1. GerardoOn my wedding night he was out like a baboon. I was a forty-year-old man who, due to my Catholic upbringing, a

1. GerardoOn my wedding night he was out like a baboon. I was a forty-year-old man who, due to my Catholic upbringing, arrived at marriage a virgin and as I drove down that secondary road I was not worried about having gotten lost, which was already obvious, but about the body of Lorena, my wife just four hours ago. There are no words to describe her, but she was so beautiful that it hurt to look at her. She was blonde, but not the typical dumb blonde, but with short hair, with light gray eyes and full lips that were not excessively thick, but always discreetly painted with a pale pink, prudent, as she was, with her surveying career that she would never use but that would help her rich father give her an absolutely useless job in the real estate company he ran. In fact, I was the accountant of his father's company, Mr. Álvaro Torrescusa, an unscrupulous promoter but a top-notch guy, like myself. Which earned me a position of trust in your company. I kept his accounts, his traps and soon his secrets. As a trusted accountant I soon became a financial director and went to Gibraltar or Andorra as well as to her house on weekends where I was able to admire Lorena's body for the first time fluttering around the pool. I was 21 years old then. But she wasn't one of those girls who look like thin men. She was quite the woman and always seemed to choose bikinis that were too small for her voluptuous body to cool herself. Her thighs seemed firm, as if sculpted in marble on that white skin, without a trace of stretch marks. And my ass was so restless that later, when I went to mass with my mother, I got bored, like when I was a kid and couldn't think about anything else. However, nothing comparable to its forward. Her breasts were supernatural. Size? One hundred or more. And there was a kind of physical law: there was no bikini that she wore capable of covering those breasts. Neither the white one, with a ring between the two triangles, nor the brown one with little bows that seemed always on the verge of overflowing that seemingly hard continent of flesh and that danced in its path as if they had a life of their own, nor the one with red and white stripes, with blue edges, with which Lorena liked to play as if to demonstrate to herself her elasticity, which was a lot, while she read about the Bahaus, since architecture was her second passion. It always seemed like it would stretch just enough to expose huge-looking nipples, especially when these swimsuit pieces were very wet, but that never happened. And those provocations always happened when she was distracted, absent from her books or watching her two cell phones or talking to her friends, since her severe father – inflexible in morals, lax in accounting – only allowed girls to visit her. He didn't seem to talk much, he said everything with his body, a chassis born for the lust that his father had locked in a golden cage. She even had Helga, a kind of half-German bodyguard and truck driver who accompanied her to the university to avoid the flies. And her sister, as uptight as her bun, and her Legionary of Christ boyfriend. The pressure was so much that I came to think that the way of dressing, always so provocative, was a way of rebelling against his father, so that his employees, like me, or his friends or the members of the curia who visited the chalet would see that Mr. Torrescusa had a daughter, his little and spoiled daughter, who was silent like a nun but dressed like a little slut. Those days seemed far away now, inside my car, becoming my wife. With a soft orange dress, with a full skirt below the knee, more comfortable than the wedding dress. The one she's wearing now is so good-girl, with its short, slightly puffy sleeve, but too low-cut, so much so that my poor Lorena had had to do without the bra, which she didn't even need, to be honest, because its front had a prodigious firmness. It bothered me a little, because the wedding photographer, clearly a satyr, did not waste the opportunity of my very young wife getting into the car to capture several snapshots that surely would not be for the very expensive album but for his own enjoyment, since in an oversight one of my sweet Lorena's rebellious nipples was released by the pressure that her enormous melons exerted against the fabric when she leaned over to sit in the vehicle. Not even I could suppress an erection that had lasted until now because my brand new little wife seemed nervous during the trip and did nothing more than cross and uncross her legs, so the skirt of the pink dress had risen quite a bit and I could see her knees, her thighs and even the end of her transparent stockings, where the white garter belt began. He was in such a state that it was a miracle he could drive. Lorena It was fun to see my husband trembling like a leaf, more attentive to the rotundity of my forms than to the road, because at this rate we are not going to find the Hotel Castillo, where we will spend our first night before flying tomorrow on our way to Bali. I should behave, because eventually he's going to get lost in this maze of back roads. I didn't even remotely think I was going to end up here, married, to none other than this Gerardo, a good guy, yes, but boring as hell. Luckily the poor thing still thinks I'm a poor virginal girl. And I am, technically. But the reality is more complex. Even though my father had tied me down, the truth is that since I was 14 I have been a very hot girl. The truth is that when Gerardo came into my life I saw in him more than an employee of my father. It was the key to get out of my prison. Gerardo was so serious, so responsible and so Catholic that not even my father could object. I just had to make him so horny that he wouldn't be afraid of dad. The problem is that I was very, very afraid of him. My advantage is that what really wants to remain hidden has to be visible to everyone. And that's what I did with his libido. Take advantage of Gerardo's numerous visits to the family chalet to sow the seeds of lust. And what a good farmer I was! I started with the parties that Gerardo attended, almost like the waiters who served us the aperitif. They were events where I started choosing low-cut evening dresses. Its very fine fabrics could barely contain the carnal festival of my front. On the first night I tried this tactic, I was wearing a floor-length white and gold dress with such a plunging neckline that it had to have solid straps crossed over my shoulders to hold it up. I made a grand entrance into the room. I felt how all the men's breath was taken away and how envy invaded the women. I moved my head from side to side as if I was looking for someone and then walked past Gerardo, ignoring him. At another party I opted for a short, silver dress, covered by a thin transparent black gauze and the strategy was to walk very close. I'm sure my perfume made his nostrils twitch slightly. The problem is that after these deployments my father gave me a lot of trouble. And my annoying sister, with her daily mass and her vinegar face, always agreed with him. Only my mother's complicity meant that in the end everything ended in verbal reprimands. But I had to find ways to continue putting pressure on poor Gerardo. My father's biggest annoyance fell on me one night when I showed up at a party wearing a yellow miniskirt. I paired it with a strapless black top. I could barely cover my breasts. But that night Gerardo's jaw dropped. I acted like I didn't notice and I was dancing all night and watching the messages on my cell phone. But always where he could see me. Shaking me, as if I were unaware of what my voluptuousness aroused in men. The pool was another battlefield. I had the advantage that there my father couldn't scold me for being half naked. As weapons I chose a set of bikinis that would have driven Saint Francis of Assisi crazy. And since my father preferred to leave the house less and less, Gerardo had to come... to see him and to see me. Because I always took advantage of any visit to show off. To jog to the pool so he could see my breasts bouncing up and down. To spread cream on the back hammock in the most lubricious way. To play with the fabrics of my bikinis, as if they always rub against me more than necessary. All calculated to appear casual. Thus, my father's pressure to be chaste and pure actually only served to turn me into the perfect cock tease. She also used the multiple parties that were given to fascinate all the men. It was fun to see how kids my age were repelled by the multiple ways my father had of controlling me, but on the other hand, his friends, his employees, even my uncle went crazy with me. And any excuse was good. As if they couldn't help but look for me, touch me, touch me. The only one who wasn't looking for me was Gerardo and that's why he was the one chosen. GerardoDamn road, it couldn't be worse indicated. And if Lorena were still. But it doesn't stop. Now she crosses her legs, now she re-ties the straps of her very high-heeled shoes, so that her breasts seem about to spill out of her cleavage; Now she consults the plan, now she shakes her short, sexy hair. It's worse than torture. It doesn't surprise me that what happened happened at the wedding, that even the priest went crazy when he saw her. And she has only worn the wedding dress to church, although it was obviously too tight and it was impossible to hide her spectacular rear. But the worst had been her neckline, open, separated, offering those breasts like two forbidden fruits. Father Norberto made mistakes a couple of times in the ceremony but, well, it was logical. He is a saint and a friend of the family, but for a moment, with the heat in the Church and the suffocation that the bride was causing him, I feared that he was going to faint and that he would need the attention of Dr. Salazar, the family doctor. It wasn't necessary, luckily, but then I was surprised by the enthusiasm that many used to greet the bride, especially the male guests, who at many moments after the wedding even surrounded her. I couldn't be there much for her because my mother was a little sad to lose me after being single for such a long time. Later, in the restaurant I often found myself separated from my dearest Lorena, but she was always surrounded by men, laughing