Coffee drained, and crossword complete, Jules hummed and hawed over how to continue her lazy afternoon. It was then, while deciding whether or not to order another coffee, that she noticed herself absentmindedly thumbing through the classified section; a rarity at this stage in her life, save perhaps for searching for a used bicycle or neighbourhood garage sale. It had been years since Jules had last rented an apartment, and she couldn’t remember ever actually looking for a job in the classifieds. But just as she was about to abandon the coffee-stained paper, she saw it: Personals. Jules smiled to herself, not really sure why, dropped the paper back on her table and headed to the counter. A second attempt to converse with the blonde barista was met with one-word answers, and the type of unimpressed glances that evolution has spent centuries perfecting in teenagers. So after finally receiving her refill, she abandoned the one-sided conversation and returned to her fireside nook.
With the personal ads open in front of her, Jules took a sip of her brew. It was much too hot, and the second cup was somehow never as satisfying as the first. At this point, Jules didn’t care. The coffee was just a cover. Within seconds she had become completely absorbed in the raunchy desires of a hundred strangers: one-night stands, threesomes, bi-curious couples, gold-star lesbians. Powerful CEOs seeking a strapped dominatrix, and stay-at-home mums looking for after-school visits from the naughty girl-next-door. It was impressive, outlandish and deliciously intriguing. Before she had even circled a single ad, Jules had decided to answer one of the mystery requests, and try to make the most of this rare afternoon off. Today she would take a chance; leap head first into an experience that would either enthral and excite her, or ruin her completely. Either way, it would be new. Jules thought about buying a pack of cigarettes, but the idea of smoking – even just one – began to overcrowd her senses. Just breathe, she thought ... 90 seconds ... it’ll pass. Jules licked her lips. They tasted of cold coffee. When she opened her eyes, the first ad she saw read: “Willing female wanted. Experience appreciated”, followed by the necessary contact information. At first it seemed so cold, and vague, but soon those five unassuming words had somehow managed to set a vivid scene.
She reached for her mobile phone, dialled the number and held her breath ... it was ringing. Her heart beat a little faster. The ringing sounded muffled somehow, like it was really far away, or maybe just an old phone – or maybe it was the sound of her own breathing echoing through the earpiece. Nearly seven seconds had passed before the anticipation became too much, but just as she was ready to hang up, a woman answered. Jules was slightly thrown. Truthfully, she had imagined a male voice at the other end, but before the mystery woman hung up, Jules managed to stutter out a reasonable ‘Hello’.
The arrangements were made quickly, and easily. The mystery woman spoke with authority, and made her directions very clear. She stressed repeatedly the importance of anonymity, and that Jules’s complete discretion would be necessary if they were both going to get what they wanted. They would meet that afternoon at the GoodNight Motel. It was out of town, just off the highway. Jules remembered driving past it now and then. It was cheap. It was dirty. It was perfect. Jules would arrive first, and rent a room under the name of Mrs Bartlett. She would then leave a note at the front desk for a Mr and Mrs Gray that would state the room number and nothing more. As Jules carefully copied down her instructions, so utterly aroused by this point that she was actually perspiring, she couldn’t help but think that although it was possible that Mrs Gray had meticulously rehearsed these lines in hopes that a stranger would someday answer the couple’s innocent little ad, it was much more likely that they had done this many times before, and had gotten very good at it. Jules was really counting on the latter.
They were to meet in two hours, plenty of time to head home for a seething hot shower. Jules considered the master bathroom her own personal sanctuary. She had put many hours of work into making it plush and perfect; luckily, the shower had always been overlooked by the energy police in the building. The head was old and powerful, and Jules liked the temperature set a fraction-of-a-degree below unbearable.
As the steam swirled and lingered around her, Jules began fantasising about her impending rendezvous. A twinge of fear gripped her stomach. Realistically, she had no idea what she was getting into. But she had made her decision and, brushing the unsettling feeling aside, she reached for her razor and focused on the task at hand. It had been at least two weeks since she had last shaved, and naturally, between the clouds of steam, her dull razor, and her absent-minded fantasising, she managed to nick her leg, just behind her knee, which is the worst. The skin is much thinner there, and cuts take for ever to heal. As Jules turned off the shower, basking in the lingering steam, she secretly acknowledged that it was this evening’s shower that she was really looking forward to.
