The Hotel’s Maid

By forty-eight, Marcus’ life had plateaued. His teens and early twenties had been spent travelling across the world in search of one party after another, and once that lost its thrill he focused on his career. Now a manager of one of the most successful independent hotels in the country, Marcus found life had become a little stale.

Married (for the second time) and with two step-daughters who he doted on, Marcus had plenty to appreciate in his life besides his career. However, as happy as he was, he’d begun to feel that the train he’d been riding had run out of tracks, and the impending stagnant future that awaited filled him with despair.

Perhaps *that* was why he’d hired her.

He made a point to interview all new applicants to ensure only the finest staff were recruited. When Andrea had walked in Marcus had instantly perked up at the sight of her: she was exactly the kind of petite, brunette marvel that his guests would relish. What followed was the smoothest interview he’d ever experienced; Andrea had secured the job within the first ten minutes, the rest of the hour was simply spent chatting.

She’d started a week later, working closely with the rest of the team to learn the standards of cleaning expected. Each time she passed Marcus she’d offer a slight smile or make a quip about the suit he was wearing, and in return he’d remind her which piece of furniture needed polishing next.

Marcus’ looks and professional stature often put him in the centre of some of his staff’s fantasies. As much as the flattery bolstered his ego, Marcus was married, and that was that. Only a couple of years ago his wife had had to take one of her daughters aside because what once had been subtle flirting had progressed into full frontal nudity around the apartment.

Andrea was no different. He’d often catch her gazing at him whilst he worked in the office, and whenever they talked she’d carefully push her chest forward and her ass out. Marcus never looked though, it wasn’t worth the hassle. He’d learned that ignoring these advances would mean they became bored, and that’s when they’d move on to the bar staff.

After a few months Andrea seemed to be getting the hint, to the point that one Thursday evening she didn’t even say goodbye. Marcus shrugged it off, maintaining that he’d done the right thing, and carried on down to his office ready to pack up for the day. When he arrived he noticed a note stuck to the screen of his computer. In cursive handwriting, someone had written: *Strange noises in room 1.*

Marcus groaned. Room One was where they stored all the extra furniture and equipment, and over the years it had been host to various animals who saw it as a prime nesting ground. He toyed with the idea of leaving the issue until the morning, but all it would take was the wrong person to spot a rat and the hotel’s reputation would be tarnished. Reluctantly he dropped his bag back onto the chair, grabbed a pair of rubber gloves from the cleaning closet, and marched up the rear stairs.

The first thing he noticed was that the room was unlocked. Only he and reception held a key, so someone must have already been to investigate. Marcus shrugged and pushed the heavy door open, the smell of furniture polish flooding his nostrils. The lights hadn’t worked in the room for quite some time, so he had to rely on the dusky glow creeping in through the windows. Inside the room was filled with stacks of chairs, desks, mattresses and more, some covered by dust sheets and others not, each creating an eerie silhouette. Whatever had made the noise was now silent, likely waiting for him to disappear before scurrying to safety.

Marcus was about ready to leave, thinking he’d pick up some poison in the morning, when something caught the corner of his eye. It was the slight jolt of something moving beneath one of the sheets. He quietly moved closer towards a sheet which covered what looked like two long arms pointing upwards, resembling what Marcus could only think might be a wheelbarrow. In the middle of the sheet, below those strange arms, was a perfect hole.

*Bingo*, he thought.

Marcus flicked the torch of his phone on and crouched to peer into the hole.

However, what the light settled on was not the frightened stare of a rat. It was something else; something that caused Marcus to stand abruptly with a gulp.

What was he supposed to do? He could feel the warmth spreading within his cheeks as he stared down at the white sheet. He figured he’d be best to just leave and pretend this never happened.

But a small thought in his mind told him he could have been wrong. Perhaps he needed to double check. He couldn’t risk his guests being bothered by a pest after all.

He crouched once more and peered into the hole that had been chopped into the fabric. The light of his torch spread through the darkness until finally it settled, the white light reflecting off the wet surface within.

Marcus’ heart pounded as he lowered the light. He told himself his eyes were playing tricks on him. To prove it he reached a hand towards the hole. *I’ve got to be certain*, he told himself as his fingers reached beneath the fabric, and then he gasped as his fingertips came to rest against a familiar warmth.

