A crystal-clear drop of pre-come oozed from Eric’s slit and Melanie leaned forward, capturing it on her extended tongue. She turned to Paul and presented it to him, a signal of both submission and her approval of the wanton position she’d discovered him in. As the two of them kissed, she rubbed Eric’s meat over her nipples, smearing them with his leaky fluid.
She then turned to the task at hand, swallowing Eric’s cock. He groaned his approval and Paul said to him, “See what I mean? I knew you’d love her. She sucks cock just like a man.” Melanie blushed at the compliment, taking the thick pole even deeper into her throat. Paul fondled her breasts, tweaking her nipples, and Eric’s fingers were tangled in the strands of her hair, holding her head in place while he fucked her mouth with slow, deep strokes.
She felt her thong being tugged aside and a long, slender finger inserted into her sopping cunt. She heard Eric’s voice above her.
“It’s about time you got here.”
A shudder rolled through her at the thought of an unknown fourth person joining them in the room. Her mind ran wild with the possibilities of who it might be as a second finger joined the first one inside her and a third began massaging her aching clit. Hot, sultry breath scorched the inside of her thigh. She came hard when she heard the voice of Paul’s secretary come from between her legs. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
The phone rang, startling her.
Oh God, she thought, still in the throes of her climax. Just ignore it. She tried to suck harder on the cock in her mouth. Please just let it ring. But something was wrong. She still felt the fingers thrusting inside her, but the room had faded into darkness and her mouth felt strangely empty. She opened her eyes and looked around her, completely disoriented. Then she remembered. It’s Valentine’s Day. I’m in Vermont. Alone, in the Honeymoon Suite. Then why–?
She threw back the covers and gasped at the sight of her hand, coiled around her pussy, three fingers shoved inside as far as she could get them. Moreover, her fingers were still moving, as though they had a mind of their own, sliding back and forth within her silken crevice, urging her towards yet another orgasm. She threw her head back and closed her eyes, abandoning herself to the wave of pleasure about to wash over her.
The phone rang again.
Fuck! Who the hell is calling me? Then she saw the time. Oh, my God! The massage! She sat up, her still throbbing pussy grudgingly releasing her hand. She used her other hand to pick up the phone. “Hello?”
“Miss Nichols?”
“That’s right.” Melanie held her hand up. Her sticky juices coated her fingers like syrup.
“I’m Mark, the hotel’s Massage Therapist. We had a three o’clock appointment.”
“Oh, yes.” She stared at her hand, spreading and flexing her fingers, watching her come slowly congeal and dry on her skin. “I’m sorry. I was taking a nap and I guess I lost track of time.”
“We can reschedule if you’d like.” He sounded disappointed.
“What? No, of course not.” Not after I made you come over here in this weather, she thought. “What do you need me to do?”