carefree, while they filled her glass with cava again and again. Luckily I know for myself that she is a shy and withdrawn girl who would otherwise have made me jealous. It is true that during our previous fooling around we experienced some torrid moments. But it was always by accident, like that day when he asked for help next to a window. The hem of her white minidress had caught on the window blinds and she needed someone to help her get free. She was so nervous that the poor thing did not realize that in her attempts to free herself she had raised her skirt and everything could be seen: her pale and trembling thighs, her buttocks barely crossed by the strap of a snowy thong that marked her pubis as if it were elastic... I evidently tried to lower her skirt, lest someone enter who would not see her with my chaste eyes. But she was so nervous that she did nothing but shake her hips and her butt, more and more frantically. I would have tried not to let her touch me, but then I wouldn't have been able to help her. Also, for some reason that I still don't understand, one of my hands ended up grabbing the dress between her legs, accidentally rubbing her, defiling that innocent young girl, whose crotch was getting wetter and wetter. – I'm sorry, Lorena, I'm sorry. – Ahhhh, ahhhhh, no…. Yes, me too… also… sorry. At that moment she said something like: –Let him pull like that!!! And he gave such a jerk that -scratch!!!! The dress opened in the center, all the buttons popped off and she was on heels so high that she had to hold on to me to keep from losing her balance. I tried to fight the inertia, but I couldn't and we both ended up rolling on the carpet. I hope she didn't notice how excited I was... I could barely stammer an excuse while she covered all those rotundities with her little hands. An effort as willful as it was useless, especially because she was not wearing a bra and her breasts were unbearable. Poor Lorena, despite everything I feel a mixture of sadness and anger. Sad because he can't find the hotel and angry because of the same. I've been married for a few hours and it's already starting to get on my nerves. But hey, it won't be worse than my father's meapiles. Plus the poor guy is so nervous that he doesn't know where to look or what to do, he can't wait to have me in bed, at his mercy. Poor thing, he doesn't know that always, always, always, Little Red Riding Hood ends up eating the wolf. I lowered the parasol to take advantage of the passenger mirror: – I'm going horrible. I'll put on a little makeup or look like the Bride of Frankenstein. I was touching up my lips with my rouge when an unexpected turn and a brake that stopped the car caused it to fall out of my hand. Bad luck wanted it to end up in my husband's lap. – Look what you do, love. – Sorry, I'll pick it up for you now. But the road had no lights and I could only feel for the lipstick, so my little hands could only fumble, although what stood out the most was his member, which stretched the fabric of his fly so much that it had to hurt. It must have been because I had to lie on top of him and had to feel my breasts pressed against his arm. – Honey, how are you? – I just can't take it anymore, dear, it's been many months waiting. – But we are already husband and wife. I think it could relieve you. – But that building must be the hotel. Too late, I had already lowered the zipper and already had my little hand in the cave. I looked through the windshield and if that sinister building was the five-star Hotel Castillo that they had promised us, I was Rita the Singer. Even though Gerardo had parked far away, I withdrew my prying hand due to his modesty. But of course, my withdrawal left a free space that an expanding body took advantage of. – No darling, no. But the warning came too late and when I was able to peek between her legs something had bloomed and not exactly a geranium. It came out so abruptly that Gerardo howled in pain. It was his member, irritated, throbbing, swollen, as if it had a life of its own. – Honey, they're going to see us! –He complained, somewhere between how uncomfortable he felt and how excited he was. He moved his uncomfortable body, but he only managed to make his penis, which in common situations had been a pleasant surprise due to its size, hit the lower part of the steering wheel. Gerardo muffled another scream. I couldn't leave him like this. He touched it but withdrew his hand, as if it were hot. So I decided it was best to take matters into my own hands. –Leave it to me. Skill is better than strength. But my intervention only seemed to make things worse. As soon as my little hands, feigning the certain modesty expected of a virgin, tried to get the beast back into the fold, things only got worse, thicker, harder, as if the Kegel muscles had taken over the situation. Within a few minutes I was panting, exhausted, and so was Gerardo. My good intentions had made me put all my effort into subduing the inflexible fleshy protuberance. But the more momentum I put in, the more my body bowed and, as often happens to me, my breasts arrived before me, rubbing against that phallus, which seemed to go crazy with every contact. To make matters worse, I was very afraid that one of my nipples, due to so much movement, had come out of its protection due to so much agitation. It soon became clear that we were never going to end up like this. So I preferred to stop picking the radish by the leaves. – Honey, I am your wife. If you allow me, I will end this in the only way possible. If you give me your permission, of course. – I give it to you, I give it to you – he replied almost breathless, as if begging. So I started the two-handed zambomba concert. But even though, despite what Gerardo might think, he had a lot of experience in this type of manual work, perhaps because of my husband's nerves, the cucumber did not let go of its juice. After five minutes my wiggle was no longer sexy and looked more like I was beating eggs. – I can't, I can't, Lorena. The hotel staff will discover us. I understood his fear: his reputation and mine would be compromised if someone came up and saw us like that. With my most innocent face, I pretended again and asked with false candor. – But I can't leave you like this, darling. I'm very embarrassed, but wouldn't you mind if I gave you a blowjob, just to finish as soon as possible? –Yes, yes, yes… suck, for the love of God. When my tongue touched the tip of the glans, I appeared hesitant and made only one condition. – But tell me when you leave, love, it makes me very sick. -Of course, of course, but you suck, darling, without fear. My plea was of little use. As soon as my fleshy lips landed on the tip of that piece of meat, it exploded like a fountain. I tried in vain to push him away from me, because the first jet, surprisingly thick, blinded me, and Gerardo was crazy. He howled. And I would have let go of the member to walk away, but my husband held me so tightly by the wrists that I couldn't free myself, so the following loads of semen sprayed my hair, fell down my neckline, splashed on my breasts and left my pretty pink dress soaked. Despite my sorry state, it was quite funny to see my husband as if he didn't know how to maneuver that thing, which until then had seemed to refuse to return to the fold. If I maintained that level of skill with the device on our upcoming honeymoon I was going to regret not having brought any of my vibrators. GerardoI would never have believed that my chaste wife had such a good hand. What a jerk! But I couldn't take it anymore. I had been dreaming about that moment for months and it had arrived in the most unexpected way. I was so exhausted that she was the one who had to tell me. – Honey, put the bird away, go ahead. It was the first time something like this happened. Or the second, because one summer night I had a pleasant surprise in those fools around that were prior to our brief courtship. It was one night that his father asked me to stay over for the weekend so he could carry out the adaptation to the national accounting plan. I was in my room and couldn't sleep so I went to the kitchen to drink a glass of water. I did it in the dark so as not to disturb the rest of the family. I was about to bring a refreshing glass to my lips when I heard footsteps in the hallway. I was in a T-shirt and boxers and suddenly felt uncomfortable in someone else's house. Someone was approaching and I looked like that. But the hallway was the only way out, it would be someone like me, who wanted a little late night snack. To not disturb, more than anything, I left the full glass to overflowing on a shelf and hid in the pantry closet. In addition, the shuttered door would allow me to see what would happen in the kitchen. The figure of Lorena stood out at the door, as explosive as always. With a white t-shirt, as tight as everything she always wore, and red sandals or high heels, as if she had put on the first thing she found to jump out of bed. She didn't turn on the kitchen light, so I saw her voluptuous figure silhouetted by the beam coming from the hallway. Surely he didn't want to turn on the kitchen light so as not to disturb the rest of the family. She moved towards the refrigerator, moving her hips with that sexy cadence, and opened the refrigerator. The light from inside the refrigerator illuminated her and she was more attractive than ever. He bent down to look for something, but his disgusted face and pursed lips told me that he couldn't find it. She closed the refrigerator and then went to the counter, but first she hit something and screamed. – But what is this??? Annoyed, she turned on the light and I could understand what had happened. He was a little clumsy and had hit my glass of water, probably with his sensational front, which had become soaked. The white t-shirt, all soaked, did nothing but enhance her already excessive breasts. I glued my eyes to the grate and as I did so I noticed my bulging penis hit the door. I had it harder than a statue in Rome, and protected by my privileged position as a risk-free voyeur, I can only begin to jerk it off. I knew I shouldn't, that I was a grown man in my boss's house, but I couldn't take it anymore. I had been seeing Lorena's outfits for days, in the pool, with her minimal bikinis, always coming out of the water giving a push a little further than what was necessary to get out of the water; in