Room 504

THE receptionist looked up and smiled as Anne's heels clacked across the terracotta flooring of the quiet hotel lobby.

"Good evening, Miss Oakley, hope you are well."

"Yes, thank you Georgina, I'm fine," said the blonde, stooping to place her briefcase on the floor and then hitching the long strap of her overnight travel bag firmly into place on her left shoulder.

Georgina, still smiling, swiped a room key card and offered it to the guest. "Room 504 as usual," she said. "Everything is ready. You will want room service, I take it?"

"Hmm, yes please. My usual chicken sandwich and a bottle of Muscadet, if you will. And, remember, no white bread."

"Of course not, no white." Georgina's smile became even broader. "Have a nice night."

Anne nodded, picked up her briefcase and headed for the bank of elevators.

As a partner in an interior design business, it had become Anne's routine to stop in the hotel every Thursday night, forgoing the commute on the train in order to be more refreshed and prepared for the following morning's partners and projects meetings.

Inside room 504, Anne put her briefcase on the table under the window, lowered the travel bag to the floor and shrugged off her linen suit jacket and hung it up in the spacious wardrobe, taking time to study her reflection in the door-length mirror.

"Hmmm," she murmured, fluffing up her hair and appraising the pearls at her throat, the white satin blouse that focused attention on the swell of her bosom and the black tight skirt which clung to the generous curve of her hips.

She kicked off her heels and, after taking her vanity case from the travel bag, walked in black stockinged-feet to the bathroom, where she brushed her teeth and generally freshened up, concluding with a fresh coating of pink lip gloss.

Anne returned to the bedroom as a knock on the door heralded the welcome cry of "Room service."

A quick check through the peephole and Anne opened the door, standing to one side as a young, bald black man wheeled a trolley over the threshold. "Good evening, madam," he said in a rich baritone voice and Anne firmly closed the door.

She walked behind him, admiring how his broad shoulders and back filled out his white shirt. He tapered to a slim waist and his buttocks were two firm peaches, stretching the material of his uniform pants.

He pushed the trolley to the table and Anne, arriving at his side and peering at the name tag on his chest, said, "Would you open the wine, please, Darren?"

Darren uncorked the bottle and raised an eyebrow in Anne's direction. "Just a small one for now," she said and watched as he poured, stopping with the wine halfway up the glass.

She sipped the cool liquid and sighed. "Mmm, that's good," she said, took a second sip and then placed the glass on the table.

Darren stood attentively, apparently awaiting the customary room-service gratuity. But his eyes widened when Anne faced him and began to unbutton her blouse... slowly, casually, her blue eyes scanning Darren's features without blinking. Her lips parted in a sensuous smile, the tip of her tongue peeping through white, even teeth.

Now, the blouse gaped, partially revealing a lacy white half-cupped bra and a gently undulating chest. Anne began to unbutton her blouse cuffs and said, "Don't just stand there, Darren... get your kit off."

Darren's eyes opened even wider, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead but, after gulping, he unclipped his bow-tie, unfastened three buttons on his shirt and drew it up and over his head. Anne let her blouse slip off her shoulders and down her arms before tossing it on to a nearby chair. She swiftly removed her bra and her proud breasts quivered as she also lobbed that garment on to the chair.

Darren, his gaze firmly on Anne's chest, unbuckled his belt as she stepped towards him and laid both hands on his broad chest. Her pink-painted nails, drew patterns around his nipples, down over his ribs and round to his stomach and navel. His pants slithered down his legs to pool at his ankles.

Anne took a pace backwards and looked at Darren's pale blue boxers and the bulge on the left side. "Right, Darren," she said softly. "Take everything off except those shorts. Leave them for me."

Darren managed to find his voice. "Yes, madam," he said and stooped to remove his shoes, socks and trousers.

Anne sat on the edge of the bed, watched and waited, her fingers toying with her aroused nipples. She knew her pussy was already moist but resisted feeling beneath her skirt as Darren took three steps and stood in front of her. She leaned forward and placed wet kisses on his stomach, her right hand sliding up the leg of his boxers. She breathed in sharply as her fingers met the hot, firm, pulsating growth.

"Nice," she muttered and stroked the shaft within two fingers and thumb. Darren sighed, his erection twitching and thickening. "Think I need to see this monster," said Anne, withdrawing her hand and grasping his waistband.

"Oh yes, wow... oh my, that's a beauty," she said as she unveiled Darren's black baton. He lifted one foot at a time out of the fallen boxers, motions which sent his tube swaying and swinging against his thick thighs.

Anne used her right hand to lift up his impressive meat and exhaled a long, desirous sigh as the weight and heat nestled in her palm and along her inner wrist. A mighty vein bulged topside and Anne bent to kiss the purple head, licking at the one-eye and lapping along some of the escalating length. Her left hand cupped his heavy, big balls and squeezed gently.

