Hot Sheets

by Ray Gordon

  "Mike!" Belinda cried as he parted her tensed buttocks and pressed his knob against her closed anal portal. "Mike, not there! Please, I don't want..."

  "You've never had a cock fucking your arse, have you?" Mike taunted, pushing his glans harder against her delicate brown tissue. "You've had the copulating machine screwing your arse, but not a real cock."

  "No! You just dare to..."

  Her words breaking off as Mike's solid shaft slipped deep into the heat of her anal duct, Belinda grimaced, tightening her sphincter muscles to protect her virginal bowels. Wendy's tongue tunnelling into her slippery vaginal tube, Trudie's hot mouth sucking on her erect nipple, Mike's massive cock embedded deep within her velveteen rectal sheath, she raised her head and looked up to the ceiling as the sensations of crude sex permeated her naked body.

  "Oh, oh!" she breathed, jolting with the enforced anal shafting, her cunt milk decanting, her clitoris swelling. "Oh, God!"

  "There's nothing like an arse-fuck!" Mike chuckled, his belly buffeting the padded bar running across her lower back as he repeatedly thrust his ballooning knob deep into her bottom-hole.

  "I'll get you for this, Mike!" Belinda spat.

  "How will you do that, assassinate me?"

  "I'll... I'll... oh, ah! My... my clitoris!"

  "Lick her clitoris, Wendy!" Mike gasped as he drove his penis deep into Belinda's bowels again. "Bring her off with your tongue and drink her come!"

  Gasping as Wendy licked and sucked her pulsating sex button, Belinda closed her eyes, picturing Mike's solid cock repeatedly withdrawing and entering her anal duct. Her body tingling with sensations of crude sex, her orgasm stirring within her contracting womb, she began to shake violently.

  "Coming!" she finally cried as her clitoris ballooned and throbbed beneath Wendy's sweeping tongue and Mike's shaft swelled within her tightening rectal duct. "Don't stop, I'm coming!"

  "God, your arse is tight!" Mike cried as his spunk coursed along his penile shaft. "Ah, ah! Here it comes!"

  "Yes, I can feel it! I can feel your sperm!"

  His hands gripping her hips, Mike relentlessly rammed his orgasming knob deep into Belinda's hot bottom-hole, his spunk jetting, filling her anal cavern. He wouldn't release her, he decided as his swinging balls drained. He'd keep her prisoner along with Wendy and use them both for sex. Belinda's sperm-drenched anal flesh massaging his pistoning glans, Mike pumped the last of his spunk into her quivering body, wondering how to position her for a two-cock anal fucking.

  "Two cocks," he breathed. "You're going to have two cocks spunking up your bum."

  "And a third up your cunt," Trudie giggled, painfully pinching the woman's sensitive nipples.

  "And one in your mouth," Mike chuckled, finally stilling his spent knob.

  "No, no," Belinda groaned in her coming. "No, not... not four..."

  "Yes, four! But first, you're in for a thrashing!" Mike laughed, watching her delicate brown tissue shrink as he slid his wet member from her inflamed rectal sheath.

  Zipping his trousers, he gazed at Belinda's quivering buttocks as Wendy continued her clitoral tonguing, sustaining the woman's shuddering multiple orgasm. Her taut, unblemished anal globes perfectly rounded, inviting the cat of nine tails, Mike turned and eyed the whip standing in the corner of the room. Belinda was going to endure an arse-whipping so merciless that her cunt juices would flow in torrents and her pitiful cries would shake the building!

  She needed to be taught a lesson, he mused as the woman hung limply from her cuffed wrists - a lesson she'd never forget! Pulling Wendy's chair away, he instructed Trudie to release Belinda and bend her over the padded bar. In the aftermath of her incredible climax, the woman could do nothing to defend herself as Trudie released her. Her cunt milk coursing down her inner thighs as she leaned over the bar, projecting her buttocks, she whimpered, the reality of what she was about to endure hitting her as Trudie bound her wrists to her lower legs with rope.

  "For your meddling, you're going to have the thrashing of your life!" Mike yelled, taking the whip from the corner of the room.

  "No, please!" Belinda cried, tensing her naked buttocks as she gazed between her parted legs at the leather tails dangling down from the wooden handle.

