My name is Michael – family and friends call me Mike. At that time I considered myself an unremarkable 23 year-old, English WASP with a degree in psychology and a post-graduate certificate in education.
I was working through my last summer before starting teaching in a secondary school near my old home town. I was brought up with the ‘protestant work ethic’ and had always had a job of some description as I went through my further and higher education.
Quite simply it meant that while many of my friends and fellow students had a slightly easier life at Uni’ they also had student loans they would be unlikely to see the back of until they reached their thirties. Mine was about the price of a new car and I reckoned with some careful saving I’d get shot of it pretty quick.
As a psych’ grad I also actually enjoyed working with people. They are wonderful to watch and many of the jobs I’d done had made me invisible; bus boy, barman, sous chef to name but a few.
The last one I’d done had been in my distant University town and had been in the legal firm of ‘Fox and Draper’ as ‘office support’.
The money was better than anything I’d done before and didn’t involve me wearing a name badge. I wore a suit and tie, and ran around the place organising typing, copying, filing, ordered stationary, all of those boring office jobs that hardly get noticed but no office can run without. I was there three afternoons a week during term time, and five days a week during holidays. It was great for me AND my CV and the solicitors and legal exec’s all seemed to like me, I loved it.
Except for Miss Connery; Sally Connery was office manager, technically my boss and a major BITCH. She was a complete pain in the arse that found joy in other people’s mistakes and delight in pointing them out loudly and going over them and all manner of the most improbable knock-on effects they could have resulted in.
I had little to do with her in the early days fortunately. The brief I worked for discovered pretty quick that I had a brain in my head and gave more challenging work. He ribbed me about ‘only being a teacher’ and that with my brain I could have found a proper job!
But for all that, he kept me away from her as much as he could, until he took a 6 week job on in New York and I was thrown into the pool with all the other unfortunates. Sally realised that I had been saved almost two months of her attitude and opinion and went after me with both barrels. Don’t get me wrong, the other office staff I dealt with were pretty good, but totally subjugated by this fucking harridan. I was no dummy but she talked at me and treated me like a fourteen year old straight from school, not a school teacher in waiting.
I pointed this out to her once –
“Oh,” she screamed, “Oh, so you’re so much cleverer than us mere mortals are you?” she snarled, “It’s funny but I don’t see Office manager written on your paycheck BOY!” As she shouted at me I saw the flexing of her muscles and her large boobs heaving, I dragged my eyes away from her big tits because I wanted to look this cow in the face; “And until I do, you’ll do as you are bloody told, by ME!” she screamed at me, spittle flying from the edges of her mouth, “Me, the silly old Office Manager that ISN’T a school teacher but could think and work you under the bloody table BOY!” Her flushed face was inches from mine; I’d seen her reduce some of the office girls to gibbering crying wrecks in this way and there was no way I’d be giving her the satisfaction. I grinned.
This made her worse.
“That’s it BOY,” she shrilled, “You are OUT THE DOOR!” She was incandescent with rage.
“What?” I sneered, “based on what?”
“Based on the fact that I’m the bloody office manager, and I DECIDE ON THE IDIOTS I EMPLOY HERE AND NOT YOU!”
I thought she was going to have a heart attack.
“Can I have that in writing?” I asked, “Plus I want a month’s wages in lieu of notice.” I hadn’t totally wasted my time in a law firm!
“GET OUT!” she screamed.
“No,” I said quietly, “write me a letter and give me my cheque and you’ll never hear from me,” I paused and smiled, “or the employment tribunal again. After all, the rest of the staff now know that you think they’re idiots. Perhaps they could have a go after me?”
“Emp…” she shook her head in self-righteous disbelief, “tribunal!” she growled.
“Tribunal, Miss Connery, I’ve handled two of them for Mr Croft,” He was the barrister I had looked after, and he was good, “You are kicking me out because I’m not a mousy little spinster that will put up with your hormonal outbursts, so,” I put on Mr Croft’s best court voice, “Can I suggest that you go away,” I waved my hand generally in the direction of her office, “you write me my cheque, cross it and I’ll leave you to your… let me see, yes; your idiots.” I straightened to my full six foot and looked down on her.
