Glory Hole Wife (Easy Book 1) Page 3

  "Stop it," she giggled, but another of them stepped up and moved behind her, his hand slipping around her waist, and he drew her from Anthony – turning her and taking hold as she leaned upon his chest.

  Calvin was that guy’s name – about thirty-five – probably a Lawyer, Vince thought. There was something sharp about his eyes. They were dark and piercing, his hair slick and stylish.

  His hands moved to cup young Catherine’s buttocks with his fingers clenching. And Vince saw her eyes were wide with a hint of confusion about them as she peered down over the guy’s shoulder at the other men watching. She was smiling through her blush, though.

  When that guy lowered her back to the couch, the guy who had brought her for the weekend reached between her legs and groped her. Her eyes opened wide as she was lowered onto her back, and her hands went to the guy’s shoulders as he slipped down and started nosing at her panties.

  He paused before pulling them aside. “Is this okay?” he asked her. “We can stop now if you want.”

  She peered around at them all with her blush deepening.

  “No, you don’t have to stop,” she uttered. “As long as you don’t tell my husband there were so many of you.”

  “Oh, don’t worry, love. No one’s going to tell that asshole anything,” the guy stretching her panties aside responded with a laugh. And Catherine’s eyes then closed as he started eating into her. The others began to crowd around as well. Two of them were leaning over the back of the couch and another moved behind Catherine’s head and pulled her arms up above, holding them there while another guy started on her tits. He lifted her top and bra and started sucking on a nipple.

  Vince’s view was obstructed for a moment, but he saw her panties being tossed aside, and then her legs were lifted. One was placed over the back of the couch and the other was bent up and pulled aside. There were then two men going at her. One was beneath and working her arse with his tongue, and the other had his face buried in her pussy. The guy holding her arms had started kissing her, and one of the guys from behind the couch bent over to start on a free tit. The other, the only one not sucking on young Catherine, was standing there grinning, until the guy kissing her looked up, shrugged, and pointed to her neck. And he knelt beside the couch and started biting her neck passionately.

  Vince laid there watching the young woman moan and writhe while being sucked, licked and eaten alive by six men. They kept at her for ages – the guy kissing her mouth working around to her ears and the one rimming her arse hole was holding her cheeks apart and sticking his tongue up inside of it. The guys on her tits were massaging and sucking away, with her nipples hard and their lips closing over both at the same time and suckling like hungry calves. The guy on her neck had hold of her hair, pulling it down behind and forcing her head to arch back so he could get at her. The guy with his face buried in her pussy had juice dripping from his chin. And he had his cock out and was working it firmly. That was the fat guy with the curly hair, and he suddenly stopped, tapping the guy next to him aside, and he climbed up on the couch and shoved his cock into her.

  She lifted. Her body tensed and braced, and he started fucking her solidly – his round, tubby frame humping between her legs, his short, thick cock thrusting inside of her. The others rested back to watch, and Vince found himself staring for a moment at her wedding ring, and wondering about her husband.

  ****

  There was slobber all over young Catherine. Her tits were hanging out beneath her little top, wet and reddened, flopping and bouncing. Her neck was blotched and shiny, and it arched with her head stretching back over the arm of the couch as the fat guy came inside of her – spreading her legs and driving up between them with his load gushing.

  And with her head arched back over the arm of the couch like that, one of them decided to take to her mouth. He held her by the hair, pulling it down, stretching her head back as he started fucking her throat. And another guy climbed between her legs and started humping her.

  They just used her – all six of them having turns on her.

  Vince lay there in the loft for half the night watching or just listening to them doing her. She would have been taken at least ten times before they finally let her sleep.

  And it had been quiet for an hour when he was sneaking past the window on the way back to his boat, and he noticed the guy she had arrived with was lifting her leg again, and there was another shadow lurking beside him……..

  GIVING IN TO THE PACIFIC

  A gentle wave swept across the wet sand, and another shell tumbled over Sarah's foot. She stepped on it to catch it then picked it up and washed it in the warm water before adding it to the collection in her sunhat.

  It was mid-summer, and she and her fiancé had travelled to the coast for one of his business functions. He was to be boating across to an island for an overnight heads of department brainstorming session or something – Sarah wasn’t really into his work and was staying there at the mainland hotel suite.

  She lazily looked back up at the hotel, wondering if Phillip was awake yet, and she thought about going back for breakfast as she caught the smiles of two men and felt herself blush a little.

  *

  Miles was in his forties and worked in room service, and Barry was a doorman in his late fifties. They were sitting on the wooden steps leading to the hotel grounds, enjoying their morning break, and enjoying the way little gusts of wind were toying with Sarah's sundress.

  "She's on the fourth floor, isn't she?" Barry asked casually.

  Her hem had folded up again, not so far but enough to reveal the soft white triangle between her legs and above it, just a hint of lace. She brushed at it with her free hand, but the breeze had steadied and her little dress billowed out again as she started sorting the shells in her hat.

  "Yeah, room thirty-seven. Fourth floor. And I'm serving five to eight this week, but I'm going to ask Alan if I can switch," Miles replied absently.