She took a cab, pondered stopping at the liquor store, but thought better of it, and arrived 30 minutes early. The GoodNight Motel parking lot was deserted save for a few choice cars. Colourful beaters that were easily 20 years old, with the dents and rust to prove it. Tipping the cabbie she headed for the front door. Renting a room and leaving the note with the front-desk attendant – an overly ripe, heavy-in-the-seat man, with greasy, slicked-back dark hair. He looked at her with a blank expression and coughed as he took the folded note – perhaps a practice he was well accustomed to; Jules didn’t stick around to ask.
The room was sparse, with a double bed, a single bedside table, a set of drawers with a bolted-down television, a desk and a lone chair that had seen better days. The bathroom, with chipped mouldy tiles lay behind a dented door that neither locked nor closed properly. The air smelt stagnant, a combination of old smoke and stale sex, and it lingered in the walls – walls that were bare, except for small spots of peeling paint and brown patches that reached up to the ceiling. Jules turned and locked the door. Quickly pulling away from the handle, she thought about the documentary she had recently seen about the state of hotels, the underpaid and under-caring cleaning staff, the hidden dirt, the stains and lurking bugs and parasites at every corner. Pushing the thought aside, Jules turned in a full circle, as if a dog preparing to lie down; she wondered where to sit. Remaining standing she began to take her stilettos off, looked at the carpet and reconsidered. Moving anxiously around, she stopped in her tracks and tilted her head slightly to the right as she stared into the lopsided mirror precariously hanging over the desk. Checking herself out, she thought of herself as Mrs Bartlett: an oversexed, over-confident woman, a stiletto-wearing, ripped-stocking, leather-mini-skirt-and-black-lace-bustier character that Jules was growing to like more and more. It may have been the way her ass looked in the skirt, it may have been the nicotine withdrawal, but she liked the way she looked and she liked the way she felt, and for once it was great to be someone else. She could make Bartlett whoever she wanted and right now she wanted to be fucked – and hard.
There was a knock at the door and it quickly broke Jules out of her trance. Jules bent to the peephole before realising it was actually just a black dot that had been drawn on. ‘What the fuck!’ she muttered. Although she knew who stood behind the door, it would have been nice to get a split-second look first. She turned the handle and pulled the door open.
In front of her was a red-headed woman, masculine in face – square jaw, large nose, thick brows, with striking green eyes. Quickly her eyes moved to the man, of regular build, quite tall, tanned and with a mop of salt-and-pepper curly hair. Just as she scanned their faces, they did the same, and before three sets of eyes moved over legs, arms, asses and chests, Jules managed ‘Hello’. The greeting reciprocated Mr and Mrs Gray walked past her and into the room. Awkward. Jules now noticed the large black bag that Mr Gray dropped by the foot of the bed. For some reason she started to fantasise the bag being filled with apple pies, whipped cream and chocolate milk; stifling a laugh she pictured the pies wrapped in a chequered red-and-white tablecloth. Why now, of all times, she was imagining a picturesque picnic
was unclear. She was here for one reason – the same one as the couple standing in front of her. However, she conceded that whipped cream might be fun!
Not a word spoken, Mrs Gray approached Jules, her face statuesque except for a childlike twinkle in her eyes. She looked as if she had just left an office, her nine-to-five business attire – navy skirt, white blouse, navy blazer with beige stockings and pumps – suited her; she looked appropriate. Mrs Gray ran her hands through Jules’s hair; Mr Gray was undressing behind them.
As he de-robed – jacket to shirt, pants to socks – he carefully folded his clothes and neatly placed them on the chair. God this woman’s eyes were green; Jules stared intently at her eyes, attempting to see the rim of a contact lens, but to no avail. The black bag was still there, visible, calling to her, but just as she went to ask about it, Mrs Gray’s tongue was in her mouth. It was hot; Jules liked it. She stepped closer to Mrs Gray, kissing her deeply and pushing her body hard against the navy-clad woman.
