Room service at my local hotel
“Room service!”
I sighed to myself, feeling the thrill sparkle in the air. I had just begun to peel off my work clothes, and the thought of making a steaming cup of tea danced in my mind. With my shirt half undone, shoes cast aside, and trousers nowhere in sight, I stood there teasingly clad in my delightfully sheer black knee-high socks and my striking green Targa underwear.
Curiosity piqued, I glanced through the peephole in the door. There he was—one of the familiar faces from behind the bar, a regular who had come to know me just as I had come to know him. Our unspoken connection made my heart race; I had never shied away from revealing my taste for sheer socks, often flaunting them under my trousers, but this time it felt different. Just then, a knock echoed softly on the door, and I felt a rush of excitement surge through me.
“Room Service”
In that sultry moment, I could have drawn out a teasing “wait a minute,” but instead, I flung open the door and let my gaze linger on him, apologising for my casual appearance while enticing him to bring the food to the table. As he rolled the trolley through the threshold, the door whispered shut behind him, and he boldly strolled across the room, placing the delicious offerings on the side instead of the table, adding a tantalising twist to the evening.
“It's all good, Sir! I've seen plenty of regular guests in far less. It’s just one of those rewards of the job. Trust me, you could strut around here completely naked, and no one would bat an eye. However, I must admit, you do look irresistible in that outfit right now, if I may say so!”
Somewhat taken aback by his boldness, I managed to stammer,
“Uh, thank you! I’ll consider that for next time. I did not want to put you in an awkward position with just me in these!”
“Mr Ford, don’t sweat it! We have all seen your pictures online. You love showing off those nylons, especially in this hotel. There's no need to feel shy! I’d be more than happy to snap a few shots of you right now, if you’re game.”
He pulled out his camera phone, a gleam in his eye.
“In fact, I insist we do some. ”.
He slipped off his shoes and sank into the armchair.
The flash of the camera pierced the dim room again, capturing the moment my tongue dragged along the rough arch of his foot, tasting the salty tang of sweat-soaked skin. I didn't pull away; instead, my mouth opened wider, enveloping his big toe, sucking it deep like it was the only thing anchoring me to reality. His chuckle rumbled low, vibrating through the armchair as he lounged back, legs spread wide, one foot in my grasp and the other dangling teasingly close to my face.
"That's it, boy. Show the lens how much you crave this. Deeper—suck harder." His voice was a gravelly command, evoking something primal within me. My cock twitched harder in those tight panties, straining against the fabric, a damp spot forming where pre-cum leaked out. I switched feet without thinking, peeling off the second sock with my teeth, the musky odour hitting me like a wave. I buried my nose against his heel first, inhaling deeply before my lips parted and I lapped at the ball of his foot, tracing every callus and ridge with fervent strokes.
He shifted in the chair, his free hand dipping into his open fly to stroke his thickening shaft through his boxers. The camera clicked relentlessly now, each snap a reminder of my exposure, my submission laid bare. "Crawl closer," he ordered, pressing his sole flat against my cheek, smearing the scent across my skin. I obeyed on all fours, my shirt long forgotten on the floor, chest heaving as I nuzzled into the warmth of his arch. My hands kneaded his calves, thumbs digging in while my tongue swirled around each toe, popping them in and out of my mouth with wet, obscene sounds.
The dominant's eyes locked on mine, dark with hunger.
"You're mine to document, boy. Every lick, every suck—it's all getting saved. Now, beg for more. Tell me how bad you need to worship these feet that own you."
Please, sir," I whimpered from my knees, my voice muffled against the damp sole of his foot as I sucked greedily on his toes, saliva dripping down my chin. "I need more. Use me however you want—I'm yours to command." The words spilled out unbidden, fuelled by the throbbing ache in my soaked panties, where my cock strained and leaked, begging for attention I knew wouldn't come yet. The waiter's shaft bulged thickly against his boxers, the outline clear as he palmed it lazily, his eyes gleaming with control.
The knock echoed again, sharper this time—'Room Service.'
My heart pounded, a mix of fear and filthy excitement twisting in my gut. Who the hell was this? Another hotel staffer sniffing around? The waiter grinned, wicked and knowing, pulling his foot from my mouth with a wet pop. He leaned forward, grabbing my chin roughly to force my gaze up. "Go answer that, boy. Let him in. This dark stranger's here to join the fun, and you're gonna entertain us both. Strip those panties off on your way—show him what an eager slut you are. Suck, fuck, whatever we demand. Make it dirty, or I'll make you regret it."