the garden, when a bouquet of roses got tangled in her skirt with its thorns so that when she wanted to enjoy the aroma of the freshly cut flowers, the others, especially me, could see not only her firm thighs, but even her groin and her small thong, she always so shaved. Or when she made a mess opening the hammock, right in front of the window where I was facing my laptop and my spreadsheets and ended up on the floor with her miniskirt showing that perfect little ass, this time cut by a pink thong. In fact, I had been so heartbroken all week that it didn't even occur to me to restrain myself. On the contrary, the most natural thing in that cupboard was to reach out and press the handlebars so as not to go crazy. – What are you doing, daughter? But not even the father in his pajamas could scare me, I was already out of my mind and I just wanted to finish. – I've come to get a glass of milk, dad. Because I couldn't sleep. – But have you seen yourself? You have become lost. – I accidentally spilled a glass of water on myself. – Well, take off, because that wet you can only catch a calipandria. Little did my domineering father and authoritarian boss suspect that nothing could make me happier at that moment. Lorena, always obedient, took off her shirt, shook her short hair and I could perfectly see the sophisticated set of underwear, the white panties and the matching bra with pink squares on the cups and on the trim of the underwear. The bra was so tight that it seemed about to break, at the same time that the cups seemed to be about to be overwhelmed by that pectoral power. I couldn't help but accelerate the pace of my forearm. –There is no milk in the refrigerator! –she complained in the tone of a perfect spoiled child. – Go look for it in the pantry. – Oh, dad. –Not dad or anything. You have to overcome your fears, Lorena, you are no longer a girl. There is no wolf inside waiting for you. You are 22 years old. Get in there. She approached, I retreated. The wisest thing would have been to put the tool away but he was stronger than me. I continued to give it even greater pace as that swaying Venus approached my field of vision. I only managed to move away into a corner. I watched as he reached for the knob. –I can't, dad. I'm scared of it. Don Álvaro Torrescusa was not known for his patience. In two strides he stood behind his daughter and opened the door: – Come in, darlings! I'm going to take away those fears from you! – and he pushed it with a swipe of his hand, then closed it. The push was so forceful that poor Lorena staggered in and crashed face-first into me. As soon as those pair of melons hit my clapper, it couldn't take it anymore and I had to stifle the scream of pleasure and I almost drowned her, from what came out there. -Ahhh, how disgusting!!! –What's wrong daughter? His eyes must have been accustomed to the darkness, because I remember his pupils fixed on me, recognizing me, realizing how uncomfortable the situation was... for both of us. Only you can't fire a daughter but you can fire a guy like me. –It's dark, dad. I can't find the milk. If you turned on the light. –Nothing, otherwise those silly fears will never go away. Maybe that was what allowed me a certain mental agility and risk rubbing myself, even more, on that young and virginal body, I took a break of milk, opened it with a bite without worrying about whether something fell on it or on me and I passed it to her, before putting my index finger to my lips in the international sign of silence. She got up and just as she was, soaked in my cum as wide as it was long, she spread a little more over her bust and came out so calmly. –But look how you've gotten, daughter! –I found the milk in the dark. You don't want me to spill something on top of that – he excused himself as he closed the door behind him. At that moment I knew we were connected. And that's why I remembered it now. From run to run and I play because it's my turn. And what I had to do was get out of the car and carry the heavy luggage, three suitcases of different sizes. Following my wife. Of course this hotel must not be the one we have a reservation for, its gloomy appearance indicates this. But at this time and after the exhausting wedding, there is little that can be done. Follow my wife, try not to drop any suitcases and pray that the employees of this small hotel also think that my wife has spilled a carton of milk on her. 2. GerardoWhile my brand new wife was getting ready in the bathroom – something more natural than visiting the bathroom after hours of travel? – I managed to get to the reception with so many suitcases that instead of a wedding night it seemed like we were going to establish a beachhead in Normandy. The receptionist was a haggard guy with an old-fashioned, very thin mustache who seemed to have abused various chemicals, the most obvious being hair gel. –Amador Reyna, at your service. –Gerardo Fuentes. My wife and I had a reservation at the Castillo Hotel, but I don't think this is it. -Indeed. The Castillo Hotel is on the other side of the Lake. This is the Hotel Castilla. He must have made a mistake on the detour. –Well, we're leaving… "If I were you, I would wait until tomorrow..." and he showed me the front door. Indeed, it had started to rain. –There is a storm announced for the entire night. If I were you I would stay here tonight and then you'll see tomorrow. The thing about there being plenty of rooms sounded to me like there really wasn't anyone. At least that was what so many unemployed personnel indicated: the bespectacled, pre-retiring night watchman lounging on a sofa, the waiter, the missing link between the man and the gorilla, leaning on a column; the gossiping grandmother. –Meet Cora, our housekeeper. What room do you recommend to the gentleman? As a housekeeper, Cora only had the dangling key ring. She looked like one of those women who make bolillos in a town in La Mancha. He spat out the answer: –The 609, without a doubt. For its views of the lake. Just then Lorena returned from the bathroom and it was clear that the views of the lake were the least important thing if they had to compete with my wife's orography. Since they had already taken my ID, I decided to leave the reception before the drool flooded everything. –Well, we are going up. –Wait – Amador pointed out – our waiter, Rudy, will help you with your suitcases. We have first-class service, not like at the Castillo Hotel. The hominid in a uniform too small for those orangutan arms shuffled closer. It would have helped if in addition to taking our suitcases he had looked at them, but he only had eyes for my impressive lady. We went to the elevator, as old as the rest of the building. "It seems incredible that they have six floors," I murmured. "Seven, sir," Rudy corrected me. The elevator was one of those that has a flexible door gate. Lorena entered first. Then Rudy with the five suitcases. And of course, there was no room for me. “The gentleman will have to come up later,” Rudy concluded, closing the metal shutter in my face with the delicacy that characterized him. Perplexed by his audacity, I could only watch as he pressed the button and saw the perfect, shapely calves of my wife rise, who was wearing striped shoes with eight-centimeter heels, the kind that fashion magazines call “nude color.” I shook the gate helplessly. Amador's suavon stood next to me: –If the gentleman prefers to go up the stairs… At that moment it didn't seem very wise to leave my young wife, the same one I had left noticeably dissatisfied in the car a few minutes earlier, alone with that monkey-man. –Yes, the stairs will be perfect. –Cora will open access to the emergency staircase. The old woman stood next to me trying key by key. It must have been a long time since they had been used. This was going to last an eternity. Maybe the limping elevator would return sooner. LorenaThe waiter had such hairy arms that you could see them even through his long-sleeved shirt. On the sixth floor the elevator stopped abruptly, and I couldn't help but brush the bellboy with my shoulder. It was like I was shaken by static electricity. When he opened the gate, it seemed heavy but he moved it like it was paper. I went out first and leaned against the wall while he took out the suitcases. Then he came out, closed the gate again with a bang and growled: –If you would do me the favor of accompanying me. I tried that, but I couldn't. I turned and realized that the slight flare of my orange dress had gotten caught in the elevator door. “If you could help me,” I begged. Rudy turned. He didn't seem too surprised by my wardrobe problems. Had he done it on purpose when he closed the elevator door? The guy was going to open when the situation got worse, obviously for me. The elevator moved but to my horror not down, where it should have gone to pick up Gerardo, but up. –Nooo! –but yes, the elevator went up and as it did so it pulled on my dress, revealing what only my husband should have seen on our honeymoon: my golden thighs, my transparent stockings with a white garter belt, my thong, so tiny. The dress didn't tear, luckily, but my buttocks were completely exposed. Rudy seemed enthralled by the spectacle. And where was my useless husband? –You should take off your dress, miss. Yes, I was going to undress in front of that brute. I could now sit and wait! I pressed the button for the elevator to come back. But it seemed stuck. Like my initiative. On the other hand, Rudy's brain was a cascade of stupidities. –I will ask the rest of the staff for help. Yes of course. So that even more people from that gloomy little hotel could see me half-naked. Luckily I was able to intervene: –No, better, go get some scissors. The guy hesitated. But just having had an idea made me a world leader in his eyes. Even if his butt was in the air. The muscular brainless man went down the hallway to a door that had to be something like a utility room. He came back with a pair of large, pointy scissors. He stood close to me. So much so that his body smelled, acrid, strong. When I felt the steel of the scissors running over my defenseless butt I felt a chill or maybe it was something else. Excitement perhaps? Why was I getting my thong wet? With my free hand I held the other side of my hip, with the excuse of lifting my skirt on the side not caught by the elevator. But although he didn't seem very smart to feel