Turn-down Service

I rushed back into my hotel room - stupidly I'd left the dongle behind that I needed to connect my laptop up to the projector. I burst in through the door, nearly tripped over the laundry cart that was just inside, and bumped into the poor chambermaid.

"I'm so sorry," I said, reaching down to pick her up. She waved me off, muttering apologies.

"Excuse, excuse, I go now," she was saying.

"No, no, it's my fault. I just need to grab something then I'll be out of your way."

Wow, I thought to myself, she's stunning! To be fair, most of the young women I'd seen during my tourist time on this trip to eastern Europe had been good looking - thin, stacked, gorgeous and they knew it - but she was something else.

"I must go. Forbidden to be in room with guest."

"I've got what I need, I'm already gone," I said, rushing back out of the door and heading for the lift. "Sorry!" I shouted back down the hallway.

///

The next morning, I left a 5 euro note for housekeeping on the pillow, as was my custom, but this time with a little note beside it to say sorry for the incident. I hoped, at least, that the same chambermaid would be looking after my room for the whole visit. When I returned to my room, it was - as always - immaculately made up. But today, there were two little foil-wrapped mint chocolates left on my pillow rather than one. Apology accepted, I presumed.

I saw her along the corridor another time, bustling along with her cart, tucking unruly hair back into a bun behind her head. Something about that motion captivated me; I realised it was just like that blonde babe in the porn I was watching the night before, scooping her hair out of the way into a ponytail before blowing the horse-cocked dude. She caught me staring and looked away. Did she smile, or did I just imagine it?

Then there was the time I caught the secret lift. Obviously not really a secret; it was a tiny four-person affair just tucked away at the back of the hotel near my room, and offered a more direct route down to the dining room, rather than me walking halfway round the floor and then back again once I'd got to ground level. The doors pinged, and slid open to reveal her and a massive laundry cage squeezed inside. I stepped into the tiny gap next to her.

"I leave, you have lift," she said.

"No, it's fine," I said, watching the doors close.

"I must not be in lift with guest," she said, as if repeating some litany. "Bad things might happen."

"I'm just going to dinner," I protested, smiling.

But I couldn't help but admire how the uniform strained at her chest, the grey material edged in lace, buttons pulling apart. The skirt, falling almost to her knees but clinging to her hips and rounded arse, black tights underneath down her long, long legs. There wasn't really the room to admire her properly, despite the mirrors all round, but that didn't stop my cock from starting to rise from the view.

The lift pinged. "Excuse," she said. But in order to leave she'd have to push past me, there was no space. I suppose I could have stepped out of the lift, but I guess I wanted her to have to touch me; during my indecision she began pushing through me to get to the doors, pressing that peachy arse into my crotch. There was no way she couldn't have noticed my arousal.

As the doors closed, I could have sworn I saw her wink.

///

After that, I developed a bit of an obsession with her. Whenever I went along the corridors to and from my room, I looked around hoping to catch a glimpse. And at night, before I fell into a sweaty, sticky sleep, my last thoughts would be of her body moving against mine.

I started leaving bigger tips, with little messages. Can I see you? Which is your night off? But no replies, just those extra chocolates. Until one day, a note on the weather forecast slip they left every day. "Tomorrow - very wet at 3:30pm", with a smiley face and a couple of kisses.

That night I wanked myself sore, and the whole next day I couldn't pay attention during the conference. I was way too horny to concentrate. I kept looking at my watch, desperate for time to pass. An eternity later, the afternoon coffee break arrived, and I raced back to my room, heart pounding.

I sat on the bed, waiting. Half past. Twenty-five to. Twenty to.

Had I misunderstood the message? I looked out of the window; brilliant blue, not a cloud to be seen. Where was she?

A knock at the door. I checked the peephole; it was her, unbuttoning the top of her work blouse as she waited. I saw black lace holding that epic cleavage up and out to maximum effect.

"Yes?" I called out.

"Housekeeping," she called back.

I opened the door. "You order turn-down service sir?" It wasn't a question; she stepped inside with her trolley then pushed the door closed behind her.

No way would I be turning this down!

She grabbed my shirt, shoved me roughly against the wardrobe and clamped her mouth over mine while reaching between us and stroking my rock-hard cock through my thin suit trousers.

The kiss had me spinning, our tongues dancing, as she directed me into the main room. I tried to grab that luscious arse of hers, but she slapped my hand aside.

"No touch. Just look," she demanded, pushing me backwards to collapse into a chair. Then she disappeared into the bathroom, with a bag from the trolley.

What was she doing? I wondered. My hand fell to my lap, stroking myself through the material. I started reaching for the zip, pulled it down, and my aching cock sprung free.

After a few minutes, the bathroom door opened, and she swayed back out. Her hair was now loose, hanging to her shoulders in messy curls. She'd made up her face; thick eyeliner and ruby lipstick.

She'd undone the grey work blouse and tied it tightly underneath her impressive tits, pushing them up and together, and revealing her toned stomach. The skirt had been rolled up at the waist; it was now indecently short, barely covering her modesty, revealing long legs in black stockings and suspenders. The pumps were gone, too, replaced by stilettos that must have been five inches high.