I rose on shaky legs, my face flushed and slick with spit and foot sweat. Hooking my thumbs into the waistband, I shoved the panties down, my hard cock springing free, bobbing with each step toward the door. Pre-cum glistened at the tip, trailing a thin string as I kicked the fabric aside. The cool air hit my bare skin, making me shiver, but the heat building inside me drowned it out. I twisted the knob and pulled the door open just enough, peeking out at the figure in the dim hallway.
He was taller than the waiter, broader, with skin like polished ebony and a uniform stretched tight over rippling muscles. His eyes raked over me immediately, taking in my nakedness, the erection jutting shamelessly, the remnants of worship smeared on my lips. A slow, predatory smile spread across his face. "Heard some noise. Thought you might need... extra service." His voice was deep, accented with a rumble that sent jolts straight to my balls.
The waiter called from the armchair, his tone casual but ironclad. "Get in here, Marcus. Boy's primed and ready. Lock the door behind you— we're turning this into a proper party." The dark stranger—Marcus—stepped inside without hesitation, his boots thudding softly as he shut and bolted the door. He shrugged off his jacket, revealing a white shirt unbuttoned just enough to show a trail of dark hair leading down to his belt. His gaze never left me, hungry and appraising, as he took off his shoes.
"On your knees again," the waiter barked, stroking his now fully exposed cock—thick, veined, and curving upward from his unzipped fly. "Start with Marcus. Show him how you worship. Lick his boots clean first, then work your way up." I dropped instantly, crawling to Marcus's feet, the carpet rough against my knees. His boots were scuffed leather, carrying the faint scent of polish and street grit. I pressed my tongue to the toe, lapping broadly, tasting the dirt as my ass lifted instinctively, exposed and vulnerable.
Marcus chuckled, low and throaty, reaching down to grip my hair and guide my mouth.
"Eager little thing. Bet you've been dreaming of this." He unzipped his trousers with his free hand, fishing out his heavy cock—longer than the waiter's, darker, with a fat head already swelling. It slapped against my cheek as I licked higher, up the shaft of his boot to his ankle. The waiter snapped another photo from his chair, the flash catching the drool on my chin. "Smile for the camera, boy. This is going online later—your Only-Fans page we set up will make us a nice little return, and your new fans will love seeing you service two cocks at once."
I moaned around the boot leather, my own dick leaking onto the floor. Marcus kicked off one boot, then the other, shoving his socked foot against my lips. "Suck it off. Taste a real man's sweat." I obeyed, teeth grazing the fabric as I pulled the sock free with my mouth, then dived in, tongue swirling over his warm sole, broad and powerful. The flavour was earthier, more intense, making my head spin. His toes flexed, pushing into my mouth one by one, fucking my lips as I hollowed my cheeks.
The waiter stood now, crossing the room with his cock in hand, stroking slowly. He positioned himself behind me, kicking my legs wider. "Spread for us. Marcus, you want his mouth or his hole first?" Marcus's eyes darkened as he thrust his foot deeper, gagging me lightly. "Mouth. I wanna feel that tongue on my balls while you claim his ass." Rough hands— the waiter's—gripped my hips, his thumb circling my tight entrance before spitting directly onto it. No lube, no mercy; his cockhead pressed in, stretching me with a burn that made me cry out around Marcus's toes.
He sank in deep, balls slapping my ass on the first thrust, grunting as he bottomed out. "You're tight little toy. Take it all." I bucked forward, impaled, my mouth flooding with saliva as I released the foot and lunged for Marcus's cock. It filled my throat in one go, the girth forcing my jaw wide, tears pricking my eyes. He held my head steady, fucking my face with short, brutal pumps while the waiter pounded my ass, each slap echoing in the room.
Sweat slicked our bodies, the air thick with musk and moans. The waiter reached around, fisting my neglected cock roughly, jerking it in time with his thrusts. "Cum for us, boy. Show how much you love being our hotel whore." Marcus pulled out briefly, slapping his wet shaft across my face before shoving back in, his balls dragging over my chin. "Gonna flood that throat soon. Swallow every drop."
They used me relentlessly, switching positions—Marcus flipping me onto my back on the bed, legs over his shoulders as he slammed into my ass, the waiter straddling my chest to feed me his cock, smearing pre-cum across my lips. The camera kept clicking, capturing the gangbang unfolding: double penetration attempts, my hole stretched around fingers and tongues, cum splattering my skin as they took turns marking me. Hours blurred into a haze of filthy commands—'Lick our asses clean,' 'Beg to be bred,' 'Ride us both'—until I was a trembling, spent mess, covered in their loads, utterly owned.
But they weren't done. The waiter wiped his cock on my thigh, smirking. "Clean up, boy. We've got all night—and maybe more friends coming." Marcus nodded, his hand already dialing on his phone. "Round two starts soon. Get that mouth ready."
