Note: All characters are 18 y/o or older
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"Will Madam be taking breakfast and evening meal with us?" Madam Poutville enquired to the Ashton's at the front desk.
"Both," smiled Belinda Ashton.
"As you wish Madam, do you require Helga to help with your bags?"
Belinda shook her head. "Robert can manage."
"As you wish, Madam. Please be aware that husbands are not allowed in the elevators and can only use the back stairs. Helga will show your husband to your room." Her disdain for Belinda's husband was quintessentially French. "And you are on the 4th Floor," a trace of a smile flickered across the stern-faced Matriarch of the
Domaine Epouses.
Relishing the prospect of her husband struggling up 4 flights with the luggage, Belinda returned the proprietress's smile, picked up the hotel key and headed for the elevator.
The room was superb. Elegantly furnished, a grand Queen sized bed, luxurious bathroom and a balcony overlooking the pool and beyond that the beachfront.
Belinda felt a surge of excitement. She was forty-two, dark hair styled in a short, but feminine cut, A generous toned figure and a fine pair of legs that she enjoyed wrapping around men younger than herself. She hoped to be doing a lot of wrapping during her ten day stay.
Picking up her phone she messaged her daughter. '
Arrived safely, hotel is gorgeous, the weather even better and the staff look delicious
', and finally to her friend June. '
It's everything you say it is. Fingers crossed it delivers!
'
Hearing a loud crash outside, she stifled a curse of disappointment.
"Sorry, dear," her husband said, sweat coating his brow. "It was such a struggle getting up the stairs with the cases and then I fell! I could have hurt myself but luckily I landed on your soft case. I hope I didn't break anything, dear," he added anxiously.
Belinda counted to ten and then slowly unclenched her fists. "No, it contains my lingerie," she said shortly, and that is the closest you will ever get to it she muttered to herself.
She exchanged glances with Helga, a sturdy, ruddy-faced woman with short-cropped blonde hair and a generous bust. Helga shook her head and shrugged.
"Will I be sleeping with you on holiday, dear?" Robert asked hopefully looking around the room.
First ice, then hot rage washed through Belinda.
"No, you fucking won't, you useless faggot!" She hissed at her pale, rotund husband. "The very idea-" words failed Belinda.
"Of course, dear, I'm so sorry, shall I, I should go," stuttered Robert and fled the room.
"Share a bed! The fucking cheek!" Belinda fumed as she unpacked her cases, further annoyed that Robert wasn't around to do it for her. There was a knock at the door, and a young man in his early twenties stood in the open doorway.
"May I?" He asked.
Belinda felt her insides melt. Oh, my! The young man was gorgeous. Glowing tanned skin, smouldering dark eyes, wide smile, and styled, scruffy dark locks tumbling to his shoulders.
"I'm Mehmet your designated host for the next few days or for as long as you want. If you feel I am not suitable then you may choose another," he eyed Belinda with frank appreciation. "But I hope you don't, Mrs Ashton."
Having no intention of replacing this divine specimen, well not after trying him first, Belinda shook her head. "No, please do come in. I was just unpacking."
"Your husband should be attending to that," frowned Mehmet. "Was that him scurrying out as I approached?"
Belinda snorted with contempt. "Yes, the little worm was being perfectly useless and then had the audacity to, to-" It was no good Belinda couldn't bring herself to say it and had to sit down.
Concern creased Mehmet's handsome face. "Are you okay Mrs Ashton?"
He approached, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder, exuding manliness and sex. Feeling even giddier, she breathed in his scent, her voice throaty as she looked up at him.
"I am now," she murmured, her face inviting him to kiss her.
"Mrs Ashton," he bent and pressed his lips to hers, firm but gentle, causing her to shudder with desire. "Take me like a cheap whore," she urged softly.
With one swift movement, he pulled her up and spun her around. Belinda squawked as he bent her forward over the bed. His hand reached between her stockinged thighs, groping for her knickers.
"Oh, my," she gasped as he yanked her knickers down and probed her wetness.
"Hitch up your dress!" Mehmet ordered roughly.
"Yes, darling," she pulled her dress up over her hips, exposing her ass to him. She hadn't freshened up from the travel and didn't care. Belinda wanted it rough, hot and sweaty. She wanted to rut with him like a common beast.
"Oh, God! Yes!" She yelled as his cock slid into her. It felt so good, so immense, her legs trembling as he screwed her long and hard. His animal grunts meshing with her gasps and screamed obscenities until she finally dissolved into a gooey mess of Mehmet's Turkish delight.
It was early evening when Belinda woke. Mehmet was beside her, spooning. Her dress was still around her hips, her naked ass nuzzling against his cock. Smiling, she felt it stir and then purred as it entered her again. The lovemaking was gentle, soothing this time.
"Darling, sorry to disturb you." an all too familiar voice was an unwelcome intrusion.
"What is it?" She snapped irritably.
"I was just wondering if we are going down to dinner or should I just get something to eat or bring you back something?"
Robert's face swam into view as she forced herself to open her eyes. She felt Mehmet lift her leg and start to thrust into her with more urgency. A tiny wisp of pleasure escaped her lips.
"Can't you see I'm busy?" Belinda began to rock as her young lover got into his stride.
"Yes dear, I was just waiting for you to wake, I'm Robert, by the way. Pleased to meet you," Robert held out his hand, and Mehmet politely took it.
"Nice to meet you, Robert, your wife is an excellent fuck," Mehmet grinned and bit Belinda's neck.
Arching back she breathed: "Oh, yes, harder, Mark me!"
"Shall I wait outside?" Robert asked anxiously.
"No!" Mehmet barked. "Stand in the corner facing the wall!"
"Of course, Sir! My apologies, Sir."