  "You come bursting in here with a gun, you threaten me, you..."

  "Mike, please!"

  "Please what?"

  "Please, don't whip me! I'll do anything if you let me go!"

  "Yes, you probably will do anything - anything to drop me in it!"

  "I promise that I'll..."

  "Do you happen to have a wet pair of panties about your person?" Mike asked, turning to face Trudie.

  "Coming up!" the horny brunette grinned, tugging her panties down and passing them to her boss. "Or, should I say, coming off!"

  "Right, I'll stuff these in your mouth to shut you up, Belinda!" Mike laughed, pushing the cunny-wet silk delicacy into her mouth. "There, that's much better!"

  Raising the whip above his head, Mike brought the tails down across Belinda's trembling buttocks with a deafening crack. Trying to spit the girl-scented panties out of her mouth, Belinda moaned through her nose as the whip lashed her rounded bottom orbs again, leaving thin weals fanning out across her stinging flesh. Again and again Mike lashed her bottom cheeks, delighting in the thrashing as his ex-wife's naked body jolted.

  The lewd scene ripening her clitoris, Trudie knelt before Wendy and moved her head forward, positioning her face between the delicious blonde's parted thighs. Licking her prisoner's sex slit, lapping up her flowing lust juices, the girl lost herself in her lesbian debauchery. Gasping, Wendy closed her eyes and tossed her head back as her clitoris swelled and pulsated, responding to the sweeping female tongue.

  "Please stop!" Belinda cried as she managed to expel the wet panties from her mouth. "Mike, I'll do anything you ask!"

  "Stop? Never!" he chuckled, bringing the tails down again, lashing her crimson buttocks. "Never!"

  "Argh!"

  "Never!"

  "Argh!"

  "Never!"

  Her buttocks turning scarlet, her vaginal milk decanting, dripping from her engorged inner petals, Belinda's cries reverberated around the building as the leather tails repeatedly flogged her quivering bottom orbs. Perceiving a strange revenge for the years of marriage he'd endured, Mike was going to give the woman no quarter, her screams only serving to fuel his vengeance.

  "I'll whip your tits next!" he chortled, imagining the thin tails lashing her firm mammary spheres. "And then I'll..."

  "Mike, I think she's had enough!" Trudie cried, turning her cunny-wet face away from Wendy's swollen pussy lips to focus on Belinda's glowing buttocks.

  "Enough?" he echoed, halting the thrashing.

  "Look at her bum, for God's sake! She can't take any more!"

  "Please, Mike!" Belinda sobbed. "Please, no more!"

  "I'll allow you to rest for a few minutes before I administer the next twenty lashes!" he laughed, dropping the whip and slapping her scarlet arse cheeks with the palm of his hand. "Just a few minutes rest."

  "When I get out of here!" Belinda wailed. "I'm going to..."

  "Jesus bloody Christ, don't start arsing on with your futile threats again!"

  "I mean it, when I..."

  "Trudie, I'm going downstairs to see what the others are doing," Mike interrupted his distraught ex-wife.

  "OK, I'll stay here and have some fun," the nympho smiled, kneeling behind Belinda and parting the woman's buttocks, exposing her sperm-drenched anal ring. "I'll see you later."

  "Give her arse a good finger-fuck while I'm gone!" he laughed, leaving the room and making his way down the hall to the lift.

  Entering the foyer, the doorbell ringing incessantly, Mike wondered where Goldie had got to. Probably frigging herself off in her bed, he mused, opening the main doors. "May I help you?" he asked the pretty blonde standing on the step. May I fuck you?

  "Yes, I've come to see Belinda," the young woman replied, her s
ky-blue eyes looking past Mike into the foyer.

  "Belinda? She left some time ago, I'm afraid."

  "I didn't see her," she frowned, leaning to one side in an effort to look into the building. "I've been sitting in my car outside, and no one's left the hotel."

  "She left by the back door."

  "Oh, well... haven't I seen you in the local paper?"

  "Yes, I was on trial for murder."

  "Murder?"

  "I bumped my ex-wife off."

  "Your... er, may I come in?"

  "Yes, of course."