She stormed away from me and slammed the door to her small office growling and snarling all the way, demanding that one of the girls come with her. The poor unfortunate lady had the full blast of venom that should have been mine. I could hear muffled shouts and screams from her small box room of an office.
I put my head round the door of one of the legal exec’s and told her what was going on.
“Oh fuck Sally Connery,” she said, “the insane bitch thinks she runs the place, word is she used to get it from the old boss and hasn’t been the same since he retired.” One of the senior partners came in laughing that I’d really put the cat among the pigeons with ‘that mad old bag’.
Ten minutes and one coffee later, she was demanding I go into her office. I did so.
“Here’s your bloody cheque, get your things and get out of my offices!” she snarled looking at me like something trodden into the carpet.
“Thank you Miss Connery,” I smiled. I tore open the envelope and saw that it was for £1,000. More than the one month in lieu I’d asked for. I tucked the cheque into my jacket pocket and dropped the envelope on the floor from my trembling hands. She took it as defiance.
“GET OUT!” she screamed, and I turned my back on her and slowly walked out, turning to smile and wave one final time. I apologised to the other staff on my way out for the hard time they would undoubtedly get because of my dismissal, but that cheque was almost a tenth of my loan.
I paid the cheque into my account on my way back to the house I shared with some mates, two weeks later handed in my dissertation and left that sleepy town that would always have such a place in my heart.
Back home, Mum told me of an opportunity to work in a small hotel she did the books for. It was shift work and due to finish when the summer season finished, a fortnight before I was due to start as a secondary school teacher.
The hotel was small, family run and being my mother’s son, I was instantly welcomed. The work was not unpleasant and went from serving breakfasts and cleaning and preparing rooms in the mornings and waiting on table, bar duties, and room service in the evening; occasionally I would be the night steward and would find myself sat at the front desk all night by the phone and computer ready for emergencies, phone calls and finally to get the food and linen deliveries from five o’clock onwards.
I had the option to sleep over if I wanted to and this was improved by meeting the lovely Yvonne, a French girl my age studying at the art college nearby. I wasn’t a virgin but hadn’t that much experience, but Yvonne was so wonderfully open and passionate that she taught me everything she knew and enjoyed about making love in a few short nights. Being a devotee of the contraceptive pill we dropped the whole condom thing that same week. We shagged almost constantly – her room, my room, unoccupied rooms, the hotel’s old and rather dated pool in the basement and once even over the bar as we closed down for the night.
She told me she was going home for her family holiday in the last two weeks in August and asked me to come with her. I didn’t really have the money, and the hotel probably wouldn’t have let us both go at the same time. It was with some sense of relief; I’d finally get a chance to catch up on my rest.
The hotel was probably the first time I’d been called ‘Michael’. To everyone else, including Yvonne, I was Mike, but because the manager already had a silver badge with the hotel’s crest on engraved ‘Michael’, that was who I became.
It was the first dull, boring Saturday of two dull boring Saturdays without Yvonne and I had finished in the bar washing the last of the glasses and putting the room straight and arranging the tables and servery for the breakfasts the next morning.
I walked out to reception, looking forward to a reasonably early night and the rude email or text conversation I was going to have with Yvonne. She had already sent me a rude picture of her in half of her bikini and I was hoping for the full strip tonight.
The manager appeared, a rare thing for this time of night and called me to him.
“Aah, Michael,” he grinned, “We have a special request; Mr Reynard, a very old friend of ours has called room service with a special request; he wants Stilton cheese, mixed crackers, some bread and a bottle of Taylors Port. He asked for you especially.” He smiled encouragingly.
“Mr Reynard?” I said, “Don’t think I’ve dealt with him but I’ll get his order straight away. I’ll turn in after if you have nothing else.” I finished with a smile, I liked this man.
“That’s very kind of you Michael; I’ll see you in the morning.”
I headed for the kitchen and cut a vast slice of Stilton cheese, and arranged a selection of crackers, biscuits and bread around it, adding a few large lumps of reasonably fresh baguette on the plate next to it. I went back to the bar, grabbed the bottle and two glasses and arranged them on the big tray I was so handy with these days.
