I am sitting at the bar in yet another hotel, staring blankly ahead, when the bartender suddenly remarks, “It’s tough being all alone like this, isn’t it?”.
My profession demands a great deal from me, and I am rarely at home. I spend my time in hotels, constantly sleeping in different beds that are far from comfortable. Sitting with my legs under unfamiliar tables to eat is far from ideal—everything always tastes better at home, even if my girlfriend isn’t much of a cook.
I am sitting at the bar in yet another hotel, staring blankly ahead, when the bartender suddenly remarks, “It’s tough being all alone like this, isn’t it?” I look at him, say nothing, and simply nod. He takes a pen and paper, writes something down, folds the note in half, and hands it to me. “Let yourself be surprised,” he says, “and don’t forget to ask for the ‘special room service.’” I just look at him, then tuck the note into my inside pocket without checking what’s written on it. Back in my hotel room, I suddenly remember the note the bartender gave me. I unfold it and see a list of hotel addresses and phone numbers. On an impulse, I call the nearest hotel on the list and ask if they have a room available that includes the ‘special room service.’ There is a brief silence on the other end of the line before a woman’s voice takes over: “Hello—who gave you this address?” I explain that I’m staying at a hotel just around the corner and that the bartender provided the information. There is another pause, then she says, “You’re in luck; I do have one room available with the special room service.”
Shortly after, I walk into the hotel and mention that I’ve reserved a room with the special room service. A woman approaches me and says, “Good evening—I’m the one you spoke with.” She takes the room keys, and we walk toward the hotel room together. I watch her closely from behind; she moves like a goddess in a tight red dress. Her contours are clearly defined, and she has a pair of magnificent breasts on her sexy body.
She unlocks the hotel room and says, “The special room service will be here shortly.” She looks at me with a smile and adds, “Be a good boy, now,” before turning around and pulling the door shut behind her. I look around, noting that it’s just like the hundreds of other hotel rooms I’ve seen over the years—nothing special about it.
There’s a knock at the door; I jump up from the bed and open it. A lovely-looking young woman from the hotel staff is standing there. She’s wearing a uniform coat that reaches her knees and says, “Hello, I’m your special room service for this evening, sir,” as she walks straight inside. I still didn’t quite grasp what this “special room service” was supposed to entail.
I sit on the edge of the bed and take her in from head to toe. The air in this part of town must be something else, given that she, too, has a pair of substantial breasts on her slender frame. With her back turned toward me, she suddenly lets her uniform coat drop to the floor. She’s wearing a black lingerie set and bends forward. She pulls her black panties to the side, revealing her gorgeous backside and giving me a clear view of her pussy. She isn’t wearing a bra, but rather a delicate lace support piece that leaves her large breasts completely exposed.
She turns around, a sultry smile on her lips, and walks toward me, her hips swaying as she moves. She stands between my legs, presses my face against her breasts, and runs her hands through my hair. Purely out of instinct, I grab her firm buttocks and pull her tight against me. She begins to unbutton my clothes, one by one—a process I find incredibly arousing. Before I even fully grasp what’s happening, I’m sporting an erection—harder than any I’ve had in a long time. She starts to perform oral sex, taking me all the way down to my testicles.
I pull her closer; she immediately takes my hard cock, slides it all the way into her pussy, and begins to ride me, moving at a steady, rhythmic pace.
I savour every movement, spreading her firm buttocks wide to push myself even deeper inside her.
As she picks up the pace, a fleeting thought of my girlfriend—likely sitting home alone, watching TV—crosses my mind. I quickly banish the foolish thought and return to enjoying this incredibly hot girl, who introduced herself as the “special room service” for the evening.
Suddenly, she stands up, straddles the edge of a two-seater sofa in the hotel room, and says, “Come on—fuck me good.” In a flash, I’m on my knees, driving my rock-hard cock deep into her now-drenched pussy. I thrust back and forth with intense passion, while simultaneously devouring her beautiful, large breasts—her nipples have never felt this exquisite. My God, I think to myself—did the bartender actually sense that I was in desperate need of a good fuck?