where he shouldn't, he was smart, yes. And that only made my condition worse. I heard how the scissors were cutting the fabric. –But what does it do, no, don't cut there, no... The sneaky guy had lifted my thong and the last snip was not at the fabric but at my defenseless underwear. As I felt the tiny piece of lingerie fall, the humidity in my crotch multiplied, as if the situation had surpassed me and I was no longer the owner of myself. Trying to maintain what little control I had left of myself, I followed the handsome bellhop down the hallway with my ass against the wall. In my opinion Rudy had already seen everything there was to see. Rudy left the suitcases and opened the door to room 609. I entered super quickly, covering my butt with my hands. In addition, labored breathing could be heard. The fewer people saw me in that state, the less uncomfortable the situation would be. GerardoOnly a few minutes had passed when I reached the sixth floor out of breath but it had seemed like an eternity. I shouldn't have stopped doing sports, my heart was racing. There was no one left in the elevator. Well, there was no one left that interested me because there was a grandpa who must have been another guest and the glasses-wearing security guard inspecting what I recognized as the remains of my sweet Lorena's dress and the torn thong that I was so eager to destroy. I was turned on when I saw them but I didn't say anything to them. It's not that I'm naturally a coward, it's that I preferred to avoid a fight in an unknown hotel. I left the two men to their lubricious speculations, ignored some more than inconvenient comments, and ran to room 609. The door was closed but it looked like someone was inside. It sounded like a rumor. I knocked on the door. –Lorraine! Lorraine! Are you OK? LorenaI heard the knocks. And, oh yeah, it was good. I was in heaven. Within two minutes Rudy had put the suitcases on the floor and rushed towards me. With brutal skill he used the entire weight of his body to crush me against the door at the same time he turned the key so that no one would disturb us. Without any major impediments, a pair of skillful fingers made their way between my legs and reached my eager clitoris without problems, I was already so wet. –Stop, gross stop… oh…. ah… – I mumbled between my teeth. Then today the blows. Gerardo's screams. "I'm, I'm, fine, honey," I answered, raising my voice more and trying to get away. –Then open the door. –I can't, it's stuck. I'm trying to open it. And it was true, but I was referring to Rudy's fly. The brute had a good hold on me and forced me to kneel, bending me with one hand on my shoulder while the other continued to maneuver my intimate areas with the virtuosity of a conjurer. Seeing my problems with his pants, the simian bellboy did it for me and unsheathed his instrument with unexpected skill. The instrument was remarkable, even larger than Gerardo's, and deserved an ad hoc flute concert. Well, more than flute, trombone, which barely fit in my mouth. But those furry little fingers were taking me to heaven and it is natural to be grateful. –Lorraine, do you hear me? are you OK? Why don't you talk to me? Because I have a big cock in my mouth, I thought. But poor Gerardo, on the other side of the door, didn't deserve this. On the other hand, I did, I deserved that orgasm that ran through my spinal cord and made me throw my neck back, hitting that inhuman member with the soft palate. I felt that piece of meat vibrate, tremble and begin to spit. God, what came out of there! That was the spring and not the Ayn Rand thing. I swallowed it all, it wasn't a question of leaving evidence either. I wiped my lips. I got up and opened the door with the key. –Lorena, are you really okay? –Yes, it was just that the lock was stuck. Luckily Rudy gave me a hand – and what a hand! My body was still trembling with gratitude. –Sir –and the bellboy came out, forcing Gerardo to turn to his side to make way for him. –And your dress? –A silly accident with the elevator, I'll tell you about it. Rudy walked past him. To my surprise, he held out his hand. –You don't need to tip him. I have already given him what is his – I intervened. The bellboy walked away with a displeased expression. And Gerardo closed the door, his face clouded with worry. 3. GerardoI didn't like what Lorena told me one bit. The “accident” thing with the dress and the elevator looked like anything but an accident. About cutting the thong by mistake, for God's sake! Only a candid little flower like my Lorena could swallow something like that! And luckily I hadn't touched her in the room, as my dear wife had sworn to me! I took heart. It helped me to see how my beautiful little wife took off her beautiful dress in the dressing room. He was finally going to enjoy that body that he had been saving all that time for a night like that. It didn't matter that I had taken the wrong route, nor that we had ended up at that variant of Hotel Sordide. The only relevant thing is that that piece of woman was finally going to be mine in a few moments. Then there was a knock on the door. Whatever the case, that depraved bellman was going to hear me. I opened the door in a rage. But no, it was Amador, the polished receptionist. –Sir, I have heard about the elevator incident. I have come personally to apologize, sir. –Good, good –and I tried to close the door to focus on my work, on my little wife giving me her present genital. But Amador didn't let me, as he struggled to look over my shoulder. I didn't worry because from the threshold there was no direct view of the dressing room. –I want to offer you an apology dinner, sir. The kitchen of our restaurant closed five minutes ago but if you wish, we will open it just for you. –No, really not… This afternoon we had a wedding banquet and… –Well, it seems like a good idea to me! –Lorena shouted from the locker room. –He sees it. We are waiting for you. And Amador retired, but not before looking over his shoulder again. When I closed the door I understood why: the dressing room could not be seen from the door, but the semi-naked body of my splendid wife was reflected perfectly in the closet mirror. I went to the dressing room, indignant with myself for not having noticed the receptionist's bad tricks and how Lorena opposed my plans. –Honey, wouldn't it be better to stay in the room? The ceremony, the banquet, driving here... It's all been exhausting – a fancy way of saying: let him fuck you once and for all. –Come on love. It will be fun to dress up for dinner. And besides, you have to recover from the little manual work I just did to you on the car. I want this night to be special. I tried to hide his displeasure. But he couldn't say anything. She was too pretty and she was very right: not even an hour ago she had completely emptied it. Maybe he did have to regain his strength. LorenaI was getting ready to go down to dinner when my cell phone rang. She was my sister's nuisance. –I'm just calling you to tell you not to let me deflower you. I looked at Gerardo. Poor thing, my family had made life impossible for him as a single man and now they were going to make it difficult for him as a married man. –Don't worry, the Church allows it within marriage. –Yes, but if you do it now you will get pregnant. Better make him wait... –Hey, I have to leave you. I didn't want to talk about condoms with my Legionary of Christ sister. Not at that moment. I hung up. I put on the last touch of lipstick and did a couple of laps around myself in front of my husband. -I'm fine darling? How do you see me? But it was a rhetorical question. I knew she looked spectacular, wearing a white dress with a halter neckline, with small metal hoops at the beginning of each cup, a flared skirt below the knee, and high-heeled sandals. I saw Gerardo swallow saliva. Gerardo It couldn't be denied that Lorena looked spectacular in that dress. When we got down the staff couldn't take their eyes off him. I couldn't help the pride I felt, almost so much that I forgot what I was looking forward to doing just ten minutes ago. But that night fate seemed determined that nothing would go as planned. To begin with it was raining. As before. But the restaurant was not reached through the interior of the hotel but rather had to cross a rectangular interior patio. The truth is that Amador had already foreseen it and was waiting for us with a huge umbrella. I would have backed out but Lorena insisted. There was no way I was hungry after our banquet. For some reason I must have... Maybe buy time, thinking that I couldn't... just an hour later... –Miss, if I were you I would hike up my skirt. You know, the mud. Sweet Lorena listened to him. But Amador, before starting the race, insisted: –Turn it up more, more... Don't get that pretty dress stained. Lorena had listened to him. The authority of holding an umbrella? When he did, Amador was able to see that despite the change of dress, Lorena was still wearing transparent stockings and that she had the straightest and most beautiful legs they had ever set foot in, not that hotel, but any hotel. At a signal from Amador, the three of us started running, but the sneaky guy made sure to grab my wife by the waist, perhaps so she wouldn't get wet, to keep her under the umbrella, but of course, he didn't have that much concern for me, and I ended up soaked, jealous and pissed off. At the door of the restaurant my wife shook her skirt, but the wind was gusty and it seemed that Amador was having trouble closing the umbrella, as if it had gotten stuck. Due to a blow of air or due to his own incompetence, one of the rods ended up getting caught on the edge of my little wife's skirt. Irritated, I tried to snatch the umbrella from her, but I only managed to raise her skirt higher and that through the glass door of the restaurant everyone could see what white, and very small, panties my holy wife had chosen. In the end, Amador, with a firm gesture, managed to subdue me and the umbrella and everything came to nothing. In fact, Lorena entered the restaurant bursting with laughter, as if the incident had amused her more than anything else. The lucky ones who had been able to see the show were three grim-faced waiters, two skinny and one plumper; and a cook in a greasy apron. It seemed that they were already having dinner, it was a late hour, and that we were going to disturb their peace. Reluctantly, the