I knew the second I caught his eye, I had him. Not to brag—but I knew I looked good that night, in a crop top and a tight skirt that clung to my body. He kept staring at me as he set up for the event that night. He was working, and I was a guest at the old resort for two nights.
There was no real need for me to be dressed up, either, perfume and jewelry and all. It was the middle of January, off season, and I was, far and away, one of the youngest people in the entire building.
So maybe the fact that I was the only girl within a mile helped me stand out, and that’s why I caught his eye.
But I don’t think so. I think he caught my eye, and I caught his, because we wanted each other. Rather, knew what exactly what we wanted from each other.
He set up for the event—a lecture—and then sat down. Instead of the watching the powerpoint, I was watching him. He had the kind of face you’d see on magazines in the ’90s. He was the boy next door, a few years after he got older and moved off the street. He had brown hair and boyish charm, but with an edge. He knew I was watching, because we made eye contact twice. Both times, I looked away nonchalantly.
After it was over, he had to fold all the chairs, which bought me some time. I went back to my room and got changed into sweats, and brought a book. Without acknowledging him, I sat down in front of the fireplace and began reading.
The room was empty. It was just me and him. I figured if he was going to talk to me, he would.
He did. First, he asked if he could fix the fireplace for me. I let him, watching him bend to adjust the wood. We started talking, and he told me his shift wasn’t over until 3 in the morning—too late for me to stay up. But after he was done, he sat next to me. We talked for an hour or two and laughed the whole time. This part was wholesome. I found out I actually liked him—in addition to wanting to peel his clothes off with my teeth. Always a perk.
That’s when he told me how old he was. Until that point, I thought he was a few years old, maybe 30. Turns out he was 47. After a lifetime of staying fit and not having kids, he just never seemed to age. His hair was as brown as it was when he was in his 20s. I revealed to him that I was 25, and he seemed shocked. But we kept talking. It definitely wasn’t a problem for me—far from it.
I’ve always loved older men. usually I like when they LOOK older. After I found out how old he was, I was dying to know what it would feel like to fuck him.
We made plans to meet the next night at midnight. My last night at the hotel. I arrived, as planned. His shift had just ended. We flirted, and then he showed me a surprise.
He asked if I wanted to see the biggest suite in the hotel, now empty. Sure, I said. He worked in maintenance so he had a skeleton key that opened up every room. He led me down winding hallways, all the way to the end of the building. The door was on the right. He opened it, and it was palatial.
Two floors. A living room. A skylight. A bathtub so big both of us could fit in it.
Obviously, we ran around like kids.
Then we gravitated toward the bed. I could tell he was hesitant to make a move. Even though, heck, were sitting on the bed. He kept staring at me. I wanted him to grab me, make a move. But first, I had to give him permission.
“I think it’s hot that you’re older,” I said.
“I think *you’re* hot,” he said.
I smiled at him. He asked if he could kiss me. I kissed him.
We kissed for a while, on the bed, happy to sprawl around in a room that probably cost thousands of dollars a night. There was an element of danger laced into the kissing. I didn’t want him to get in trouble for obviously breaking the rules, but I really wanted him inside me. And if he was going to keep giong, then I was, too.
So we had to rush, is what I mean. I heard his belt buckle coming off. He took off his pants, and I took off mine. “Should I take off my top?” I asked. Next thing I knew, he was doing it for me, pressing is bare torso against mine while he kissed my neck.
He immediately plunged down to take my nipple into his mouth, sucking on the tip just like I like it, and twisting the other nipple with his fingers. He licked his fingers so they were wet and kept going. I was squirming beneath him. He become more dominant.
“You like that?” he asked. “Yeah? You like that? My turn.” And he tossed me over so that I could suck his cock. I got on my knees and put just the tip in my mouth. If he was going to boss me around, then I was going to tease him.
He wasn’t having it. He put his hand on my head so I could go faster. I licked his cock as I moved my head up and down, and started playing with his balls gently. “Yeah, suck my cock,” he said. He liked giving me orders. He told me to suck on his balls, so I did that, too.
“What do you want?” he asked, while I was sucking on his balls.
“I want you to use me, daddy,” I said, because it’s what I meant.
He told me to get up and ride him, because he wanted to see me bounce on his big cock. His cock wasn’t that big, to be fair, but it was just right, and I liked calling it big. I started moaning, and he put his hand on my mouth.
“You can’t make a noise unless I tell you,” he said, our eyes locking .”We’re not supposed to be here. Do you understand?”
I kept riding him and nodded. He clamped my hips down so I couldn’t ride him anymore. “Say, ‘I understand, daddy.'”
