Swipe the magnetic keycard. Beep. Door clicks open in our dingy Montpellier hotel room. Uni years, broke as fuck. Suitcases thud on the worn carpet. City lights flicker through thin curtains. No cash for rent. Two months behind. Fat landlord Georges, 60s, potbelly hanging, knocks. Nice guy, but pressure’s on. Eviction looming. He eyes Charlie’s tight skirt, compliments her ass, smile. We notice.
Charlie quits brewery gig. Lands hostess job at nearby massage parlor. Not real massages. Handjobs for cash, sometimes mouths. Pays better. Fridge fills. New clothes. She dodges questions. Finally confesses. Became masseuse. Fingers cocks to explosion. Shows tits, lets them grope. Then Georges shows up there. Requests her. Pays extra for happy ending. She jerks his skinny long dick, big circumcised head. I get hard hearing it. ‘You pervert,’ she laughs. ‘Excites you, huh?’
The Layover
I admit. Banding hard. Jump her. Rip clothes. Slam into her wet pussy on the sagging couch. Doggy next. ‘Tell me more. Sucked any?’ She cums screaming. Later, details: No blowjobs yet. Just handies. Various cocks—thick, long, veiny balls. All pervs. Georges offers deal: Fuck here for rent break. I agree, horny. Promise full stories. She okays no refusals to me.
Next day, buzzing all classes. Return: Receipt under pillow. Last rent paid. ‘He came.’ Details: Dropped trou. Long thin cock, huge head. Saliva-lubed strokes. He begs suck for full wipe. She caves. Swallows load. Cums hands-free. Taste lingers. I crossed him in hall. Missed her lips stretched.
‘Disappointed?’ She sucks me demo-style. Tongue swirls frenulum. Balls licked. ‘He groaned like pig. Fed me cum.’ I nearly blow. She recounts gulping spurts. Hotel corridor noises echo outside.
The Transit
Plan: Hide in fake ceiling crawlspace. Peep holes to bed, couch. Two days later, heart pounds. Elevator dings downstairs. Knock. ‘Alone?’ ‘Eric left hours ago.’ She in short white blouse. Kneels. Yanks boxers. Caresses soft snake to steel. Eyes me sly. Mouth engulfs. Deepthroats. I stroke slow, edge.
She strips naked underneath. Straddles couch arm. Guides to slit. Sinks. ‘Feel good in my cunt, you bastard.’ He bucks. She pulls off, spreads on bed. He mounts missionary, legs pinned. Pounds. I cum biting fist, semen puddles.
He unloads deep. Creampie oozes. ‘No more rent worries if I fuck you each visit.’ She glances up. I whisper yes. He leaves. I drop down. Legs wide, pussy swollen, cum-dripping. ‘Liked watching your slut get bred?’
Yes. She loved too. Multiple orgasms. Twice weekly after. Told him my kink. Fucks openly now, me watching. Anytime. Hotel anonymity fueled it. Bellhop carts, plane views from window. But urge of ‘one night’ stretched. Departed? Nah. Stayed plugged in his cum till next flight of life.