fatty offered us a table and told us that the kitchen was closed but that they would do their best to give us some dinner. LorenaI couldn't do anything but laugh, all that made me laugh. Even the restaurant where we were the only diners or the stricken faces of everyone present or the anger that my husband tried to hide. We were talking about banalities. But I felt strangely good. And it was curious, because I saw myself from the outside and felt that it shouldn't be like that, that fifteen minutes ago I had been sucking a stranger's cock and that Gerardo was a good guy and all that. But no, I couldn't find within me even a hint of guilt. It was just as if the perfect cock tease my parents had raised had now mutated. But having turned into a little slut who, out of a horniness, sucked off the first person who passed by didn't fit with me or, at least, not with the idea of myself that I had until that moment. And yet I didn't feel bad. It was just like a video game, like I had flipped through the screen. My new condition, instead of causing me concern, generated excitement in me. The fact that, due to the combined clumsiness of my cicerone with an umbrella and my jealous husband, all the men in the restaurant had seen my ass had not only not bothered me in the slightest, but had once again triggered a kind of internal click and I once again felt anxious, full of desire. And those men were no longer a bad-tempered troop whose bosses were going to force them to work after hours: they were the public, my public. And my audience was left wanting more. That's why, as soon as the chubby guy sat us down at the table, instead of sitting in front of my Gerardo, I sat slightly to one side, so that at the table where the waiters were serving dinner they could see me crossing my legs. And since I didn't worry much or little about whether the skirt covered my knees, then let them enjoy the views. The person who explained the dishes to us was more aware of my cleavage than anything else, and stammered at each recommendation. I followed what he told me exactly, even though clearly the only delicacy that interested him was my pair of melons. –I'll listen to you: the vegetable skewers, chicken sausages and frozen dessert. –We only have Magnum, sorry. –It will be worth it. All the dishes had more or less phallic symbolism. We were going to laugh. I uncrossed my legs very slowly so that the waiters at the table would not miss even the slightest detail, I crossed them again with the slowness of one who feels beautiful and idle and I thought to myself: “the show begins.” GerardoLorena was too good. No... it was too good. Well, both things. The poor thing was so innocent that she didn't realize that by licking those skewers of vegetables over and over again and putting each piece into her mouth with that delayed parsimony she was only making the waiters at the table look like donkeys. And couldn't he have crossed his legs the other way? It did seem like it was being offered to them. When the sausages arrived it was worse. As if she had an allergy to cutlery, my innocent Lorena did nothing but pierce each sausage, dip the tip in tartar sauce and put it in her mouth with a delight that was reminiscent of something else... And when a trickle of sauce fell from the corner of her mouth she laughed, picked it up with her finger and sucked it. God, how he sucked it! I wasn't worried that it would turn me on, but it was clear that those grim-looking waiters were already only paying attention to her. I thought about saying something but she was so happy, so relaxed, she drank so much wine that I thought it was better not to. She was going to think that her husband was sexually obsessed, someone with such a fixation on sex that he even got excited watching her eat. But that's how it was. I had so much tension in my fly that my crotch hurt like I was wearing a hair shirt. LorenaWith the Magnum I decided that the cold of the ice cream required one more point of heat. I leaned back in the seat, but this time with my butt out and my back in. And this time instead of crossing my legs I half crossed them, so that the ankle of the raised leg was over the knee of the other. That way, with my butt on the edge of the seat, my entire lower thigh, my stockings, my panties, my garter belt were perfectly visible to the three waiters. The proof of the nine was how eye-catching the skull trio were. But this was not going to be all. It was just the right time to give my ice cream a good taste of my tongue with all the vice I was capable of. And it was a lot. Then, Gerardo changed the subject and I understood that it was one of those moments when the Gerardo I liked the most came out, the defender of the poor, the consumer and their rights. And, let's not fool ourselves, that was the worst possible Gerardo on my honeymoon. –Dear, this… this is intolerable. A normal man would have asked his wife to close her legs once and for all. But at that time, Gerardo was not a normal guy. –The Magnum is expired, look at the date. I looked at her but they kept looking at me. –Gerardo, it's only two days. –Two days! They're going to hear me! I don't know how you can put that in your mouth! –You know how I am, dear! I eat everything! I said the final part of the sentence loud enough so that they could hear me from the waiters' table. Another husband would have suffered an erection so powerful that it would have prevented him from getting up. But my Gerardo was capable of getting up with a hot iron between his legs. –I'm going to talk to the chef! These guys don't know me! GerardoI entered the kitchen looking like a basilisk. The scruffiest cook in the world barely listened to me, interjecting some monosyllables that, although they were not apologies, were at least trying to appease me. But he seemed more attentive to what was happening behind me, as if he were trying to see through the skylights of the folding doors that separated the kitchen from the dining room. LorenaAs soon as Gerardo entered the kitchen, the waiters went on the attack. It was a crude but effective little act. One of them offered me a pear liqueur to accompany the coffee and the other began to clear the plates. Just as he was pouring out the digestif, the other one hit him on the back, as if by accident. Perhaps it was my fault for holding the shot glass so close to my dizzying cleavage, to direct my solicitous servant's gaze there, not so much towards the pear liqueur as towards the pears themselves. The fact is that the surly waiter ended up pouring the liquor not into its natural destination but into an even more natural one: my gut. I feigned surprise and indignation, but I didn't want my overacting to attract Gerardo's attention, making him return to the dining room. It was so close... But closer were the two cheerful waiters, both thin because the third one, the plump one, stayed at the table, looking at each other and with his hand inside his pants. "It's a shame that this liquor is wasted, madam, if you'll excuse me," said the bolder of the two. –Do, do, I put myself in your hands –I whispered. Without thinking twice, the clever waiter began to lick my cleavage. His partner, so as not to be left behind, turned to my left breast, removed the dress and could see that I was not wearing any bra. Although it was the least splashed breast, his lips and tongue applied themselves with such relish that it seemed as if his life depended on it. With two men eating my tits, my nipples soon reacted by becoming even tighter than they already were. It was a morbid pleasure to let them do that to me there, to pretend to be helpless, at their mercy, four meters from where my husband was, who only if he turned around could he see through the folding door how they violated his helpless little wife. The one who didn't miss a detail was the cook in a greasy shirt, who pretended to put up with my husband's bullshit but in reality he didn't miss a detail of what was happening in his dining room: a banquet in which I was truly a feast. I watched with concern and at the same time with eagerness as the two rascals opened their flies with an alacrity that referred more to a synchronized swimming act than to a pair of abusers. One of them knelt down and started to lift my skirt, but I stopped him by holding his wrists and warned him: –I will satisfy you, but my virginity is for my husband. Said and done, taking advantage of the fact that my breasts were now completely freed, I wedged one of the members between my two melons and began to massage that device up and down with all the skill I could muster. She went up and down, reviewing that cock as if she were going to shine it with every movement. The one who had knelt was afraid of being left out of the party, but I opened my mouth and saw that maybe the guy had no education, but that he had gotten honors in body language. In a few seconds I had that cock in my mouth, unceremoniously, it's true, but there was no time either. And, luckily, it wasn't as big as the luggage handler's. Now I had two problems: that they would cum soon and that they would both cum. I was afraid that I wouldn't get it and that my holy husband would surprise me in that way. But either I was lucky, or I did it very well, or the previous warm-up I had subjected them to finally served a purpose. The fact is that the one who was benefiting from my titfuck came and when his partner saw how that cum was splashed on me, on my neck, my hair, my cheeks; He came in my mouth a few seconds later. It was not as abundant a discharge as the one I had received in the room but it was double and left me as horny or hotter than the other, so the service at this restaurant left my satisfaction somewhat neglected. I ran out and went to the bathroom. The boys could stand it if I didn't say goodbye but my husband couldn't stand seeing me in such a way. GerardoWhen I returned to the dining room my wife was not there. The chubby guy who had sung the letter to us while looking at my wife's cleavage got ahead of everyone, even my question. –His wife is in the bathroom. It's just that her dress has gotten a little stained. He appeared in a few minutes. The stain must have been serious because my wife had wet her entire dress so that her nipples stood out as if a satyr had pointed them out with a marker. I chivalrously took off my jacket and covered it to protect those poles of attention