Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
This is my fifth piece on Literotica. The prior four have been based on personal experiences with a bit of license and some amalgamation. The 31st Floor is ALL fantasy, but one I truly enjoyed writing. I doubt it is for everyone and considered putting it under fetish, rather than erotic couplings. But at the end of the day, it is still about Lisa and Bill first and the sex second.
31st FLOOR — CHAPTER ONE
Another long day in my office at the Wynn Las Vegas. Everyone else had left around 5PM and I stay another three hours, heading out at 8PM. It’s a 20 minute walk from deep in bowels of the main casino’s multi tiered basement to my room in the Encore tower.
The casino floor is just beginning to hum. The retirees and cargo shorted millennials are giving way to the more dressed up, higher rolling guests of assorted generations. The slots are starting to thin out and the table games are uncovering for the night ahead, pit bosses on alert.
The Wynn properties are a step above the rest of the strip. There are many top tier hotels in Vegas: Caesars, Bellagio, Venetian, Cosmopolitan, etc, But Wynn takes it a bit further. The T shirted flip flop crowd come by to gawk during the day, but the nighttime here is like the old Vegas.
I fucking hate Las Vegas. I hate the money for nothing mentality of gambling. Yeah, I know, ‘poker is more than that’, but the general allure is simply about MORE. Trust me, only the casinos are getting more and at the expense of the lemmings on the floor.
The city’s siren call is for people to live beyond their means, to pretend to be someone they are not. The underlying message is “You are not enough.”
But if there is ever a lost group of lambs that needed my skills, it is the people I am currently wandering among.
“Situational Awareness” is about the last thing on anyone’s mind in this joint.
I am in the middle of a month long consultation and assessment of the Wynn and Wynn Encore’s security. Nothing involving gaming or money. I am specifically consulting on crowd safety and security. With their higher end clientele, it is a delicate dance.
At this level, they want everything to be air tight, but invisible. Many of their whales travel with their own security and some of them are armed. They make exceptions but I see it as an issue and am grateful for their private elevators, away from the general public.
Luckily, a lot of those games are in private rooms away from the main floor, but thus under my purview.
However, today’s work had to do with boring shit like access and egress, locked or unlocked doors and crowd flow statistics. I am near blind from a day of pouring over CCTV archives and assorted spreadsheets.
I nod at Bobby, the second shift tower security guard (Monday through Friday). Another weak spot. They pay some guy minimum wage to have him inspect room key cards that people can fish out of the trash at the airport rental car drops or another dozen spots around town.
Some elevators require a key card to access the floor buttons, but most of those are generally programmed and not floor specific, so another weak spot. That anyone could believe this makes the hotel tower more secure is a joke.
I walk into the waiting elevator, wave my card over the sensor and push 31, my home floor for the past three weeks.
The Encore actually has unique set up for their elite, suite floors with an elevator that serves a handful of those rooms on each floor, allowing more exclusive access, less wait time and a shorter walk. They are just a quarter of the entire floor, walled off from the common folk.
My room is on a more plebian floor and is about as far from the elevator as possible. The building also has a curve to it, so that when making that walk, it seems interminable as you cannot see the end, until well after the halfway mark.
As the doors slide shut, first a hand, then an arm and finally an entire body……………… slips on board, without triggering them to re-open.
“Thanks!, I just made it.”
I nod, even though I had nothing to do with her making the elevator.
Thus, I am joined by a woman in her mid to late 50’s on her way back from the gym. She is fit, but not cut. Attractive, but not really pretty. Probably about a decade younger than my worn out frame.
She punches the already lit ’31’ button and steps back.
She carries herself with assurance and vigor. She has tight workout shorts on with a tank top. I, on the other hand am wearing a white dress shirt, an Armani dark navy blazer and black slacks.
She catches my eye in the mirrored doors and says “Aren’t we the odd couple?”. I laugh and agree. “Indeed we are, indeed we are.”
We continue the ride without conversation, but keep looking directly at each other in our reflections. I am impressed. Most people cannot hold a gaze without making small talk. She is not flirting, but there is a strength, and some sort of challenge in her countenance.
