The Hotel Bar

The hotel bar was quiet. It was just past 9pm on a Friday and most everyone had already left for the weekend. Thursday night the bar was crowded and full of business men and women from out of town spending their last night reveling before they caught a Friday afternoon flight home.

You'd spent every night that week in the bar, relaxing after sixteen hour days. The same thing would happen again next week as well. You knew despite how hard you had worked all week there would be no going home anytime soon.

You'd spent the day pounding your keyboard and banging your head against a monitor trying to debug the spaghetti code some hack had left behind. They had called you in to clean up his mess because they knew you would and they knew you wouldn't complain.

Frustrated, it felt like today you'd taken a step backwards. Drinking a margarita alone on a Friday night seemed to wash at least some of that frustration away.

The club was fairly small and dimly lit. It had a bar up front with room for eight and various tables with space for maybe thirty more. The design was modern, with clean lines and sharp edges, from the chairs, to the tables, to the glasses.

Most nights the crowd just seemed to be hotel guests, dressed in business suits and ties, stopping in for a drink after dinner before heading up to their rooms for bed. Every other night had been crowded, even at 10pm or so when finally shut down your laptop and came back to the hotel.

Tonight the bar was almost empty, maybe a dozen people at most. There were a few couples, but the rest were mainly men, clearly stuck here for the weekend on business.

You sat at a small table in the corner. You liked it there. Hidden and out of the way, not meant to be bothered. Earlier in the week you'd been hit on. In some sense you liked it. You liked being noticed. You liked men thinking sexual thoughts about you, thinking about fucking you. It turned you on to deny them, to send them back to their rooms with nothing but a hard on, knowing that once they got there they'd stroke their hard cock and think about you.

You were used to it. That's what happens when you're a programmer and you're a woman. You're a rare species and that means men hit on you. It's part of the job.

Here you seemed a bit of out place. Most of the people here seemed older and stale in their blue business suits and white shirts. It wasn't a place where young people went, and in that sense, being just over thirty, you stood out.

You sipped your margarita as you scanned the bar, letting the salt from the rim linger in your mouth. You noticed a man at the bar. You'd seen him a few times before. His slicked back hair caught your attention at first, and you'd paid attention ever since.

He was tall enough, and his 5 o'clock shadow seemed to outline his face. It's like he never shaved, but yet his face was always the same. There was something about the way he moved, the way he sipped his beer that made you want to look.

You imagined what you'd say if he hit on you, if he came over and sat down next to you. You thought about how'd you tease him, how you'd put these thoughts in his mind, only to ultimately deny him and send him on his way.

The thought intrigued you. The thought of making his cock hard made your pussy tingle. You imagined him back in his room, completely naked, sprawled on the bed, his hard cock in his right hand as he feverishly stroked it. Moaning as his eyes rolled back, with thoughts of you fucking you stuck in his head, as he came and his hot, white, sticky cum came spraying out, all over his hand, his stomach, his chest. All because of you.

The thought lingered as your phone buzzed. You took it out of your purse.

You saw a text from your boyfriend. He told you how he missed you, how he was thinking about you, how badly he wanted you. You ignored it and went back to sipping your margarita.

Several more people walked in, but still your eyes went back to the man at the end of the bar.

He seemed to be about forty. Maybe forty-five. His suit was black, fit, and cut to his body. He seemed athletic and in shape, he didn't have the shape most other men his age had.

That thought turned you on, the thought of fucking an older man. You wondered what it would be like. You wondered how he would fuck you. How he would have his way with you. How he would be so different from your boyfriend.

Your phone buzzed again. You took it out and glanced at the message. Your boyfriend wanted to know want panties you were wearing. You slipped the phone back in your purse.

Your thoughts were wandering now, back to the man at the bar. You thought you caught him looking at you. You wondered if he was curious about your panties. You wondered if he would like the sexy black lace thong you were wearing.

You imagined showing him, letting him see. So when you finally denied him, and he was back in his room stroking his hard cock, thinking about you, you would know exactly what picture he had in his mind.

You wondered if he was married. Watching his hand wrapped around his beer you didn't notice a ring. Why wouldn't he be married? He was old enough. He was sexy. What woman wouldn't want to marry him?

The bartender moved the end of the bar. He smiled as he spoke with the man. They laughed as the bartender set down another beer.

You watched more intently now. A thousand thoughts running through your head. Your skin tingled. Your pussy ached. You imagined his body, lying alone, naked and exposed on the bed. You thought of his chest, his nipples, and what it would be like to run your hands across his shaved skin. His thighs, muscular and tense, his legs spread wide, his toes curled with the pleasure.

You thought of his hand, and how it wrapped around his cock. Shaven and exposed and swollen, his balls pulled up tight, hanging perfectly between his legs.

