Her shadow cast long across the rows of cobble tiles that lined the hotel courtyard, half of the orange sun already fallen past the hills of the valley. As she walks towards the front doors, I try to turn away, to stop looking at her before she catches my stare. But with each step she takes, I can only focus on the sway her hips make. The movement of her hair was hypnotizing in itself, and I try to think myself a better man than the current one imagining her hair cascading down from her shoulders, her brunette waves pouring as I gaze up from below. I pull away for a moment, but it couldn't have been a second that passed before I didn't care whether or not I was caught staring. She would be gone forever soon, another guest, and what little time I had spent with her was not enough. Especially not after what had happened.
Last night a black taxi rolled to the front of the courtyard. Not those long extended ones, just a normal sized cab for those who want upper classed service. Ruther and I are on tonight, and like every night for bellmen, finding ways to extract money out of the guests is our game. Hourly is shit, but the hard cash we get as tips from this hotel's clientele keep our pockets heavy and esteem high. Well… maybe ego is a better word than esteem. While this hotel's guests my fill my wallet each day, I sometimes forget it would take my entire week's earning just to stay here for a night. Still, if you want to get on the good side of these guests and earn their good graces, you have to be perceived as one of them.
I see Mr. Cabbie get out to open the back passenger door first, but sorry bud, I also got an impression to make if I wanna get that extra tip that comes with good relation. Unlike other jobs people have where they dread each customer that walks in, us bellmen see each with one dollar signs in our eyes. Still, one thing that is respected as much as anything in this level of society is one's dignity, and throwing yourself wealthy guests comes off more pitiful than friendly. I greet them all with my little smile, welcoming enough, sincere enough. Somehow, even though I've done this smile a thousand times, I couldn't find it when I opened her door.
Her head was turned away while she was unbuckling her seat belt, and being the dog I am, I wasted no opportunity to absorb the beauty of her long, bare legs that her black top only just began to cover. I don't know where the fuck these guests come from, but the girls that come through here tear apart the fabric in my mind that allows civilization to become, rather than the brute hungering of animals with no sense of time, or future. Sometimes it feels like women have evolved to become more and more beautiful, while men have evolved increasing restraint.
"Welcome, miss." I say, barely managing a smile and averting my gaze before she would have turned to catch me salivating.
'Hey there." She says with a smile, turning to face me.
The normal thing to say is that I was captivated by her beauty… but I didn't feel captivated, or seduced, or all animalistic or whatever… It really felt more like a punishment. Her rosy cheeks, adamant gaze, supple lips… I almost felt like I would have to walk the globe with some new curse. Teased of what exists, and what is not meant for me.
Talking is half my job. People will slip money in my hands just to throw their luggage in their room, but I didn't land at this hotel because I can pull some bags around, but because I know how to make the rich feel richer. The bosses know our game, and fuck all if they don't encourage it. Say the right words, and what would have been a five dollar tip to a bellman becomes a fifty dollar tip to the "young gentleman."
"Welcome." Welcome? What? Why couldn't I come up with anything else to say? I can feel my breath shortening. "Watch your step out, these tiles like to grab hold of heels." She gives a little exhale of laughter from her nose, then raises her right hand for me to help her out. Did mentioning her heels give off that I must have been checking her out? Jesus fucking Christ, why am I so paranoid and nervous?
"I'll be careful" she wryly responds as she gets out. I try to take the moment to regain myself. She steps out slowly, carrying an air with her that feels like an attack on how rushed the world is. My white gloves separate the contact of her bare skin that I would be feeling, and only reinforces the idea of my life being tortured by her presence. I'm just being dramatic… I say to myself. But as she stands out the taxi, she only manages to bring back my confoundment with a force. Letting go of my hand, lightning struck as I feel one of her fingers so slightly graze my muscular forearm, tracing it for only a second, and so short that I'm not even sure it was intentional… Her driver approaches as she hands him a tumbler she had been sipping iced whiskey from. My chest pounds as I'm doing my best to act casual, nonchalant.
