Don Baker - The naughty night clerk

Switching from the pumping motion, he pushed as hard as he could against me and began moving his body, rubbing me joyfully. His cock was causing me to go into orbit. I rubbed against him and it sent even more thrills through me.

“Are you ready to come?” he asked, softly.

“Yes,” I breathlessly replied. “Come with me.”

That was all it took. He grabbed my breasts, pulled his cock back until it was almost out, then brought it home.

Our orgasms were like tidal waves. Our juices met and we were humping like mad, anxious to get each drop out, yet not wanting this paradise to end. I was pulling at his arms, putting my hands on the exposed parts of my breasts. I was wild. Finally, when I had nothing left, I moaned and my legs dropped from his waist.

John didn’t pull away. He pushed in closer, not wanting his shrinking prick to come out. He leaned over and kissed me. I returned the kiss and our tongues did a tango. He rubbed my breast and my hand traveled along his back. We continued like this for several minutes, playing, kissing, and I felt his cock beginning to rise again. Soon, we were once more fucking, this time, however, slower, easier, enjoying it even more than the first.

John withdrew his penis and pulled me from the desk. Taking me in his arms, he gave me a long, lingering kiss, which I gladly returned. We moved to the small couch on the far side of the room and lay facing each other. We began foreplay again and it wasn’t long before we were ready for another round.

John’s penis was as hard as steel and I rolled him over on his back. Sliding down slowly, I felt the monster penetrate my ever-widening box. I sat down on his body and had the entire length of his cock inside me. Then, I began a circular motion. He played with my breasts and rubbed the mound, of hair between my legs. I don’t know what happened, but before I could say anything, almost without warning, I tightened my legs against his sides and felt my juice spurt. I came and wasn’t really expecting it! “Don’t quit now, honey,” John said. “I want to come and want it to shoot up inside your box. Stay where you are.”

I had no intention of moving, and began my circular motion again. That must have been what did it, because I came twice more before he even came once. But when he did, he flooded me, even more than the first time he came. I don’t know where he got it, but he was loaded with juice.

Again, we lay side by side on the couch. This time, however, there was no immediate return to sex play. We were both empty. It would be a little while, before we could replenish our supply.

But the time came, and John mounted me and put his throbbing meathook in my waiting pussy. We were good sex-mates. Each of is liked it slow and easy, to spread it out, enjoy it longer. We must have done a good half hour of steady fucking, never stopping, just continual pumping and humping. But it felt so good that neither of us wanted to come. It couldn’t last though, because the emotions can take only so much enticement, then they have to explode. Ours did-fully, completely.

John had to leave, so we got off the couch and walked back to the desk, where we had laid our clothes.

“Well, Chris, was the interlude worth it?”

I gave him a long, passionate kiss. That was my answer.

He returned the kiss and pressed against my body. I could feel his prick hardening, and pulled away.

“Do you have to go?” I asked, wishing in many ways he could stay.

“Afraid I do,” he replied, rather wistfully, holding my hands, and looking at my body. “God, I hate to walk out and leave this standing here.”

He pulled me to him and we kissed again. His rod was even stiffer and I pushed hard against him. John’s destination would have to wait. He lifted my body and placed my legs around his waist. He leaned against the desk and then shoved his stiff rod into my joy box. We were in a position too awkward to allow us to fuck the conventional way; so we just rubbed against each other, with his cock pressing against my insides, and my walls giving the head of his prick hell. I know his back must have been breaking, holding me and moving his body at the same time, but it didn’t seem to bother him.

Our kisses were feverish and our tongues plowed against each other until they were almost raw. Sweat was beginning to pop out on my forehead and I could feel small rivulets between my breasts. My arms were around John’s neck and I felt the moisture on his body. Despite the discomfort, and the perspiration, we wouldn’t stop. We were enraptured, and his big cock was playing havoc with my emotions, making me want to fuck him all night.

It took us a long time to come and, when we did, it was all John could do to continue holding me. His knees weakened as he shot his wad and for a minute I thought he might fold under our weight. When I unloaded, I squeezed my legs so tight that I must have cut off his wind. But it was an unusual and exciting way to screw, and we both enjoyed it, neither wanting to let go.

John left the hotel two days later. We did manage to get in a couple of more good bed sessions before he departed, however. Damn, I would have loved to cut off his cock and preserve it for future use. I feel that familiar twinge between my legs every time I think about it.

I hadn’t been at the Barton Hotel long when one night a couple registered. He was young, handsome, well-built, neat, the all-male figure. His wife, who was in a wheel chair, was very pretty, and I imagine, at one time a beauty queen somewhere.

They were frequent visitors to the hotel, coming from upstate each year to shop, see the shows, and allow the wife to undergo medical checkups at one of the big hospitals. She had been in a serious automobile wreck a few years back and her spine had been severely damaged. I learned from the hotel gossip that there was practically no hope she would ever walk again, but she had faith, and kept coming back to see the doctors, always getting the same saddening prognosis each year.

From what I gathered, her husband had been driving the car when they had the wreck. They had been at a party and he had had a few too many drinks. His wife, as well as the other guests, tried to talk him out of driving home, but he insisted. On the way, he ran through a barrier and into a ravine. The car rolled, but he was thrown free, while his wife was trapped in the almost completely crushed vehicle.

Rumor also had it that he thought he was God’s gift to womanhood, and tried to put the make on every girl he met. Gossip was that his wife could no longer have sexual relations and the only reason her husband stayed with her, and falsely played the doting mate, was because of the money her parents had left her when they died.

Part of the gossip proved true the evening they checked in. I was working the desk and as the man registered, he went out of his way to touch my hand, to talk, and to flash his most winning smile at me. I was courteous, but kept my distance. My sympathy was with his wife, and he certainly did nothing to arouse my emotions; although he tried.

One afternoon, late, the husband entered the lobby alone. Seeing that I was at the desk, he made a beeline in my direction.

“Good afternoon, Miss Logan, and how are you?”

“Just fine, Mr. James, thank you. Would you like your key?”

“Yes, please. By the way, my wife checked into the hospital this afternoon and will be there for the next two days. I have a lot of time on my hands, so why don’t the two of us have a drink and talk awhile?”

Here it comes. The wife’s away, so now the rat’s going to play.

“I’m sorry, Mr. James, but I’m working.”

“You don’t work all the time. When do you finish here?”

“At eight, but…" “Good. I’ll meet you then. We can go to the bar, or… to my room. I have a bottle up there.”