Swingers Amateur Hotel Foursome (w/ Crab Dip!)
Title: “Swingers Oasis: An Untenanted Hotel Rendezvous”
The Four Seasons Hotel was an oasis of indulgent pleasure, as many discerning travelers had discovered in their quest for wilder pleasures beyond the acclimated scope of tame touring. For the month of June, the hotel management had temporarily ceased routine business operations to host an elite augmentation of swinging enthusiasts seeking to explore their deepest fantasies. This annual regal splendour of satiating sensuality bequeathed an open invitation to those impassioned explorers of carnal connubial couplings, married or otherwise willing to engage in wanton debaucheries under one pleasantly utilised roof. This year, one private suite in the ‘lingerie themed block’ had checked in a particularly intriguing foursome, with ‘Swingers Amateur Hotel Foursome’ emblazoned upon their reservation card.
Upon entering the lavishly decorated suite, couples John and Lisa (she of svelte allure, he of towering stature) and Rob and Sandra (she of ample assets, he of leonine machismo) traded knowing glances as they followed the designated butler to their quarters, a sense of giddy anticipation palpable. As the hotel staff member retreated, the four strangers took a moment to cast appraising gazes at their tyros. Sandra’s eyes alighted on Lisa first, admiring her bust, and Lisa met Rob’s inspection with a coquettish smile, her eyes darting to his crotch as if reviewing his goods. A hush hung in the room, then Rob broke ranks, “Well, shall we begin?” he asked, a roguish grin playing at his lips. Sands down the marquise met his quip with eager nod, John following suit. In unison, the women began to disrobe, removing lacy garter belts and stockings, matching bra and panties. As their families were unveiled, the men marvelled at the complexions laid bare before them.
John was the first to make his move, gravitating toward Sands on the chaise lounge while she lounged with a book in replace. He kissed along her shoulder, up to her earlobe, where he flicked his tongue. Sandra dropped her book as he lazily thrust his fingers into her, cupping her breast with other hand. “M-hm, I feel you,” he murmurs to her breathily as he bathed inside her in her wetness. As he takes her fully, his lips find hers in a sloppy, urgent kiss, hands circle her waist, pulling her deeper into him. He nibbles and sucks on her neck as she alerts to his touch, her hands now exploring his sculpted arms. “M-more!” she pleads as he pistons into her with animal grunts. She rocks back to take all of him, gasping as their union deepens.
Meanwhile Lisa stalks over to Rob, standing before him as he sat upon an upholstered Barcalounger. Sensing his gaze, she swayed her hips to the silent rhythm in her head, a dance as old as time. She stepped closer to touch him, feeling the heat radiating off his skin. She bent over him, letting her nipples graze his chest, and began to kiss him, her tongue sweeping over his lips. He pulled her down on top of him, falling into the kiss hungrily as he squeezed her breasts. Lisa cried out in surprise of mixed with delight when he rolled her over and tugged off her panties. Teasing her entrance, he pushed his thumb into her wetness with a groan. She guided him deeper with her hands, arching into him as he pleasured her more deeply. Finally he couldn’t take it anymore and he thrusts into her with one hard thrust. She starts off slow, savor how good it feels, but picks up speed. Her breasts bounce with each thrust, and he wraps a hand around her neck as he fucks her hard and fast.
As the married couples lost themselves in the ecstasies of fornication, their libidos stoked to infernal levels, the suite was filled with primal moans and wet slaps of voluminous flesh meeting flesh. The rhythmic attractions only increased in tempo, an impossible crescendo of carnal copulation. As if on cue, the assembled troglodytes reached their impede crises simultaneously, spewing forth demonic fluids into their respective nethers with mystic bellows of uber-gratified exuberance.
Unfortunately for our heroes, their sordid exertions had not gone completely unnoticed. The head of hotel management had, through a quirk of fate, planted a hidden camera in the room to monitor any…deviant goings-on. As the sweaty succubi of lust dismounted from their finding partners and wiping themselves with a drenched bunny-shaped towel, they observed an exploitable source of wistful potential and self-satisfaction! The damning video could easily be repurposed, private screening for their mansionful of tantric theological leaders. The head of Hotel Management rubbed his callused hands together as he fantasised about jerkin’ it to the holy hell!
Our foursome of avid flesh merchants paid their bellhop a hearty bribe and sauntered out into the dazzling daylight with supreme nonchalance, mentally processing their next saxe-featuring on the hotel-driven fetish seraglio beat.
Amen.