I sighed to myself, feeling the thrill sparkle in the air. I had just begun to peel off my work clothes, and the thought of making a steaming cup of tea danced in my mind. With my shirt half undone, shoes cast aside, and trousers nowhere in sight, I stood there teasingly clad in my delightfully sheer black knee-high socks and my striking green Targa underwear.
Curiosity piqued, I glanced through the peephole in the door. There he was—one of the familiar faces from behind the bar, a regular who had come to know me just as I had come to know him. Our unspoken connection made my heart race; I had never shied away from revealing my taste for sheer socks, often flaunting them under my trousers, but this time it felt different. Just then, a knock echoed softly on the door, and I felt a rush of excitement surge through me.
“Room Service”
In that sultry moment, I could have drawn out a teasing “wait a minute,” but instead, I flung open the door and let my gaze linger on him, apologising for my casual appearance while enticing him to bring the food to the table. As he rolled the trolley through the threshold, the door whispered shut behind him, and he boldly strolled across the room, placing the delicious offerings on the side instead of the table, adding a tantalising twist to the evening.
“It's all good, Sir! I've seen plenty of regular guests in far less. It’s just one of those rewards of the job. Trust me, you could strut around here completely naked, and no one would bat an eye. However, I must admit, you do look irresistible in that outfit right now, if I may say so!”
Somewhat taken aback by his boldness, I managed to stammer,
“Uh, thank you! I’ll consider that for next time. I did not want to put you in an awkward position with just me in these!”
“Mr Ford, don’t sweat it! We have all seen your pictures online. You love showing off those nylons, especially in this hotel. There's no need to feel shy! I’d be more than happy to snap a few shots of you right now, if you’re game.”
He pulled out his camera phone, a gleam in his eye.
“In fact, I insist we do some. ”.
He slipped off his shoes and sank into the armchair.
The flash of the camera pierced the dim room again, capturing the moment my tongue dragged along the rough arch of his foot, tasting the salty tang of sweat-soaked skin. I didn't pull away; instead, my mouth opened wider, enveloping his big toe, sucking it deep like it was the only thing anchoring me to reality. His chuckle rumbled low, vibrating through the armchair as he lounged back, legs spread wide, one foot in my grasp and the other dangling teasingly close to my face.
"That's it, boy. Show the lens how much you crave this. Deeper—suck harder." His voice was a gravelly command, evoking something primal within me. My cock twitched harder in those tight panties, straining against the fabric, a damp spot forming where pre-cum leaked out. I switched feet without thinking, peeling off the second sock with my teeth, the musky odour hitting me like a wave. I buried my nose against his heel first, inhaling deeply before my lips parted and I lapped at the ball of his foot, tracing every callus and ridge with fervent strokes.
He shifted in the chair, his free hand dipping into his open fly to stroke his thickening shaft through his boxers. The camera clicked relentlessly now, each snap a reminder of my exposure, my submission laid bare. "Crawl closer," he ordered, pressing his sole flat against my cheek, smearing the scent across my skin. I obeyed on all fours, my shirt long forgotten on the floor, chest heaving as I nuzzled into the warmth of his arch. My hands kneaded his calves, thumbs digging in while my tongue swirled around each toe, popping them in and out of my mouth with wet, obscene sounds.
The dominant's eyes locked on mine, dark with hunger.
"You're mine to document, boy. Every lick, every suck—it's all getting saved. Now, beg for more. Tell me how bad you need to worship these feet that own you."
Please, sir," I whimpered from my knees, my voice muffled against the damp sole of his foot as I sucked greedily on his toes, saliva dripping down my chin. "I need more. Use me however you want—I'm yours to command." The words spilled out unbidden, fuelled by the throbbing ache in my soaked panties, where my cock strained and leaked, begging for attention I knew wouldn't come yet. The waiter's shaft bulged thickly against his boxers, the outline clear as he palmed it lazily, his eyes gleaming with control.
The knock echoed again, sharper this time—'Room Service.'
My heart pounded, a mix of fear and filthy excitement twisting in my gut. Who the hell was this? Another hotel staffer sniffing around? The waiter grinned, wicked and knowing, pulling his foot from my mouth with a wet pop. He leaned forward, grabbing my chin roughly to force my gaze up. "Go answer that, boy. Let him in. This dark stranger's here to join the fun, and you're gonna entertain us both. Strip those panties off on your way—show him what an eager slut you are. Suck, fuck, whatever we demand. Make it dirty, or I'll make you regret it."
