Don Baker - The naughty night clerk

I realized I should not have finger-fucked myself, so soon. The sight of that meathook going in and out of that warm, wet cunt set me on fire, but I also knew I couldn’t come again this soon. All I could do was stand there, watch the orgy in front of me, and rub my hairy mound.

Bill was giving Connie fits. He pulled his body forward until only the head of his cock was in her cunt. Then he pushed down until their bodies met. Each time he did, I heard her moan, low and passionately. It must have been driving her up the wall, because from the angle Bill was perched each time he pushed into her, his prick had to rub her inside walls, sending all kinds of sensations through her body.

Connie responded enjoyingly to each thrust. While the position must have been rough on her back, she managed to raise her hips with each of Bill’s thrusts and welcome him borne. I saw heir hand move to his balls and when she massaged them, Bill increased his pumping.

“Are you ready?” he asked, fucking harder as she squeezed his balls.

“Just about. I will be in a few more seconds.”

When Connie put her hands on Bill’s Buttocks, that was the signal she was ready to shoot her wad. He pulled his prick almost all the way out, then rammed it home. In that position it must have torn her walls apart. But she only groaned, loudly, and pushed up to meet him. I saw her nails dig into Bill’s buttocks as she humped against him, unloading more of her juices with each hump.

Bill pushed hard against her body, forcing his prick deep inside and I, saw him flinch as he came. He rotated his hips, causing his prick to touch all corners of Connie’s flooding box. She, in turn, gyrated with him, unloading spurt after spurt.

As for me, I quietly closed the door and headed for my apartment. If I was going to do any more finger-fucking, I wanted to do it on a bed. I don’t believe I could. have stood up again and unloaded my juice box. My knees would surely have buckled under me.

One lazy autumn evening, I had a visitor to my apartment, a visitor I will never forget. I was off duty and had no particular plans. The hotel business had been extremely hectic the past few weeks so I simply lounged around, dressed casually in slacks and a pullover sweater. I was watching television when the doorbell rang.

Oh, no, I thought to myself. Don’t tell me it’s someone from the desk.

When I opened the door, I was face-to-face with a tall, deeply tanned man, muscular in build, with shining eyes, dark hair, and white teeth.

“Miss Logan?” His voice was deep and contained a hint of authority.

He pulled a card from his coat and handed it to me. “I’m Joe Gordon, general manager of Stanford Hotels.”

Stanford Hotels! One of the biggest chains in the country, and one of the most successful. They had inns in just about every major city and many overseas.

“Won’t you come in, Mr. Gordon.” I stepped aside as he entered the room. The cologne he was wearing was neither loud nor sharp, but one with a very subdued, enticing aroma. His walk, like his voice, had authority-not cocky, just a sureness.

“Have a seat. Would you like a drink?”

“Yes, please. Whisky and soda if you have it.”

While I was at the small bar, which was situated in a corner of the apartment, I glanced at my visitor. He had noticed me, of that there was no doubt. But now he was looking over the surroundings, which, I like to congratulate myself for, were tastefully decorated. He took the drink from me and smiled a thank you.

“Miss Logan, I don’t know if you are familiar with the Stanford Hotels.”

“Oh, yes, Mr. Gordon, quite familiar. I’ve worked here for three years and your name, or rather, Stanford, has been mentioned many times.”

“Miss Logan, we continually scour the country for potential employees, people we think would fit into our organization. On several occasions, some of our scouts have stayed here at the Barton and your name has been recommended to our head office.”

“Thank you, Mr. Gordon. That is quite an honor.” In this, I was sincere. But, I wondered if any of the dozens of men I had gone to bed with during the past three years was one of Stanford’s scouts? “I don’t know if it’s an honor, Miss Logan,” Gordon replied, evidently not one to be overly impressed with names and reputations, “but we are interested in you for our managerial training program. We’ve checked out your record and talked with Mr. Barton." “He stated he would hate to lose you, that you had done an outstanding job for him. On the other hand, he realizes your future here is limited, and has agreed that if you would be interested in joining the Stanford team, he would wish you only the best.”

“Thank you for the interest and compliments, Mr. Gordon, but I don’t know if I really want to leave the Barton. I’ve enjoyed my employment here, and would hate to leave. It’s a small hotel and all the employees are like a close-knit family.”

“I realize that, Miss Logan, but by the same token, with Stanford, you would have an opportunity to travel, and the pay is exceptional, as are the fringe benefits. May I ask what Mr. Barton is paying you now?”

“Two hundred and fifty dollars a week, plus this apartment.”

“Our managerial trainees start at that salary and then, after six months, when placed in a hotel, the salary is increased to three hundred and fifty dollars a week. We also provide an apartment in the hotel." “From the information gathered from your record, you probably wouldn’t have to spend six months in training. More than likely, you could be placed in one of our hotels within three months. After all, your experience counts for much.”

We continued talking for quite some time. Evidently, the alcohol was beginning to take effect. I was feeling a little woozy and could tell Joe was getting light-headed. I fixed us another drink and this time, instead of returning to my chair, I sat on the couch beside him. His eyes were taking in more of my body, now that business talk was dwindling, and I soon realized what was on his mind. When I turned to say something to him, he took me in his arms and kissed me hard on the mouth. I returned his kiss and when I did, I felt his hand on my breasts.

I didn’t reject his advances and felt his hand move under my sweater, where he cupped my breast and massaged it through the bra. Our tongues were doing a tango with each other and we were both breathing heavily, panting in anticipation, and when I placed my hand on his hard, throbbing cock, he squeezed my breast. We broke from the embrace and undressed, without bothering going to the bedroom. When we were completely nude, he looked me over and gave a low whistle.

“God, Chris, what a body.”

His wasn’t so bad, either. His muscular body wasn’t part of the clothing, it was for real. He had narrow hips and where his legs came together a huge, stiffening cock, surrounded by curly dark hairs, was rising to greet me. I could hardly wait to feel that meathook inside me.

Joe lowered me to the couch and I spread my legs, waiting for his entry. He sucked on my nipples as I felt his pole penetrate my already wet opening.

Raising my hips to meet him, he slowly pushed forward until he was all the way in. We had played around so much that I knew it wouldn’t be long before either of us shot off. While he pumped, deep and hard, I lifted my body to meet his every thrust. He was pounding home, and the size of his cock thrilled me to the point where I was ready to shoot my wad at any moment.

Joe kissed me and pushed his tongue inside my mouth. When he did, I felt him ram home and release his juice. I came with him, wrapping my legs around his waist and lifting my body to meet his. Our come met in a frenzy, filling my hole with the white liquid, as both Joe and I continued to flood. I don’t know how much fluid was in my pussy when we finally quit, but I believe it would have filled a glass.