Otago University is in Dunedin on the South Island of New Zealand; I mention this because I'm currently studying there. As a struggling university student, you often take almost any job to make ends meet and pay the bills. If you're not too careful, a student loan will grow out of all proportion, so as soon as I got to Dunedin, I was scouting for paid work. I didn't care what it was, within reason, and I was over the moon when I secured a regular position as a housemaid.
I now work at one of the largest hotels in the city; it's not what I had in mind when I began my BSc, but -- as Forrest Gump once said, "Shit Happens". My part-time job allows me to attend all my lectures with enough time to speak with my folks once a week.
We begin cleaning hotel rooms at ten each morning and finish at two. One major drawback is that I have to work every other weekend. However, the procedure is the same whether it's a weekday or weekend: Ring the doorbell, pause, and then open the door if there's no answer. Call out 'Room Service' upon entering the room to ensure we are not disturbing anybody.
Last week the two of us in the housemaid crew entered our last room for the day, and after following the usual procedure, I opened the Louvre door to the balcony. The room was quite dark with the door closed, but this was normal because people left these doors shut and the air conditioning on to keep the room cool.
It's my job to vacuum the floors and make the bed. The other girl cleans the bathroom and toilet. As I made the bed, I glanced through the Louvre door windows and saw a guy lying naked, face down, on one of the sun loungers. I turned to the other girl and indicated what I'd seen. We picked up our gear and moved outside again, thinking we would ring the bell a few times to let him know we were there.
We rang the doorbell several times but still got no answer; this shouldn't have surprised us, considering the noise from the swimming pool below the balcony.
Pauline had completed her job, but I had another ten minutes to finish mine. I waved her goodbye and reentered the room to make the bed. I couldn't resist peeking through the windows again to see what the guy was doing. He hadn't moved, so I presumed he was probably asleep.
I was about to turn away when I noticed a large object below the plastic strips crisscrossing the lounger he lay on. Whatever it was, it touched the ground. When I inspected further, it was the man's penis.
I once saw a porno movie where a young woman was ravaged by a man hung like a miniature horse, and it really turned me on. It was the longest and thickest I had seen then, but the penis from the porno movie was nothing compared to the one below the lounger.
The following day, while cleaning the same room, I saw the man lying on the lounger again, sunbathing. As I made the bed, the Louvre door opened, and he entered the room completely naked. I didn't say a word; I just stared at him in amazement. He smiled and said I should continue servicing the room, then he returned to the balcony and closed the doors behind him as though nothing unusual had happened.
Somewhat embarrassed, I finished my work and left. I was about to return to my apartment when I decided to apologise to him for the incident. I rang the bell, and he answered almost immediately. He wore a pair of Speedos, and I couldn't resist looking down at the bulge at his crotch.
I explained about him not hearing the doorbell, and I was sorry for causing any embarrassment. He insisted it was his fault and that he should have realised the room required periodic cleaning. He said he would open the Louvre door next time to hear the bell.
He introduced himself as Brad; we shook hands. He said he was about to open a bottle of champagne and asked if I would like to join him. He had a half case of bubbly in the refrigerator, so I didn't hesitate to accept his offer.
While we drank and conversed, my eyes continually drifted disbelievingly to his crotch. We had finished one bottle and were halfway through the second when curiosity got the better of me. I decided to ask him just how big his cock was. After a long pause, I blushed at my crude outburst and tried my best to apologise. He smiled, then opened the briefcase that lay on the coffee table.
He produced a tape measure, handed it to me, and said, "Measure it yourself."
Brad slid his Speedos down to his knees and placed his hands on his hips. I gazed in disbelief at the beautiful penis hanging between his legs. I shook with embarrassment as I used the tape. His penis measured 254 mm, or ten inches, from the pubic bone to the tip.
I knelt beside Brad's penis and caressed it. It went from flaccid to marble in minutes. I lifted the head to my mouth, gently pulled back the foreskin and sucked for all I was worth. I watched it grow and change colour from dusty pink to crimson. When I allowed it to exit my mouth, it lay on his washboard stomach. He picked up the tape measure again and handed it to me. I remeasured it. It was now 280mm and much thicker than earlier.
Without saying a word, Brad stood, stepped closer to the bed and beckoned me over. As he unbuttoned my top, I heard a key in the door. In shock, I refastened my top as quickly as I could. Looking relaxed, Brad picked up his Speedos and tried to pull them over his still-erect penis. My surprise at someone trying to enter the room disappeared, and I burst out laughing. There was no way a flimsy pair of Speedos would disguise that erection.
When the door opened, I recognised the girl who walked in. I'd noticed her sitting by the pool each morning as I went from room to room.
Brad laughed. "Thanks, Wendy."
"Any time," she replied.