Don Baker - The naughty night clerk

The two men to whom I was giving a hand job were gyrating madly, because I was beating their meat so fast they were having spasms. Even after they came, and I felt the warm liquid on my hands, I kept beating, until their pricks had shrunk to half their normal size. The men had to finally pull my hands off.

When they moved away, I took my excitement out on my blow job. I now had my hands free and began massaging his balls and playing with his anus. He started pushing his cock harder and deeper into my throat, so deep, in fact, that I had to hold him back with my hands. When I felt his fluid draining down my throat, I gobbled at his meat as if it were the last drop I’d ever get. He moaned and rotated his hips, draining his fluid to the last drop, and just about choking me. He had to force himself away, because I had him in such a grip, and was still sucking his shrinking tool.

I now turned my attention to satisfying my own needs. I placed both hands on my diner’s bead and pulled him deeper into my crotch.

“That’s it, eat me, suck me. Make it good. That’s it.” I was delirious. I could have gone on like this forever but, unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. I felt my gate open and tried to force it closed. I didn’t want to end this paradise. But I couldn’t stop myself. The flood tide began, and I humped hard with each spurt, coating my eater’s tongue with the sticky fluid.

The men went to the bathroom and washed themselves. One of them brought a warm cloth and washed my face and crotch. I was too weak to move; all I could do was lie there on the bed, fully exposed, rubbing my stomach. I didn’t even have the energy to close my legs; they were spread where anyone who wanted to could hop on.

The quartet wasn’t in much better shape. They were walking slowly, stroking their aching pricks, and looking at me with satisfied smiles on their faces.

Bet they had never expected to find someone like me in the big city!

It was almost midnight before I finally got enough strength to move. I told them I had enjoyed it, but had to get to my apartment, that I had to work the next day. They insisted that I have a few more drinks with them, which I did.

I ended up spending the night and we had one orgy after another. I lost count of how many times I came. The last I could remember was about fifteen. My box was never empty for any length of time-there was another prick in it whenever one was pulled out. I sucked off each of the men at least once, and each one of them ate me beautifully. It was quite a night.

I slipped out early the next morning and struggled to my apartment. I didn’t have to go to work until that night and I was certainly glad. I would never have been able to make it through the day.

Back in my apartment, I took a shower and when I washed my crotch, it was so tender that I winced each time I touched it. I closed my eyes and let the warm water run over my body, down across my breasts, over the mound of hair between my legs, along the lips of my cunt.

I hummed as I rubbed the mound, satisfied with a good night’s entertainment.

I seldom turn down a roll in the hay, basically because I’m usually as horny as most men I meet. There are times, however, when I am not interested or when the man making the proposition turns me off. If called on to explain how a particular man turns me off, I couldn’t do it. It is unexplainable. It is not altogether his looks, his dress, or his manner. It is, more than likely, something inside that makes me step back and shake my head. Such was the case in a frightening experience I had at the hotel, one which I hope never to have again.

A nice-looking man in his thirties checked into the hotel one night and, like most men, kept a steady eye on me, or rather, on my body. Later, when the lobby was less crowded, he propositioned me, by offering to buy drinks. When I turned him down, he invited me to his room. Again, I refused.

This was one of those unexplainables. I don’t know why I turned him down. He was good-looking enough, and dressed neatly, and looked like he might be a good bed partner. But, for some reason, I kept saying no.

Later that evening, when I went off duty, he was sitting in the lobby and tried to put the make on me again. I politely refused and walked to the elevator, with the man close behind. When I entered the car, he followed. On the ride up, he continued with his bill of goods and I continued to say no. I was glad the elevator stopped at his floor, but this good feeling vanished quickly when my fellow passenger pulled a long knife from his pocket and pressed it against my stomach.

“Why don’t we walk quietly to my room? We can have a few drinks and see what develops from there.”

I was terrified of the knife and had no ambition to be a cut-up, or dead, heroine. I did as I was told and when we were in his room, he motioned for me to sit down.

“Listen, beautiful,” the man began, menacingly, “I’m going to tell you this just once. If you try to scream or run away, this knife will make marks on you you’ll never get rid of. I guarantee, if you give me any trouble, I’ll fix it so that no man will ever look at you again.”

If he had intended to scare me, he succeeded. I was petrified! The knife, with a blade about six inches long, looked razor sharp, and the light reflecting on the bright steel made it even more ominous. He would have no trouble from me.

Laying the knife on the nightstand, but never moving more than inches away from it, the man undressed. He had a nice piece of meat hanging between his legs, but wider the circumstances I couldn’t get too excited about it. Coming back, to where I was sitting, he pushed his prick in my face.

“Eat it, baby, and make it good. Remember this.” He brandished the knife, and pulled the cold steel blade along my neck. Cold shivers ran down my spine.

There was no way for me to get away. I had to play his game.

Closing my eyes, I opened my mouth and he shoved his cock in, almost down my throat. I began sucking as hard as I could and tonguing the head. I wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. Maybe then he would let me go. To speed things up, I took his huge balls in my hand and manipulated them.

The man put his hands on each side of my head and shoved his cock into me as hard as he could, almost choking me. I gagged several times but he didn’t stop.

He still held the knife and I could feel the cold metal against my head. He gave a final, deep thrust and I choked. I tried to pull away but he was too strong for me. When he came, I was unable to swallow and almost threw up. The white fluid was choking me, but he wouldn’t let go. When he finally finished, he slowly, pulled his prick from my mouth and I could see the remnants of his juice and my saliva on his meat. I started coughing and could eventually breathe again.

“Not bad, sweet stuff, not bad. Now, undress and come to the bed.”

My stomach felt queasy and I thought I was going to throw up. The feeling soon passed, however, and I took off my clothes. The man fondled my breasts, pinched the nipples, and played with the hair on my mound. He laid down on the bed and patted for me to join him. My eyes were on the knife, and I obeyed like a trained kitten.

“Play with it,” he said, pointing to his shrunken penis.

I took it in my hand, not looking at his face, and stroked the meat and played with his balls. He massaged my breasts, fingered my pussy, and played with my anus. With the threat of a knife facing me, I wasn’t going to be easy to arouse. Soon, his cock was at full staff, pointing straight up.

“Kiss it, baby, all over, and my balls, too.”

I did as I was told. I put my lips to the head, along the side, and took his balls in my mouth and sucked on them. I continued this for some time and thought he should be ready to come again. I was surprised when he stopped me.