She takes a deep breath of the brisk night air, appreciating just how amazing it tastes after sitting in the car for too long, then stretches her arms over her head. "Long drive, huh?" I ask.
"Not so bad, but that's on top of the flight he picked me up from." She told me she had been traveling to any states her business's clients are in, going over new features of her software company's newest edition… or something. I don't know, I don't use computers much. She used some tech terms I never heard before, and though I tried my best to look like I understood, I think she caught herself as well, speaking in terms a layman like myself wouldn't get. Still, rather than feeling judged by her, the look she gave me was more… endearing. As she walked towards the front desk, I didn't care who the fuck saw me staring at her backside. If I was going to live the rest of my life cursed, then I'm going to drink every drop first to make it worth it.
When the time came to bring the luggage to her room, Ruther was next up on the list. Each guest is money, and to keep us bellman from clawing at one another, we need order, taking turns off the list. I slip Ruther a twenty, and I'm back off to her room to give her the luggage and fill my mind with as much of her as I can. A few moments pass after I knock on her door for her to open it. She seems delighted to see me when she opens the door, and I walk in and offer to hang her luggage bag and get ice for her room. I want to strike up conversation again, but I have a sabotaging sense of pride that keeps me from looking desperate. Returning to her room with ice, I see her standing by her bed, looking through her bags, undressed to her underwear. Her ass was half covered, but the shape was all too visible. I stood near the doorway, ice in my hands, not knowing what to do. Did I enter so silent that she didn't hear me come in? As she digs around in her bag, I'm caught there, paralyzed. She shift her weight from one foot to the other, and the movement of her supple, delicious round bottom is too much for me. My dick begins to fill with blood, and I just want to pull it out and rub it over her body. The sensation of her skin, the soft, smooth friction and warmth of my cock gliding around her ass cheeks, slipping slightly between them…
A deep red silk robe is pulled out of the bag, and she slips it on before turning around to catch me in my stupor. "Oh, hey!" She says to me as she turns around. I'm trying to read whether she's mad at me, surprised… anything. I'm caught in a trap, and though my pants are black, I'm not sure how hidden my swollen pal is. "Having a show there?" She says with that wry tone and smirk.
"What? No! I was just… sorry I… and you… and I didn't know you were…-" she gives a laugh of amusement, cutting me off.
"Don't worry, hun. I won't tell anyone." Ugh. What if I walked over, turned you around, pulled that robe up, and inserted myself between your pussy lips. Would you tell then? The brute, using up time and my mind when precious moments of doing exactly the opposite is called for…
Words, something I'm good at, are seeming to fail me. She walks towards me, her robe unclosed in the front, showing me her bare front save a bra and panties. Her tits making subtle bounces with each step, and I'm having a really troubling time struggling with my uncontrollable swelling. "Down, boy." She says as she glides the tips of her fingers over my bulge. My breath jumps, a quick inhale. She reaches over to the desk where she put her purse down and pulls out a hundred dollar bill, and folding it a couple times while she pulls down the zipper of my pants. One of her fingers reach through, and the soft feeling of her petting and circling around my cock feels anything but soft. She slips in the bill, then pulls the zipper back up. "I have some work tonight to prepare for the meeting tomorrow. Poor you…" she says, her palm placed on my chest as she gently pushes me back and out her door. She gives me a little wink, a little kiss in the air, then closes the door. I stood outside her room, so horny I swear it took everything in me from using my all-access key card and taking her then and there, and maybe I should have.
Fucking tease. Fucking curse. Now I'm almost certain of it. It was painful enough before, but to have her like that… what she did. It's unforgivable. It's inhumane. It's unethical. More than anything, I felt angry. I wanted revenge. Justice. I wanted to show her how I could split the earth. I turned around and looked down the long corridor. I put my hand on the brass of the bellcart. Cold. Hard. This is civilization. I am civilized.