from the eyes of those satyrs. –Honey, it's time to go. –And the cut ones? –Cut? I've had enough bad temper already. They haven't paid any attention to me. –You are right, dear. I also have a bad body. It was still raining outside. I was holding the umbrella. And, again, before crossing the patio, Lorena, that piece of... bread, as if she wanted to compensate for what my jacket had covered on top, raised her skirt much higher than necessary in case one of those mangantes had not seen my wife's legs properly, although this time no one had asked her. 4. GerardoLorena left the bathroom in a bad mood. He had taken a shower but his sister had sent him another text, apparently to insist again that he not have sex with me that night. That made her upset and I already knew who I was going to pay for it: –You shouldn't have protested in the restaurant. You always do the same thing to me. –You know I can't stand those things. –But you're making a fool of yourself and what's the point? Tell me, what about? Well, you're welcome, as always. –It's not true. She threw the towel on the floor and told me: –You can come in, I'll wait for you in bed –but she told me with the tone of a postal official who tells you that you have made a mistake in the queue for certified packages and that it is three meters further away. I passed. I shaved first while still arguing, but not paying attention on autopilot. I was thinking about the banquet, when all the men present had tried to dance with the bride and how I had seen more than one, and more than two, touch the bride's ass. How I had become enraged with jealousy and, at the same time, turned on. Even at the main table, my eighty-year-old father had only had eyes for the pronounced neckline of her wedding dress. He was so distracted by her that at one point he had become enthralled with her, or with the two of them, rather, and while he remained with his mouth open he dropped the straciatella ice cream from the spoon. Luckily, good Lorena cleaned it super quickly with her napkin, although my mother was not very happy about the part on the pants that Lorena dedicated herself to rubbing with so much vigor. But who likes their mother-in-law? The league had been worse. Tradition dictates that the bride take it off and throw it to the guests. It goes without saying that when faced with a babe of Lorena's caliber, the expectation of the male guests was maximum. Everything would have gone well if it weren't for the drunk friends from the town of Lorena. They surrounded the bride while she took off her garter, but in the midst of the alcoholic euphoria and cheered on by the pack of horny people who surrounded them, a couple of them pulled their skirts up in desperation at the slowness and prudence with which Lorena executed the maneuver. So poor Lorena ended up showing much more and for much longer than would have been desirable, with the result that everyone could see the suggestive outfit of lace panties with pink and blue bows that she had chosen for such an important day. More than one smart guy took photos with his cell phone. But it wasn't a question of getting into a fight and ruining everyone's wedding. Weddings are like many mass events, they have a point of humiliation for their protagonists. But Lorena's, and subsequently my own, had been excessive. I was going to get into the shower. He had managed to maintain a semblance of dialogue by bullfighting his complaints and reproaches in monosyllables. He was already shaved. –I bathe and I'm with you, love. –Ok. I'll wait for you in bed. Just then the door rang: I heard Lorena's voice asking. -Who is it? –Room service. The management wants to offer you a bottle of champagne to apologize for the problem in the kitchen – I heard them reply. –Do you see it? "Then you say that my protests are of no use," he replied, filled with satisfaction. Lorena seemed to hesitate. Would he have given up? –Can I open, darling? -Please. Nothing would make me happier. I'll be with you in ten minutes. And I went into the shower. LorenaI opened the door. He was the waiter at the restaurant who was beginning to be obese, the only one whose member was unknown to me. In the restaurant he had thought he couldn't open his eyes any more than he had at dinner time. But now it was clear that I had been wrong. From the dilation of his pupils it was clear that seeing me open a hotel room door in a nightgown impressed him more than seeing me do a little job for his colleagues. Obviously, I hadn't dressed like that for him. Everything, the transparent black baby doll, the black stockings with white garters, the high-heeled sandals and my tiny thong, all of that was for my husband. But the idiot had asked me to open the door to room service, as if on the day of the wedding night I was going to wait for him in a guatiné robe. It didn't matter, because that was my Gerardo: I rejected imitations. The guy continued reviewing with his jaw hanging: –Can… can I come in? -Yes of course. Follow me - and I turned around not only so that he could enjoy the sway of my hips but also so that he would be the first man to see how that little thong looked on me, with a little black bow right where the dental floss came down. The guy followed me to the bedroom pushing a cart with an ice bucket, two glasses and a tray of cookies. I stretched out on the bed as if I were the Queen of Sheba. –If the lady allows it, I will uncork the champagne. -Please. The guy started uncorking the bottle with his chubby little hands. Maybe it was a difficult bottle or maybe the guy was more interested in my curves than his obligations. The fact is that the hunk began to turn red from the effort. He thought he was going to be shocked when the cork flew out. As if pointing towards the object of his desires, the plug hit my right breast with all its force. It hurt, as the sparkling wine poured out uncontrollably. The guy left the bottle while everything was lost, cookies included. –Wow, that hurt. –I… I'm sorry, ma'am… I… –You couldn't be more useless… –I hope I haven't hurt you. I, I... if you allow me. I didn't answer, sometimes silence is the most eloquent thing. As was the sound of the shower where Gerardo hummed. No matter how excited that lad was, he must have known that whatever it was we had little time for. Her chubby fingers removed the silk of the negligee with great skill and weighed the affected breast as if gauging her chances of going further. I feigned surprise: –But… what does he do? –I, well... I just want to... make sure, that, make sure that it's okay... that... that... there is no irreparable damage. –But this is totally inappropriate. My husband is on the other side of the wall, he can appear at any moment. –More reason not to dislike us. Let's get to the point! And he started kissing my bruised chest. First gently, then with brief sucks, then with increasingly suggestive bites... With each advance, I lay back on the bed feeling each wave of pleasure, more joyful as it was morbidly forbidden. The truth is that after the little act at the restaurant my body had become quite bad. I needed to satisfy my cravings… and Gerardo was making so many mistakes in such a short time! I closed my eyes, I abandoned myself, while his hands multiplied over my body, introduced themselves through the lingerie, looking for the corners where they could satisfy their curiosity and awaken my lust even more, if that was possible. And it was. When his lips changed breasts, I was already writhing with pleasure. When I heard the sound of the zipper I still had the strength to mark the playing field. I turned my back and murmured: –Not there. I have reserved it for my husband for too long. But here behind is free passage for you. I couldn't see his face. Did you doubt? Was that a snort? I put my butt up, in case I needed some visual support for my invitation. I soon felt that I had understood it but the disappointment was inversely proportional to how poorly endowed the beneficiary was. Of course, you encounter an unprecedented bottleneck the first time you give up and then you want everyone who appears to raise the bar. But life is not like that. On the contrary, the waiters at the restaurant had them much smaller than the gorilla waiter, even worse than my Gerardo, who may not have been very long-minded but was more than enough for the rest. On the other hand, the fatty was worse than all of them. Despite the situation and the fact that I was convinced that he had rarely had a woman like me for him, it was clear that the guy was not up to the task. And not because of attitude or expertise. Pure and simple: the panoply lacked the necessary caliber. It's not that I didn't reach orgasm, it's that I didn't even come close. On the other hand, perhaps aware that time was running out, he finished quickly. Perhaps the best thing was the withdrawal, with a slap on the buttock, friendly... shameless, as he had been. Good intentions and bad solutions. I turned in bed and covered the trail of our chubby explorer with a cushion. On time. Gerardo entered the room with the bathrobe. But instead of focusing on his loving wife, his gaze was riveted on the little table with wheels, the overturned bottle, the spilled champagne, even a broken glass. –But what is this? –The boy who uploaded it got nervous and it ended… like this. –You could have covered yourself. –You could have told me not to open like that. –I didn't think... I'm sorry, Lorena. He hesitated for a moment. –This cannot remain like this. GerardoOh, yes. She was beautiful. Or yes, he would have made love to her in every possible way, even some that had not yet been invented. But not. I was already fed up. First the elevator, then the restaurant, now this. Those cretins were going to ruin my wedding night. I started to get dressed. –But where are you going? –She seemed tired, fed up. –To talk to the manager of that seedy little hotel. –Gerardo, it's not hours. –It will be a moment, dear. I came out in my shirt sleeves. I avoided the elevator and met the housekeeper, Cora, on the stairs. –The director's office? –On the first floor. Passing the bar, in the background. But hurry up. At twelve at night he always drinks his coffee. His coffee. I was going to give him coffee. And I was going to give it to him quickly because I had seen the piece of woman that was waiting for me and no matter how shabby the hotel was, I was going to do what I had