What would he do? How would his sexy hands stroke his throbbing cock? You wanted to watch. You wanted to see him cum. Knowing it was you that was swimming in his mind.

Your phone buzzed again. Your boyfriend wondered where you were. What you were doing. He told you he was hard, how his cock throbbing as he stroked himself, looking at pictures you had sent him.

Briefly you imagined him there, back in his apartment, his laptop open and his cock out, his hand moving up and down his cock, with his eyes focused on pictures of you. Pictures of you in your panties. Your nipples hard. Exposed.

The thought didn't interest you. Your boyfriend just didn't compare. His boyish face, his frail body, his small hands, his middling cock. You'd watched him cum before. You made him stroke himself as he watched many a time. You liked seeing his eyes so hungry, his face so tense. You liked seeing him beg, whimpering for you to let him cum.

But now you wanted something more, something more substantial.

A woman came up and sat down next to the man at the bar. She was older than you, closer to his age. She had medium length brown hair and a 40 year-old body. The tight sweater she wore was obviously there to attract attention. It made her large breasts the center of attention.

The way she smiled and talked to him bothered you. When she touched him playfully on the back you felt a twinge of anger, of jealousy. Suddenly your breasts felt small. Insubstantial compared to hers. You couldn't take your eyes away.

Who was this woman? Where did she come from and what did she think she was doing? Did she want to get fucked? Is that what she wanted?

The thought angered you. You imagined them back in his hotel room. Her on her knees and her bright red lips wrapped around his cock. Him moaning as he came, shooting his load deep into the back of her throat.

What a slut you thought. To just walk up to a man and act like you wanted to suck his cock.

The visions swirling in your head made your body tingle. You could feel it in your pussy swell. It made you want to deny him even more.

Your phone buzzed. You looked. It was your boyfriend once again. His cock was so hard he said. Throbbing. He wanted you to see. Attached was a picture. You didn't bother to open it.

You looked back at the man. You wondered about his cock and how it would look in his hand. The image overwhelmed you. His large, masculine hands slowly sliding up and down the length of his cock.

You stared like a jealous girlfriend at the woman. Now you wanted to deny her too. You didn't want to let her get fucked, you didn't want to let her have his cock in her mouth. But the way she was, the way she acted, you knew that's exactly what she wanted.

You imagined him pumping her. Her legs spread high up in the air. Her heels still on. Him on top of her, with her big tits flopping around, as he pumped her hard. Her squeals of "Oh God, oh God" as she came, with his big, hard, throbbing, cock pounding her.

Your mind drifted as you stared across the bar. You imagined what it would feel like to have him inside you. To feel him stretch your pussy, to feel his cock throbbing inside you as he came.

Your phone buzzed breaking you from your trance. Just then the man and the woman got up from the bar and headed toward the door. You froze. It wasn't something you expected. You felt rushed. Unsure. Confused.

They walked past you and out the door. You watched the doors close behind them. You gathered your phone and your purse, leaving your drink behind as you dashed toward the door.

In the hotel lobby, the man and woman stood conversing. You sat down and watched, taking out your phone as to not be so obvious. There was another picture from your boyfriend. His hand wrapped around his hard cock.

The couple continued talking. She smiled and heaved her breasts forward as she did. You could see her nipples poking through the sweater. The thought aroused you. Seeing her nipples so taught. She grabbed his arm. He smiled and nodded.

Suddenly you became aware your hand had slipped between your legs. You were watching, touching yourself in the middle of the hotel lobby as you did. You couldn't stop. You didn't want to.

She dug into her purse and pulled out her wallet. You counted as she pulled five bills from her wallet. Folding the money in her hand she discretely handed it to the man. She smiled. He smiled and took her by the hand.

They turned down the hall toward the elevators. In a panic, you gathered yourself and followed. As you walked quickly down the hall an elevator door opened and they stepped on. Racing from behind, you grabbed the door and slipped inside with them.

You were the only three in the elevator. The man pressed fifteen. You pressed seventeen and slunk to the back. The ride up seem to take forever. The floors lighting up as each one was passed, the next seemingly slower than the last. You watched them from behind in silence. No one spoke a word, but the whole ride up your pussy ached.

Finally floor fiftenn arrived. They casually stepped out. You saw them turn left as the doors closed. Thirty seconds later you were on floor seventeen. You rushed to find the steps and raced down. You weren't sure what for. You weren't thinking now. Something else had taken over.

By the time you got back down they were nowhere to be found. Your mind raced you were at a loss as to what to do. You walked back and forth through the hallways hoping for a sign. You wondered where they were. What they could be doing. All sorts of thoughts flooded your mind.

Your phone vibrated again. You pulled it out of your purse as you walked to the end of the quiet hall. With your back sliding down the wall you sat on the carpet at the end of the hall. You ignored his text. You put the phone away and sat silently, catching your breath.