Now here she is, again. The double doors part as she walks in carrying a glass with nothing left but ice. I look down at the computer at my bellstand, trying to feign productivity. I don't think it was very hard for her to see through my guise as she approached me, since there isn't much else for bellmen to do except walk shit around. She stood directly in front of me, sipping through the straw in her glass, getting nothing but the last droplets of water that had come from the melted ice of whatever she was drinking, taking a long slurp to salvage what water she seemed to crave, but just wasn't there. You're not supposed to leave the bar with the glass, but I can't blame the person who didn't stop her. "Is it just you and the Filipino guy that works the front at night, or something?" She says in an slight overly loud voice for the hall we were in, but clearly not caring to pretend she was completely sober.
"We like our sleep. I fucking hate mornings."
"You FUCKING hate mornings?" She repeats, extra emphasis and loud on the one word I should probably not use when talking to guests, loud enough to make a slight echo in the entrance hall. I take a quick glance to my left to see if any of the bosses were around to catch that, and she lets out a short burst of laughter. "Oh stop worrying, you."
"I'm not worried," I say, "I'm just… lookin out." My hotel advertises its extra thick, sound dampening walls. It's almost what we're known for, but you never know when a boss could be walking by.
"You seem to like 'lookin out' a lot, don't you…" She responds almost immediately, like the alcohol removes any hesitation she has and replaces it with nothing but her confidence. At this point, I honestly can't tell if she likes me, or utterly hates me. Maybe I'm just another guy who can't avert his gaze, who thinks he has the right to eat her up just because light touches her. My eyes slowly dip, then drop to looking down at my desk, and off to the side.
"I'm-"
"I need a pack of reds. Your gift shop is already closed and I'm not going to even try and bother finding some corner store right now." Whether she cut me off, or we just began talking at the same time, her intents are somehow all such a mystery to me. She gave a short chortle while looking at me, then looked off to the side, and began to softly speak. "You know how tiring it is to visit all these clients? Home is just another hotel for a night or two. It's exhausting sometimes…" She says as she lays her arms over my bellstand, resting the side of her head on her bicep. She's not drunk, but that was definitely not the first drink she's had.
To see her contain any form of sadness, even in the slightest, felt like a stab in myself. "You must make really good money at least?" I said, trying to cheer her up a bit. I questioned myself, about how such a small emotion in her could elicit something so strong for me. Then I wondered how it must be for her to draw that kind of sympathy out of others. I thought it must be great. Then I thought how hard it might be to weed through the crowds.
She looked up, her eyes were smiling, but closed, along with her lips. "Hhmmph, yeaahh" she said with an awful grin. It cracked me up, and short laughter of mine echoed through the hall. She opened her eyes, and her grin lowered to a small smile. "Still…" she trailed, "We always want what we can't have." Her small smile turned to something serious and she stared at me for a moment, then turned and walked down the hall. It seemed clear, right there, that if there was a shred of hope she just gave me, a hope that I could feel and taste her, there should be none left. I'm just the service, and she's the goddess of torment… Or maybe I'm just being dramatic again.
The nearest corner store open this late was a couple blocks down, but after that bill she slipped me last night, I could hope for another good tip at least. It took me almost twenty minutes, and I was surprised my radio worked from so far when I was called by front desk into my earpiece. When a hotel is this nice, there is almost nothing the bellman won't do to keep their guests happy, and it was one of the heads of the front desk who taught me that. The trip up my hotel elevator to her room helped calm my nerves, and I reminded myself that nothing was going to happen with her.
She opened the door a few moments after my knocking, lit cigarette in her hand, blowing a light fog of smoke, the edges of her mouth fighting the slight curl of a smile. Her deep red silken robe on, she turns and walks towards the back of her suite. I stood there for a moment before entering, and was just a couple steps in when she tells me "Close it." My mind wants to… to think, to process something, to analyze the situation, but it was like everything rushed in at the same time, getting jammed in the doorway. I slowly turned and shut the door behind me, then walked over to the back of her suite, where she was, sitting on the paneling of her opened window. Even high up here, there was no wind, just the calm, fresh, cool air exchanging with the warmth of the room. Ice rattles in her glass as she takes a sip from her tumbler. Whiskey, again. She doesn't play lightly, does she? I confusingly raise my hand to give her the pack of cigarettes, which she took and then tossed onto the table a few feet away. "You smoke?" she asks as she raises a pack and offers me one. The pack is nearly full as I take one out, and she hands me her cigarette to use its ember for lighting my own.