  Barry rested back on his elbows and tilted his head. He thought he could see the shape of a tiny little patch of hair beneath the lace. "She's with a guy," he said.

  "Yeah – she is," Miles conceded. "But Ted said at dinner last night he was talking about going across to Caprico for the night – some big shot meeting." He stood and brushed sand from his shorts. “And Ted knows the guy anyway, and he’s apparently a womanising asshole.”

  Barry checked his watch. "What? We've still got five minutes."

  "I know, but I've got to make a phone call," Miles explained.

  Barry checked his watch again to be sure, and he lit a smoke as he settled back and watched Sarah step on another shell before a little wave swept right up close to the steps and bubbled above her knees.

  She waited for the water to recede, then she collected the shell, and as another wave rolled in she bent down to wash it.

  She was facing old Barry when she did that, though, and he strained to distinguish a nipple down the front of her dress. He could clearly see the white roundness of her left breast, which was obviously bare, and he thought he made out the darkened little form of a nipple.

  *

  Sarah felt his eyes upon her. When she'd dressed that morning she had thought about wearing a bikini beneath her sundress. She'd only bought the dress the day before and knew it offered a view of her chest when she bent forward. The fabric was very light cotton and the fit loose.

  She checked and saw just then how it was gaping well clear of her nipples, and she felt the colour rising in her face as she dug at another shell buried in the sand. She couldn't explain to herself why she was showing the man her breasts, but it's what she was thinking of when she bought the dress, and she'd dared herself that morning.

  She stood and turned away quickly, before he saw how red her face was, but she noticed he was getting ready to go back into the hotel. And in the state she was in, she fumbled with the button between her breasts and released it.

  She walked across the hot sand and stopped at the gate to the h
otel and steadied herself for what she'd been planning to do that morning. There were two paths – one to the pool enclosure and the entrance to the foyer, and the other through the garden and down into the basement car park and a small office where the gardener could usually be found. He was a warm-eyed man of fifty-five named Harry, who Sarah had met a few times. He made ornaments out of seashells.

  She knocked on the open door, and Harry smiled up from the invoices he was checking off.

  "Come in," he said to her happily.

  "I've collected some shells," Sarah declared, feeling his eyes lower to her chest then flash back up again.

  She stepped into the small room, and Harry stood and shuffled from his chair. He edged in behind her with his hands touching her waist and sending a warm tingle up her spine, and he leaned in over her shoulder.

  "Are these okay?" Sarah asked without turning her head, and she started laying the shells out on the desk.

  She could feel his breath against her neck, and while he began poking at the shells, his other hand remained upon her waist. His fingers were thick and coarse, but they only lightly touched her.

  Harry smiled. "They'll be fine." He then turned a few of the shells and inspected them, but he'd inched his hand upward a little until he was touching the underside of her breast.

  "Would you like a cup of tea?" he asked her.

  "I'd better not stay. My fiancé may be waiting," Sarah answered.

  She could feel his shirt touching her back, and the idea of being bent over the desk flashed through her mind.

  My God, what am I doing here? It was the third occasion she'd found an excuse to visit the old gardener. She could feel his thumb pressing into the side of her breast.

  "That's a nice one. Lovely colours," Harry suggested, indicating the last of the shells Sarah had laid out on the desk, and his thumb pressed more firmly as his gaze rolled sideways to her cleavage.

  "I really should go," Sarah said, and she broke away and left the old gardener, and hurried along to the basement elevator, frantically fumbling the button on her dress back through its hole.

  Her fiancé was still sleeping, and she was thankful somehow. She went straight into the bathroom and locked the door then shed her clothes and stepped under the cool water. Her hand slipped over her belly and sought her little patch of hair. She felt lower as if to check that her suspicion was correct, and her fingers melted into her warm folds – her body shuddering as a tingle centred in her belly and swept over her.

  At 22 years of age Sarah had been engaged for nearly a year and had been waiting for Phillip to set a date. And he was not a possessive guy at all. He encouraged her to tease other men and seemed to like the way it turned her on. And he had slept until nearly mid-day both mornings so far, leaving Sarah with a few hours to herself, and in a strange country, half a world away from home.

  ****

  Alan had become room service manager at forty-six. He was a heavily built man with a hearty laugh and an easy nature. He studied the face of his colleague without any agitation, even though he knew he was being lied to.

  Miles shifted uneasily.

  "Tell me the real reason you want to change floors and I might consider it," Alan declared. "It's a woman, right?"

  "It’s that young thing on four," Miles confessed.

  "The blond?" Alan ventured knowingly. He'd seen Sarah around the hotel. "Have you got something going on with her?"

  Miles grinned. "I wish!"

  "So you're planning a little guest harassment?" Alan went on, seriously enough to be sure professionalism would be maintained.

  "Nothing untoward."

  Alan thumbed the pages of the roster. He needed to make changes to cover a woman who was absent, but he figured he could get something out of the deal. "Friday and Saturday nightshift next weekend, and you'll still owe me if I need to switch you around next week," he offered, looking up over his glasses.

