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Authors: KikiWellington

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Strangers With Candy

 

An Erotic Story

 

By Kiki Wellington

 

Copyright © 2013 by Kiki Wellington. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission from the author.  

 

Strangers With Candy
is a 9,400 word work of fiction by Kiki Wellington. All names, characters, and events are products of her libidinous imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

 

From the Author:

ADULTS ONLY PLEASE.
Strangers With Candy
contains sexually explicit material and adult language. This story is not appropriate for children and may be offensive to some readers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The thing about working in a hotel is, you're surrounded by sex...even when you don't mean to be. I've seen people going at it so much that I can pretty much tell what kind of sex they're having: Long-term relationship sex is different from new relationship sex, which is different from affair sex, which is different from one-night stand sex. And when you've worked in hotels for as long as I have, you see examples of every kind of sex—from the good to the bad to the freaky—on a fairly regular basis.

 

The first long-term relationship sex I saw in a hotel was when I worked as a part-time maid during college. I knocked on the door, loudly, and made sure they heard me when I announced "housekeeping" before entering the room. I opened the door with the intention of cleaning up and changing the sheets, but I stopped in my tracks when I saw the couple going at it like there was no tomorrow. It was missionary all the way, although they did appear to be having a really good time. Her legs were wrapped around his and he was in mid-thrust by the time it actually registered in my mind what was going on. She moaned a bit, and then let out a horrified gasp when she saw me standing in the doorway of their room.

 

"Honey, honey, honey," she said in a loud, fearful whisper. I didn't know if he saw me, or heard her, but he just kept pounding away at her pussy, oblivious to anything that wasn't wetting his determined, hard cock.

 

"I'm sorry, I thought you were out," I said as I quickly closed the door. He never seemed to notice or care that he had been busted with his dick in the pussy jar. I imagined it had been so long since he'd gotten any, he was going to finish up their sporadic lovemaking session even if it was broadcast on the big screen at that night's basketball game. The wife, or long-term girlfriend, on the other hand looked poised to push him off of her, so she could hide under the covers had I stepped one foot through the door.

 

But I didn't.

 

That's not to say I haven't taken the liberty of watching someone in a hotel—but only if the couple made it so completely obvious that they wanted to be watched. That's generally where the new relationship sex comes in. And these two were so hot for each other, they didn't care where they did it, who saw them doing it, or how long people watched.

 

I wasn't the only one watching them. In fact, a few of my coworkers warned me that there was some freaky business going on in the back elevators—the ones guests rarely knew about, let alone used—and thought I would appreciate a sneak peek to break up the monotony of having back-to-back meetings all day. I dashed to the elevator—amazed that guests had found it and didn't care if the hotel staff saw them. Maybe they knew what we did—no one who used that elevator was about to report it and end our entertainment for the day.

 

When I got into the elevator, the woman was lying on the floor, legs spread wide open, and the naked man on top of her was kissing her neck. He had a huge cock, and I couldn't help but watch them for the minute it took to get to my floor. She looked over at me watching them and smiled, proudly, that she perhaps had what she thought a lot of women wanted, but we had to live with the fact that we could never have him.

 

After my meeting, I returned to that elevator—hoping the live sex show hadn't ended—and lo and behold they were still going at it. She was on top of him—sixty-nine style—and he had his face buried in her pussy, slurping away at her nectar. And since they wanted to be watched so badly, I obliged. As the elevator crept up the ten floors to my meeting, I got horny watching his tongue ravage her pussy, while his cock slammed in and out of her mouth. He was huge, and I was amazed she could take all of him so effortlessly without even the slightest hint of a gag reflex slowing down the momentum.

 

By the time I made it to my floor, I could see my breasts heaving and my nipples poking out through my blouse. Usually I would've felt self-conscious about that, but I figured given the sideshow we had been subjected to, no one would fault me for being aroused. As a matter of fact, the hot action in the elevator had me fantasizing about some of the men who would be in the meeting, which made my nipples get even harder and my crotch damp. I thought about one of my hot colleagues in particular burying his face between my legs and gnawing at my clit, the way the man in the elevator was going to town on his new lover. I ended up sitting next to Phillip in the meeting, which made it impossible to concentrate on a single word anyone was saying. Instead, I kept imagining him underneath the conference table, pulling down my panties to expose my wet, aching pussy—so that he could lick me like no one had ever licked me before. I spread my legs a little bit underneath the table, just enough so I could brush my knee against his. I wondered if he knew what had been going on in the elevator. I wondered if the sights and sounds of animalistic sex at his workplace made him as horny as I was. I glanced over at his crotch, but it was hard to tell if he had been affected the same way I was. I thought about how hot it would be to sixty-nine him right in the middle of that meeting as all our coworkers watched. It sure would have been more interesting than talking about marketing plans and convention bureaus.

 

The meeting was long, so I was pretty shocked to find the couple still in the elevator when I got back. Phillip happened to be there, which doubled my sweet pleasure as the pussy slamming part of the show had just commenced. Phillip looked uncomfortable, and tried to focus his gaze on the descending numbers of the elevator—25, 24, 23, and so on—rather than the hot sex that was just inches away from us. I didn't have that problem: I had watched them before, and I didn't see any point in pretending I wasn't going to watch them again. How could I not watch his hard, throbbing cock, torpedo its way inside her hot honeypot as she held on to him tightly? And as he slid his hard cock in and out of her wet pussy over and over and over again, my mouth watered and my pussy got damp.

