Hot Sheets

by Ray Gordon

  "Yes, of course! Come on, Mr Gill, to the sofa!"

  Watching the naked girls and clients bundle into the lift as he entered the foyer, Mike waited until they'd safely reached the top floor before answering the doorbell. "Ah, Inspector Dickwipe. Please, come in," he invited as he opened the door.

  "Is everyone all right, Mr Hunt?" Dickwipe asked, walking into the foyer. "I'm sorry we had to shoot your hotel to pieces. At least we caught the terrorists."

  "It's nothing that a coat of paint won't put right. I hope you're going to give those villains a good going over. Bursting in here like that - who do they think they are?"

  "They'll be dealt with, don't worry. We received word that the King of Skythuania was sending his henchmen..."

  "Yes, I know."

  "How do you know, Mr Hunt? It was a well-kept secret, you couldn't possibly have known about it!"

  "Er... no, I meant... come through to the bar, Inspector."

  "My God!" Dickwipe cried as he tailed Mike into the bar. His erect penis sticking out of his trousers, his hands crudely molesting Cecilia's naughty bits, Mike followed the inspector's horrified gaze to the fornicating Gill.

  "Christ, he's at it again!" Mike gasped as Cecilia leapt to her feet. "Cecilia, are you all right?"

  "Er... yes, I'm fine," the raw beauty replied, her sky-blue eyes mirroring puzzlement.

  "Rape, that's what it is!" Mike exclaimed, turning back to Dickwipe. "He's a serial rapist!"

  "OK, Gill, you're coming to the station, and this time there'll be no bail!"

  "No, you've got it all wrong!" the hijacked weasel protested, concealing his sharp-shooter in his trousers. "This place is a brothel and..."

  "My God, he's delirious," Mike breathed. "He's mentally insane. I'd have him thrown in the loony bin if I were you, Inspector."

  "Don't you worry, Mr Hunt, I'll lock him up and throw the key away!" Dickwipe growled, grabbing the right little bastard and marching him out of the hotel.

  Grinning at Cecilia, Mike rubbed his hands together, ordering the naked beauty to fill two glasses with neat vodka. That was the last he'd see of the weights and measures man, he was sure! Installed at the bar, he pondered on the remaining problems. Belinda was still on the loose, and he'd not yet discovered whether she was a private dick or a hit woman.

  Why hadn't Dickwipe mentioned Wendy Widegroin? he wondered. She must have told the inspector about the illicit top floor, her imprisonment, the enforced knobbing. There was something going on, he knew - but what? Deciding to sexually torture Widegroin as Cecilia passed him his drink, he thought of shaving her pubic hair off.

  "I could cut her nipples off," he fantasised aloud.

  "Cut whose nipples off?" Cecilia asked, shielding her erect breast buds with her hands. "Not mine, I hope!"

  "No, Wendy Widegroin's. Cecilia, I have to discover what the hell's going on in Dickwipe's mind. I don't understand why he's not made a move. I mean, Widegroin must have told him what I did to her."

  "Not necessarily," the blonde cracker replied pensively. "She might have come back here to arrest us without the inspector knowing."

  "Why would she do that?"

  "Promotion. Think about it, she'd receive all the praise and..."

  "No, I can't see that she'd risk..."

  "Do you have a better explanation?"

  "No, I don't. If that is the case, then Dickwipe must still believe that she ran off with Harold Gloom. OK, so Gill's taken care of and we'll assume that Dickwipe isn't looking for Widegroin - that just leaves Belinda. By the way, she rang and threatened me. I told her that I knew what she was up to. Hopefully, she might have fallen for my bluff and leave me in peace."

  "Don't take anything for granted, Mike. You can't be too careful."

  "You're right there!" he replied, slipping off the barstool and moving to the window.

  The road blocks had gone, much to his relief. The King of Skythuania would probably send more thugs to deal with him, but he'd cross that bridge when he came to it. The immediate problem was WPC Widegroin. Walking back to the bar, Mike stared in disbelief at Cecilia sitting on the counter with her legs wide open.

  "What the hell are you doing?" he asked, focusing on a wine bottle emerging between her swollen cunny lips.

  "Oh, God, that's heavenly!" she gasped, thrusting the bottle in and out of her bloated cunt. "Ah, ah! Oh, my cunt!"

  "Bloody hell, look at your pussy lips! Christ, they'll split!"

  "This is nothing!" she breathed, pushing the sex-slimed bottle deep into her inflamed lust duct. "I've managed to push a drainpipe up my fanny before."