Mr Reynard’s room was the best in the place, and was actually a suite, and I took the lift to the third floor. At the door I straightened my tie; Mr Reynard was an ‘old friend’, had this entire suite to himself, could get room service at eleven o’clock at night from the manager so probably tipped well!
“Ah Michael,” said the refined voice, “do come in.”
I opened the door and stepped into the room which was almost in complete darkness but for one lamp which illuminated an elderly gentleman in a wheelchair. I walked to him with my tray held high.
“Your order Mr Reynard,” I said.
“You’re… you’re not Michael.” He said.
“Yes I am sir,” I said placing the tray on the folding stand that each room had. He put a hand on my arm as I stood next to him.
“Hold there a moment if you will,” he said, and I had to blink back against the bright light he’d switched on against the darkness of the room. “Oh, you are ‘A’ Michael, but not ‘the’ Michael I was expecting.” It came to me.
When I introduced myself, the manager’s wife had said that it was fitting that I was a Michael as they’d just lost an old and valued member of staff by that name. Mum told me that the ‘old Michael’ was a bit of an old retainer that had been with the hotel since he was a boy, knew all of its secrets, how everything worked and how to fix it if it didn’t and was generally the ‘go to’ guy.
Yvonne told me he’d been a bit of a lothario on the quiet and she confessed that although in his late fifties she’d slept with him a couple of times and he was a great lover; sadly he’d died in his sleep the previous winter from a heart attack. It seemed that Mr Reynard was expecting him.
“I’m sorry sir,” I said standing straight, “The other Michael passed away early this year, I…” from the corner of my eye I saw something on the bed move. I turned my head as my glance had been inconclusive. When I looked again I saw it was a person, a woman I guessed from the well filled, black leather bra and the black leather string panties with flaps of skin just visible either side, on their hands and knees, arse in the air.
She was kneeling across the bed, sideways on.
“Open the Port Michael,” said Mr Reynard. With trembling fingers I pulled off the foil top and dragged the capped cork from the bottle with a loud pop. The figure on the bed turned her head slightly. I saw that ‘she’ was wearing some kind of gag, a mask across her eyes and a pair of ear phones connected to an iPod. She was also tied to the bed by her elbows and knees, straps carefully secured to points under the bed edges I must have seen but never thought about. Clever old Michael, I thought, and grinned at the thought of my predecessor and what he must have got up to.
I poured a large measure into the glass for Mr Reynard, and he raised the glass awkwardly as if this kind of thing was hard for him. I guessed but his limited movement and laboured breathing he must have had a stroke or suffered some debilitating illness.
“I have a proposition for you Michael,” he said after his first sip of Port, “This is my friend, we shall call her Bee for the purposes of this discussion. Every year she and I come here for a short holiday, part of which always involved Michael and his particular talents.” He picked up a piece of Stilton and squeezed it between his fingers and sniffed it. “My friend Bee here has particular fancies and predilections for certain sexual activities – Michael was kind enough to take care of them for her after I suffered a couple of strokes. We always came to this hotel before and Michael had always helped us with our equipment up until that point when he took a more active role.” Mr Reynard smiled.
“Well as you see, Bee is all dressed up with nowhere to go, and no Michael. You seem to be a fit young man Michael and I hope that, for this year at least, you might be able to help us out. There was always a substantial sum of money involved, in cash I might add, and I can confirm that that part of the bargain would still stand. Are you interested?”
I was flabbergasted. Here was this strange old man, with his younger woman that had obviously travelled to our town for a ‘dirty weekend’ and judging by the paddle, and whippy thing on the end of the bed needed a bit of a spanking before she was fucked.
My first thought was obviously the woman, how did I know that she was up for this. I kind of guessed that it was most unlikely the old boy in the wheelchair could have dragged her up to the room and dressed her in the stuff and tied her down. But I asked just the same.
“Well you ask, Michael,” said Mr Reynard, “Lift the headphones from her ear for me,” he said, and I did so, hearing the gentle tones of light classical music emanating from them, “Bee,” he said, we have a bit of a change of plan, we have a younger Michael with us this evening and he wants to assure himself that you are a willing participant in this.” She bobbed her head slightly. “OK, Bee you will nod your head just twice in answer to each of my questions; are you here of your own accord?” She nodded twice, “do you wish young Michael to spank you, paddle you and flog you?” She nodded twice, “and after that he may fuck you as he sees fit?” She nodded twice again.