  Opening the doors wider, Mike eyed the girl's shapely legs as she walked into the foyer. She was ripe for a fucking! he thought, guessing her to be in her late teens. Tight, wet, hot... definitely ripe for a damned good double screwing!

  "This isn't a hotel," Mike said, closing the doors. "I don't have any rooms, if that's what you want."

  "No, I..."

  "As I said, Belinda's gone so..."

  "I just wanted to... are you sure Belinda left?"

  "Well, unless it was an apparition, I saw her leave about ten minutes ago."

  "But, she couldn't have left."

  "It must have been an apparition, then. A ghost, even."

  "What?"

  "If you think she's still here, you're welcome to have a look round. Mind you, it'll take you some time to search every room. Why do you think she's here? What's all this about?"

  "She told me to wait for her. I can't think why she'd leave by the back door when she knew I was..."

  "What has she told you about this place, about me?"

  "Well, nothing really."

  "Nothing?"

  "She said that you'd... well, that you'd done things to her."

  "What sort of things?"

  "Bad things."

  "Would you like me to do bad things to you?"

  "No, of course not!"

  "You're an attractive little tart. I wouldn't mind getting my tongue up your juicy cunt!" Mike laughed, squeezing her firm breasts through her tight blouse.

  "Get off me!" the girl cried, dashing across the foyer and opening the doors. "Belinda was right about you! I'm going to come back with the police!"

  Shaking his head as she fled the building, Mike wished that he'd been able to control his base desires. "I suppose I shouldn't have squeezed her tits!" he sighed as Dave emerged from the kitchen.

  "Whose tits?" the young man asked, wiping his hands on a clean tea towel.

  "No one's. How's it going?"

  "We now have eight clients booked in for tonight, I've prepared the vegetables and I'm just about to..."

  "Eight? Christ, that's sixteen hundred pounds!"

  "Things are looking up, Mike. By the way, Paul's constructing some kind of sex machine in his room."

  "Great! Where's that horny little tart, Goldie?"

  "In the kitchen helping me."

  "And the colonel?"

  "Resting in his room after Cecilia sucked him off. She's in the cupboard, doing something with the vacuum cleaner."

  "God, she's insatiable! And Nancy, where's she?"

  "She went out to buy a new toaster."

  "A new toaster?"

  "The old one... well, the toast tasted of used condoms. There's still no hot water."

  "Fuck the hot water! OK, things are all under control. Shit, there's the doorbell! Right, I'll see you later. Remind me to take the money for the toaster out of your earnings."

  "Will do."

  Opening the door, Mike frowned as Dickwipe pushed past him into the building. The inspector didn't look at all happy, he observed. So, what was it this time? An alleged rape? The relentless search for WPC Widegroin? Or had Belinda's young friend rushed to Pox Green police station to squawk on his lewd behaviour?

  "Mr Hunt," Dickwipe began pensively, "I'm not a happy man."

  "Aren't you?" Mike smiled, closing the doors. "Perhaps your sex life needs spicing up."

  "There's nothing wrong with my... I'm not happy with the situation. I've lost a WPC, I've had Miss Knickerlace making allegations against you, Mr Gill says that he was set up twice for rape, terrorists stormed your hotel, Harold Gloom is still missing, Miss Chaste has done a runner..."

  "You're keeping busy, then? It's best to keep busy, don't you agree?"

  "I'm too busy for my liking, Mr Hunt. The point is that your hotel is at the centre of a catalogue of complaints and strange events. Why did the King of Skythuania send his men here to kill you?"

  "He doesn't like me. We fell out over an incident involving his daughter."

  "Fell out? People who fall out don't usually send armed men to..."

  "The king was very upset. It was all a silly misunderstanding. You see, his daughter came here and..."

  "Dirty weekend breaks, Mr Hunt."

  "Where?"

  "Here, in your very hotel."

  "She didn't come here for a dirty weekend break, Inspector! She's a princess, for goodness sake!"

  "For discerning businessmen. I've seen the advert in Wankers' Weekly."

  Fuck me! "Ah, that would explain the strange phone calls I've been having from men who want weird sex. The phone hasn't stopped ringing. Good God, I've been asked about whipping, bondage, anal sex, tit caning... disgusting, that's what it is!"

  "You didn't place the advert, then?"

