The Bellboy Gets It - Sex Stories

The Bellboy Gets It

... soiled as I am, I gently sink into a deep dreamless sleep. I wake up with a jolt. It is 7:35! I rush into the kitchen, where the morning crew is already busy. I order Mrs. Flanagan’s breakfast and hit it to the showers, picking up a towel from the laundry room on the way. Back in my room at 7:44, I hastily shave, spray on lotion and change into a new uniform. 7:53 sees me in the lobby plucking a rose from the fresh bouquet that is placed near the reception desk every morning, 7:55 has me back in the kitchen loading Mrs. Flanagan’s breakfast onto a service cart, at 7:58 I’m pressing the top floor button in the service elevator, and at 8:00 sharp I’m letting myself into the Monaco suite with my master key. I knock softly on the bedroom door, which is still ajar as I left it the night before. Mrs. Flanagan is snoring between the sheets. I step up to the window and open the curtains. Mrs. Flanagan stirs, then opens her eyes. ‘Your breakfast is ready, madam.’ ‘What time is it?’ ‘It is eight o’clock, Madam.’ ‘Help me up.’ I fold back the sheets and help Mrs. Flanagan up from the bed. Resting heavy on my shoulder, she takes me straight to the bathroom. When she starts to pull up her gown, I need no prodding. I’m down on my knees in a flash. Mrs. Flanagan, who seems to be still half asleep, casually places her cunt on my face as if that were an established routine between us. I have hardly time to open my mouth before her cunt starts gushing. Her morning pee has a particular strong ...

... taste, bitter and spicy. It is also copious. She pisses for almost a minute, and I am desperately trying to take in some air while the last drops of her discharge trickle into my mouth. When she is done, I lick her clean. Then I take her to the breakfast table, pulling her chair for her to sit down. She hardly touches any of the food she ordered, just sips her coffee and nibbles at a toast with marmalade. But breakfast seems to wake her up. In no time she is her old bossy self again. ‘Draw me a bath. Not too hot. Did you find the bath salt when you unpacked my luggage? Use plenty.’ While I draw her bath, I lay out the towels and the bathrobe. She steps into the bathroom when the tub is almost full. ‘Undress me.’ I help her out of her nightgown and escort her to the tub. She leans on my shoulders and lifts a leg into the tub, checking the temperature with her toes before stepping in. I hold her arm while she slowly lowers her big ass into the water. ‘Soap me up. Use the oatmeal soap from my toilet bag. It’s on the night table. Hotel soap gives me a rash.’ I get the soap from the bedroom and start soaping her back and her arms. She lifts her left arm so I can do her armpit, revealing a broad patch of stubbles. ‘What are you staring at?’ ‘Oh, uh, nothing.’ I reach in, but she pushes my hand away and pulling her breast aside, looks at her armpit. ‘Did you bring the toilet bag?’ ‘Uhm, no, just the soap you told me.’ ‘Well go get it. There’s a razor blade in there and foam. It looks ...