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Lactogenesis XLVIII: The Hotel (mf)
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
LACTOGENESIS XLVIII: THE HOTEL
The rest of the drive to the resort was uneventful. An awkward
silence pervaded the interior of the van as "Frick" continued to glance
nervously out the window, shifting slightly in his cum-soaked shorts;
"Frack" stared bullets at Christine; and Jean-Claude and Chris exchanged
shy smiles. The driver's voice announcing their arrival at the resort
startled all of them.
As they passed through the gate at the head of the complex, Chris
was dumbstruck by the sheer size of the place. The main hotel building,
at least twenty stories tall, was just a small part of the overall resort;
it took several minutes to reach it from the gate. There were smaller
bungalows scattered throughout areas so densely vegetated that they could
be called mini-jungles. A large golf course dominated a large section;
tennis courts and what appeared to be a small shopping center/swimming
pool/spa combination sprawled across another. The beach was not yet
visible, but Chris figured it must be huge.
The group split up as soon as they went through the gigantic
revolving door at the main entrance. Chris located a restroom in the
lobby and used the opportunity to express a little milk (her verbal
sparring with Jean-Claude had gotten her quite excited) and change tank
tops. She then checked in, made arrangements to be taken back to Montego
Bay that night for Jonah's party, and rode the elevator up to her room.
She keyed the door, stepped in, and immediately squealed with pleasure.
Her room was actually a suite, a thousand square feet at least, furnished
with every amenity a hedonist could ever want -- far too many luxurious
appointments to list here.
"Way to go, Sherri," Chris said aloud. "Jeremy's going to shit a
brick when he sees the bill." Her luggage arrived at her suite moments
later, and she busied herself with unpacking. She stopped to take a break
and walked out onto the huge balcony that extended the length of both the
main sitting room and the adjoining bedroom. She was immediately struck
by the architecture of the hotel. The building was reminiscent of a Mayan
pyramid, with each successive floor smaller than the one below it. Chris
was on one of the top floors, so the rest of the building spread out below
her. The beach lay beyond a dense grove of palm trees; only a faint strip
of blue ocean was visible above it. The building was also vaguely
horseshoe-shaped, with her suite located at the bottom of the "U", so she
could see most of this side of the it. The balconies were positioned
along each floor so they were not stacked one above the other. In this
way it was possible for her to look down upon most of the balconies on
this side of the hotel. Not much privacy that way, thought Chris. Did
the designers do that on purpose, so that people could see each other?
This is a singles resort, after all. The idea is to meet lots of
people...
Unconsciously she began scanning along the building, looking for
fellow guests. She was curious about what kinds of people frequented a
resort like this. She knew that she probably wouldn't have picked this
place on her own. It was only because Sherri had convinced her to choose
a location more or less at random, and then had made all the arrangements
herself, that Chris was here at all. Still, she felt the visceral thrill
associated with knowing that practically anything she did here would be a
new adventure for her, and after all, wasn't that what had essentially
driven her entire existence, at least ever since The Accident had opened
new sensual vistas for her? Live it up, she told herself. You're on
vacation. You're here to get rested, get drunk, get laid, get tanned, get
away, get pampered, get laid...did I say "get laid" twice? Guess that
says a lot for my priorities. Time's a-wastin', girl. Might as well
start sending out signals now.
Chris went back into the sitting room and over to the bureau, upon
which sat a bowl brimming with fresh tropical fruit and an ice bucket with
a small bottle of champagne in it. She popped a wedge of passion fruit
(how appropriate, she thought) into her mouth, opened the champagne,
poured a glass, then blithely stepped out of her clothes and walked stark
raving gloriously naked back out onto the balcony. The hot sun felt good
on her skin and was reflected back in the highlights of her hair, in the
drops of sweat that began to appear on her forehead, and in the drops of
milk that began to appear at the tips of her long, hard nipples. She
squinted upward, looking at the undersides of the balconies above her,
actually hoping that someone -- male or female, didn't matter which --
would see her standing there broadcasting her availability and shout a
greeting. She was too near the top floors, though; there weren't very
many rooms above her, and what few there were appeared empty.