Your pussy still throbbed. You wanted more, so much more. You thought about the man. You thought about his cock. As you did your hand slipped down between your legs. You panties were wet. It turned you on to feel yourself so wet. You spread you legs and massaged your clit. Over your panties you were touching yourself, right out in the open in the hallway. Anyone could have walked by, anyone could have seen. You didn't care.

Two doors down you heard something. It broke your concentration. It was loud, like something being knocked over. You stopped and listened. You had no idea what it was, but you wanted to know. Your fingers between your legs paused. You listened intently.

You heard nothing at first. You waited. Then you thought you heard soft talking. The hall seemed so quiet, but still you couldn't hear what they said. You got up from the floor and walked down the hall. You paused just outside the door. Still nothing. You waited some more.

Then it started. The sounds of sex. At first it was just a rhythmic pounding. The sound of a woman being fucked. You imagined her bent over, her skirt hiked up over her hips. Her panties in a bunch on the floor. Still in high heels, her legs were spread wide and dug into the floor. Her arms reached down bracing herself against the bed. Her ass up and pussy spread for the taking.

You heard the slapping, his hips pounding into her ass, his hard cock plunging deep inside her.

You heard his voice. You knew it was him. The man from the bar was fucking the woman he met. Your pussy tingled. Your back slid down against the wall across from their door.

You spread your legs, exposing your panties. You could feel the wetness. You could see it. Your fingers reached down, massaging your clit. The pleasure shot through your body. Your muscles froze, your body consumed by the pleasure.

The pounding on the other side of the door continued. It was louder now, the fucking more intense. You could hear her gasping, struggling for breath between her grunts and groans.

You touched yourself and imagined it's you being fucked. Your tight, aching pussy wrapped around his huge, hard cock, begging him to fuck you. To fuck you harder. To fuck you deeper.

You imagined how full you'd feel. The feeling of his cock pounding so deep inside you. You imagined how you'd be his. Nothing but a slut getting fucked, getting pounded. You needed it so bad you paid him to fuck you.

Your clit throbbed. You ached for something inside you. Something big. Something hard. You tried your fingers, first one, then two, then three. But it's not the same. It's not a cock, so big and so thick deep inside you.

You hear her yelp and start to whimper. She is close now. You can tell. He's relentless as he pumps her, over and over, deeper and deeper.

She begs for more, her voice is urgent. Desperate for it all.

You fuck yourself as you listen. Your legs spread in the hall for all to see, you fingers sliding in and out of you. But you don't care. You want that feeling. The feeling that she has, the feeling you don't.

She's moaning now, loudly. You can tell when she starts to cum. Her voice changes, like she is another person as the pleasure overwhelms her. She screams "please, please" over and over and over again.

Your whole body aches. You want to be filled. You want to be fucked so badly. Listening to her being fucked, listening to her cum, makes you want it even more.

Soon the sounds die down. The rhythmic pounding stops. You hear her breathing slow, you hear her start to recover. She whispers now.

You imagine her bent over, ass up, collapsed on the bed. You imagine her pussy, so swollen, so red, abused by his big cock.

You hear more talking as you envision her standing, still dazed and confused, picking up her panties from the floor and sliding them up, over her hips and under her dress.

You imagine him watching her, a smile on his face, while she tries to gather herself from the pounding she just took.

He puts his cock away, it's still hard, still swollen, still huge. It's a job for him. It's not about his own pleasure, but giving pleasure to someone else. Besides she came too easy, she wanted it too badly. After he slips it back inside his pants, a bulge still remains. He smiles at her, knowing he has down his job.

You imagine her thanking him, her face still confused, still overwhelmed. She wobbles as she steps toward the door, her legs still unsteady and weak.

Outside you still sit, your fingers outside you now, but your legs still split, your sopping wet panties still exposed. You're rubbing your clit gently, over your panties, waiting, imagining.

Your pussy still throbs, it still aches.

The door opens. You don't bother to move or to try and cover yourself. You sit as your were, your fingers still between your legs.

The woman is surprised by what she sees. She hurries away, embarrassed. You watch as she escapes down the hall.

The man steps out of the room. He smiles when he sees you there, your legs spread, your panties exposed.

He steps toward you. He looks down as you up. You stare at the bulge in his pants. He unzips and reaches inside.

Out comes his cock. It's just as you imagined. So big and so hard. You stare. You feel your skin tingle, your mouth go dry, your pussy ache. You touch it. It feels so good in your hand. So hard. So smooth. The skin so soft.

You fumble for your purse beside you. You pull out your wallet. Without a word, he takes your money and slips it into his pocket.

He extends a hand and helps pull you to your feet. He turns toward the door and disappears inside the room.

You pause for an instant and then follow. The door shuts behind you.

You half-wonder if there will be another woman after outside the door after he is done fucking you.