“There,” he said, “is that sufficient for you?” he smiled at me cutting as the Stilton with a sharp knife, “one thing I must point out Michael, this shall remain a total secret between you, me and my friend Bee here. I have information relating to the running of this hotel that could cause all sorts of mischief if it got into the wrong hands. I’d hate for you to be the one to explain to your friend the manager why the press are suddenly taking such an interest in his hotel!”
“Err… fine,” I said, “that’s no problem,” still not sure if I wanted to do these things to this so far anonymous woman and her elderly lover.
“Let go of the headphones,” he grinned in the half light, “Give her a wee slap there, Michael,” said Mr Reynard, “just to get us all in the mood.” I turned side on to the woman and her pert shapely bottom pointing up into the room. Raising my hand I slapped her on the right cheek of her arse, and she flinched in shock rather than pain.
“Oh it’ll need to be much harder than that for her to really enjoy it,” he said, and I smacked her harder. Her whole body moved forward under the impact and I heard a muffled ‘urrgh’ sound from under the gag. I struck her a third time, then moved onto the other cheek.
“You need to warm her up somewhat Michael,” said Mr Reynard, “Once her bottom is lovely and pink you can have a go with the flogger and the paddle – those are her real favourites.”
I moved to one side of her and laid my right arm across the small of her back, she wriggled just a bit and I got the impression that this was what she wanted. With my stronger right arm I began a vigorous hand spanking covering as much of her arse as I could. To my left sat Mr Reynard, eating his cheese and drinking his port as if nothing untoward was going on.
“That’s very good Michael,” he said, “I suggest you try the flogger,” I picked it from the bed, it was a weird looking thing that looked like the handle from a dogs lead with a collection of short leather thongs hanging off of it, and I raised it in my hand. “Stroke her with it first Michael,” he said, “let her know that she can expect to feel it,”
I did as instructed and stroked all over her shapely pink arse with it and she wriggled; I hadn’t noticed what a hard erection I had and I straightened it in my pants; Mr Reynard suggested that I strip off should I so desire, I put down the flogger and said that I would just remove my trousers and shirt, which did leave me much more comfortable.
I also decided that if I was going to fuck this woman eventually then I wanted to see what she had going on. Taking her tiny leather panties at the edges on her hips I gradually removed them, just as I did with the lovely Yvonne when I stripped her each night. The bare arse of Bee came splendidly into view and I thought about how I would look forward to climbing behind her and pushing my hard cock into the hairless flushed and swollen pussy I could see before me. I left the panties at her knees, as far as they could be removed without releasing her from her bonds.
“The flogger Michael,” said Mr Reynard, “lay it on young man.”
With way to much force, I whipped her across both cheeks with the flogger and I heard her scream against the gag, a sound that for one moment made me stop. Too hard, I thought and proceeded to hit her much more softly with it.
She wriggled obscenely as I whipped her pink arse gently increasing the pressure. Seeing her flushed skin and hearing her pant against her gag, I guessed that she was well on her way to orgasm.
OK, this was rich Mr Reynard, who had some dirt on the hotel, probably the sexy goings-on here over the years, probably most of it arranged by my predecessor. He was going to pay me in cash, and wanted a good show. Perhaps it was time that Bee had an orgasm.
Using my left had to gently flog her buttocks I slipped my well trained (thanks Yvonne!) right hand between her thighs and using her own moisture gently strummed her hard clitoris. She gasped, and rolled back forth as much as her bonds would allow.
“If you think she’s taking advantage Michael, you can punish her for it you know.”
“I’ll take off her headphones Mr Reynard, perhaps we can tell her.” I moved forward to her head and removed the small headphones from her, now seeing that under her long hair was a the black nylon eye mask and a red rubber ball gag that she drooled around readily, the large blue non-hotel towel under her face successfully catching her oral discharge.
I put my hands back to her cunt and began to flick her clit slightly harder; moving around slightly more so Mr Reynard could see, I gave up her clit and started to pump my fingers in and out of her pussy, scrubbing at her g-spot. She stopped crying out and moaning instead letting herself get into the pleasure she was receiving and I guessed awaiting her first orgasm from me. It didn’t take too long. Following a series of gasped ‘oohs’ and ‘aaaaahs’ from under Bee’s gag, I saw her tremble all over and flip her head back and for the first time letting me see the mane of bleached blonde hair tied in a ponytail fly back.