  "A drainpipe? Jesus Christ!"

  "Yes, I wanted... ah, God! I wanted to look at my cervix so I... God, that's heavenly! I squatted over a mirror and shoved a piece of drainpipe up my cunt and had a look at my cervix."

  As if inspired by the devil, Mike leapt over the bar and kicked Paul in the bollocks. Groaning, the young man rolled onto his side, clinging to the bar as he dragged his alcohol-sated body up. Focusing his bloodshot eyes on Cecilia, her blatantly abused pussy, he rubbed his aching head, turning and frowning at his boss.

  "What the..."

  "Paul, you piss-headed wanker!" Mike bellowed. "Go and get the video camera from room eleven and set it up in here with the recorder. We're going to make a dirty video of Cecilia masturbating with a drainpipe."

  "A drainpipe?" the bemused barman echoed, gazing longingly at Cecilia's hairless, taut cunny lips rolling along the wet bottle as she continued her vaginal thrusting.

  "Yes, a drainpipe."

  "We haven't got a drainpipe."

  "Have you no initiative? Find a piece of drainpipe, for Christ's sake! Rip a length off the wall outside."

  "I once managed to get a wine bottle up my bum!" Cecilia gasped.

  "Bloody brilliant!" Mike grinned. "This is going to be a really filthy video. Christ, are we going to make some money! Go on, Paul, get a camera and set it up in here. And remind me to tear your cock off for your blatant lack of initiative!"

  Chortling as Paul staggered into the foyer, Mike decided to import Wendy to the bar, lay her naked body over the counter - and shove a wine bottle up her arse! Slipping ever deeper into his pool of sexual corruption, he imagined all the girls over the bar with bottles advertising their bottom-holes. Am I going to make some money!

  Grabbing the wine bottle as Cecilia lay down with her legs hanging either side of the bar, her sex centre blatantly exposed, Mike began his vaginal thrusting. The bottle glistening with her copious cunt milk, her clitoris forced from its pink bonnet, her naked body rocked with the beautifully obscene pussy pummelling. Gasping, lost in her sexual depravity, she massaged her exposed clitoris, rubbing her sex nodule to fruition as Mike sucked her erect nipple into his hot mouth.

  "Coming!" she finally cried, her lithe, glistening body shaking violently as her orgasm welled from her contracting womb and exploded within her throbbing clitoris. "God, my cunt! Ah, ah! Come... coming! Please, don't stop! Ah, it's... it's beautiful!"

  "I won't stop," Mike grinned, gazing at her flushing face as he slipped her sensitive nipple from his mouth.

  Cecilia Squeezeasy was going to be a first-class porn star, he mused, watching her sex milk oozing from her inflamed cunt. Two cocks up her bum would be quite an arousing sight, he thought, wondering whether it was possible. Anything's possible with determination.

  Finishing the woman off as Paul staggered into the bar with the video recorder and a camera, Mike decided that Paul would operate the camera. He and Dave would simultaneously fuck Cecilia's arse, both spunk into her bowels while Paul captured the lewd scene on tape.

  "How would I position Cecilia so that Dave and I can both get our cocks up her arse?" he asked Paul as the female sex fiend tossed her head from side to side, gasping in her coming.

  "Christ knows!" Paul chuckled, holding his aching head. "I don't think it'll be possible, Mike."

  "She's had a wine bottle up her bum before, so I don't see why
she can't accommodate two fucking great pricks!" Mike laughed, slipping the bottle out of the woman's inflamed sex sheath and placing it on the bar.

  Lapping up her cunt cream as Cecilia lay gasping, Mike peeled her fleshy vaginal lips apart, exposing her inflamed inner flesh to his sweeping tongue. Her clitoris swelling as she neared her second climax, she gripped Mike's head, grinding her open cunt hard into his wet face. Her orgasmic milk pouring in torrents from her inner nectaries, she began to whimper, her breasts heaving, her smooth stomach rhythmically rising and falling.

  "God, I'm coming again!" she cried in her depraved ecstasy.

  "She's coming again!" Paul chuckled, setting the equipment up.

  "God, don't stop! Keep licking my clit!"

  "She doesn't want you to stop, Mike. Keep licking her clit."

  "Finger me, finger my cunt!"

  "Finger her cunt, Mike."

  "Shut up, Paul!" Mike yelled, momentarily halting his clit licking.

  "OK, I'll shut up."

