To describe our marriage as ‘heading for the rocks’ would be a gross understatement. We were ON the fucking rocks, well and truly, with the boat’s timbers letting in water, but neither of us wanting to jump ship and take our chances in the storm-lashed sea.
Tim sought sexual solace in his weekly visits to the all-male bathhouse across town, claiming he only went there to tone up his muscles in the steam room. From what I’d heard it was more to get himself sucked off by one of the rent boys who took care of the needs of older members – for a generous tip. For my part, I was perfectly happy with my night-time solo sessions playing with my vibrator and toys.
One day on my weekly visit to the supermarket I spotted a brightly-coloured job advert on the store’s community noticeboard. It read: “Are you an insomniac? Occasional night shift work available for experienced Room Service maids. Uniforms will be provided. Generous rates plus gratuities.”
What was I waiting for? I’d long had a secret desire to flaunt my stuff in a maid’s outfit; black fishnets, the skimpiest of knickers showing beneath a short pleated black skirt and my 38DDs bubbling out over the top of my partially-unbuttoned blouse like ripe melons. I rang and booked an appointment as soon as I got home.
Fridays were always Tim’s visit to the bathhouse, so why shouldn’t I go out and have some fun too? After he’d left, I slipped into the sexiest outfit I could muster, covered it with a Plain Jane overcoat and drove to the four-star hotel for my interview. I’d imagined it would be a much sort-after appointment, so was mildly surprised to find myself waiting alone in the cavernous reception lobby. Well-heeled (mostly male) guests drifted in and out, many carrying expensive overnight luggage.
My reverie - imagining what I’d be willing to do for some of these guys for a generous ‘gratuity’ – was rudely interrupted. “Mrs Metcalf? Mr Giuliani will see you now,” announced a cute Latino page-boy I’d happily have taken home to pleasure me. “Please step this way?” His ass looked so cute in his tight blue pants!
The manager stood up behind his huge mahogany desk as I sashayed in. “Please come and sit here.” He gestured to an upholstered chair at the side of his desk.
“Why not let the customer see the goods?” I thought to myself, discreetly unbuttoning my overcoat and crossing my legs, with the stockings making a lovely swishing noise.
“Ahem… so tell me Mrs Metcalf…”
“Dee, please.”
“Dee. And have you had any relevant experience in the area of room service?” He loosened his tie a little as if he was overheating.
I uncrossed my legs and re-crossed them the other way, allowing him a glimpse of my emerald green lace-edged panties. “To tell you the truth, Mr Giuliani, I’ve usually been on the receiving end – so to speak. But I’m sure I’d quickly get the hang of it. You see it’s the night shift part of the job that appeals to me.”
“Why is that?”
“My husband is in the army and he’s posted away a lot. He’s in Afghanistan at the moment,” I lied. “The nights seem interminable – which is why the question: ‘Are you an insomniac?’ caught my eye." I unbuttoned my coat further so that he could check out my green semi-transparent silk blouse. In my haste to leave the house on time, I must have forgotten to put on a bra! He slackened his tie some more.
“I see. Well naturally there’ll be an indoctrination session with one of our experienced girls, so that you can get the hang of things. It’s by no means arduous and it sounds as if night work might suit you.”
“I’m certainly willing to give it my best shot, Mr Giuliani.”
“When could you start, Dee?”
“How about next Monday night?”
He glanced down at his desk diary and made an entry with his pen. “Perfect! I’ll have Barbara come in to show you the ropes.”
It was as easy as that. I couldn’t wait to get into my maid’s uniform!
~~~
“Are you familiar with the Playboy ‘Bunny Dip?’” my mentor asked, at our indoctrination session in the hotel’s staff room. She was younger than me, with a trim figure and a very feisty attitude.
“I don’t think I am.”
“Heffner’s supposed to have invented it as a way of getting his Playboy Bunnies to show off their tits to the customers. And, believe me, yours are quite an asset.”
“How does it work?”
She stood up and took an empty tray. Facing away from me and holding the tray at her waist, she leaned backwards, before taking an imaginary glass from the tray and setting it beside me on the table. “They won’t be able to take their eyes off yours, sweetie,” she giggled.
Since we’d cut straight to the chase, I thought I might as well pursue the theme. “So, is there anything that’s… off-limits, Barbara?”
“Call me Babs, darling. No, not unless you’re not keen on what they want you to do. How d’you feel about spanking?”
“I rather like it, actually.”
“Me too. The older ones seem to get a buzz out of having a naked young woman across their lap. And watersports? A lot of them’ll ask you if you’ll do ‘Golden Rain’.”
“Yeah, I’m ok with that. You?”
She gave a wicked smile. “Love it, hun. Especially with another woman.”
I was having to hastily recalibrate. Here was I, coming along to take a night shift job so that I’d get paid for getting laid – and an attractive young woman is already hinting at mutual spanking, followed by us weeing over each other! “Will you help me try on my uniform?” I asked innocently.
“Be happy to.” She stepped behind me and unbuttoned my dress. Then slid her hands round on either side to fondle my breasts for the first time. I closed my eyes and gave a soft moan. “We’ll swop those hold-ups of yours for black sheers with suspenders. They always get excited unclipping a girl’s sussies!”