"Chain smoker on your last pack?" I ask.
"No. Well, sometimes, but now, no." She says as she takes a slow, long drag. It feels like there is no breeze at all, like the air is still, but the smoke spins and breaks apart violently as she blows it out the window. "I just felt like ordering you around." She says with a smirk, turning to look at me. Placing the cigarette between her lips, she then reaches around to pick up an empty glass and putting it in the ice bucket, shaking it around, trying to scoop what seems to be a very delicate measurement of ice. I can't help but let out a little laugh at her precision. She side glances at me and gives my leg a little kick.
"Shut up. I know." she says. "It makes a difference, okay?" Still holding a grin on my face, I could tell she may have done this a few too many times. She hands me the drink, so I sit down on the window panel too, a few feet between us. The drink is strong, but good. Whatever whiskey she's using, I can't afford. With the cigarette, knowing that I'm still getting paid on the clock, and on a slow check-in night like this, I would say it tastes just about perfect. I take along drag, then a big gulp before noticing her looking at me, smiling. "Pretty cool job you got here, huuh?" she says with a big grin. I look at my drink, spinning it a bit in the glass, a small chuckle from my nose.
"The cash I get goes unreported, untaxed. Guests that tip like you tip last night… I get by." I take another big sip. "Fuck sales. Bosses that always want higher numbers because their bosses want higher numbers. Service though… With service, if you get in with the right type of people, the people with money to blow, they take care of you for taking care of them." I feel like I'm telling myself this more than I'm telling her, speaking as I stare of blankly. I take another big sip, chased by a long drag. It really didn't take long for me to start to feel its effects. The mix of both warm and cold in my stomach, the elation that alcohol gives that first moment it begins to really take you. My serious expression breaks as my shoulders drop. The weight of everything disappears, and I take another sip, finishing it with a small smile that I didn't even realize I had. Staring at the raised glass in my hand, it's odd how thankful I am for it. My leg then began to feel something… her foot slowly touching, smoothly running and caressing.
"So, is that how it works?" she says with coy. What was just lightly grazing the bottom of my left leg became more intent, pressing her foot against my leg with as she rubbed it further up and down. "You take care of me…" she begins sliding across the panel we're sitting on, getting closer and closer to me until her thigh is against mine. Her hand rises to the back of my head, her fingers running through my hair, my eyes lock on her full, rich lips, as they come closer and closer until I close my eyes and her lips begin to press against mine. The room is quiet, except for the soft, barely audible sounds of her wet lips and mine dancing with each other. When I feel the tip of her tongue reach out, I couldn't help but give a small moan and press harder against her. My hand went for the back of her head as we pressed, teased, and nibbled one another. The way she kissed me, the sound of her offset breaths of pleasure from my lips against her, I loved how hard it was making my dick become. She slowly broke away, looking slightly up at me with her coy eyes again, "…and I take care of you." She slid to the floor between my legs with her hands still up on my shoulders, then both sliding down my to chest. With one hand she pushed me back so that I was against the window, and with the other she unbuckled my belt. Pulling down my pants and boxer briefs, my shaved, demanding dick and hanging balls stood in the air before her. She pushed her face forward, until the bottom of my cock was pressed against her face, down from the side of her cheek, up to the head of my dick at her forehead. She pressed her face harder between my dick and balls, the satisfaction of having a dick rubbed on her face unmistakeable from the satisfaction of a woman that loves dick. Craves dick. Thinks about, and knows how to worship dick.
"Before we start," I say, "I need to get even with you for something."