I rose on shaky legs, my face flushed and slick with spit and foot sweat. Hooking my thumbs into the waistband, I shoved the panties down, my hard cock springing free, bobbing with each step toward the door. Pre-cum glistened at the tip, trailing a thin string as I kicked the fabric aside. The cool air hit my bare skin, making me shiver, but the heat building inside me drowned it out. I twisted the knob and pulled the door open just enough, peeking out at the figure in the dim hallway.
He was taller than the waiter, broader, with skin like polished ebony and a uniform stretched tight over rippling muscles. His eyes raked over me immediately, taking in my nakedness, the erection jutting shamelessly, the remnants of worship smeared on my lips. A slow, predatory smile spread across his face. "Heard some noise. Thought you might need... extra service." His voice was deep, accented with a rumble that sent jolts straight to my balls.
The waiter called from the armchair, his tone casual but ironclad. "Get in here, Marcus. Boy's primed and ready. Lock the door behind you— we're turning this into a proper party." The dark stranger—Marcus—stepped inside without hesitation, his boots thudding softly as he shut and bolted the door. He shrugged off his jacket, revealing a white shirt unbuttoned just enough to show a trail of dark hair leading down to his belt. His gaze never left me, hungry and appraising, as he took off his shoes.
"On your knees again," the waiter barked, stroking his now fully exposed cock—thick, veined, and curving upward from his unzipped fly. "Start with Marcus. Show him how you worship. Lick his boots clean first, then work your way up." I dropped instantly, crawling to Marcus's feet, the carpet rough against my knees. His boots were scuffed leather, carrying the faint scent of polish and street grit. I pressed my tongue to the toe, lapping broadly, tasting the dirt as my ass lifted instinctively, exposed and vulnerable.
Marcus chuckled, low and throaty, reaching down to grip my hair and guide my mouth.
"Eager little thing. Bet you've been dreaming of this." He unzipped his trousers with his free hand, fishing out his heavy cock—longer than the waiter's, darker, with a fat head already swelling. It slapped against my cheek as I licked higher, up the shaft of his boot to his ankle. The waiter snapped another photo from his chair, the flash catching the drool on my chin. "Smile for the camera, boy. This is going online later—your Only-Fans page we set up will make us a nice little return, and your new fans will love seeing you service two cocks at once."
I moaned around the boot leather, my own dick leaking onto the floor. Marcus kicked off one boot, then the other, shoving his socked foot against my lips. "Suck it off. Taste a real man's sweat." I obeyed, teeth grazing the fabric as I pulled the sock free with my mouth, then dived in, tongue swirling over his warm sole, broad and powerful. The flavour was earthier, more intense, making my head spin. His toes flexed, pushing into my mouth one by one, fucking my lips as I hollowed my cheeks.
The waiter stood now, crossing the room with his cock in hand, stroking slowly. He positioned himself behind me, kicking my legs wider. "Spread for us. Marcus, you want his mouth or his hole first?" Marcus's eyes darkened as he thrust his foot deeper, gagging me lightly. "Mouth. I wanna feel that tongue on my balls while you claim his ass." Rough hands— the waiter's—gripped my hips, his thumb circling my tight entrance before spitting directly onto it. No lube, no mercy; his cockhead pressed in, stretching me with a burn that made me cry out around Marcus's toes.
He sank in deep, balls slapping my ass on the first thrust, grunting as he bottomed out. "You're tight little toy. Take it all." I bucked forward, impaled, my mouth flooding with saliva as I released the foot and lunged for Marcus's cock. It filled my throat in one go, the girth forcing my jaw wide, tears pricking my eyes. He held my head steady, fucking my face with short, brutal pumps while the waiter pounded my ass, each slap echoing in the room.
Sweat slicked our bodies, the air thick with musk and moans. The waiter reached around, fisting my neglected cock roughly, jerking it in time with his thrusts. "Cum for us, boy. Show how much you love being our hotel whore." Marcus pulled out briefly, slapping his wet shaft across my face before shoving back in, his balls dragging over my chin. "Gonna flood that throat soon. Swallow every drop."
They used me relentlessly, switching positions—Marcus flipping me onto my back on the bed, legs over his shoulders as he slammed into my ass, the waiter straddling my chest to feed me his cock, smearing pre-cum across my lips. The camera kept clicking, capturing the gangbang unfolding: double penetration attempts, my hole stretched around fingers and tongues, cum splattering my skin as they took turns marking me. Hours blurred into a haze of filthy commands—'Lick our asses clean,' 'Beg to be bred,' 'Ride us both'—until I was a trembling, spent mess, covered in their loads, utterly owned.
But they weren't done. The waiter wiped his cock on my thigh, smirking. "Clean up, boy. We've got all night—and maybe more friends coming." Marcus nodded, his hand already dialing on his phone. "Round two starts soon. Get that mouth ready."
1ヶ月前