I can feel my testicles tightening, and I start thrusting even faster as she says, “Go ahead—cum all over me.” I can’t take it any longer; I’m right in front of her as she opens her mouth wide and—…that I empty my balls all over her. With a roar and a great deal of semen, I unload all over her—exactly what she wanted me to do. Some of it lands in her mouth, while the rest covers her horny body. She swallows everything that went into her mouth and licks her lips, as if she were hoping for even more. She pulls her legs up even higher, opens her soft, supple pussy with both hands, and says, “Fuck me again with your delicious cock—fill my pussy up.”
I begin to pound into her, picking up speed. She grabs my shoulders and whispers, “Go ahead and finish—fill me right up.” I am so aroused by her presence that I feel a second load welling up in my balls—an even larger amount than the first time I covered her.
Once again, I stand up quickly and release even more semen all over her. She leans forward, continuing to go down on me, sucking and rubbing until she’s drawn every last drop from my cock. We lie on the bed together without saying a word. I subtly suggest that, next time I come back, I want her—and no one else—as my “special room service.” She laughs and replies, “Thanks for wanting me again; I’m ‘Special Service 3’—if you ask for that, you can expect me.”
I look at her in silence, then burst into laughter as I repeat what she said: “Special Room Service 3.”
For weeks on end, I visited “Special Room Service 3,” and it felt just like coming home—even though it was only in a hotel room.
We went out for dinners and took walks through the city. But still in that hotel room, for some great, hard-core fucking. Suddenly, she says, “You could also stay at my place, if you’d like. I live alone, and there’s plenty of room for both of us.”
*Dangerous,* I immediately thought—even though I feel perfectly at ease when I’m with her. She had once told me not to fall in love with her; I never really stopped to consider why she might have said that. I explained to her that I already live with someone and would need to think over her proposal.
Back home, I can’t stop thinking about my “special room service ,” and my girlfriend has noticed that I’ve been acting a bit strange around her. I told her I’ve just had a lot on my mind regarding work—nothing more than that.
I caught myself feeling genuinely happy whenever I left home for work, knowing I’d see her again in that damn hotel room.
Maybe I should take her up on her offer—move in with her part-time, and spend the weekends at home with my girlfriend. I could even give her the money I’d otherwise spend on the hotel; that way, she wouldn’t have to work as “special room service ” anymore, dealing with random guys coming over just to empty their cocks inside her. I’ve realized that I’ve developed feelings for her—not quite full-blown love yet, but I’m getting close; I can tell by the way I’m behaving. Things at home aren’t going well at all; I’ve even threatened that if every weekend—the moment I walk through the door—is just filled with stress, I’m going to leave.
Life has a way of changing at breakneck speed; a while back, I actually moved in with my “special room service .” Coming home every evening to someone waiting for you is a wonderful feeling. My “special room service ” doesn’t work at the hotel anymore—now she’s just… …‘special’ to me. I call her ‘special,’ and that just turns her on even more.
As for the sex, it’s only gotten better; I still empty my hard cock all over her, just the way she likes it. She wears provocative lingerie, looks at me, and asks, “Shall I give you some ‘VIP special room service’?” The moment she says that, I get an erection and fuck her right there on the spot.
You couldn’t imagine in your wildest dreams how a simple, folded note from a complete stranger—a bartender—changed my life.
After weeks of visiting the hotel for that “special room service,” the woman in the tight red dress—which clearly revealed the contours of her body as she walked ahead of me—once remarked that I was on the verge of falling in love with my “special room service .” She said, “I see something growing—that’s all I’ll say.” She wasn’t referring to my cock. At the time, I didn’t quite grasp what she was trying to tell me.
My “special room service ” and I have now been living together for over two years. I’ve never heard from the girlfriend I left back then; she’s probably still sitting in front of the TV, watching the kind of mindless, empty programs she was so good at consuming.
MAXX
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