Her head dropped almost to the bed as she recovered.
“Did you receive my permission to come Bee?” Said Mr Reynard.
“Unmmph” she said shaking her head gently with a sort of resigned sigh.
“Do you need the paddle of the cane?”
“UUUUUUMPH!” she gasped shaking her head much more vigorously this time. I guessed she didn’t want the cane then.
I picked up the paddle and began to smack her with it in a meaningful manner, as she rocked back and forth I noticed that I had paid very little attention to her breasts, and thought I should remedy that immediately. Still cheerfully slapping away with the wooden bat I began to mess with the clip at the back of the leather bra until I undid it, then found that it was tied around the neck. Undoing this bow made the garment fall to the bed freeing her pendulous breasts, allowing them to swing freely and for me to see the huge brown nippled aureoles that begged to be suckled – or bitten! I did both.
Laying half under her, I sucked at her nips occasionally nipping them with my teeth or scratching the sides of her boobs with my short nails, she didn’t seem to mind this either, and as I lay under her swinging tits I put my hand between her thighs again and stroked her clitoris with gay abandon. I was getting into this now,
“I’m going to make you come Bee,” I said, “come without permission, then I’ll cane your arse so hard you’ll be stood up for a week.” She froze.
The mention of the cane, there it was again! “Come on Bee, you know you want to!” I scrubbed between her thighs trying to remember everything Yvonne had shown me about clitoral orgasms. “If you don’t come for me Bee, so help me,” I growled and swung my face nearer to her gagged face, “I’ll stick my cock up your arse and fuck the shit out of you.”
“UUUUUUUUUURRRRNNNNNNNNGGH!!!” she whinnied, and shook to a tremendous come.
“She didn’t ask your permission Mr Reynard,” I said.
“Cane the disrespectful bitch,” he said with no more concern than the bread and cheese he was eating. He nodded to the other side of the bed and I leaned over and picked it up and needing no guidance began to sweep it over her arse, occasionally letting it bounce under its own weight against her. I could see her shoulders heave,
“Uuuuunnnngh, uuuuunnnngh,” she gasped shaking her head.
“Cane the bitch and shut her up,” he said sipping his wine. I thought for a moment, perhaps she really didn’t want this. Mr Reynard read my thoughts well, “check the welts Michael,” he said, “Turn on the lights and you’ll see the marks that all of the other men have left on her skin.”
I stepped away and walked back to the door and where I knew the light switch to be, and I flicked it. The room that I knew quite well was thrown into sharp relief, including the sweaty naked woman on the bed, her red arse and scratched tits on view for Mr Reynard’s and my pleasure.
I raised the cane in the air a swished it a few times,
“UNNNNNNNN!” she moaned louder and more insistent this time, but she was cut short as I sliced the cane down across both cheeks of her arse.
She screamed through the gag, and that was it.
The bits of face I could see, the bottle blonde hair finally released from a tight bun, the grunts and screams, Bee. This just couldn’t be true. Reynard, Reynard, what did that remind me of…
I saw headed notepaper with a classical picture on it and as I lashed her arse for a second time I said “Fox!” but my exclamation was hidden under her second scream. In a fit of vengeful zeal I struck her a third time, then a fourth, fifth, sixth.
“Six of the best Mr Reynard, enough?”
“Oh she can take much more than that,” he said eating more cheese and biscuits.
I had a thought and walked to her head to look at both the gag and the mask, I bent so my face was hidden by hers.
“Another six Sally?” I whispered. She flinched, then froze. “Is it coming back to you bitch?” I took the opportunity to brutally squeeze her nipples as I bent forward and she tried to pull away from me.
“There are nipple clamps on the table there Michael,” said Mr Reynard, “Feel free to use them.” I did so watching her try and stretch away from them as I pulled her breasts and clipped the vicious looking things onto to her large nipples. Back in the same position as before I went back to flicking her clit again,
“Come on Sally,” I whispered, “you can’t escape the cane, you can’t escape me, come for me you mad bitch…”
She sobbed through her third orgasm, just in time for me to pick up the cane and lash her three times in quick succession, on each cheek. According to her body language and my three previous views she came again, although I never did ask.