  Slowing his rhythmical tonguing, Mike brought out the last ripples of sex from Cecilia's pleasure button. Bending and twisting his fingers within her hot, creamy cunt, he brought her gently down from her sexual heaven. Finally stilling her trembling body, she lay with her eyes closed, her pretty mouth open, her abused cunt inflamed. She was ready for anything now, Mike knew, slipping his fingers out of her drenched vagina and sitting her up.

  Manoeuvring her perspiring body, he managed to lay her face-down over the bar with her spread legs hanging down one side and her head the other - her delectable bottom-hole exposed, her wet cunt lips bloating between her thighs. Nodding at Paul, indicating for him to start recording the obscenities, Mike grabbed the slippery wine bottle and parted the gasping woman's taut buttocks.

  "Ah, God!" Cecilia cried as she sensed the thick end of the bottle between her buttocks. "You'll have to use Vaseline!"

  "I haven't got any," Mike replied, wondering what to use as a lubricant. "I know, how about some Baileys? That's nice and creamy," he grinned, leaping behind the bar.

  Taking the enticing liqueur from the shelf, he unscrewed the cap and positioned himself by Cecilia's rounded buttocks, pressing the thin end of the bottle against her brown ring. The creamy liquid covering her delicate anal flesh, he slipped the bottle into her tight rectal canal, the liquid decanting, filling her bowels.

  "Oh, it's cold!" Cecilia gasped as the bottle drained. "Oh, it's... it's heavenly!"

  "Right, now for the thick end of the wine bottle!" Mike chuckled, slipping the Baileys out. Grabbing the wine bottle, he glanced at Paul. "Here goes!"

  Her sphincter muscles stretching to capacity as he pushed and twisted the bottle, he gasped as the huge phallus suddenly sank into her tight duct as if being sucked in. Her delicate brown tissue incredibly taut, gripping the cunny-wet bottle, her buttocks obscenely splayed, Paul focused the camera on the crudity. The video recorder running, Mike stood back, holding the woman's buttocks wide apart as Paul panned in, capturing the anal abuse on tape.

  "My cunt!" Cecilia gasped, projecting her buttocks, exposing the dripping portal to her neglected vagina. "Another bottle! I want another..."

  "You want one up your cunt as well?" Mike asked incredulously.

  "Yes, I've done it before."

  "Anything you say!" he chuckled, taking another bottle from the shelf.

  Parting her wet vaginal lips with his fingers, Mike slipped the neck of the bottle into her tight cunt. "The other end!" Cecilia ordered him, jutting her buttocks out further. Complying with her incredible request, Mike was sure that he'd not be able to slip the monster phallus into her cunt. "Yes, that's it! Push!" she cried as he pressed the bottle against her engorged inner flesh. "Push!"

  The bottle suddenly gliding into her sex duct, Mike's eyes widened. Gazing at her distended cunt lips, her delicate brown ring taut around the other bottle, he could hardly believe that he'd achieved the incredible feat. Widegroin was going to endure the same sexual abuse, he decided as Paul moved closer to the degrading spectacle. Kneeling as Cecilia opened her legs further, Paul focused on her clitoris, crudely forced from its hide, unkindly exposed.

  "Shit, who's that?" Mike breathed as the doorbell rang. "Don't go away, Cecilia, I'll be back in a minute." Dashing to the foyer, he opened the main doors, shocked to see the Reverend Hardick standing on the step. "Oh, Father! Er... how can I help you?"

  "I... I was wondering whether it would be possible for me to..."

  "Yes, yes of course - come in," Mike invited the cleric, closing the door as he stepped into the foyer. "As it happens, you've called at just the right time. Come through to the bar."

  The man of God's eyes almost popping out of his head as he gazed at the bottles emerging from Cecilia's rudely bloated sex holes, he held his hand to his mouth. Grinning, Mike decided to have Paul record the priest's inevitable sin, his obscene anal shafting, his forbidden spunking. Gently slipping the bottle out of the woman's bottom-hole, he watched the delicate brown tissue slowly shrink, as if defending the fortress to her illicit castle, her secret dungeon. Her arsehole bared, remaining open, he suggested that the cleric slip his unholy wick into her snug candleholder.

  "I want to be alone with her," the priest confessed, his face reddening as his penis stiffened, tenting his cassock.

  "No, we're staying," Mike asserted. "Go on, do her arse! She's got a bum full of Baileys, nice and creamy, ready for your cock."

  "Well, I... I don't know that I want an audience."