  "Okay," Miles agreed. "But can I switch today?"

  "Sure! You can start this afternoon on one to four and you can finish this shift early if you want to."

  Another man poked his head in the door and interrupted. "When you've got a few minutes," he said to Alan.

  He was the barman from the main restaurant, Ted, a man in his early fifties with no hair and brilliant blue eyes. He nodded to his good friend Miles, and he left and went to the restaurant to set up for lunch.

  Alan dismissed Miles and followed after Ted. He found him at the bar, and Ted placed an iced tea he'd prepared in front of him. "Don't worry, there's nothing in it."

  Alan took a sip and met the concerned gaze of the barman. "What is it?" he asked.

  "Just some advice? Sort of personal, but it relates to management, and I thought you would have an idea how they'd react."

  "React to what?" Alan returned curiously.

  "Staff relations with guests."

  “What sort of relations?"

  "Well, I was just talking with Harry about one of the ladies staying here, and I was thinking about trying my luck. She's only young, and she's with a guy, but he’s not going to be around tonight."

  "Really?" Alan smiled to himself, putting the connection together immediately. He knew Miles and Ted were close, and he suspected they were after the same young woman.

  "Thing is – if there's ever a complaint, the first thing management do is fire the employee!" he declared, and he sucked half the glass of iced tea in then swirled the rest of it before tipping the glass back up again.

  "A complaint about what?" Leon asked.

  He was one of the chefs and had caught the end of what Alan was saying. He was a short, well fed man in his late forties with long grey hair in a ponytail.

  "Complaints about your cooking." Alan laughed, and he nodded to Ted and left them.

  "Who's complaining about my cooking?" Leon questioned, climbing up onto a bar stool and sniffing the empty glass Alan had left.

  "He was only joking. I was asking him about management's view on sex with the guests, and he told me to be careful," Ted explained.

  "Sex with which guests?" Leon then asked with interest.

  ****

  Sarah went with her fiancé to the dock later that morning to see him off.

  “So, are you going to behave yourself?” he asked her.

  “I don’t know. Should I?” she replied teasingly, ending their embrace with a goodbye kiss. “There are lots of men around the hotel.”

  “I think you should enjoy yourself,” Phillip suggested warmly. “I told a few guys at the bar to keep an eye on you, so they probably will.”

  “Did you?” Sarah asked with a blush. “Which ones?”

  Her fiancé kissed her again. “Word’s probably all over by now,” he said with a laugh. “I want details!”

  “Details? Do you mean…?”

  “Yeah – definitely teasing. And if something happened with one of them, I wouldn’t mind…. It would be no different to that swingers club, except I won’t be there to watch.”

  A tingle of excitement filled Sarah. She had enjoyed the swingers club. They’d talked about it for ages and finally tried it last week but only met and talked to other couples, without actually doing anything yet.

  “Only if you want to,” her fiancé went on, stroking her hair and meeting her eyes.

  “Well, if something happens, I won’t try to stop it,” she uttered. “Which guys did you tell, though?”

  Phillip laughed and left her there.

  ****

  Sarah watched until he boarded the cabin cruiser his company had booked. She then turned and faced her little adventure.

  The first thing was to shop, and she soon lost herself in a maze of boutiques, cafés and department stores that fronted the esplanade along the foreshore. She was a few hours, browsing mostly, but she had soon exhausted her desire for shopping, and just before searching for a cab, she took a deep breath and strode into an adult toy and accessory shop.

  It was a classy place. There were
no videos or magazines. It was mostly lingerie, but in the back corner she found a display of toys for girls, and she quickly picked one and hurried to the counter before her courage faded completely. The lady attendant wrapped it and slipped in a bottle of oil without mentioning it.

  Sarah found a cab right outside the shop, and in fifteen minutes she was back in her hotel room stripping off her shorts and blouse.

  She flopped on the bed with a little thrill dancing along her veins.

  What first? "Oh, I know – some lunch!"

  She rolled over and dialled room service then sat up with her mind ticking away excitedly. She decided on a new little white tank top she'd bought, and she tossed her bra and slipped it on. It was very lightly woven cotton, so sheer in fact that her nipples were quite visible. She checked in the mirror to be sure and blushed a little.

  She then thought of what to wear beneath. There had been four or five different men from room service, and her heart was fluttering at the thought of one of them coming into her room while she was alone. She changed her panties for new little pink ones and modelled them in the mirror. They were modest yet sexy – cut high at her hips, with a smooth, silky back and a delicate lace front.

  She thought about answering the door as she was and wondered if it would be too outrageous. She decided it would be and picked her bathrobe off the bed and took it with her to the living room, ready to put on when the guy knocked on the door.

  *

  Alan was filling in on the phone but he'd called one of his service men over to look after it while he followed up on Sarah's order. He'd seen her leave earlier and come back without her fiancé, and he'd decided to pay her a visit himself.

  He would usually just offer the tray at the door, but when she opened it in a little bathrobe, loosely tied at her waist and threatening to open below that, he smiled to himself and stepped inside.