She still has a sheen Bursa Escort of sweat on her and a strong tang of body odor which frankly gets me a bit aroused. I inhale deeply.
We reach 31 and I hold the open button, allowing her to exit first. I am at first concerned she might be worried with me following her, but then remember that I had already pushed the button when she got on board.
So no way I was stalking her. Hell, she barely made the ride! So why do I feel like I am? She seems to have hit a nerve with me.
She continues toward the end of the hall as I stop at my room.
Never looking over her shoulder, she seemed completely unconcerned that I was behind her.
The stink of her body odor still lingers in my nostrils and I think about how far I could take a fantasy about her tonight.
At my age (mid 60’s), I don’t really have options to “hook up” much with strangers. I have active sexual relationships with three women roughly in my age bracket, one of them an ex from 30 years ago. They span the gamut of divorced, widowed and lifelong single.
They live in different cities and I get to see each of them several times a year. Online dating or hiring a woman for sex are of no interest to me.
One of them is a bit of a freak, but in general, the sex is tamer than I would prefer. And yet, my desire is as strong as it has ever been, possibly stronger and my boundaries are fewer. With these limited options, I masturbate like a teenage boy.
Yeah, my stinky elevator companion could take center stage in tonight’s fantasy.
I contemplate ordering room service, but instead opt for some snacks while I peruse TV options for the evening.
Finding nothing worth watching, I start to fill the big jacuzzi tub in my room and get undressed, looking forward to relaxing in the tub and continuing Ken Follett’s latest novel, “Never”. It is remarkably accurate in most of its research and I am enjoying the read.
Behind the drama of possible nuclear war, it is essentially about back channel communication between nations, something that was my domain before the private sector. He has a great source as the descriptions are spot on.
Just as the tub was nearing full, I notice my phone has an AirTag alert, as I have left my travel folio behind in the office. Even though my temp office is in the security complex, an unlocked drawer is not a secure location and I know that cleaning teams test any unlocked door or drawer.
The pebbled leather Prada folio contains my passport, a few hard to replace governmental clearance cards and about $3,000 in hundreds
It would be more than embarrassing for a security consultant to report a theft due to his own lack of diligence.
I turn off the tub, get dressed and ready myself for another long walk through the hotel and casino to the security complex. Pulling on a silk t shirt. It clings and shows every fold, bulge and curve in my ‘older’ torso……
I check myself in the mirror, sucking my gut in a bit. Note to self: need to get back to the gym. Got a bit of sag to my belly and my arms are getting too scrawny. I contemplate putting on something cotton, something baggy….. Nah, who I am trying to impress anyway?
I head out and as I exit my door, I almost collide with exercise gal, now dressed up and ready for a night out.
“Hah! Our roles are reversed. Where are you heading dressed down like that, I liked you better before” she says.
“I forgot something in my office that I need to retrieve”.
“Retrieve……….. is that like you have to go get it?” she teases. “What office anyway? Aren’t you a guest?” I explain as we walk the curved, never ending Encore hallway. She tells me that she is in town for a convention involving AI. She is a former coder who now pitches artificial intelligence for a variety of applications. On the elevator we do the eye exchange in the mirror again.
“Nice ink.” She says, nodding at my sleeved forearms, usually covered, but no longer the alienating signposts they were nearly 30 years ago when I mustered out and joined the private sector.
I examine her transformation. Her open toed, strap pumps reveal she has tattoo work on both feet, covering her metatarsals. That takes serious commitment and is usually not a first tattoo location. I wonder what else on her is inked. They look like mandalas and seem to have some intricate detail.
Her dress is a light copper with uneven hems that fall below her calf on one side and is cut away above her knee on the other. The dress is belted with a wide leather belt and she has an odd assortment of necklaces across her chest.
One looks like it could be Bulgari, the others are more like some exotica from a souk in a middle eastern bazaar. The neckline is wide, but shows little cleavage.
She has curled a wave into her shoulder length brown hair and put on a bit of makeup. Her lips are bare, but full and rosy, not really Bursa Escort Bayan needing help. There is a scent of perfume, but I would swear I still smell her workout underneath it.