  "Can you deny yourself the pleasure of her bum?" Mike tempted, parting Cecilia's feminine buttocks. "Look, her cunt lips are stretched round a wine bottle and her bum's neglected, dying for your cock. Go on, really give it to her."

  "Yes, please, give it to me!" Cecilia begged, projecting her buttocks, offering her inflamed anal entrance for the priest's communion as the creamy anointment dribbled from her overflowing chalice.

  Lifting his cassock, the cleric took his rock-hard organ in his hand and stood behind the sacrificial lamb. Pressing his purple knob against her open hole, he drove his shaft deep into her rectal duct, his balls resting on the bottle emerging from her bloated cuntal sheath. Gasping as he withdrew his fleshpole, he drove into her again, his belly slapping her taut buttocks, jolting her quivering body.

  Again wondering how to position Cecilia for a double bum fucking as Paul focused the camera on the priest's thrusting cock, Mike moved behind the bar and stood before the woman's lowered head. Whipping his erect penis out as she lifted her flushed face, he offered his swollen knob to her gasping mouth. Eagerly taking his silky plum between her wet lips, she began her fervent sucking, desperate for his spunk to gush from his slit and fill her cheeks.

  Rocking his hips back and forth, fucking Cecilia's delectable mouth as the priest shafted her tight bottom-hole, Mike closed his eyes. His sperm rising, his glans swelling, throbbing, he gasped as his jism shot to the back of Cecilia's throat. The priest groaning as he loosed his unholy spunk, filling the woman's tight sanctum, Cecilia swallowed hard, shuddering in the grip of her own coming. The lewd three-way coupling taking the woman to hitherto unknown heights of pure sexual bliss, she ran her tongue over Mike's silky-smooth knob, drinking from his fountainhead as her anal duct oozed with the cleric's blasphemous offering.

  Capturing the obscenities on video tape, Paul sensed his penis stiffen, yearning for a hot, wet orifice to thrust into. Perhaps he'd slip the wine bottle out of Cecilia's stretched cunt and thrust his cock into her sex duct after the priest had finished abusing her bottom-hole, he speculated. Focusing on the woman's taut brown ring as the unholy organ glided in and out of her arse, he decided to suggest to Mike that she receive a damned good thrashing. Anal sex, bottle sex and a buttock caning would ensure that the tapes sold like hot cakes!

  "God, that was good!" Mike gasped, massaging his veined shaft, squeezing the last of his spunk into Cecilia's thirsty mouth. "How was it for you, Father?"

  "Heavenly!" the man breathed as
he slowly slipped his member out of the woman's baptized bottom sheath. "Goodness me, that really was heaven!"

  "Take the bottle out now," Cecilia murmured as her vaginal muscles spasmed, painfully gripping the massive phallus.

  Slipping the wine bottle out of her abused cuntal duct, the priest stood back, lowering his cassock as he gazed at her gaping lust holes. What his next sermon would be about, he had no idea! The pleasures of the flesh? Yes, pleasures of the anal flesh! Wondering why the beautiful act of anal fucking was frowned upon, he silently prayed for forgiveness.

  "Well, Father, you've had your fun," Mike smiled, zipping his trousers and helping Cecilia off the bar.

  "Yes, indeed I have! Er... how much do I owe you?"

  "Fifty pounds, please."

  "Right," the priest grinned, taking the money from his top pocket and passing the notes over. "I'll come again. Oh, er, excuse the pun!"

  "Yes, please do, Father. Come as often as you want to! What about your friends? You said that they might like to have some fun."

  "Yes, I've told them about... about your sideline. No doubt they'll be in touch. Well, thank you for having me, as they say," he smiled, winking at Cecilia as she leaned for support on the bar, swaying on her trembling legs.

  "Any time, Father!" she panted. "Any time!"

  "Well, I'll see myself out. Thank you once again."

  Waiting until the priest had disappeared, Mike stuffed the cash into his trouser pocket. What with the girls earning him eight hundred pounds on the top floor, things were definitely looking up! he thought happily. Leaving Cecilia to recover from her beautiful sexual abuse, he dashed into the foyer as the phone rang.

  "Stokepot... er, good evening," he replied, almost forgetting that the place was no longer a hotel.

  "Mr Hunt, it's me."

  "Who the hell's me? God, I'm not bloody psychic!"

  "Miss Chaste."

  "Oh, Miss Chaste, how are you?"

  "I don't know where I am."

  "No, I said how are you, not where are you."

  "I'm in town."

  "In town?"

  "Have you?"

  "Have I what, Miss Chaste?"