Hotel California 3

Hotel California was both an album and a song written by the Eagles, in 1977. This is considered to be a literal translation of the song, done as an erotic horror story. If you do not like horror, do not read; this is written in order to scare. This is also a bit longer than most of the stories I have submitted to date, but there is more sex in this as well.

Enjoy.

*****

It was late, almost getting to the point of being early, and I was absolutely exhausted. All I had to my name was the clothing in my boot, the .22 beneath my passenger seat and -of course- my car. Let me get you straight on this, my car is far, far dearer to me than any woman or child I have ever had. 1976 Chevrolet Impala, black. If I had to describe myself, I would say I looked unkempt at best; at worst, I looked like a thug.

Anyway, my eyes had been getting dim around the edges for the last ten miles, and this was with the window down, letting the freezing desert air whip around my head, giving me an edge. It was fine; I didn't have any real reason to keep running. The sirens faded into the horizon well before midnight. I just kinda like- liked- running.

I couldn't see much beyond the dull glare of my headlights, so it came as a surprise to me that I just happened across what counted for a town out here, in this little stretch of nowhere; a general shop, several houses, all bunched up together, an old mission church, complete with a bell tower, and a watering hole. Lucky for me- the mantra of my life- the store had a gas pump to one side. I parked next to it, and walked up to the door, and banged on it till I heard movement inside.

I saw the barrel of the rifle just in time, and ducked down as it blew a hole in the door, spraying glass all over me. I jumped away to the right of the door, and waited. Sure enough, the idiot came out, to check on whether or not he should fetch his shovel. I slammed the door on him as he came through it, the blow crushing him against the frame, and grabbed at the part of the rifle on my side of the door. He was still panting, trying to catch his breath when he saw me. I watched as his pupils dilated, and saw the fear wear away at the corners of his mouth, the muscles playing along his jaw. He was fairly standard for hillbillyville- thick round the shoulder and the stomach, short and balding. He wore a stained singlet top, and these disgusting shorts. I could smell him from the other side of the door.

I should probably explain something else as well. The description I gave of myself earlier doesn't really account for his reaction, does it? I'm the wrong side of six foot, and I never carried any fat on my frame whatsoever, I dunno why, and I tend towards the earthier side of life, which leads to my next point. I like a good fight- seem to find one almost every night- and this has given me a certain set of muscles which are intimidating enough by themselves but when coupled with my face...

I've got high cheekbones, and a slightly too strong jaw for my face. My eyes are a little drawn back, but don't let that make you think this lessens the appearance of them. They are as pale a brown as you can get, almost looking golden. The best thing about this is that both men and girls fall over themselves trying to get away- or deeper, if I like the attention. But tonight the man looked into them, and saw nothing. I was cold, and he could see the murder in my eyes. I've got a few scars, most noticably the one that lines my throat- it's kinda obvious how I got it, so I'll just describe it. Jagged, it crosses from one side of my neck to the other, widening as it goes, crossing my adams apple on its way. It makes talking difficult- the original injury, that is, not the scar- but the end result was a voice like death.

He let go of the gun, letting me have it as he backed away, and ran into the store. I followed him in. The store was small, packed as high as things could go onto shelves that hadn't been cleaned this side of 1950.

I heard a sigh coming from behind the doorway that was on the other side of the counter, and I walked round to it and threw it open.

There was a shriek as I revealed the bed and the woman who was obviously the idiot's wife saw me for the first time. I looked at her, searching for a light switch, but when I found it and turned back to the bed, I was confronted by the quaking barrel of yet another gun- this time, a shotgun.

"You comin down here, scarin my husband!?" she said, her voice quaking. I looked at her as best I could, narrowing my stare. I saw the moment she noticed their color, and watched as her cheeks reddened. It was interesting, watching as the blood warmed up her face and trailed down between her breasts before pooling above them, bleaching the skin rose.

The gun stopped shaking, but she was not going to shoot me now. I lifted my hands slowly, lazily, and flicked the barrel away, and she did nothing to really stop me.

"I just want to get some gas, then I'd thought I'd leave. But," I said, making my tone as sorrowful as possible- difficult, as I said, because I sounded like Tom Waits after a set list- "but now you shot at me. Waved a gun in my face. I think I should bring the law down here, that's what I think."