“I understand, daddy,” I said, tensing my pussy around his cock–my favorite trick. I saw his eyes clench when he realized what I was doing.
“Now fuck me, but be quiet.”
So I started riding him, biting my hip and rolling my eyes back into my head to stop from moaning. “Yeah, baby,” he whispered. “Come down on top of me.” I leaned over him and let him thrust up into my pussy, my favorite position. But it was impossible for me to be quiet. I begged him to let me moan. He gave me permission, but only if I screamed into the pillow. Soon the pillow was wet, but not as wet as my pussy, which he was plowing into.
“Baby. Your hot. Young. Pussy. Is driving. Me. Crazy,” he said, punctuating his words to each thrust. He stopped for a second and bit my nipple. I yelped. “I can’t last longer. Tell me where you want me to come. It’s your little treat.”
I thought about it. I thought about what would make him happy.
“I want you to come all over my tits,” I said.
“Address me properly,” he responded, and slapped my ass.
“Come all over my tits, daddy,” I said. I’d never called a guy daddy before but suddenly, I couldn’t stop.
“Good answer,” he said, turning me around. Then he instructed me to hold on to the bedposts, because he was going to fuck the shit out of me.
I have no idea how the hotel didn’t catch us. That’s how loudly he was shaking the bed once he got started. He held my legs in the air and started ramming into me, powered by his solid torso. There is a time and a place for gentle fucks but this was not one of them. I could tell he was enjoying himself by the way his head was twisting. His eyes were clamped shut.
“Oh my god, you feel so fucking good,” he said. “You’re so bad, but you feel so good.”
He clamped his hand over my mouth again and locked eyes with me. “Baby, I’m going to come for you. Are you ready for me to come all over you?”
All I could do was nod and hoped he saw my eyes saying yes. He dug his left fingernails into my belly and after three hard thrusts, pulled out and came all over my tits. When he did, he let out a big exhale, like he was holding it all in.
He had to lay down for a second. I cuddled up next to him.
“No, baby, we’re not done,” he said.
“You can go again?” I asked.
“Baby, the best part hasn’t happened yet. I’m going to watch you come right in front of me. You’re going to sit right there,” he said, pointing to the front of the bed. “And you’re going to spread your legs. And you’re going to come for me.”
“You want me to….” I trailed off.
He was putting the pillows up to prop himself up. “Yes. I want you to put on a show for me. I want you tell me what you’re thinking about. I want you to rub your clit, and finger fuck yourself. And I want to watch your pussy convulse. All for me.”
So I did as he asked. I sat on the bed.
“Is that how you do it when you’re alone?” he asked, because I was sitting awkwardly. I shook my head. “Do it how you to it at home.”
So I leaned on my back and spread my legs.
“Atta girl,” he said. “Now rub yourself. Start slow.”
I did, tapping my clit. Then rubbing it in circular motions, the way I like it.
“Now I want you to close your eyes and tell me what you’re thinking about.”
I told him I thought about the time he was slapping my ass. I put my feet together at the bottom, and he grabbed them. “Baby, you’re so wet, did you know that? I want you to check it out yourself.”
I put a finger inside me and, as he told me, felt there were so many juices they literally caught on my finger.
“Now I want you to keep rubbing. Keep thinking of me fucking you, the way I was before, and how I was moaning because you felt so good. But I don’t want you to come until I say so.”
Every time I would get close, he could somehow tell, and slap my hand away so I had to stop, perched on the edge. By the third time, I tried rushing toward relief, and he clamped my hand. “No,” he said. “Not until I say so.”
I sat up and looked at him. I was at my wits end. “Not until you beg.”
“Please,” I said, “If I don’t come I’m going to lose my mind.”
He looked at me, and I could tell he was 47, because only someone that old could give an order like was about to.
“Come, and be as loud as you can,” he said.
“Really?” I asked.
He nodded.
I leaned back down and rubbed my clit in circular motions, tried and true. But then I stuck two fingers up my pussy so I’d have something to buck on—and then I felt him leaning over and replacing my fingers with his own. “Keep going, baby,” he said, and I felt so surrounded by him that next thing I knew I was soaring over the edge, and screaming, and he was leaning on top of me and kissing me so I screamed into his face—and it was over.
And it was awesome.
And we had to get the hell out of that room.
We cleaned it up as well as possible. He worked in maintenance, so would do it the next day. Who knows. Maybe, as I was packing up, he was cleaning up my juices from the top of the white bedspread.
I got his phone number, but we lived too far apart to ever meet up again.
But I know if I ever return to that hotel, I’ll be waiting for him by the fireplace.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/k4yf4s/i_fucked_a_hotel_cleaner_while_staying_at_a
That was so hot ?
Well written and so sexy, as always.