Head into the Hotel

You go into the hotel lobby. The lack of people and presence of spider webs convey a certain old world charm… very old.

In fact, you see just one person, a woman at a solitary desk. She’s pretty but on the other side of glory years. She’s the type of broad who was probably a real knockout in her youth, and now, even if she gets more attention than anyone else her age, she can’t help but feel the sting of how much different things used to be when she was 20.

She smiles and licks her lips as you approach. She wears a loose tank top that shows off her slick, sweaty shoulders. She’ll be an easy mark.

“I need a room” you say, glancing down at the open book on the desk, noticing that there’s only one name on it.

“Okay.” She says pleasantly with a smile. “Are you a visitor to our city?” Maybe she’s making chit-chat. Maybe she’s looking for an opening to flirt.

“I’m staying at a hotel, ain’t I?” You answer.

Her finger trails around the top of her chest as she gives you a good look. “Well welcome. Where you from then?”

You smirk. “I’m from Iceland.” You make no attempt to be convincing. Who needs to be convincing when you can be confident. Besides you can tell that this is the type of woman who wants a man to lie to her.

"You don't look Icelandish." She says, her big eyes blinking at you.

"We're called Icelandic, honey." You look around. No sign of the Blonde and the Schoolgirl. Then you return your attention to the dope at the desk. “I'll say this, though. This weather sure does make me hot… being from Iceland. How about you?”

Her small grin grows into a big smile. “Honey, I’m from Italy. I was born hot.”

You glance down her loose neckline to take in her sweaty cleavage, making no attempt to hide your gaze. “Oh yeah?” You ask playfully.

"Yeah."

You've been doing this long enough to know a dirty girl when you see one. No harm in getting what you need and having a little fun. “If I spit on you, would you sizzle?” You ask.

“Only one way to find out?” She replies.

You lean in over the desk. Her eyes glare at you with piercing intensity. And you spit onto her face.

She gasps with pleasure, her hands immediately sliding down between her thighs. And without any protest from her, you slide your hand down to join it, running your fingers past the feeling of a hairy Mediterranean bush and curling them into her wet, eager snatch.

You spit on her face again. She gasps again.

Your index and middle finger slide deep inside her, over her own index and middle finger. Four fingers all finding a place in a twat that has likely accommodated a lot of pokes, pricks, and God knows what else.

Her pussy grinds against your hand. Her eyes close. She’s into it heavily now, starting to moan, starting to tremble. She opens her mouth wide and sticks her tongue out.

You spit on it and feel her entire body tense up under your grip, then go slack as she lets out a huge groan. You know that you’re not going to have any issue getting what you want from her now, including a room right next to the hotel’s only other guests, which is exactly what you do.

As you head up the stairs, and she recovers, she has one more question for you. “Say mister, don’t you have any bags?”

“No,” you answer cooly. "In Iceland we don’t like baggage. No baggage, no drama, no telling tales. Get it?"

She runs her wet fingers through her hair, the juices on them getting lost in the sweat of her mane. “I get it.” She says.

Once you get up to your room you really have to jerk off. It’s been a horny couple of days, and through it all you haven’t even cum. That’s going to have to change right now (and continue when Flower visits you tomorrow morning.)

As you lie on the creaky bed, cock in hand, you discover, as hoped, that the walls in this place are paper thin. You hear your neighbors, the Blonde and the Schoolgirl.

“Mmmm…. That’s it…. Right there…. Oh God yes right there!” the older sounding voice says.

It’s a nice thing to jerk to, but still not definitive proof of anything untoward. After all, lots of things make people moan with pleasure. She could be getting a nice foot rub for all you know.

“Yes! Don’t stop! Shove that tongue deep inside Mommy!”

Well there it is.

The only thing left to decide is whether you tell Flower tomorrow morning or whether you keep riding this wave of horniness.