She was, basically, a wet dream personified.

"Fuck..." I breathed, slowly stroking myself as she walked towards me and right on by. It was hard to resist grabbing her and pulling her down onto me, but she'd been clear. No touching. I sat back and tried not to drool.

I watched as she did her job - stripping the bed, pillowcases and duvet cover, each motion stretching or bending, demonstrating her flexibility and dexterity. As she made the far side of the bed she'd lean forwards, offering me a spectacular view into her cleavage, tits swaying as she worked. And on the near side, right in front of my face, she bent forwards; the tiny skirt rode up over her perfect soft arse, underneath which she was naked except for the suspender belt. Her smooth pussy blossomed for me, puffed and ready, and I could almost smell her arousal. Unconsciously I licked my lips.

"You bad boy," she was saying. I tore my eyes away from her moist pussy, looked up to her face. "Stained sheets."

I did my best to look suitably chastised.

"You think of me?"

I blushed and looked away.

"Dirty old man," she said, but with a smile.

She continued making the bed, in a slow sensual dance that was utter torture but total bliss. As she brushed the last of the creases aside, I dreamed of what those deft fingers might do to me.

"I do bathroom now," she said. "Cannot get uniform stained." And she undid the knot in the blouse and tossed it aside, revealing her large boobs encased in delicate lace. She dropped the skirt to the floor, then picked up both parts of the uniform and hung them up. "Be tidy," she said, unclipping the bra and putting it on the table beside me. The smell of her perfume, with undertones of sweat, called to the beast inside me. I was painfully erect, edging myself.

She sashayed into the bathroom, and started to clean the sink. I had a clear view of that glorious arse through the doorway as she stood, legs apart in those high heels, leaning forward at the waist as she wiped down the marble. I saw the reflection of her huge breasts swaying in the mirror, saw her looking back at me, making sure I was enjoying the show.

I wanted to leap from that chair, step up behind her and plunge my hard cock deep into her eager cunt. I wanted to fuck her so hard against the marble that it would break away from the wall. But I didn't want this to end. I daren't break her rules. So I sat, stroking my dick over and over, captivated by her sensuality, desperate to know what she'd do next.

She was stroking the chrome of the shower-head wand, lovingly stroking it up and down, curling her palm over the end, as if she was worshipping a cock. She was licking her lips as she worked.

Eventually she was finished in the bathroom. "All clean in room," she declared, before looking back down at me. "Maybe not."

I looked down; my fingers were sticky with webs of pre-cum, which was in danger of seeping onto my suit trousers.

"Hmmm, I must clean you, now," and with that she knelt before me and unbuttoned my trousers, peeling the fly back carefully and pulling them down over my legs. She folded them over the back of the other chair before returning between my legs.

"You are very dirty. Let me." She lifted my hand to her face, and sexily took each finger into her mouth, licking the cum from them and sucking as she drew her tight lips along them, base to tip.

I whimpered, my cock twitching. I would have done anything, absolutely anything without question, to have her wrap that mouth around my dick.

She looked into my lap, cock slimy with precum, starting to matt in my trimmed pubes. "You should shave, easier to clean," she said. I simply nodded. "I will do my best," she declared, and proceeded to clean my engorged member, licking across the tip before kissing and sucking along my hard, veined, length. I watched myself dribble as she teased and stroked me. "Is no good, it just makes more mess as I clean it." She frowned. "It is very big, but I will try." She put her hands over mine on the arm of the chair, looked into my eyes, and lowered her mouth over the tip.

It was heavenly. My eyes rolled back, and my head followed. I felt, and felt, and felt. Her lips tight around my shaft, her tongue gliding over my hardness, tasting me, drawing out more.

I realised why she held my hands on the chair. I wanted to grab her hair, force her head down onto me. I wanted to fuck her throat, make her take me whole. But she continued at her own tortuously slow pace, working me over, enjoying hearing me whimper and moan and plead for her to take me, take it all.

With all the teasing earlier, it was not long before I knew I was going to lose control. "Oh fuck, here it comes..." I warned her.

"No mess," she said, and clamped her lips around my twitching cock, sliding as far over me as she could while I unloaded pulse after pulse of thick cream into her waiting mouth.

I came hard, harder than I had for years, my thighs shaking and my arse lifting out of the chair as my back stiffened. I yelled out in triumph, and it turned into a cry.

She licked round my tip, ever so gently, knowing I'd be extra sensitive. She swallowed as I pumped into her, load after load, true to her word not spilling a drop. When she could taste that I was done, she leant back, sucking to the top of my cock before letting her lips close round it into a kiss as the end slipped from her mouth.

"Oh, my god," was about all I could say. She smiled, and stood in front of me.

"I must work," she said.

"You're not finished," I objected. Her thighs were shining from the dampness; I could see beads of her juices on her pussy lips.

She drew a finger through her pussy, rubbed it against her thumb, considering. "I cannot reach. Maybe you clean me now?"