I had bored of the lashing of her arse now, and just wanted to fuck her, but there was one more thing that needed doing.
The room had a large tilting mirror on wheels and I moved it to the far side of the bed so she would be able to see behind her, see me fucking her – me fucking Miss Sally Connery!
I knelt on the bed behind her,
“Condom Michael,” said Mr Reynard, really Mr Fox of Fox and Draper – solicitors.
“Thank you,” I said and put it on. I prepared myself for one of the best revenge fucks ever. This nasty evil woman was about to get fucked by me, her nemesis, the only subordinate to ever get one over on her.
I plunged into her wetness, and saw her head flick back up. Not only did I want to fuck her, I totally wanted to fuck with this woman’s head; I’d made her come four times, the second two once she’d realised who I was, so I wanted her to get real pleasure from this fucking, then I’d get mine and have my final revenge.
I started to slowly screw her, sliding in and out, slapping my thighs hard against her glowing arse, It was getting good. She was into it, whether I was the nasty little college boy brat that had disrespected her in her own office or ‘Old Michael’ she was writhing and crying out for her release.
After all the pressure and excitement I was getting to the point of no return as well. I looked behind me and saw just what I needed.
On Mr Fox’s tray was a butter dish and I reached back and slipped my fingers into the soft yellow greasy mass. I pulled my cock from her pussy and she sighed letting her shoulders fall in relief.
I quickly spread the butter over my sheathed cock and lay it in the crack of her red arse. Pushing forward as hard as I could I stretched forward and pulled at the Velcro holding her mask in place.
I pulled it off and let it fall from her face; I could see she was struggling to focus after being in the dark. She shook her head and stared into the mirror, right into my smiling face – the same smiling face that had walked from her office with a cheque for a grand in his pocket. Her eyes went wide in final recognition and I took my chance and slapped both her arse cheeks with my hands and while she was still coming to terms with that pain, pushed down on her hips and pushed my penis against her the initial resistance of her anus. It slipped in easily and I proceeded to ride her hard and fast, enjoying my first experience of anal sex.
Boy was it tight, this I had to do again sometime, and the feelings were intense and even with the condom I knew I wouldn’t last long, even after all the extra training I’d had with Yvonne. In the mirror I could see my benefactor nodding and smiling,
“Nice touch with the mirror Michael,” he said, “never had that view before,” he sipped his wine, “Anal as well, only ever with dildo’s before wasn’t it Bee. Michael didn’t do arses, he used to say the ‘only way to push shit up hill is in a wheelbarrow,” he chuckled and refilled his glass.
“I trust you’ll come in her mouth?” I looked round and Mr Fox/Reynard was toasting me with his glass and grinning across his face, and said almost to himself, “Arse to mouth, good choice.”
I pulled my cock from her and tore off the condom pausing to wipe off some of the condom spermicide or whatever it was on the sheet that one of my colleagues would change the next morning.
Standing at her head I could see that ‘Old Michael’ had really done his stuff – she was perfectly situated for a blow job, or in this case a face fuck, I doubted she’d blow me.
I unfastened the ball gag and pulled it from her face, and she stretched her jaw closing it for the first time in what must have been ages. I pumped my cock few times looking down into a face that exuded pure hatred. This wasn’t the kind of mouth I wanted to put my prick into.
There was a lash and she flinched.
“You so much as scratch him with your teeth bitch and so help me I’ll repay tenfold any damage you do to this nice young man – from your hide.”
She closed her eyes and opened her mouth, I tentatively fed my hard cock between her lips and she closed her mouth softly sucking me, to the point that my knees buckled.
She had obviously done this before, and gently both sucked and rubbed her tongue on my sensitive bell end. Yvonne had sucked me, but never to orgasm and this was going to be my time of coming in a woman’s mouth. As I felt my knees tremble, I held her head and gently fucked her mouth as my semen pumped down her throat.
She gasped and retched a bit but swallowed my liquid gift.