Her eyes widened. I could almost see the cogs clicking over. She forgot her shyness as she got on her knees on the bed, and took my hand.

"Please don't do that! I'll- we'll- won't charge you for the gas!"

I pretended to think about it, in the meantime checking her out kinda obviously. I'm sure you were already wondering about the husband, but I assumed he'd done a bunk, and was either lookin for help or had hidden somewhere. If it was the first, he would be more careful than me- if he was answering the door with a gunshot, than maybe his neighbours would too. Either way, I wasn't really worried.

Back to more important matters. She was kinda hot, in a older milfy fashion. Curvy around the hips and stomach, and definitely around the breasts as well. I mean, those things threatened to burst out of the thin shift she wore, and it was obvious enough to me that there was nothing inhibiting beneath them to cause the boat to crash. Faded strawberry blonde hair, complemented by dark brown eyes, and frankly the nicest set of lips I had seen for a while. You know, the sort that you can't help but imagine wrapped around your cock?

I let her notice my regard, then shook my head. "I wasn't plannin on paying anyway." I held her hand tighter, and with the other drew her in, closer. She didn't fight, her eyes wide with something emotional. She looked into my eyes, and flushed again, her mouth opening slightly as she wet her lips. I pulled against me, feeling her breasts flatten against my chest, running my hands across her shoulder blades, then down, grasping at the softness of her ass, pulling her hips towards me. She gasped as she felt my hardness through my jeans, and half-heartedly placed her palms against my chest, and lowered her eyes, breaking the spell.

"I-I can't... My husband..."

"He left you here. He doesn't care if I have my way with you- or if he does, he knows there isn't much he can do to stop me. Besides," I said as I pushed her backwards slowly, forcing her body down to the mattress, "I will get my satisfaction."

I forced my mouth on hers, completely dominating the kiss and muting any response. I wish I could say she tasted sweet, but I'd be lying. Her hands couldn't decide what to do, and they alternately grasped me, pulling me harder into her, and tried to push me off her. Her mouth was open already when I kissed her, so it was no struggle to lengthen the embrace. Her movements became more relaxed, and I felt her tongue moving against mine.

"Now, that's better, dear," I said, as I kissed the length of her jawline. I started just below her mouth, gently nibbling and scoring the surface. She gasped, and lifted her face, giving me greater access. I moved slowly, and as I reached her earlobe, my teeth closing on it, my hands roamed free below. I lifted her hips up off the bed, and pulled at her shift until it was above her waist. My kissing went lower, along her collarbone, and following the rose trails left by her growing heat. My right hand reached between her legs and cupped her sex. She was moist, even hot, and I ran my ring finger along her slit, toying with the bump near the top. I came back up to face her, and kissed her deeply as I freed my cock with my left hand and guided it towards her slit.

Her eyes widened. "N-No, what a-aaAH!-bout a c-condom?"

I used the head of my cock to slap her clitoris, the bump feeling incredible against me.

"You don't want me to use a condom. You want me to put my cock in you, and to fuck you. If you get pregnant, that's your husband's fault, isn't it?"

Her face colored again, and as she opened her mouth to protest I forced my mouth over hers. I moved my lips against hers hard, forcing pleasure from her, and I felt her hand between us, place me at her hole, and thrust down, onto me.

I groaned, as I entered her. She was so wet and so hot that I couldn't help it. She raised herself, and pushed me in further, sighing while she did it. I could feel her sex quivering around me, her pleasure pulsing. I placed my weight on my elbows and knees, and thrust hard into her. She yelped, her body moving with my thrust, her mouth then clamping onto the fleshy part of my neck. Fuck you then. I took myself out and slammed straight back in, over and over. She gasped and moaned, her breasts unable to move because I had her so pinned. Her mouth left my neck, and I could feel it stinging where she had broken the skin. She started to moan, on and on and on, not stopping to breathe, a musical accompaniment to the sounds of my hips meeting hers. I could feel her pleasure building; her hands clung to my hips, her nails digging into the skin; her moans got higher and higher, her eyes screwed up, and her sex got tighter around me. I felt her seize shut around me, and I forced my hand beneath her chin, and made her meet my eyes as she came.