Maintaining eye contact, she adjusts the belt across her midriff, runs her palms up her flanks and then lifts her breasts a bit, pushing them together, causing the heavy one to disappear into her cleavage. She dips a hand in between them and seemingly caressing herself, lifts the necklace back out.
Wait, was that done for me?
I am a bit lost and unsure of how to react…………..her face is seemingly emotionless. Before I can assess the situation, the door opens and two Chinese couples push their way in before the doors are fully retracted, forcing me into the corner.
“Have a nice evening.” She says over her shoulder as she exits the elevator. By the time, I disentangle myself from the Chinese, she has greeted another woman and they stop at the ATM in the elevator lobby, their backs to me.
I shake off whatever just happened (or didn’t happen) and head to my office. Tonight’s fantasy blown in our obvious disconnect.
A few days pass. It’s Thursday night and I once again head to my room around 8PM. After greeting Bobby, I quick step in between the closing elevator doors, amazed to find myself on the elevator with HER once again. I am dressed the same and she is once again glowing from her workout, stains of sweat on the belly of her tank top and the waistband of her shorts.
We are alone once more as 31 glows white on the panel and the elevator begins its rise.
“Well, now I feel so much safer with you on board. How is your work going?” It’s delivered with a smile and I accept the teasing.
“It’s going well. Looks like you had a good workout.” I inwardly cringe that is the best line I can come up with.
I look her up and down in the mirror as I inhale her scent again. She seems to know what I am thinking. With a grin, she raises the arm next to me and smells herself, the move wafts more of her over to me.
“God, I stink…………..” she says, but leaving her arm raised and she watches my nostrils flare as I inhale deeply. “However, you seem to like it….” — she says, waiting a beat and then letting her arm drop to her side. She pivots 90°, reaches out and pushes on my shoulder, turning me to face her.
Taking a step forward, she is now inches from me, sniffing me and turning her face up toward mine. “But you smell so pretty……………”
For one short second, I think ‘what the hell?’, and then I just react……………
I grab her wrist, lift her arm over her head and bury my face in her greasy arm pit, smearing it up and down and left and right. As the elevator dings for our floor, I run my tongue across the heart of her pit, let her arm drop and step aside.
I think of the wall of monitors downstairs (124 constantly scanning the 1,500 cameras throughout the building) and wonder if this one was on display when I did my pit dive.
The door opens and a young couple bound on board, paying no attention to the “elderly” pair exiting. This time we actually walk down the hall side by side, a tension growing between us. The air between us grows more and more electric as we take that long walk in thick silence.
As we round the bend in the hallway, her voice a bit hoarse, she asks, “You want to drop off your dog and join me?” I look at her questioningly and realize she is talking about my rollaboard and briefcase that I am dragging behind me.
My throat is just as constricted as hers and I croak, “Okay………..” having no idea what else to add in response.
Stopping at my room, I dump my jacket and bags……. My mind is racing, just what the fuck am I doing? This is a fantasy………. Exactly! Go for it you moron….. Then I suddenly realize I don’t know what room she is in………….. maybe she will just be waiting in the hall…………….Or most likely, she is just playing with me……….. Almost hoping she is……She is the one in control and I am not used to that.
I step through my doorway and turn right. She is sitting on the bench at the end of the hall. The lights of the strip are twinkling through the window behind her. Her top is off and she is untying her shoes. By the time I move the four room distance to the end of the hall, she is barefooted. Just what does she have in mind?
Standing there in only her workout shorts and athletic bra, she smiles at me. The bra is light beige with dark brown stains along the swell of each breast where her sweat has soaked the cotton.
Her age is a bit more apparent now. There is some sag to her belly and some stretch marks there and on her thighs. Her biceps are toned, but have a few crepe wrinkles, Regardless, she is still more fit than I am.
In addition to the tattoo on the top of each foot, there is a large, tribal piece across her belly that morphs into a tree, branches spreading and continuing up under Escort Bursa her bra. The natural, open boldness of her semi nudity is far more erotic than any younger woman’s ‘tight’ body and my arousal increases.
“I have lots more to smell, lots more to see, but what about you?” She stands, legs slightly spread, her open palms massaging her belly and pelvis.