"Baby," she looks up and says sternly, "I'm the one who does the punishing." Then without any further notice, she opened her mouth and pressed my dick so far down her throat that I couldn't help but let out a loud, huge moan. With my dick stuffed in her mouth, I can feel her tongue reaching out and licking the bottom of my shaft and balls. I live in ecstasy as my cock rests inside her throat, subtle movements giving me waves of pleasure, the warmth of her mouth almost enough to make me scream.
But there's still something I have to do. "You can punish me all you want," I say as I grab the back of her head by her hair, "but you're not getting out of this." I rip her head off my cock and she gasps, spit dripping down her chin, her mouth still open as she's looking up at me, her hair firmly, tightly gripped as I hold her head where I want it. With my other hand, I grab the base of my dick, and slap her face with it. My wet cock, pulling away, then the meaty sound of her face feeling the force of my manhood slap her. She turns her head side to side, pressing harder against it, loving it. I knew she would. The bottom of my dick rubbing against her cheeks, across her mouth, her nose, I don't know why it gives us the pleasure that it does, but we both want more. It becomes harder, rougher. She sees the pleasure it gives me, and feeds off it herself, until even for her it was too much. With no lack of force she resisted my restrain of her, opened her mouth, and stuck my cock back in her throat, a loud MMMMMMMMM humming so hard that I can feel the vibrations in her mouth. She pulls back until her lips are at my tip, then opens wide with the resounding gulp noise that send me over the edge. With both hands I grab the back of her head, and slowly begin to fully exit and enter her mouth. Each dip I make to the bottom, she follows the sounds of swallowing that feed directly into my cravings of fucking a dirty bitch the way I've always wanted to. Her tongue dancing, flicking, squirming from side to side, the way she presses her face into my pelvis until she can't go anymore, I never want to stop. Clocks don't tick when I'm in this deep with a girl, and I can't say how much time has passed, but my thrusting into her mouth over and over and over felt like eternity for all I knew. I felt my dick tense up even harder, and the rising feeling of busting my nut into her stomach was inching closer and closer. Right as I reached the edge, I pulled my cock from out of her and resisted cumming. I lifted her up to her feet, and we began kissing in a much less tame fashion than before.
I reached to undo her robe's tie, then pulled it off her to reveal what she had been hiding this entire time- a lace black and red corset, with her tits surrounded by fabric, but fully exposed, same as the straps across her thighs and exposed pussy. "It's time to show me what you got, boy." She said as she pulled me by my hand towards the bed. She laid with her back down, and pulled at me until she was able to reach my head and guide it between her legs. I pressed my face in between her, my nose digging in and sliding from side to side across her wetting pussy lips, before gliding my tongue from down to up across her entire pussy, getting it nice and wetter. My tongue entered her, then slid up to her clit, where it circled and began to just barely graze it. MMMMMMMMMM she moaned. Slowly, I began to suck it. In and out between my lips, slowly bringing it into my mouth, and letting it slide back out. She tasted so amazing, I wanted to just dive in, but I loved teasing her the way she teased me. She pulled my head into her legs, saying "Harder!", and I obliged my mistress. I sucked her clit hard in my mouth, catching it lightly between my teeth, flicking it with my tongue. I pulled back as her clit slid out, spitting on it, and sucking it back in. Her moans becoming more frequent, her hips gyrating and thrusting into my face, pulling me into her by my hair. With a big wad of spit on my thumb, I pressed it against her asshole, lightly circling and inserting my thumb into her while eating her pussy out. The way she squirmed, moved, the noises she made… and I just wanted her to have more of it. With my other hand, I reached for her tits, and began twisting her nipples. Her nipples alone were a thing a beauty, begging to be sucked. Pinching and flicking her nipples, groping her breasts, fucking her asshole with my thumb, and swimming in her pussy with my mouth… I honestly could not contain the pleasure it was giving me, as my hips swayed and subconsciously thrust in the air, I only began to notice because of the feeling of my swinging balls.