She always liked having her hair pulled and released a grunt as her head snapped back with a tug from behind; he was behind her, naked, his hand in her hair, his cock rubbing against her ass – she could feel his hardness through her leather miniskirt. He felt big, and she immediately wanted to be naked. As if reading her thoughts Mrs Gray ran her hands down Jules’s neck, across her breasts, slipping her right hand up her skirt. Grabbing hold of Jules’s stockings at the crotch she ripped them straight down and pulled hard. The cheap nylon snapped and burned as it tore from her skin. Jules was still wearing her stilettos, and was silently impressed with herself for this. She was warm and becoming wetter by the minute. Mrs Gray was bent by Jules’s legs, strong hands running up her calves, her thighs, the bottom rim of her ass; one hand shot to her labia and the massage was soft. As she rocked back into Mr Gray’s cock and forwards into Mrs Gray’s mouth, her hands found the bobbed red hair in front of her. She pulled up, wanting more and Mrs Gray obliged. Her tongue ran along Jules’s lips, parting them and flicking her tongue back and forth, back and forth, in a motion perfectly timed with the hard cock now nestled between Jules’s ass cheeks.
Her own hands went to her breasts and she squeezed just as she felt that hot tongue entering her; it was becoming fast, and she started to bend at the knee, pushing herself down onto the thick hot tongue. She was almost bouncing now; moaning softly, she was racing for immediate gratification, and instantly knew she wanted to slow down. Savour this. Reaching for the red hair she pulled, trying to pull the face to hers. She was met with resistance though. She tried again – nothing. This time she tried to turn around to face Mr Gray, and get a full view of that big cock she so enjoyed rubbing at her ass. He held her arms. She was quickly realising that she was here for one reason: for them to play with – for them to fuck. She would be taking it however they wanted to give it. Jules breathed in quickly. She wasn’t used to not being in control; this was new to her, and she had two choices: stop now, run, forget this ever happened, or let the afternoon play out. It was an easy decision.
Still holding her arms he pushed her onto the bed. She landed face first and remained that way. She could feel him standing behind her, starting to push her legs open with his own thighs. Resisting slightly, he pushed harder. Jules licked her lips; she had hoped it might be a bit rough. Mrs Gray walked to the other side of the bed and, lifting her head, Jules came face to face with her. She was standing still, looking from Jules to him and back to Jules. She was smiling, and Jules joined her.
He pulled on her skirt from the waist, lifting her ass up into the air. His hands felt rough on her ass cheeks, his thumb started circling her asshole, gently pushing on it while two of his fingers found her pussy. His hand was working quickly and Jules could hear him breathing heavily. She was wet; she reached to his hand and pushed another finger in. It went deep and, just as she reached for another, his thumb was in her ass. It was intense and dry. As if hearing her thoughts, Mrs Gray walked to the black bag, unzipped it and pulled out a bottle of lube. She threw it on the bed and walked back to face Jules; she didn’t skip a beat. He picked up the bottle and squirted her ass; the lube was cold, wet and it smelt like cherry. Fuck she hated cherry, but whatever, she could handle the smell more than the dryness and she wanted that thumb as far in her ass as possible.
God it was starting to feel really good, his rhythm in her pussy and up her ass was building. She knew instinctively that he was touching himself; she could hear his breath in sync with his movements both in her and with his free hand. She was on her knees now, hands spread in front, staring at Mrs Gray while thrusting her ass back and forth. She reached for her shirt and started to pull, when Mrs Gray reached over and pulled it off in one shot. That was two items of clothing ripped. She was starting to grunt and felt as if she was being prepped for something, and then – with no warning – his hand was out of her and he thrust his dick into her. He was big and thick and he reached for her waist and pulled her towards him. Mrs Gray was smiling and mouthing something Jules couldn’t quite make out. She was pushing against him, and his hands reached for her breasts and squeezed, massaging and pinching her nipples, then running his hands down her back, and slapping her ass. She let out a yelp at the slap and he did it again, and again she yelped. Her ass stung and she licked her lips for it tasted good. Mrs Gray leant over and licked Jules’s lips at the same time; again their tongues pulled and thrust against one another, as he fucked her pussy. He reached for her hair, pulling her back, and Mrs Gray stood up; she looked flushed and let her eyes fall on Jules’s body, now naked except for stilettos. Pulling down on Jules’s hips, pushing himself further into her, Mr Gray grabbed at her breasts and, grunting hard, their breath fell into rhythm.