Thinking this is crazy, I consider that we are 50 pairs of rooms from the elevators and while exposed, the distance is quite long and full visual determination of whatever is about to happen would take half the hallway to become clear due to the curve of the hall.
But it also means we may not hear folks coming until halfway down the hall………………
I am not an exhibitionist, but this woman’s invitation has me willing to step over my own boundaries. Hell, I just stepped over a line on the elevator………….. My last worry is if someone exits a room at our end of the hall…………ah, fuck it…………….
I begin unbuttoning my shirt. As soon as it becomes apparent that I am joining her, she moves closer to me. “Wow, look at all this ink”. She examines me as I take my shirt off and then leans in, clenching one of my nipples in her teeth, she bites down and pulls.
Suddenly releasing it, she repeats the same drill on my other nipple. Both are now standing erect — “You like that don’t you?……… do mine.” She pushes her chest out.
I reach around her to release the bra clasp…………….. No clasp……
“Here, let me help you.” She reaches up to her side and releases a clasp hidden in the seam and then discards her bra as her breasts fall free.
The compression of the sport bra gave lie to what are full, lush breasts. However, the rest of the reveal leaves me speechless………….
The tree tattoo branches off just below her sternum and spreads out below the swell of each bosom. Smaller branches splinter off to cradle each breast, like fingers. On each, one of the smaller branches blooms into a cherry blossom, the petals falling open across her areola, the pistil and stamen bursting from her nipples.
The contrast from the sumi black of the branches to the bright colors of the blossoms is awesome. The work is stunning, exquisite and must have hurt like hell.
Under and between the patches of ink, her areola and nipples are a dark brown, large, tough and aroused. I bite into one and lean back, feeling her pull away, stretching her entire breast taut. I release it and move to the other.
“Harder this time” — I bite so deeply I am afraid I will break skin and she leans back with her full body weight, her stretch marks transformed into deep furrows. She jerks against the strain, finally pulling it out of my mouth. “AAAAHHHHH, Fuck!”
She leans forward and suddenly her mouth is on mine and she is wetly soul kissing me as our bellies and breasts grind against each other.
“I have been fantasizing about this all week!” She pulls her shorts down and steps out of them. She is waxed smooth and clean. She has a beautiful lotus tattoo. It is anchored on her mons, spreading across her pelvis. I smile to myself as I have a similar lotus based just above my cock.
I am stunned. The lotus is amazing, but she is now buck naked. Buck naked in a public hotel hallway where I am doing a consultancy………… I chuckle in amazement and shake my head.
“What’s so funny?” …………”You like my smells?………” She pushes two fingers between her bare lips and I notice we have more in common. The lotus roots that cascade around my balls, down onto my perineum, in her case run down onto her outer labia and continue underneath her and I smile once again.
“Here smell this” and she smears her cunt funk across my face. It is rich and ripe and I become fully tumescent.
She makes rapid progress on my belt buckle and button fly. Spreading the fly open to push my jeans down, she exposes my lotus…………. “Okay, now I get the smiles — Just how cool will this be!”
She lifts my balls in one hand, wets the other and begins to stroke my cock with her juices.
“Enough, lady, it’s my turn”. No longer caring that we are in public, I push her onto the bench and drop to my knees, slacks bunched around my shoes.
Hooking my palms under knees I push her legs up and apart, her lotus root opening wide in front of me. As her lips open and her hood pulls back, a barbell piercing pops into view, straddling her clit, anchored in the folds of her hood.
I have adopted her teasing pacing and bring my face in close, but not touching her yet. Inhaling, I can now smell both her cunt and a sugary sweet stink from her ass. That seals it. No longer aware of anything, I commit fully to this sexual madness.
I rock her back on the bench and dive into her ass crack, rimming the ring her of sphincter in ever tighter circles until I am riding the muscle itself, feeling it relax and pushing and probing with my tongue ……., then running it up her taint and burying my face in her now sopping cunt.
She has reached down and is spreading herself wide open. I push in, bathing my face and forehead in her fluids before moving back to her ass, now so relaxed, I can begin to work my tongue inside.
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32