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The Hotel (1st part)

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Imagine the scene: a spring setting, lawns dappled with shadows cast by tall trees in the gardens of a smart hotel, a French chateau in southwest France not too far from Spain.... This series of events will be told in several parts but each stands on its own. But it does help if you have read the previous episode.  


1st part

“Come in.”

Monsieur Rodriguez met me at the door to his suite clad only in a towel around his middle.

“I have your laundered items for you, Monsieur.”

“Thank you. Could you please bring them in and put the trousers in the wardrobe, and the shirts on the bed.”

“Very well, Monsieur.” I smiled at him. He was a handsome man, well-built, nice torso, dark hair, somewhat tousled, dark eyes, Latin features. I took him to be Portuguese but fluent in French I could hear.

“That’s very kind of you. I think you were the mademoiselle who had the misfortune to spill the sauce on me last night at dinner?”

“Yes, I am very sorry.”

“Don’t worry. All seems to be well now. We are having a little celebration tonight.”

“Oui, Monsieur. What are you celebrating?”

“It’s my birthday. I’m wondering if you could help me celebrate, now. You’re a very attractive girl, and I’d like that.”

“I don’t know, Monsieur. What have you in mind?”

“I think it would be nice if we could make love.”

“That is flattering, Monsieur. But Madame, where is she at the moment?”

“Ah, Madame has just gone out to buy some champagne and won’t be back for a little while.” 

A hotel, or rather chateau, set in its own magnificent grounds, overlooking a lake and with mountains in view was the place where I was doing a holiday job whose main aim was to perfect my French. Monsieur Rodriguez and his lady had arrived the previous afternoon in their fancy car. I had been doing reception duty when they arrived and had greeted them, shown them around and I could see from the way that Monsieur Rodriguez looked at me that he was interested. Our uniform was simple: a white blouse, black jacket if desired, black trousers or skirt. On this day I was wearing trousers, tailored to fit me quite tightly so as to enhance my figure and the blouse I wore was quite loose fitting, buttoned fairly low, thus showing a reasonable décolleté. At dinner I had not excelled myself when assisting in the dining room but I had certainly made an impression on Monsieur Rodriguez when I accidentally spilt a little sauce on him.

“Tasha! Monsieur Rodriguez, in suite 4, has asked if his laundry is ready. Can you please take it up to him,” I was asked by Jean who was on reception the next evening.

“Of course.”

Hence my arrival at Monsieur Rodriguez suite.

“I see. Well, it’ll have to be quick because I must be downstairs within 10 minutes or the manager will be wondering where I am.”

Not only was I inexperienced in hotel affairs but also I was interested in widening my knowledge of men which was somewhat shallow. So I was happy to help Monsieur Rodriguez, but to a limited extent.

“If Madame is away for a little time that is convenient, but Monsieur, with the short time I have, for me that is not enough to make love. I like to have time.”

“Mmm. I wonder what then…..”

“If Monsieur is willing I think I can help but it must be quick.”

“How’s that? What do you suggest?”

“Seeing as you are only wearing a towel I will easily show you.”

I led him to the bed, sat down in front of him and pulled the towel from his waist, exposing him to me. He was right there in front of me, at eye level, in my face as it were!

I have to confess to a growing liking of the feel of a man! I like the touch of the skin sliding over the firm roughness underneath, and the giving of pleasure to the man, and, of course, the result. (When I took on this training job I thought there was always the possibility that I would be propositioned and, if so, I would probably accept but depending on the situation and how it suited me.)

“Ah, Monsieur has a nice cock. Let me touch it and help it to grow. How does that feel ?”

He was not yet at full tumescence so I took him in hand, or rather placed a finger and thumb on each side of his swelling organ and slid them up and down slowly, savouring the feel of it.

“It feels good to have you handle it. Please play with it, with my balls and stroke it.”

“Do you like it if I hold it here near the bottom and move my hand like this? It’s getting stronger quite quickly! Does Madame do this for you? Does she stroke you?”

“Yes, that’s nice but perhaps if you slide your hand up a bit and hold it in the middle I’ll like it much more.”

“Does Madam have some cream I can use? It’ll be better.”

“Yes, over here.”

Monsieur Rodriguez moved away from me, his by now fully erect cock swaying in front of him, and took from the dressing table a tube of hand cream.

“Good, now come with me into the salon. There’s a chair in there I can use to good effect.”

In the salon there was a sort of love seat, an upright easy chair, or rather 2 combined, built side by side but facing in opposite directions. I slid the chair quickly across the wooden floor so that one half was in front of the long mirror which the management had so thoughtfully provided.

“Here, sit down in this seat Monsieur. We have no time to lose.”

Monsieur sat in the chair facing the mirror and I sat in the other half. I applied a good handful of cream to my right hand and slipped it over Monsieur’s cock, now standing up proudly.

“Your have a lovely cock, Monsieur. I am going to exercise it for you. Slide down in the chair, just relax and tell me about it. I want you to talk to me.”

I massaged all the cream all over his shaft, from top to bottom, then began a rhythmic motion encompassing the whole member, sliding right up to the top then right down to the base.

“I start slowly, see. Good?”

“Yes, marvellous. I really like that, full length.”

“And then I speed up, like this, and shorten the stroke. How does that feel now?”

“It’s great…..aaaah, it’s so good, especially when you hit the top. Yes, make small strokes at the top, near the head. I can’t last for too long when your lovely hand is up there.”

I slow the motion, let go and watch his engorged cock throbbing on its own. His hand moves across to me to touch my breast, to squeeze it.

“It has its own life, look! It’s moving and I’m not touching!”

“Yeah, but don’t mess about, grab it and wank it. I want you to do it again. You do it so well…..Yes that’s real good.” 

My hand is around the top, slipping up and down fast. Monsieur is watching in the mirror.

“It’s a turn-on watching the reflection, you’re getting me there, I can feel deep down that I’m getting near, …….yes, you’re going to make me cum!”

He is gasping, my hand is flying.

“Yes, Monsieur, come on, Monsieur, I want to see it cumming, show me how good you are, cum for me, cum, cum, now!”


A moment later and Monsieur’s cock is jerking in my hand and his love liquid is spurting out, spurt after spurt, up and down, spilling over himself, over my hand and running down.

“That is so good, you are so powerful, what a cock, how impressive is Monsieur!”

I slow but continue to massage his cock, his white liquid continues to bubble out gently. I catch sight of myself in the mirror; look slightly flushed; and I feel damp I realise.

“Monsieur, I must go. I cannot stay, much as I might like to. I hope that you have enjoyed the extra that room service has to offer.”

“Yes, so wonderful!. You are a lovely girl and did all that beautifully.”

I give him a quick kiss, wipe my hand on the towel in his bedroom as I make for the door to the suite and let myself out.

On the stairs as I go down I pass Madame going up, carrying a bag, presumably with the champagne. I hope Monsieur has had time to arrange himself before Madame walks in.
















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