For a moment he was frozen as he realised what he’d seen was real. Gingerly he slid his fingers up, and then down, as he double and triple checked he wasn’t mistaken.

There was no denying what he was feeling, and he knew he needed to walk away, yet his two fingers lingered beneath the sheet, though he wasn’t sure if they did so hesitantly or hopefully.

Marcus tried to remind himself of his wife. He mustered up the image of her in his mind as he willed himself to pull away, only to have his thoughts shattered by a hand grasping his. He let the hand guide him lower, and when he didn’t resist he felt himself being pulled in. As he sank into the warmth of a tight pussy his cock almost burst from his zipper. The hand rocked his back and forth for a moment, and when it disappeared he didn’t stop. He slowly pushed his fingers deeper, and then pulled them back to add a third.

As Marcus unbuckled his belt he reasoned with himself that this was likely his wife. It didn’t matter that the pussy he was rubbing was completely smooth, nor that it was tighter than he ever remembered it being. His wife had finally realised he needed some excitement in his life, and who was he to deny her?

With slick fingers and a cloudy mind, Marcus grabbed the base of his cock and pulled it from within his underwear. He manoeuvred so that his cock was aimed towards the hole in the sheet, his breath catching in his chest as it disappeared from sight.

*It’s my wife.*

That’s what he told himself as he slid the thick of his shaft between the soaked lips hidden under the white sheet. Then he reminded himself again as he rubbed her clit with the tip of his cock. It didn’t matter that the gasps coming beneath the sheet didn’t sound like hers, he still told himself over and over that it was her.

He reminded himself she couldn’t get pregnant, so it was okay that he was bare.

“It’s my wife,” he whispered to himself as he pressed the first inch of his aching cock into the tightest pussy he’d felt in years.

Marcus grabbed the legs angled up beneath the sheet and used them to pull himself closer. The invisible whimpers grew louder as inch by inch he slid himself deeper, until finally his balls were pressed against the fabric of the sheet. Before he could pull out to begin thrusting, a hand reached down through the fabric and pulled his sack in so that it rested against the warmth of her taint.

Looking down to see his cock had disappeared gave Marcus a rush. He began to thrust back and forth deeply, dragging his cock until only the tip lingered in the hole, and then pushing it so every inch was buried. The whimpering beneath him grew louder as he grew faster, and then it became a heavy moan as he fucked harder.

He held the image of his wife in his mind as he began to pound the invisible pussy like his life depended on it, but as the moans became shrieks her image melted away. Marcus was fucking a hole and he wasn’t sure he cared who’s. The furniture beneath them creaked as he tried to push himself deeper, his lust fuelled as the sound of raw skin slapping together filled the room.

He threw his head back in ecstasy as his hips continued to pump in an almost mechanical motion. He had to squeeze his eyes tight and will himself not to bust too soon, but the way this pussy squeezed him was just too much. He found himself driving into the pussy with all his weight.

The giveaway laboured gasps of someone having an orgasm drove Marcus further into a frenzy. He began to grunt as he continued his pace, pushing her closer and closer until eventually the hole quivered around him. He smirked to himself as he felt the pussy he was fucking throb on his cock, the woman it was attached to struggling to keep quiet or still.

Her release was like the green light his mind had needed, and suddenly he felt the warmth spreading through his body.

“It’s my wife,” he reminded himself as he felt the pressure building in his crotch. He repeated it louder as his hips slammed against the sheet. Then he was speechless as his balls tightened and his cock began to throb, emptying itself into what what felt like both nowhere and everywhere.

Marcus grunted and fell onto the sheet, breathing heavily as the last drops of his cum drained into the hole below. Beneath him a woman panted, her head pressed against his chest.

For a moment Marcus lingered there, soaking in the warm embrace wrapped around his shaft and the wetness pressed against his balls.

Finally, without a word Marcus stood and slid himself from the pussy. He wiped his soaked cock clean on the sheet, pulled up his trousers and returned to his office to collect his bag, throwing the note stuck to his screen in the bin as he left.

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/jxamly/the_hotels_maid