"Still, how's this for brazen?" Chris said softly. "God,
sometimes I wonder if there's any end to what my crazy mixed-up glands
will drive me to do." She chuckled to herself. "Jeremy would go ape-shit
if he could see me now." She sipped at her champagne, then playfully
dribbled some on her nipples. The cold carbonation teased them, and they
stiffened even more and began to leak again.
A faint shriek snapped her out of her daydream. Her eyes swung
around, seeking the source. It was a female voice, and the sound was not
one of fear or pain, but of surprised ecstasy. Chris glanced across the
length and breadth of the building, but could see nothing. Another noise,
this time a delighted giggle, the same voice. Now Chris could zero in on
it. She tracked it to a balcony two floors below and to the left of her,
and what she saw almost made her drop her glass.
A broad, tanned, muscular back first greeted her sight. When her
brain next allowed her eyes to move, she saw that it belonged to a nude
male who was supine over an equally nude female in the classic missionary
position. The woman's long blond hair spilled out across the lawn chair
she was splayed across; her large breasts moving like jello molds on the
San Andreas during a 7.5. Her lover pounded away at her like a
jackhammer. She had three fingers of one hand in her mouth, sucking on
them like they were a cock, occasionally screeching in pleasure as he hit
her clit a certain way. Boy her voice carries, Chris thought absently
through her growing arousal. She could see sunlight reflecting off the
man's wet rod as it momentarily appeared from the depths of the woman's
pussy. She saw her legs come up and her heels press down on his buttocks,
pushing him deeper inside. He drove on and on for what seemed like
forever as Chris watched the woman come once, twice, thrice in rapid
succession.
Chris felt her own thighs becoming slick with juice as her cunt
pulsed in response to what she was witnessing. She was barely aware of
the warm twin trickles of white that careened from her nipples down along
the undersides of her swollen breasts and along her stomach to be funneled
by the V of her crotch into a single stream that flowed down along her
hairless labia to mix with the nectar issuing therefrom. Absently, she
reached for a nipple, tugged it gently, and promptly exploded in a
surprisingly sudden orgasm. Fluids gushed in multiple fountains from her
body, splashing on the balcony floor and arcing out like twin shower heads
into the warm Jamaican afternoon. Chris felt her thighs trembling and,
fearing a repeat of the incident on the Mermaid, threw both hands out to
steady herself on the balcony railing. In so doing, she flung her
champagne glass over the side. Chris yelped and tried to catch it, but it
fell and shattered against the sloping wall of the building below.
Chris's yelp and the sound of breaking glass were enough to
distract the couple sufficiently for them to stop their wild fucking and
look upward, right into Chris's eyes. She was mortified, but managed to
smile weakly and wave to them. She was surprised when they both smiled
broadly and waved back.
"Hello up there!" the man yelled.
"Hi," Chris shouted back, though not nearly as heartily. "I'm
terribly sorry if I disturbed you."
"Far from it!" the woman said. "I was hoping somebody was
watching. We're really into that!"
"Did you enjoy it?" the man asked.
"Well, now that you've caught me, I might as well confess. Yes, I
did. That was really amazing." Chris was blushing right down to her
nipples.
"Say, you're really fantastic looking," the man said. "Do you
walk around naked all the time?"
Boy, people don't mince words at this place, thought Chris. He
did have her dead to rights, though, completely nude and playing Peeping
Thomasina. "No, I really don't," she said. "Something about this place
really makes you lose your inhibitions."
"You said it!" the woman shouted. "I've been here a week, and
already I've done shit I wouldn't have dreamed about back in Baltimore!"
"Hey, you want to join us?" the man said, his erection beginning
to return.
"Maybe another time, OK?"
"No problem! See you later!" With that, Chris was dismissed.
The two turned to each other and fell to it again, as if Chris had never
interrupted them at all.
Chris watched for another few minutes in total amazement. As she
watched the man penetrate the woman anally while she drove a buzzing
golden vibrator in and out of her cunt, one thought repeated itself over
and over in her head:
I'm really going to enjoy myself here.
<<to be continued>>
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