Her moaning stopped, and her mouth stayed open. I love watching a girl come, I dunno why. There is simply nothing like seeing the sense of dislocation, of watching how she is both out of it and profoundly concentrating on something. Looking at her eyes, watching them burn as she came, nearly pushed me over the edge. But for me it was her expression that did it, the mixture of sheer delight and utter, utter shock, that made me lose my mind.

I thrust even deeper into her, harder, her muscles still clamping down on me, making the experience perfect. But the real difference was the silence. She hadn't come down from her peak yet, and her expression hadn't changed.

Suddenly, she became, impossibly, even tighter and, as hard as I was hammering down into her she thrust herself upwards, her body spasming. I felt wetness around my cock,along my thighs and stomach, then I realised what had just happened: the bitch had just squirted all over me.

I erupted, driving myself over and over, the wave burning down through my stomach and up through my thighs. It massed hard along my groin, boiling out over my cock. I felt every single spurt, and I ground my orgasm out into her.

Her eyes were still open, and she was whispering "oh god, oh god" over and over. Both of our lower halves were drenched. Damn; that was my last pair of clean jeans. Knew I should really have taken them off.

I got up, and felt her shiver as I withdrew. I was still kinda hard, but I had to get out of this backwater soon, before husband comes back with a lynch mob.

I did my pants up, and looked down at her. She was flushed, and she hadn't moved from the position I left her in, but her right hand crept between her legs, and she ran her fingers along her groin.

I quickly found the switchboard and turned the pumps on. I filled up as quickly as I could, and got back into the cabin- after I grabbed some food from the shop. Man's gotta eat.

As I drove off, I saw her in the revision mirror, standing, watching me as I left.

*****

Another night, another dim stretch of road. Eyes really dim this time. Keep slipping off. Air's really cold tonight. Got bits of ice in it. Glad I took that bottle of whiskey, though. Helped dull the pain.

Hang on. Huge building, tucked away into a neat corner, all lit up like a christmas tree without the sanctimoniousness. There was a girl outside. Pretty. Long, flowing hair. Black dress. Kinda looks like that classy chick from breakfast at tiffanys.

I can't remember pulling over. I only remember her lighting a candle, and beckoning me inside. I could hear the wind whistling outside, carrying snatches of words I couldn't understand.

I remember the blackness of the room, and the softness of the bed, as I slowly sank down into it. I don't remember getting undressed, but I woke up naked so I must have. I'm not sure of this, but I can still see it even now; her face, at the end of the bed. Her bending over, taking my limp cock between her perfect lips, just as I sank into unconsciousness.

*****

I woke up to a splitting headache, as sunlight streamed through a freshly open curtains. I groaned, as my head pulsed.

"Good maw-ning sah! It a luvely day outside."

I opened my eyes a crack to see a truly stunning black woman in a maid's outfit opening the other blinds and setting them back into their holders.

The room was- for want of a better word- odd. The furnishings were in an old fashioned style, but were done in such a fashion that they appeared timeless. I had seen setups like this elsewhere, but this room looked far more authentic.

The maid- for that was what she was- was old school creole; she had high cheekbones, a long straight nose, and huge full lips, complemented by these enormous liquid black eyes. But -and I must admit, I tend to be more attracted to faces than to bodies, I dunno why- it was her body in that tiny outfit that set her off for me. She was barely 5'5, yet her legs seemed to go on forever, and -my god!- she had simply the best ass I have EVER seen. And her breasts were heavenly, not imposing as some latin girls' girls are, but they seemed to float in their bodice. And- I seem to be saying that a bit, but I cannot overemphasise this- her hips gave her that wonderful hourglass figure that turned her from merely attractive to both utterly beautiful and mindstoppingly sexy.

"I'm sarry sah, but the cleanin crew is comin through soon. The Captain was thinkin you'd appreciate bein woken up a bit... Earlier."

I looked at her, dumbstruck. What the fuck is going on? I was distracted on several accounts, most of which should be obvious, but the last of which isn't to you, but most certainly was to the maid, who was both trying very hard not to look at it and trying harder not to smile. Yes, you guessed it; morning wood. My sheets resembled a circus tent, if not an army pavilion.