  "Me? Good grief, no! They've obviously printed the wrong phone number. There's been a mix-up, a typing error, a..."

  "I have a warrant to search your premises, Mr Hunt. Shall we begin with the top floor?"

  "Er... the third floor, yes. What are we looking for?"

  "Various things. Will you lead the way?"

  "Yes, of course. There are many things we can look for, Inspector. There are beds, wash basins, televisions, wardrobes... "

  "After you, Mr Hunt."

  Showing Dickwipe into the lift, Mike prayed that the man wouldn't realize that there was a fourth floor. This would determine whether or not Wendy had told him about the sex rooms, he mused, pressing the third-floor button. If Dickwipe searched the hotel and found nothing, he might get off his back - at long last!

  Leaving the lift, Mike led the inspector into each room, showing him the beds, the dressing tables, the facilities, as if innocently conducting a guided tour. If things went his way and Dickwipe got off his case he'd turn all the rooms into sex dens, catering for as many as forty clients each night, he decided. The money would be incredible, he thought, showing the officer into the third-floor bathroom.

  "Eight thousand pounds a night!" Mike thought aloud.

  "That's a lot of money for a room!" Dickwipe returned, lifting the toilet seat and peering into the pan.

  "Er... you'll find nothing of interest down there."

  "You never know, Mr Hunt - you never know."

  "Are you happy with this floor?"

  "Yes, let's go down to the second floor."

  "What a good idea, Inspector. I can see that you're a man of intelligence, of great integrity, of immense intuition, of terrific..."

  "The second floor, please."

  Finally completing his search, Dickwipe stood in the foyer rubbing his chin. He wasn't satisfied, Mike could see that, but he hadn't mentioned the fourth floor. Neither had he taken much interest in Paul's room, the weird sex machine the barman was constructing. Perhaps Dickwipe was stupid! Mike mused. Mentally subnormal, even!

  "Did you find everything in order?" he asked.

  "Everything seems to be in order, but I'm not happy, Mr Hunt."

  "Are you emotionally upset? Perhaps you need therapy."

  "I do not need therapy."

  "I'd put it down to sexual guilt. Inner unhappiness often stems from sexual..."

  "I intend to survey the outside of the building."

  "What, the bullet holes?"

  "No, I want to familiarize myself with the layout."

  "Ah, you have a criminal mind."

  "Certainly not! I'm a police officer!"

  "No, I meant t
hat you think like a criminal in order to catch criminals."

  "Oh, yes, I see. Well, I'll be in touch. Good day, Mr Hunt."

  "Good day, Inspector."

  Fuck and double fuck, Mike thought as Dickwipe left. He was bound to realize that there was a fourth floor. After all, any fool only had to count the windows! Dashing to the desk and grabbing the ringing phone, he flopped into his chair and pressed the receiver to his ear.

  "Hallo," he answered, praying that it wasn't trouble.

  "Mr Hunt, it's Harold Gloom."

  "Harold! Where are you?"

  "In a seedy backstreet bar full of half-naked girls. Listen, there's been a development."

  "Did you write to my ex-wife?"

  "No, should I have done? Shaved!"

  "I know she shaves. She began shaving when we were first married and..."

  "No, I was looking at one of the girls. This development, I've discovered the name of a double agent."

  "A double agent?"

  "Miss Chaste, she's working for the assassin."

  "Miss Chaste?"

  "She's on her way to see you. Look, I'll meet you at the hotel and when she arrives we'll have it out with her."

  "You've got it all wrong, Harold! Miss Chaste isn't..."

  "Oh dear, I'm being molested by a naked girl! I'll be with you in a few minutes. What are you doing to my penis, girl? Please, you'll never get it in there alongside that candle!"

  Frowning as he replaced the receiver, Mike watched Cecilia fall out of the under stairs cupboard and roll across the foyer clutching the vacuum cleaner. Gasping, the cleaner handle embedded deep within her cunt, she was obviously in the grip of a powerful multiple orgasm. This wasn't on! he thought, shaking his head as the doorbell sounded.

  "Cecilia!" he snapped, making for the door. "Get up to your room, and take that bloody vacuum cleaner with you!"

  "Oh, oh! Ah, God, that was heavenly!"