"I thought you'd never ask," I said, tearing off the shirt and standing before her.

"It is joke! I must work!"

"No," I said, taking her arms and walking her backwards to the bed.

"It is forbidden," she whispered, putting her hand in front as if to push me back, but in the end just scraping her nails across my chest. I saw the look in her eyes, burning with lust, mirroring my own.

She fell to the linen, lay back and drew her knees back. It was my turn to kneel, at the end of the bed. I looked up, past her pussy. She was kneading her boobs, pinching and twisting her nipples and mumbling to herself. She caught me looking. "Please, clean me."

I smiled, pushing her knees further apart as I lowered my lips onto her. I kissed my way up one shiny thigh, finally tasting her as my lips drew some of the moisture from her skin. I repeated on the other side, unable to help myself licking at her salty sweet flesh. The scent of her was intoxicating; I breathed deeply through my nose as my lips approached hers.

So soft, so warm. I placed gentle kisses over her lips, from her twitching arsehole to her throbbing clit. Gently I licked over it, tickling it with the very tip of my tongue, before sucking it into my mouth and dragging the flat of my tongue across it.

I could hear her murmuring in her own language, sweet dirty thoughts between her moaning and growling. I drew my tongue between her lips, tasting her directly from the source, sliding my tongue deeper inside until my mouth was clamped over her cunt, nose pressed against her clit, and I ate deeply, kissing her with all the passion and desire I'd felt for her.

Presently she balled her fists in my hair, pulling me tight against her, as her back arched and her pussy convulsed around my tongue. She made delicate "Ah... ah... ah..." noises as she came, feeding me as the lust washed through her in waves.

Eventually she released me, and I crawled onto the bed beside her.

"Now you are dirty again," she said, licking her juices from around my mouth. Then we were kissing, making out like horny teenagers, me groping her heavy tits as she tasted herself on my tongue.

My hand slid lower, seeking her warmth; she gasped as my middle fingers glided easily between her silky folds into the depths of her desire. As I worked her pussy with my hand, I kissed down her chest and feasted on her breasts.

"More," she demanded, pushing my index finger inside her, then massaging her clit as I worked.

She was hot and ready; her need was urgent and strong. With my fingers in a triangle formation I pounded inside her, sure to curl over her g-spot as we worked her pleasure spots together. The second orgasm crashed through her, arching her back and leaving her clawing at the very bedsheets she had only just changed and smoothed.

She was whimpering, her moans growing more insistent, urging me to greater efforts. I caressed her soft skin, made love to her breasts with my lips, to her neck, her stomach.

"Slower," she begged. But I saw her eyes. Felt her legs spreading wider, her back arching further. I continued apace. "No, I must not..."

"Let go," I permitted. "For me." And I drove her over that final edge, through the barrier she'd been holding back from.

"Nngggggg... Aaaaaaahhh!!" she cried, spraying her pleasure all over those crisp Egyptian cotton sheets.

She shouted something I didn't understand, then switched to English. "Fuck! Yes! Make me! I ruin this bed! So dirty! Fuck!" All the time squirting jet after jet across my sheets. Breaking that final taboo, dirtying a guest's room, coming all over their bed, the wrongness of it bringing her exquisite pleasure.

I let her ride the orgasms, until she eventually pulled my hand away from her twitching pussy as she howled. I watched, placing soft kisses on her chest, as the waves of pleasure subsided.

"I must leave," she said. "I stay too long now. I lose job."

I stood, disappointed. What a woman, what a body. I'd hoped to pound that sweet arse for a while, then soap her over in the shower, before letting her get back to her duties.

"You can't leave me like this," I said, nodding down to my purple cock, painfully hard, dribbling precum.

She considered. "You close?"

"After watching your fountain show? Fuck yeah," I admitted.

She smiled, reached out for me, started to stroke. "On my face," she said. "Make me dirty whore." Corkscrewing her fist, cupping and rolling my balls in her other hand, begging me to give it to her - it didn't take long. I splashed my second load over that beautiful doe-eyed face, shot loads through her hair and across the pillows, dribbled across her perky full tits.

I just had time to commit that cum-streaked visage to memory before she dashed into the bathroom. I'd dream of that painted face for years to come. Seemingly seconds later she emerged, face and body wiped clean of cum and make-up, underwear back in place. Still dizzy from endorphins I watched her draw that ghastly uniform back on, pulling it tight over her curves, covering but not hiding that fabulous body.

I looked at the bed - make-up smeared over the pillows, beads of my milky white cum across the duvet, a huge lake of her juices soaked almost to the edges, and spray marks across onto the carpet beyond.

She saw me looking, started reaching for fresh sheets.

"No," I begged. "Leave it. Since you have to go, leave me this gift from you, to enjoy for tonight. I want to smell you as I sleep."

She shrugged, put the sheets back on the trolley. I think we both knew I wouldn't be sleeping much.

As she got to the door, she turned. "Goodbye," she said, and started to push her way out.

"Wait," I pleaded. She cocked an eyebrow. "What time do you knock off tonight?"

THE END