I looked at her hard, making my gaze run over her. She was still bustling round the room, moving like a hurricane. But she made every movement, however unconscious it was, sexy; her picking up the extra sheets and pillows, bending over as she did; the was she reached out, pulling back the remaining curtains and arched her back. The dress she wore was not sexy by itself- it was long, and while there was a slight bodice to it, it was not really revealing- but the way she wore it made it a tease. Her breasts bounced with every step, and she was near running around the room. I couldn't really see her hips swing, but the dress left plenty to my active imagination.

It took her a while to notice my stare, but when she did she locked eyes with me. I wondered, is there a challenge in the eyes of every creole girl, a fire which makes you want to tie them up and ravage them as best you can and still know you haven't bested them?

Still, I watched as she looked me up and down, making up her mind. Apparently she found whatever she was looking for, because when she found my eyes again there was more than just business there.

She sauntered over to me, her dress rustling against a table, trailing her fingernails across the top. Her mouth was open, the corners turning upwards. I dunno if my eyesight is any good- comparatively speaking- but I could see how dilated her pupils were, and she was still a full five feet away.

She looked down, at the sheets, as she got closer I took advantage as best I could, pulling and pushing at her skirts until all I could see was the soft white cotton of her panties, framed perfectly by skin the color of rich coffee- let’s get one thing straight here, boys. If you haven’t had a dark skinned lass before, I recommend it at least once, just for the perfect images of white against chocolate. In this case, I meant her underwear. The reason I say ‘image-s’ came later, pun intended.

I nuzzled lightly along the inside of her thighs, running my teeth against her, scoring the surface with tiny bites. She wasn’t quite moaning, but by now she was completely straddling my head, and her hands toyed at my head. I smiled into her skin; she was such a fucking tease.

I took my tongue out of my mouth, and ran the tip of it around the edge of the white cotton, starting near the top, right next to the curve of her hips, all the way down, until I couldn't reach anymore. She tried to pull her hips away, giggling, but I held onto her with my hands. I opened my mouth fully, and closed it lightly on the cup of her femininity. She got the point immediately; move, and you’ll regret it.

I could smell her arousal now, and her panties were slightly wet at the front. I licked at the front of her panties, tracing the outline of the stain her juices made. She moaned, her body moving harder towards my mouth.

I pulled away her panties at the side, and teased her mercilessly. She tried, over and over, to thrust herself closer to me, to force me to do as she willed, but I held firm, even as she pulled me into her with her hands.

I have a long tongue, and I thought of this move a long time ago, and perfected it since. I placed my mouth at the top of her warm slit, and felt for her clit. When I found it, I pulled both sides of my tongue around- you all know some people can roll their tongue? I did it, but placed the sides of it so that it closed on her, making her hips buck.

She thrust sporadically at me, as I ran my mouth up and down, caressing both sides of her clit. Her hands were claws, forcing my head to stay in the same position. She was so into the feeling that I couldn't hear her moans, as her thighs clung to me, holding me in place.

I felt her thrusts become regular, and I knew she was close. I then made my tongue flutter, both sides waving up and down her clit- and before you say ‘no way, that’s impossible’, all I have to say is this: long tongue, LOTS of practice. Trust me.

She stopped thrusting, her hands forcing me even harder into her. She clung to me desperately, and despite the deafening effects of her thighs, I could hear her scream. I continued the waves, and she held me tighter. I couldn't breathe anymore, but I didn’t stop. I could feel wetness flooding my face, and I drank in her taste. I lost myself in it, my movements becoming less sophisticated, lapping at her sex over and over.

I was gasping when she finally let me breathe, and the air tasted almost as good- believe me, I was Really needing air by that point- as she did. I was still gasping when she got off me, and stood by the bed.

“Sah, I’m saw-ry sah- h-he... we...”

I looked up and saw a man by the doorway, looking coldly at the maid. I smiled slightly, staring right back.

“I’m disappointed.” He said, his eyes hard, looking at her. She ducked her head, and left without saying anything.

His head swivelled at me, his eyes equally cold as he looked at me, but here his gaze was appraising as well.