A huge moan gets let out as I feel her hips tremble from riding my face. "Enough," she forces out, spoken from deep within her. "NOW." She pulls at me to bring me up to her, and though I want to tease her, even I myself can't help but drop my cock deep in her. The parting of her pussy lips rubbing along my dick is almost enough to make me cum before I regain myself. I thrust again, but she pulls and holds me in, then pulls my body towards her face, and as we kiss, she rolls us over so she's on top. Her pussy is so wet that I can feel drops dripping down my ballsack as she sits there, her pussy gorging my hard cock. As she shifts her hips, I feel the walls inside her rub against my tip, and she begins to pull out and push down on the entire length of my long dick. Her dark hair pouring off her shoulders, it's more than I imagined. Pussy lips tenderly kissing every inch of my cock, every second speaking blissful, raw friction of our hips pressing into each other, each trying to extract ultimate pleasure from one another. With her nipples staring at me, I pull her in and latch them like it was my hidden goal all along. People like different things, and I know it must be some monkey code inside me, but the pleasure I get from sucking on titties gives me a fulfilling feeling like none other. When I find a girl who has sensitive nipples and enjoys them being sucked on, I think they're the only ones that realize I get as much pleasure out of it as them. The sloppy sound of her wet pussy pounding against my hips, swallowing and using my dick for her pleasure, and suckling a nice pair sensitive nipples… this is heaven. I'm lost in time again while flicking her nipples between my tongue, suckling on them, and hearing the pleasure she gets as I get rougher on them, until I can't take it anymore. I want this bitch to take my cum.
I turn her over missionary and planned on fucking her pussy until completion, but she had other plans in mind. She reached over to the bedside table and pulled a bottle of lube out. She was already soaked, so I was a little confused. She pulled my dick out from her, began to coat my cock in the lube, then she guided it to her asshole, and lightly began to press down on it. So I pressed back, the tip of my dick slowly entering inside her ass, then a little more. I pulled out a bit, and pushed in a bit. It didn't take much time to get her asshole stretched enough for my cock, but once it was, she was begging for more. The tight ring in her ass slowly sucking up and taking my dick until it was completely inside, I knew my mistress whore had been craving this. Her hand slit down to her clit as she began rubbing it while I thrust my cock in and out of her tight little asshole, me dripping a bit of lube from time to time just because I love it sloppy. Her three fingers made circular motions over her clit, and I could tell she was getting closer and closer to cumming. Her legs in the air on my shoulders, I began pinching her nipples with one hand, and using the two middle fingers of my other hand to finger fuck her pussy while my cock does it's job burying itself in and anally abusing her.
Her moaning… my god, if she hadn't gotten me so buzzed beforehand, I don't think I could have last this long. She began to thrust her ass harder and harder on my dick, I almost couldn't believe she was getting pleasure from this, rather than pain. I couldn't take it anymore. The thought of my white load oozing out from her ass, "I'm gonna…."
"Mmm cum inside my ass. Please." She begged. "Cum inside my ass while I… while I…" and another moan begins to overflow and spill out of her as her knees come together, her body quivering while I fuck her asshole. I turn her so she's laying on her side, and with both my hands on top of her, I thrust until I cum hard and deep in her rectum. My dick violently contracts, pulses, and sprays cum as deep inside of her ass as I could get myself.
The strength of it. The power. Intensity like I've never experienced, like I was fucking the way I've always wanted to fuck. I couldn't stop cumming. More and more shooting out my dick, filling the inside of her until it began to squeeze and drip out. My moaning was hard and loud, and there is no way my tight grip on her wasn't causing pain. My eyes slowly began to open, just a couple inches away from her soft eyes. I closed them, and slowly leaned in to kiss her, tender as two lovers. My dick, still in her ass, begins to relax, but I couldn't help but give a few soft thrusts while we gently made out.
Her company releases yearly updates, with new features, and new briefings she's gotta deliver. My mistress has my number, and not a day goes by that I check my phone, expecting her. Waiting for her. Life's the curse, and she's the remedy.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/2o97os/a_bellman_to_serve_mf_anal
I didn’t want it to end. Love how rough they got.