Cameras Cameras Everywhere

I was relocated to Dallas by my company and the Residence Inn (RI) became my home for the 9 months it took to sell my house in another part of Texas. I was there for so long that I got to know all the employees quite well, particularly the attractive, early-20s gal who worked the front desk evening shift. She was the only competent one there, and, like clockwork, had to spend an hour or so every Sunday night straightening out my fouled-up bill.

She was very sexy, and when she leaned forward across the desk, the heavy pen clipped to her blouse pulled it down to afford a great view of her nice C-cup boobs quite visible in the sheer, barely-there bras she always wore. The tight black slacks could not conceal the perfect roundness of her ass or the jiggle thereon. I wasn't about to fool around on my wife, but she did provide excellent mental fodder for lonely masturbatory nights when I'd go back to my room. Besides, she didn't show the least bit of interest in me, a man old enough to be her dad--at first.

Like most hotels, there was a camera, pointed right at front-desk customers, mounted in plain view behind the counter up in the corner. It's the only camera I ever noticed

I only got to see my wife and kids every 2 or 3 weeks, and we'd alternate visits by my going home and she coming up to the RI. Since we were all in the same room and the kids were too little to go anywhere by themselves, my wife and I had to wait until they were asleep and have very quiet sex or go somewhere close by and have our usual, unrestrained lovemaking. We quickly opted for the latter option.

Since we had to keep an "ear" on the kids by taking the baby monitor along, we had to stay in its range and couldn't venture far. We'd wait until very late, when all other customers were sleeping, then sneak out.

At first, we went to our cars, but that was really cramped, and seeing no one at all, combined with our extreme horniness, we got progressively bolder and would go to the pool/jacuzzi area, the sauna, the laundry room, the stairwells, and the elevators. One time we even flying-fucked in an out-of-the-way grassy spot outside while the sprinkler system showered us.

Now, mind you, my wife was anything but an exhibitionist, but we had to make up for lost sex-time on our short, infrequent visits, and, seeing no danger, we went at it full-tilt boogie all over the seemingly hidden spots of that RI.

And when I say full-tilt boogie, I mean very vigorous sex in every possible position for at least an hour each night she'd be there.

Now, at the risk of sounding vain, we were a very attractive couple making love, as the video tapes we had made back home would attest. I'm tall, muscularly slim, and dark-complexioned, and she a beautiful late-30s, medium-height 125-pounder with very thick, shoulder-length brown hair and a curvaceous 34C-24-35 bod. The fact that her dark nipples were perpetually hard and that her big pussy lips were oh-so-visible in a crotch she kept closely cropped only brought the eyes more readily to those areas.

OK, so she's up to visit me about every month for a 3-night visit, with an hour or more of sex each night over a 9-month period. Do the math. That's a minimum of 27 hours of smashing sex ranging from multiple-position coitus to oral sex to 69s to me titty-fucking her and cumming on her delightful boobs to even the occasional butt-fuck.

After I'd been there a few months, I'd noticed that that front desk clerk's demeanor had changed toward me. Though she was sexy before, she really seemed to be flaunting it--you know, the way she'd walk and stand really close and look at me.

And when no one else was around, she'd make double entendres like "Need some help with your bag? I can handle a big 'load,'" and even would make suggestions about which "mature" movies were best.

I chalked it up to her getting more familiar and comfortable with me, but it did turn me on, and I'd carry on the banter with a "No, I can handle it myself; it might 'squirt' out of your hands."

Our home finally sells, we close on the new one in Dallas, I check out of the RI, and we move into our new home.

Fast-forward a couple of years, and we are planning a vacation, so I want to tap into all those free nights I earned during my marathon stay at RI. My frequent-stay statement has credited me with far less than the nights I earned, I call the 800 number, but they tell me I'll have to get the manager of the RI to verify all my nights there.

So I get my 2-inch-thick relocation file, with all the photocopied receipts inside, and head over there in person. The first person I see is the sexy front desk clerk, and she gives me a boob-squish-into-my-stomach hug like a long lost lover. When I tell her my situation, she says she's been promoted to manager, and invites me into the back to rectify the nights I'd earned.

Well, she was acting more forward than ever, touching me a lot, and quite literally posing in the tight, deep-v-neck dress she could now wear as manager. Just as noticeable, however, were the bank of screens in the back room, each obviously displaying a camera shot of part of the property--parts like the pool/Jacuzzi area, the sauna, the laundry room, the stairwells, and the elevators. Sound familiar?

I remarked that they had put in more security cameras since I'd stayed there, but she said, with a very big smile, that they'd been there ever since she started as a front-desk clerk, and that she had often watched them back when she worked the evening shift and there wasn't anything else to do.

Since she was staring right at my expanding crotch as she said this, I just point blank asked her if she had seen me and my wife "copulating." Without even hesitating, she said, "Yes, and I have to tell you those tapes are more of a turn-on than anything I've ever seen. Of course, it was pretty obvious you were putting on a show, you tease you!"

She thought we knew the cameras were there and were hamming up the sex just for her benefit!

"Tapes?" I asked, swallowing hard.

"Yeah, I've got hours and hours of them. Every time the extra-person charge popped up on your account, I knew your wife was here, so it was just a matter of watching a recording. Since my boyfriend moved away, those tapes have been a Godsend. Would you like to come over to my place and watch them together? Maybe we could re-enact some of the scenes," she proferred, squeezing her boobs together to make deeper cleavage.

Well, I won't say that was not awfully tempting, but I did not fool around on my wife, so I responded by congratulating her on the promotion and telling her I'd keep up. I wasn't worried about the tapes, because it was clear where they were shot, and I knew if anyone found out she'd made copies, she'd be in deep shit and lose the good job she'd worked so hard for.

About six months later, my wife left me without so much as a hint of warning, and when I finally accepted that there was no getting her back, I headed over to the RI to belatedly accept the manager-cutie's generous offer. She had been transferred to another RI far away, and I never saw her.

Hindsight always being 20-20, learning that my wife had been secretly planning the ambush-style divorce for a long time, I wished I had fucked that young RI lovely the whole time I stayed there. I should have at least watched the tapes with her to satisfy my curiosity, but, of course, that would have certainly led to massive sex.

Wherever she is, though, I have a feeling she's still watching those old tapes.