed so suddenly.

Selena stood up and pulled her own cock out. Most of the other patrons ran for cover. Layla swore she heard someone yell, "It's Gojira!" but that was probably a joke AND a violation of copyright. Selena held her cock next to the dancer's to compare the size. The dancer's cock was probably eleven inches, but equal in girth. They say that's what women and futa are really looking for in Boner Homes and Gardens.

At the same moment, both the dancer and Selena turned towards Layla, cocks first and presented them to her open mouth.

Layla shook herself out of the fantasy as Selena was tucking a bill into the dancer's cleavage. Layla sighed. At least she'd stopped her fantasy before she'd gotten hard in front of everyone.

The dancer moved over to Layla and rolled her abs and shook her tits in Layla's face. Layla stared for a little bit before her trembling hand put her one dollar bill next to Selena's.

The dancer bowed, the audience applauded, and Layla moved a nearby pillow into her lap as casually as she could. Why didn't she bring her big purse?

Noticing Layla's predicament, she asked the helpful waiter if they could arrange a private dance.

"I'll have to ask her." He said. "It will be her decision."

---

"There are three misconceptions about being a dancer that I don't like." Said Farah, the dancer who had thrilled them so effortlessly after their dinner. "The first is that we are strippers. The second is that we are seducing the people we dance for. The third is that we give private dances that are shallow excuses for prostitution. As you can see, we don't have a private room for that sort of thing, and the rental hall is occupied."

This was why Farah had led Selena and Layla into the stock room, surrounded by metal shelving racks covered in supplies, ingredients, cardboard boxes filled with napkins, and other sundry. It was not particularly Moroccan-themed, with the light blue paint and drop ceiling with inset fluorescent lighting.

"And yet..." Selena said knowingly.

"And yet, I never expected Selena Grande to come to our little restaurant. I thought you'd go for something fancier."

"What restaurant's fancier than this place?" Layla cried. "Buckingham Palace?"

"So, Selena..." Farah slid forward and put her arms around Selena's shoulders. "Do you want me?"

"Absolutely." Selena purred. "But... my friend Layla looks very eager to start you off."

Layla moved the pillow away from her crotch, having walked with it from the dining hall into the stock room. She was fully erect, her skirt piled up at the base of her cock.

"Oh, how nice." Farah knelt down in front of Layla. She put her left hand on Layla's cock. "Very big."

"See, Layla? When will you believe me?"

Farah licked the shaft of Layla's cock once, then a second time. And Layla made the "T" gesture for 'time out.' She wasn't even sure if any Moroccan sports used that signal.

"Uhhh... why don't you start with Selena?"

"I was a little afraid to start with her." Farah said. "I've never had someone so big. I feel like I need to warm up to this."

"That dance wasn't a warm-up?" Selena got into position. "I won't hurt you. I promise. I'm a professional like you."

Farah's arms slipped behind her and undid the clasp in her top. Her brassiere came free with surprising force, Farah's breasts bounding happily, the hundreds of beads and jingly bits sewn into the top making noise as she set it down. Her lower garment was just as easily removed, though underneath it, she revealed a pair of panties that matched Farah's skin tone as close as could be expected from a mass-produced product.

"You ARE wearing underwear." Selena said. "I wasn't sure."

"I couldn't do it without them. Too much chance of... flashing." Farah slid the panties down her legs. "How do you two walk around without panties with all the... extra equipment?"

"It's so easy." Selena said. "I don't get what the problem is."

"Well... if you want to keep mine..." Farah held the pair outward, stretching them with her thumbs in between each leg hole.

Layla reached out, but Selena took Layla's hand and lowered it. "She's in training to become a commando master. We're keeping her away from them the way you keep an alcoholic away from the plate of rum balls."

"Fair enough." Farah set them down on some random cardboard box and took a seat on a barrel. Selena approached and placed the tip against the small slit.

"Ooh, what's that song?" Selena pointed her ear toward the door. "That sounds like something you could dance to, huh? Layla, open the door a crack so we can hear it better."

And that's how Layla found herself watching Selena fuck the dancer in the stock room of the Moroccan restaurant across the street from her apartment... to the beat of Sia's Cheap Thrills... with the door open a crack.

And that's when Layla started masturbating.

The shimmer of sweat that the dancer had when performing returned during their exercise, her tight abs growing more visible as she contracted them, Farah's breasts bouncing, the right one clockwise and the left counterclockwise. It would be perfect if they were decorated with tassels, but that would be something worn by a stripper, not a dancer.

Just as the song ended, Farah cried out, gripping the rack behind her. She felt come splatter all over her stomach, though felt nothing inside her. When she finally opened her eyes, she saw the streaky, jagged puddle that had been made for her.

"OoooOoohh..." Farah moaned musically. "You came so much, and you're still so hard..." She dipped her fingers in the puddle and brought it to her tongue. It was as natural an instinct for Selena's lovers to do that as it was to blink when firing a gun. Some people didn't, but... almost everyone did.

Selena looked at Layla, who seemed to be hiding herself. Selena hadn't come, she knew that for sure.

"Yeah, I am." She said. "Like I said, I'm a professional."