to do. And, asleep or awake, Lorena Lorena Shortly after leaving I realized that Gerardo had forgotten the keys to the room. I didn't want her to wake me up when I arrived or, in other words, I preferred to pretend to be sleeping because I was so pissed off. I left hastily with the keys but Gerardo was no longer there. Suddenly I realized that I had been so crazy that I had gone out there, in the hallway, with that sexy set of underwear. I retraced my steps. But then I heard someone coming up the stairs on that side. I ran in the opposite direction looking for open rooms but they all seemed closed and empty. Until I reached the service door, where the bouncer had taken out his scissors. I hid there and looked through the half-open crack. It was the fifty-something security guard with glasses. It was getting closer, so I stopped looking and stayed between the wall and the door. The uncle stopped at the door. I was afraid that he was going to come in, even with those bottle-bottom glasses, he was going to notice the clothes or the lack thereof, which worried me. He opened the door until it was pressed against my back. I heard his breathing, he was very close. I saw his pale hand holding the doorjamb. First still and then he pulled it shut with a snap. But with such bad luck for me that his fingers pinched the hem of my nightgown. He didn't notice because the rip was silenced by the slamming of the door. Then he walked away without knowing anything. The danger had passed but the brief, transparent nightgown had been destroyed. If before she was half naked, now she had lost the semi. I turned on the light and saw a shelf. There were maid uniforms. I hurriedly grabbed one, turned off the light again, so as not to be discovered, and dressed in the dark. I only had to travel about 50 meters from the utility room to 609. I cursed my haste. Even in the dark I realized that I should have selected more calmly. That had to be a size XS. Could more misfortunes happen to me? Clearly that wasn't going for me and it barely covered my white garter belts. But it was better than a destroyed negligee. I opened the door and tried not to let my high-heeled sandals clatter too much on the floor. GerardoI asked the insidious receptionist and he himself took me to the hotel director's office. I didn't get to see the office in question, because the man, a certain Torcuato de Luna, preferred to receive me in a kind of front room, the two of us sitting on sofas perpendicular to each other. Torcuato de Luna looked like the founder of Cornflakes: V-neck sweater, checkered American bow tie, round glasses and gray hair. He apologized for not receiving me in the office, assuring that there were ten minutes left for “my twelve o'clock coffee” and assuring that it was a sacred moment that he liked to enjoy in solitude. I stated my complaints politely but firmly: all the examples of bad service, neglect and inaction of the staff that were ruining the most important night of my life. –Understand me, it's not that I'm a picky eater. There have been too many things. "I understand you, I understand you," he pointed out while carelessly playing with his tie, "however, and trusting in your discretion, I would like to share with you a characteristic of our establishment." –I listen to you. –You see, it is true that the bulk of our staff are not professionals. –We have already noticed it, especially my wife, who has suffered the brunt of the problems. –The reason is that this hotel is dedicated to social reintegration. We provide work to members of society who would find it difficult to find employment elsewhere. I hesitated for a moment: –What type of people do they reintegrate? Torcuato de Luna was silent for a moment. And then he let it go, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. –Ex-convicts. People who have just gotten out of jail. I tried not to let my face show my state of alarm. But at that moment all my alarms went off. Luckily, my Lorena was safe in her room. However, now it was clear that he had brought her to a building full of men of dubious morals who, to make matters worse, had not been with a woman for months, perhaps years. –What type of ex-convicts? –Well, the normal stuff, robbers, robbers, rapists, all kinds of depraved people. But I have always believed that people who have paid their debt to society should be given a second chance. Don't you? I had to nod and it was true: I agreed, yes, but not that this second chance was at the expense of my young and innocent wife. What new dangers would be lurking for him in a hotel of that kind? At that moment I was dying to run out and surround Lorena with my protective hug. But Torcuato continued with his friendly chatter, explaining to me every detail of a project that under normal conditions would have met with my approval but that, given the circumstances, made my hair stand on end. However, I was caught in the web of his kindness and at that moment I regretted my obsession with complaints and claims. I felt that every minute I spent there, my poor wife was exposed to new misfortunes. 5. LorenaWhen I was walking down the hallway towards room 609 I couldn't resist stopping in front of a full-length mirror. I couldn't help but appreciate how good I looked. It made me angry because I had spent more than 1,000 euros on Aubade underwear and then it turned out that how I looked explosive was with a super-tight maid's uniform that highlighted each of my curves in a diabolical way. It would have been more worthwhile to spend 20 euros on a French waitress costume bought online to make my husband look crazy. I was in these reflections when a hand grabbed me by the wrist. The shock was enormous but then I realized that it was just Cora, the supposed housekeeper. –You must be the new girl. He's late. I should have been here this morning. I preferred not to say anything. Her crazy appearance imposed on me, if not respect, at least prudence. –Come with me, you can't show up like this. He pulled me firmly and I preferred not to contradict him. We went upstairs and I saw that there was a part of the building with rooms reserved for staff. We entered one that must have been his. –Come in, come in. It looked like the dressing room of an old cabaret star, Chinese dressing gowns, photos from magazine posters, many makeup products, wigs and remnants of theatrical costumes, almost so much that the bed was barely visible. Old Cora rummaged through a pile of clothes and finally handed me a white bonnet, which matched my apron. –Put this on and go down to the director's office to serve him his coffee. Every night he takes it at 12:00 sharp. I looked around and saw my salvation. "Wait a moment," I asked. And I stood in front of the vanity mirror. I applied a very aggressive eye shadow in blue and black, painted my lips with the sexiest red I could find and finished it off with a black Louise Brooks wig. The garçon wig looked perfect thanks to my short blonde hair, since it was a little longer and the change was radical enough for me to meet someone. –Now I am perfect. Leave. My plan was to leave that crazy woman's room and return to mine without anyone recognizing me. But once again I was going one way and my circumstances another. –I'll accompany you. I don't want you to miss the first day. So I found myself dragged through the hallways and stairs by the sinister housekeeper again. I met the restaurant's cook and it's true that he looked me over from head to toe with his eyes, but he didn't recognize me, which made me feel safer. The same thing happened with the receptionist, Amador. With the aggravating factor that Cora introduced me. –This is… the new waitress. What's your name, honey? "Um... Fine," I said, fluttering my voice, like Marilyn when she wanted to pretend she was stupider. “Delighted, Amador,” replied the concierge. And although I couldn't see his pants, I sensed that he was telling the truth. –I'm going to prepare that coffee. And I went to the bar. It was easy to put in the Nespresso, prepare the coffee and place it on a tray along with some tea biscuits. With the tray I went to the office, I entered through a side door and without leaving the tray I approached the main door, which was half open, I knocked with my knuckles, and with my dumb hotel official voice I said loud enough for them to hear me in the anteroom. –Your coffee, Mr. Director. With the point that you like. –Now I'm going. The office oozed leather, walnut, and books that seemed to have been in the bookstore for years. The guy came in, looked at me over his glasses, and came out again for a moment. Gerardo I thought that with the arrival of coffee I would be free and could return to the room to protect and cover, in every way, my poor wife. But I was already leaving when Torcuato de Luna came out again and asked me: –Please, if you wait a moment I think I will be able to compensate you for all the trouble you have gone through. It will only be a few minutes. It made me angry. I wanted to go up. Go back to the room. But the possibility of receiving compensation and being able to brag about it in front of Lorena. Oh, the damn virus of being right. With all the pain in my heart I sat down again, fervently wishing that it would just be his minutes. LorenaThe director returned and closed the door. I felt under deep scrutiny. –And your name is… –Fina, Fina, sir. –Fina –and he smiled evilly. The director sat slowly in his swivel chair. –I am Torcuato de Luna, the director. –They have already told me. A coffee every night at twelve - and I bent down, leaving the tray on the table, so that I could easily contemplate, if I had not already done so, how tight the uniform fit me, warping my body by keeping my legs together and straight. The director sipped his coffee slowly, his eyes fixed on me. –Does your clothing seem correct to you, miss? I pulled my skirt down, trying to cover the end of the black stockings and the white garters. Despite my embarrassment, the director smiled sardonically. –I didn't mean that, miss. –Oh, right? –with my little voice pretended to be perfect -No. I was referring to the top, of course. Is it okay for you to be buttoned up to the neck? -No? –Well no –the coffee had finished. He put the cup on the saucer with a gesture of irritation. Those buttons are suffering, for God's sake! Come into view! I understood it as an invitation. I unbuttoned two buttons and asked like