My figure-hugging crisp white one-piece top was more like a burlesque basque, accentuating my curves in all the right places. And its deeply-scooped bodice left little to the imagination. To complete the ensemble Babs buttoned a diamenté choker around my neck and a planted frilly white lace headpiece on the back of my head. She stepped back to admire the outfit. “With some tall black patent heels you’ll look good enough to eat.”
I looked up at the wall clock, which showed 11.30pm. As our joint shift didn’t begin until midnight, I whispered: “Why not eat me then?”
She blushed a little. “May I?”
“Be my guest.”
No second invitation was required and after slipping my panties around my ankles, my mentor kneeled before me and began expertly performing cunnilingus on my wet cunnie. I clenched the back of her head tightly as I orgasmed – the first of several on that first session – gyrating my hips so that I slowly smeared my juices over her face. As Babs stood up, she ran the tip of her tongue sensuously over her lips and smiled. “Mmmm, nature’s lip gloss!”
The midnight hour arrived and we prepared ourselves for our first customer. At 12.05am Room Service called. “Babs: Room 711. One of your regulars, darling. He wants a toasted pastrami double-decker and a bottle of our house red. It’s parked on a trolley outside his room. Good hunting!”
“Come on in, ladies! Hey, Babs, what did I do to get two cuties tonight?” The guest in 711 was your standard-issue travelling salesman; overweight, balding and already perspiring with excitement.
Without looking up from the food trolley, Barbara replied, “Not sure, but it’s gonna cost you twice as much, honey!”
“So much the better,” he replied, pouring himself a large glass of the wine. “When it comes to Golden Rain two full bladders have got to be better than one.”
Babs and I certainly put on a watersports show to remember for old Harold, with both of us standing naked, face-to-face, on the rim of his huge bath tub and him lying naked on its floor. Babs even perfected her technique by pinching her labia lips so that her pale yellow fountain was like a garden sprinkler.
Back in the staff room we got down to some serious necking. “Listen darling – we’ve only got one more shift together. How would you like it if I brought one of my strap-ons in tomorrow night?” She caught my puzzled expression.
“What d’you mean: for us to use on one of the guests?”
“No stupid: for me to use on you! I’d love to give that tight little ass of yours a good fucking!” She stroked her hand across my bottom and nudged my sphincter with a finger.
I kissed the nape of her neck tenderly. “Mmmm, I’d like that a lot. Tim’s not into anal, but I often slip my battery-powered ‘Little Helper’ up there.”
She ran a hand over my rear and purred. “If he’s booked in for two nights, we might even do it in front of Harold; I’m sure that would turn the old pervert on!”
~~~
Harold was indeed booked in for a second night and our summons to serve him his midnight sandwich came through as before. “Same old, same old, Babs. That guy sure loves his pastrami, doesn’t he?”
Babs winked at me. “Old Harold’s gonna have a big surprise tonight, honey, after he’s finished his double-decker!”
“Whatever are you two ladies planning?” the food despatcher asked.
Looking as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, Barbara replied: “I’d rather not say over the phone, Hank. But they certainly don’t feature it in any of the floor shows in Vegas, I can tell you!”
Harold was half-way through his bottle of wine when Barbara began to unpack her strap-on. From a midnight blue box lined with tissue, she produced a realistically-fashioned nine-inch black dildo; stiff, deeply veined and with a bulbous-shaped glans that you just yearned to plant your puckered lips over. Its harness was formed from pink leather straps with chrome buckles. Harold and I were both dumb-founded with admiration.
“Jeez, Babs. You planning on putting that on?”
“That’s the general idea, Harold,” she replied slipping off her panties and planting its base against her shaven vagina, before carefully adjusting its buckles.
“Who’s it for?” the salesman asked nervously.
“Why my new lover here. I’m gonna give her sweet ass a real good fucking, while you watch. You can have a nice wank at the same time if you like.”
Relieved that the dildo wasn’t going to be used on him, Harold eagerly stripped off, to reveal a flaccid un-cut cock of average size and girth. For my money, the dildo looked far more appealing.
“Get on all fours on the bed, sweetheart,” Barbara requested, “and I’ll oil you up.” Harold had grown semi-hard at the sight of naked Barbara now fitted with a most convincing penis. She eased a liberal amount of gel around my opening, before nudging the strap-on’s glans against my ‘dark star’. She gripped my buttocks firmly as she slid it slowly in. The gell made a gorgeous squelching noise, causing us both to giggle.
“You ok, hun?” she asked.
“Mmmm, oh yes, I’m loving it. SO much more realistic than my ‘Little Helper.’” I took one hand off the bed so that I could frig myself while I was being fucked.
Gripping me tighter she murmured: “Good girl!” then turned to check out Harold’s progress, who was beating his meat like was no tomorrow. She gestured to him to get a closer view of the action. He obediently waddled across. “Why don’t you cum all over Dee’s bum,” she suggested. “Coat her bottom with your lovely creamy spunk!”
This final suggestion tipped the poor old fellow over the edge and he let forth several ropes of warm semen onto me, some of which Babs deftly pushed up into my bumhole.
“I think this calls for a celebration,” said Harold after we’d cleaned up. Picking up the phone he called Room Service. “Can you send up a bottle of champagne to Room 711?”
