Swiss Exchange - Sex Stories

Swiss Exchange

... lights of the ski resort hotel on Riffleberg Mountain they were going to the next day, where he was likely, if they were lucky, to be staying for an indefinite, dangerous time. Reynolds was a handsome, blond young man not long having finished his chemical engineering doctorate at Stanford.

Which of those lights were for the Hotel Riffleberg, he wondered. How had he come to this highly dangerous position?

"Come back to bed," a commanding voice demanded from behind him.

Reynolds groaned. The man traveling as a New Zealander entrepreneur arms buyer, Peter Summerfield, was demanding, dominating, virile, vigorous, and had the aspect of a Marine general who kept himself in prime condition into his fifties. He also had the thickest, longest cock Reynolds had ever taken.

"Now!" the man declared.

Trembling, Reynolds turned from the window, went back to the bed as commanded, climbed onto the mattress, and positioned himself over the hunky man's naked body. Grasping the younger man's waist between his hands, Summerfield brutally pulled Reynolds's hips down, skewering his ass on the man's thick cock. Even as he was burying his hard shaft up into the young man's soft passage, he was thrusting, thrusting, thrusting.

Facing the man's head, Reynolds palmed Summerfield's bulging pecs, writhed on the thrusting cock, and cried out, "Yes, yes! Screw me! You're a stud!"

Summerfield answered with a "Take it. Take it. Take my cock!"

As Reynold fucked himself on his master's ...

... shaft he was wondering about the next day. Would their target, the Iranian Akhtar Fariba, be half as virile and cruel as this man was? What sacrifices did he have to make to serve his country?

* * * *

It isn't every ski resort hotel whose doorman carries a Kalashnikov rifle or that is devoid of women either on the staff or among its guests. So, the Hotel Riffleberg, within the afternoon shadow of the Matterhorn and pressed into the side of the Swiss mountain of that name southeast of the ski town of Zermatt, was a very special type of hotel. It wasn't just the skiing that attracted international entrepreneur Peter Summerfield and his boyfriend, Jeff Reynolds, to the small, fourteen-guest room hotel or even the privacy it afforded for them to shack up together, but it also was declared to be to find a venue for some wheeling and dealing in arms sales and delivery without attracting the attention of the world's terrorism fighters.

As the two entered the Alpine-theme front lobby of the hotel, two watchers, Pavel Sokolov, an associate of Russian arms supplier Gennadi Ivanov, and Kabr Zeidan, boyfriend of Greek shipping magnate Christos Diakos, folded their newspapers and slid off to inform their respective bosses that the New Zealander had arrived and the talks could begin.

As those two left to report, others came out to mark the arrival. Those traveling on New Zealand passports were greeted at the reception desk by a handsome young Swiss reception clerk, Luca Meier, ...