a fool. –Better this way, sir? He made a gesture with his hand, as if he wanted me to be benevolent. Then I unbuttoned two more buttons, rested my hands on the edge of the thick walnut table, and showed him all the merchandise. –And so, better? The guy swallowed. –Yes, exactly. This is what we need. Motivate customers. He stood up, as slowly as he had sat down. And he approached me, as if to look at my profile. He started caressing my neck. –The problem, Fina, is that in this hotel we don't like mistakes. –Errors? What mistake? –That coffee was Volutto and I drink it Ristretto. Always Ristretto –and his hand closed like a hook and pulled me down, forcing me to lie down on the table, with my back to the front door. I was terrified, but also, why not say it, horny about the situation. He stood behind me. I knew he was looking at my golden thighs, which in that position no longer covered my skirt, right where the very thin black stockings with white garters ended. I was right because I soon felt a finger running through my stocking, up my thigh and checking that I was wearing my thong. –Stay here. Don't move You will soon receive the corrective so that you never make this mistake again. –But, Mr. Director, if someone came in they would see me... like this... –That's the idea, Miss Fina. Or should I say, Fine Whore? He went out but left the door ajar. Gerard. I looked at the clock. Just five minutes. At that moment the door opened and the director returned. He seemed like a man of his word. –Mr. Fuentes, I think I have found what you deserve to compensate you on your wedding night. –Well, if so, I will gladly accept your apology. –I'll leave you alone in that office. They have offered me a present that is not to my taste. I suppose you will know how to take advantage of it. I went to the office intrigued. I already had my hand on the knob when Torcuato de Luna stopped me for a moment and warned me. –Understand that this is a disciplinary problem. From the person who has been distracting our staff. I trust that you are like me, a man uncompromising in the pursuit of excellence. Don't do anything I wouldn't do. Between. De Luna already made sure that the door was left ajar. To look at? It must have been, because that waitress with her legs spread, wearing slutty stockings and lying on the table was a sight worth seeing. What heels! What a little ass! If that wasn't to his taste, he must be gay. I, who was already excited just thinking about my wife waiting for me in the room, now felt that she was harder, more grown up, asking for more war. Yes, it was a fair compensation. But I could never brag about it to Lorena. LorenaI had gone white when listening to the dialogue with my husband. It couldn't be. I was horrified and at the same time glad I wore the brunette wig. I still had a chance. Gerardo was behind me –I have been told that you have been breaking the discipline of this hotel. And he slapped me on the buttock which hurt but at the same time made my thong wet. His hand stayed there, resting on my buttock, as if it were his property, which it was, although Gerardo didn't know it. He was behind me and he couldn't see my face, only the dark wig, the cap and, obviously, everything that the dress revealed in that exposed position. “Yes, they have informed you well, sir,” I confirmed with my silly little whore voice. “Wow, wow,” he kept putting his hand under her skirt. Now his fingers were playing with the little black bow on the back of my thong. GerardoGod! What a taste for lingerie! He already knew why he had imprisoned this employee. He had certainly left prison wanting to go. -And what are you doing? Why should they admonish you? –I think I warm the staff of this hotel too much, sir, but it's not my fault. It's the fault of this uniform they gave me, it's so tight... –Well, you will do something –and at that moment I began to gently rub my package against that delicious ass. –Well, sometimes I have to undo two or three buttons, because it's very hot. And Amador, the receptionist, looks at my tits. –And you like it, of course. –Man, I like to feel pretty. But it's not my fault. –Well, you will do something else, because I don't think you are like this just because of that. It had become like a tubular iron bar on me. God, this was really taking care of customer satisfaction! –Well, sometimes the waiter, the one who looks like an orangutan, pounces on me when I'm alone in a room. And he crushes me with his weight and puts his hands on me everywhere. -And what are you doing? -Well, since I have a husband... I want to say, boyfriend, then I suck him, so that he cums and leaves me alone. –But you will be a whore! It is totally unacceptable! Lorena The more I spoke to him with my fake voice, the hornier my husband's face became. He had already grabbed me by both thighs and there was only one way that could end... –I know, but I can't do anything else. –And does this happen to other staff members? I hesitated. Today how the zipper was lowered. I felt that piece of meat. I only had the sense of touch to gauge the situation but I would say that with me it had never, ever, never taken that size, that texture of hardness. –Well, when I go to dinner at the restaurant, once it has closed, the waiters always serve me shots, to get me tipsy. And foolishly, foolishly, they always end up spilling some pear liqueur on my cleavage, so that before I can say this mouth is mine they are already eating my tits, touching me. –But both at the same time? –Yes, but the cook does not participate. Just look. –But what a slut, God, what a slut! No wonder no one in this hotel makes a move! –and he slapped me again, this one a little harder. If I continued like this I would cum just like that, on the table. GerardoMonitor and punish. Basic social principles that I was going to apply without hesitation. I hit her on the right buttock three more times. I was very excited. I let her feel my cock between her legs and saw how wet she was. –And you fuck them both? Both? -No! What would my… boyfriend think? I give them a titfuck, a suck. The normal. For a relief. –What a great bitch! I hope it ends here. -Well no. Because in some rooms I sometimes let a waiter who bothers me stay at ease. Because with the reputation of being a slut that I have acquired, I can't be with some and not with others. But my virginity is still safe. That I am a girl with principles. And I just let them take me by my ass. –You will be a shame! Well, I'll give you what's yours – and I took it upon myself to end it in the only way possible. Lorena–No, not that way because I'm a virgin! I have reserved my virginity for a man for so long... Do it from behind, sir, from behind... –No, you are such a slut that you would still like it. This is a punishment! And a punishment has to hurt! I shuddered. Gerardo wouldn't be able to. Good old Gerardo was not like that. However, I was so wet, I had spread my legs so wide that I had no defense left. His cock came in like a rocket, making good on his threat and I saw stars. I howled in pain, yes, but also in pleasure. What a fuck they were giving me! How incredible that my husband was a huge bastard! GerardoThe waitress might be a virgin, but she was so wet that it entered with the ease of a plunger. –Redios! What a reputation you are! I don't know how they don't fire you! –Ahhh, ohhh. Uyyy... because I come to this office and of course the director sees how I bend over, how I put the coffee in, how my tits are squeezed and I always end up... Well, how I end up... I'm a bit of a slut. But he couldn't finish, because the international observer Torcuato de Luna rushed in, member in hand, and put it in his mouth as if that were the most natural thing in the world. –Lord, from Luna! I thought you were gay. –Well, you know –he answered me as if he were not being sucked with a vice and a skill that for a moment seemed vaguely familiar to me–- Sometimes, there are people who one day we sail by sail and another we sail by motor. LorenaNo one knows how much I appreciated having that cock put in my mouth. Thus, Gerardo would no longer see my face. I started fucking left and right and I noticed how Gerardo couldn't take it anymore and came inside me like an animal, with a deafening scream. I would have screamed from the super orgasm that left me shaking, but, of course, my mouth was full. Gerardo left without saying anything. So I started sucking the director's cock, shaking it with one hand and focusing my lips on its tip. Two minutes later the guy came too and I was finally able to leave the office. I ran. I made it down the hall before Gerardo, who must have been limping from the effort, and I went up in the elevator while my husband, finding the elevator occupied, had to go up the stairs. My plan was to get to the room first, hide the uniform and wig under the bed, wash my face and wait for my husband in bed pretending to be asleep. There was no need to pretend. Five minutes later I was in the arms of Morpheus and Gerardo had neither the moral nor the courage to bother me and claim his marital debt. GerardoWe left the hotel the next day. The staff was strangely solicitous. I attributed it to my efforts to complain left and right. Once on the road, behind the wheel I looked at my beautiful wife and said: –I'm sorry I didn't please you yesterday. I'll make it up to you tonight. –I assure you, darling, that I feel very satisfied. -Really? He put his hand on my knee and just this gesture made my friend between my legs come back to life after last night's exhaustion. –Gerardo, I would never deceive you. And I will always tell you everything. -All? –Everything, everything, Toto. But don't worry, my love, I will always look for the way that hurts you the least, but I will confess everything to you, with details and details. I took a gentle curve. The sun was shining again. –Well then, Lorena, I will ask you something else. Being such a disastrous hotel, how come you asked for a card at reception? –I am going to recommend it to my sister. I think they will give you just what you need. I burst out laughing. I had to make an effort to keep the car from stepping on the solid line. –Honey, I love you. Because as Mae West said in Hollywood, when you're good you're great but when you're bad you're even better. She looked at me strangely. I thought you didn't know who Mae West was. I would explain it to him one of these days.