 

As I stared at the couple, from the corner of my eye I saw Phillip watching me watching them. Although he didn't seem to have the nerve to look at them directly, he did seem to enjoy the fact that I was so shameless about watching them—and they were so shameless about fucking in public. And, when the lusty exhibitionists finally orgasmed on the floor, it was clear that Phillip had been affected down south.

 

Although they did some afterglow canoodling until they eventually got up and out of the elevator, I was left with an unsatisfied heat rising up between my legs that I didn't know what to do about. Phillip and I had yet another meeting to go to, but there was no way I would be able to concentrate on the boring minutiae that demanded my attention.

 

Luckily, it turned out that Phillip would also demand some of my attention, clearly inspired by the elevator sideshow we had enjoyed so much. As the elevator flung open, Phillip grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the sliding doors. He led me down the hall to his office, where I coyly stalled at the door, pretending I didn't know what we were doing there.

 

"Did we move the meeting location, Phillip?" I asked him.

 

"No, Jennifer," he said as he pulled me inside and locked the door behind us. "I'm calling a quick meeting right now. Just the two of us."

 

Before I could even tell him I was game for it, he started unbuttoning my blouse, exposing my hard nipples that were still poking through the thin fabric of my bra. He grabbed my tits and squeezed them in the palms of his hands, working my nipples with his thumbs. He pushed me up against the nearest wall and took one of my nipples in his hot, ravenous mouth, resting his teeth on it. He reached his hand up under my skirt and grabbed my pussy through my panties, which were already drenched from watching the elevator sex show. As he insatiably devoured my nipples, he hiked my skirt up to my belly, and moved my panties just enough to stick one of his fingers inside me.

 

"I see you liked that couple as much as I did," he muttered as he plunged two more fingers into my wetness.

 

"I did," I whispered, closing my eyes and enjoying him ravaging my hot spots. "I didn't really think you noticed."

 

"You couldn't see how hard I was in the meeting? I know you were looking down there."

 

"Bad lighting," I moaned, swiveling my hips back and forth between the wall and Phillip's hand.

 

Phillip yanked his fingers out of my hole, and directed me to his desk. His drenched hand swiped a stack of paperwork onto the floor as he pushed my back against the mahogany wood. He got on his knees in front of me, spread my legs, and spent a moment admiring my fuckable folds.

 

"Did you see them?" he asked me. "Did you see him sucking on her pussy like that?"

 

"Yeah," I panted.

 

"Good," he said. "Because I'm about to do the same thing to you."

 

Phillip buried his face in my pussy, and with his tongue hanging out, he shook his head from side to side—licking every luscious inch of me as the juices gushed all over his face. He slurped me all up and took me to the brink of orgasm. Then he stood up and unzipped his fly, letting his cock spring out between the silver teeth that held his arousal in check. He shoved himself deep inside me. I stretched my arms out to hold onto each side of the desk, as our groins slapped against each other, harder and harder by the second. Finally, Phillip reached the part of my pussy that made me explode. He grunted and moved his hips faster and faster into mine, slamming his cock in my pussy as hard as he could. I thought I would fall off the desk from the intense vibrations of my second coming, but I held steady until he yelped and I felt his juices squirt inside of me.

 

Phillip wiped his face, tucked his cock back inside his pants, and motioned for me to get close to him. I got up off the desk and he grabbed my waist, pressing my body against his. He stuck his tongue deeply in my mouth, and I could feel my juices mixing with his saliva. He grabbed my ass and it was clear he was getting worked up again as our bodies fused together in a lusty embrace.

 

"As much as I would love seconds, we're late for that meeting," I said, backing away from his tight grip.

 

"I know," he sighed, sticking a hand down his pants for one quick jerk of his cock. "I'd much rather be fucking you than talking about how all of these convention managers want to nickel-and-dime more deals out of us. We're already discounting professional meetings to death, what more do they want?"

 

Talking business had clearly ruined the moment and it wasn't long before my mood, like Phillip's cock, had gone flaccid. We walked over to the meeting as if nothing happened, and even though we were both late, no one seemed to suspect a thing. For all I knew, some of my coworkers had been too busy with dalliances of their own to worry about us. Maybe that couple had inspired someone else the same way they had inspired me. The rest of the day dragged on and there were no more live sex shows performed by horny guests, and no more coworkers to distract me with their sweetmeat.

 

The next week, I heard a rumor that the people who made such a spectacle in the elevator actually may not have been guests after all—they just wandered into the hotel to put on a show. I also heard that Phillip had left the company. It turns out, one girl's hot impromptu meeting is another girl's sexual harassment charge. It was too bad; Phillip was actually really good at his job...and really good at his work. Variety may be the spice of life, but familiar pink pussy is a hell of a lot better than a pink slip any day of the week. If Phillip had come back to me for seconds, I definitely would not have turned him down.

 

But it turns out, I don't turn down many things at the hotel anyway.

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