She could feel him building, just as she was; it became faster, and harder, and his nails were now scouring down her stomach. She liked it – the simultaneous instant pain with the sweet thrust of his dick. He was fucking her hard, grabbing everywhere – her tits, her ass, her hair; he pulled her completely off the bed and, turning to the side, he pushed her down. Her hands found the floor and she was bent in half completely. As he pounded inside her, she desperately flailed to find a handhold. Finally grabbing on to her ankles she took him full force and the slap of his skin against hers echoed around the room.
With a barely audible roar he came, hard and fast, and she felt the rush. With that he threw her back to the bed. She turned over on her back, and looked up to find Mrs Gray still standing there staring down at her. The smile the same, her nine-to-five clothes the same, her masculine jaw somehow more square, and her brows furrowed. Their eyes broke apart and Jules looked to Mr Gray. He was rubbing his balls, his breath still loud and laboured, and his gaze was fixed intently on Mrs Gray. They were smiling at one another, and Mrs Gray walked to him, unbuttoning her blazer mid-stride. She undressed, leaving a pool of clothes at her feet; her pumps were kicked aside, and she stood naked in front of him. Bending to her knees, she licked the inside of his right and then left thigh. Moving his hand to the desk, she began sucking on his balls. Taking one, then both in her mouth she pulled back and just as quickly rushed forward and upwards with all of him in her mouth. His hand moved quickly up and down his dick; it was swelling and stretching all at the same time. Jules knelt on the bed and, as his hand grabbed the back of Mrs Gray’s neck, Jules grabbed the back of her neck. She mimicked sucking his cock, and he was now watching her as he forced his dick into Mrs Gray’s mouth. Jules watched; growing excited she started to touch herself, rubbing up down, slowly and then quickly, alternating in time to Mrs Gray sucking cock. She was building again.
Getting off the bed, she walked to them and knelt beside Mrs Gray. Kissing her neck, and reaching for her tits, Mrs Gray didn’t pull away. She groaned, her mouth full of cock, before arching her back slightly so Jules could better reach her tits. She squeezed the woman’s nipples and bit her neck. Turning to Mrs Gray’s mouth she watched it slide back and forth along his shaft and reached her own mouth to his balls. The
y tag-teamed him that way, as his excitement grew; grunting louder and louder, he quickly pulled back and came over Mrs Gray’s face. As he reached to steady himself with a hand on the desk, Mrs Gray walked to the bathroom to wash her face and, when she returned, she stood directly in front of Jules. Instinctively Jules knelt up, and greedily pushed her mouth against Mrs Gray’s pussy. Pulling and biting on her lips, licking from ass to front, Jules had to grab her ass from behind to give herself more leverage. She was engulfed in the woman’s pussy, tasting every bit of her; juices rolled down her chin and she reached to wipe them off, rubbing them down her neck onto her breasts. Mrs Gray threw a leg over Jules’s shoulder and pushed further and further into her mouth. Suddenly she pulled back, looked Jules in the eye and crossed to the bed.
Mr Gray picked up the black bag, laid it on the bed and opened it. He pulled out a strap-on and, still naked, walked to Jules. He was behind her, his cock growing hard again on contact with her ass. He bit her shoulder, pushed against her rhythmically and, from behind, used his hands to belt on the strap-on. It fit snug, and was not nearly as heavy as it looked.
Her nipples growing hard, Jules reached down and touched her dick; it was purple, ribbed and felt soft to the touch. She was excited; she had never fucked a woman before. Jules looked over to Mrs Gray who was laid on her back, knees bent and legs spread. She was propped on her elbows, her eyes begging Jules to walk the few steps to the bed and fuck her. Jules could taste her, and she wanted more. She wanted to bring her to the point of orgasm before fucking her. Walking over, she bent down slightly; with her knees propped on the edge of the bed, she dove in for more.
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