“Clean him,” said Mr Fox, and she did just that licking my cock free of come, so much so that when I milked it one last time, she held out her tongue so I could squeeze the last drops onto it. She closed her mouth and smacked her lips gratefully.
“Thank you sir,” said Miss Sally Connery.
“I should say so,” said Mr Fox, “Michael always insisted on coming on her face and in her hair, more dirty he insisted, but I think a woman should take her man, whichever man in fact, in her mouth.”
I stepped back and watched as Sally dropped her head to the mattress, probably just to take a breather. I undid one of her wrist restraints and Mr Fox assured me that would be enough and she could do the rest. I disposed of the condom and the foil packet wrapped in toilet paper in the bathroom bin. When I returned it was to find her stood before him, stark naked with her head bowed – not once did she make eye contact with me. For her age she had a great body and I felt a stirring in my lions again.
At a nod, she dropped to her knees before him,
“A hand if you will Michael,” he said and I saw he was struggling to stand. I put a hand under his arm and helped him to his feet. Without looking she undid his trousers and pulled them and his underpants down. He sat down again, and she instantly put her face in his lap and started to suck him.
What he had seen had obviously had the desired effect and he started to groan.
“We don’t have another condom Michael,” he said, “but feel free to wank and come over her though, the other Michael always looked forward to it, as did Bee.”
I pulled at my semi flaccid cock, and looking down at her surprisingly sexy body and what I had done to it had me well on the way. I didn’t just want to come on her of course so started to interfere with her cunt and arse. She moaned at my intrusions front and back and pushed her back end out to make it easier for me to reach, and I scrubbed at her g-spot as Yvonne had taught me. Finger fucking her arse and pussy while I wanked had the right effect on both of them. She went at his cock with gusto growling at the sensations I was creating in her lower half,
“Oh yes, that’s perfect Darling Bee,” he said and tensed. I guess he came as she tenderly mouthed him in the same way she had me minutes before. She fussed and worried over his softening cock as if it was the most precious thing in the world to her. She sat up to face him.
I took hold of her ponytail and turned her face to my crotch and my new erection, and she turned her head and opened her mouth for me obediently, still not making eye contact.
“Play with your clit,” I ordered, and she began to do so. I did what I’d wanted to do the last time and held her head still while I fucked her mouth. I saw that Mr Fox playing with the nipple clamps and she moved in pain.
She was groaning at all that was being done to her and I rapidly approached my second orgasm and thought that this time I would do as the other Michael did, I pulled my cock from her warm wet mouth and wanked it a few strokes and shot a rather depleted load across her face, landing in her eyes, on her forehead and trickling down one cheek. She turned her head back to face Mr Fox.
“That’s better now isn’t it,” he said stroking her hair with his good arm, “Into the shower bitch,” he said sweetly, “I want you in something pink and frilly.” She stood and turned, STILL not making eye contact with me, and grabbed some kind of nightdress from an open case.
I asked Mr Fox if there was anything else I could do for him and he said no, so I collected my clothes and started to leave, but he called me back and handed me a brown envelope. I checked later and found it contained £500, I would have done it for free!
I staggered back to my room, totally exhausted, and sent an email to Yvonne that started, “you are never going to believe what just happened to me…”
She didn’t at first; not until I took her to the room on her first weekday evening after her holiday when it was empty and showed her the fixings that are hidden under the king size double in that suite,
“You fucked her arse?” she said, in her sweet accented English. I nodded, “Oh well,” she purred with her bedroom eyes gleaming, “you’d better fuck mine then,” and using the scented moisturiser from the bathroom as lube I did so, making love to my wonderful French girlfriend on the same bed, with the mirror in the same place so we could see each others faces. This time it was gentle and passionate though and we both came.
Back in my room I showed her the brown envelope still with the cash in. We had a late summer holiday with it, such a good holiday in fact, that four years later we are married and expecting our first child.
I was never to meet Bee or Mr Reynard again, or Miss Sally Connery or Mr Fox for that matter. I heard from the hotel manager years later that a few months after that memorable night, Mr Reynard had another stroke and had died after being in a coma for two months. I often wonder what Miss Sally Connery does for sport these days, I expect she’ll find someone to bully into doing those things for her; much as I would like to think I was rather good at it I think she’d rather join a convent than swallow me again!