Selena offered to help her clean up, but Farah said she was fine. They were still customers of Wajba, and customers never had to worry about cleaning up. Selena and Layla left the stock room as Farah unwrapped a new roll of paper towels.

They returned to Selena's car, still parked in Layla's spot. It was always nice to get some use out of the spot she was paying for.

"Layla..." Selena said, before starting the car. "How often would you say that you had an orgasm before you met me?"

"About once a day? Usually when I streamed?" Layla answered uncertainly. "Sometimes I might crank one out in the middle of the day, but... that's pretty rare."

"You've come... four times since we've met?" Selena said. "That's an average of once a day."

"You're trying to tell me I'm not improving?"

"I just don't really get why you just whacked off in there. She wanted you. You could've just... had sex with her for real."

A dark thought moved in like a storm cloud in Layla's mind. She masturbated because there was nobody to disappoint. No risk of coming too early. No chance to disappoint Selena that she was still as sensitive and premature as always. That's why she loved solo streaming so much. She played with herself and read chat until she felt like painting the ceiling white. Nobody to disappoint there.

Then again... could there be another reason? It wasn't that she didn't want the exotic, alluring and incredibly athletic dancer. Was it that she wanted... something else?

"Selena..." Layla began. "For my whole life, whenever I watched you have sex with someone... I was masturbating. If you're going to keep having sex with women in front of me... it's going to take me some time to adjust."

Selena thought on that. "I suppose."

"Are you disappointed that I'm not making more progress?"

Selena looked at her. "The last thing you are, to me, is a disappointment."

They kissed briefly.

Selena drove them home.

During the ride, Cheap Thrills played on the radio. And Layla held her skirt down fruitlessly against the rising force of her erection. She just hoped she would never hear that song in the middle of a supermarket.

---

After the long drive, Selena and Layla left her car and went straight to different bedrooms, soon to rejoin at the TV room, where Selena's DVR had faithfully recorded Wheel and Jeopardy. Selena threw her formal clothes into a hamper and reached for a bathrobe, but saw Layla leaving her bedroom out of the corner of her eyes, just in time to see her walk out of the room nude.

"What are you waiting for?" Layla said.

Selena smiled, pulling her hand away from the robe and up to her chin.

Of course, Selena wouldn't go a whole hour sitting without edging, so she and Layla gently massaged each other's cocks with their hands. Selena seemed to be more receptive to it now than yesterday. She was reaching the end of her week of restraint, and perhaps it got more difficult the longer she went.

Eventually, Selena asked that they move to ball massages. Did Selena experience that undesirable phenomenon known as 'blue balls' in her long dry spells? Was her presence making it worse? How deeply wonderful would it be if Selena finally decided that enough was enough and she would plow Layla's hot slit until... who knows when?

Watching Selena sit there, light flickering off her body and reflected in her shiny blue eyes, lips parted gently, breasts heaving with every deep breath...

Layla always knew that Selena Grande was sexy.

Right now, she thought Selena Grande was so beautiful.

Obviously, Layla had known that as long as she'd been aware of her existence. Somehow, when face-to-face, it felt like a brand new thought, like she'd missed something as big and obvious as Mount Rushmore.

Layla released Selena's gonads, letting them drop to the soft couch with a thump. Selena looked away from the TV and saw Layla staring at her. There was more wonder in Layla's face than even when they first met.

Tentatively, Layla advanced and closed her lips against Selena's. Their hearts raced, their fingers interwove, Layla brought her legs around Selena's back and held herself against Selena's torso. Their cocks rubbed between their bellies, Layla's balls gently parted by the girth of Selena.

Go for it, Layla's mind was hollering over the unending timpani of her heartbeat. Just press her down and fuck her again. Tell her what you're feeling and pound her so hard, they'll need the Jaws of Life to rescue your cock from her.

Layla broke away her kisses suddenly, still holding Selena's head and moving hers to Selena's shoulder. She tried to catch her breath.

"Something wrong?" Selena asked.

Layla gently disentangled herself from Selena. "I'm going to need a cold shower."

Selena sighed. "Me, too."

Layla moved to excuse herself, but Selena grabbed her hand. Their makeout session caused them to miss Final Jeopardy. Selena closed her eyes to keep from seeing the answers appear on the contestants screens as she rewound.

Neither of them got the question right. As the credits rolled and the theme played, they continued their kisses until the DVR stopped its playback. They were shocked out of their reverie by the sound of sudden gunshots from a repeat episode of Designated Survivor. Layla was shocked that anything could get her heart pounding harder than it already was. They finally separated and went to different showers to cool off.

Layla didn't touch the hot water knob at all. She clenched her fists and cried out repeatedly as the icy water struck her body like a million tiny daggers. Layla didn't touch the soap or get her hair wet. This wasn't about bathing, this was only about chilling her libido. She pulled her arms into her torso involuntarily, but her skinny arms were already too cold to be much help keeping herself warm.

Her instincts told her to bend forward and step back, but she resisted. She stood in the cold water until she thought she'd snap in two like a frozen branch. Layla jumped out of the shower without turning off the water first. The air wasn't much warmer, but it might as well have been a summer day in that bathroom.