Darren reacted, putting his hands on Anne's cool, fleshy shoulders and she looked up into his face. "Yes," she said throatily. "I need you to put this thing inside me... NOW. Come on, Darren, give me a good fucking."

Anne scooted back and lay across the width of the king-sized bed. She pulled the skirt up to her waist, displaying stockings and suspenders and divulging that she was sans panties. The fingers of her right hand tickled through the few blonde pubic hairs and pressed against her slit. Her middle finger slowly rode up and down between moist lips as Darren climbed aboard and knelt between Anne's spread legs.

"You want me to fuck straight away, no licking or fingering?" he asked.

Anne withdrew her hand and lifted both arms, letting them rest at the side of her head. The position indicated that she was ready to be taken. She looked down her body, between her breasts and saw Darren's huge cock at horizontal attention, the mighty head pointing somewhere towards and above her pussy. She drew up her knees and parted them to expose her waiting vulva. She was definitely primed.

"No foreplay needed, Darren. I'm ready and I can see you are." Her eyes still focused on the object of her joy. "C'mon, get that big, beautiful cock in me."

Darren edged forward, still kneeling, and presented his cock head at Anne's opening. With his his hands holding Anne's stockinged knees wide apart he pushed the helmet between her juicy, swollen lips and found the entrance to her dark tunnel.

Anne held her breath, waiting for the exquisite moment of penetration, alert to the hardness of his smooth head knocking at her door.

"Oh, wow, yes... oh,oh," she gasped as one thrust of Darren's hips pierced her inner being and took him into her deeper, hidden treasure. Darren immediately began to piston her tunnel, the walls of her pussy wet but tight around his thick, immense cock.

Darren gave her long strokes, withdrawing slowly but plunging powerfully, always varying the lengths: sometimes he supplied most of him, others only half or less. But Anne bucked her hips and rocked her head side-to-side when he pounded all the way in and then rammed quick, hard thrusts deep within her tummy. Bump... thump... clump... their pubic bones crunched together, the head of his mighty, solid organ throbbing and filling the end of her sopping channel.

It was all too much, too delightful to last. Anne clenched her fists and furiously met his pounding thrusts, bringing on the first surges of orgasm. They spread like wildfire from her tummy, flaring into a tumultuous, frenzied release, her juices soaking Darren's vigorous drill and seeping down her trembling thighs.

Darren slowed from pounding to gently easing his length patiently up and down Anne's sodden, dark cavern. During this slow, considerate rhythm, Anne was aware of his enormous girth and those thoughts rapidly revived her desires, sending tingles along her cavity walls, muscles flexing and tensing as the drilling gradually increased in momentum and power.

"Oh yes, Darren, oh yes," she cried out as another wave of sensational vibrations built, growing almost in pace with his remarkably stiffening cock. Darren gritted his teeth, sweat bubbling on his brow, and drove deep to supply Anne's climax. When it came, flowing and electrifying, she screamed and then, self-consciously, bit on her bottom lip.

Darren, rigid and buried to the hilt, somehow managed to hold back his own orgasm and release. He waited, ensuring that Anne was truly sated. Then, as she relaxed, her body sinking into the mattress, he produced three more hulking thrusts before pulling out and, grunting and gasping, pumped great globs of thick cream onto her tummy and chest.

Done, he sagged forward and rested his head on Anne's right shoulder, his right hand on her sticky left breast. His breathing was heavy and short and Anne wrapped her arms around his muscular back in a grateful embrace.

They lay in silence, thinking all manner of thoughts, their bodies recovering, until Darren squinted a look at the bedside clock and said, "I must go. I have another order for room service in half an hour."

"Mmmm," said Anne, smiling. "It's a hard life you have, isn't it?"

Darren boosted himself up and clambered off the bed. "I'll have a quick shower and be gone," he said.

"Okay. But first, pour me a full glass of wine."

She watched the naked Darren comply with her wishes and sat up, propped against pillows, when he handed her the drink.

"Thanks, you're the best room service attendant I've ever had," she said, using a forefinger to wipe some of his drying cream off her tummy.

Darren smiled down at her. "Thank you," he said, bowing slightly, before he turned and headed for the bathroom.

"Oh, by the way," said Anne, causing Darren to turn. "Next week, in case you've forgotten, according to my schedule, it's your turn to be dominant and it's also our week for loads of oral. Lots of licky-licky before we fuck, yes? My pussy and clit will need a lot of attention, not like today.'

Anne sipped some wine, looking over the rim of the glass at Darren, whose mighty glistening cock lolled between his thighs. "So," she continued, "you'd better make sure I'm your last customer of the night. It'll be a long session. Okay?"

Darren nodded, saluted, and, with a huge grin on his face, stepped into the shower cubicle.