Strangers With Candy
An Erotic Story
By Kiki Wellington
Copyright © 2013 by Kiki Wellington. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission from the author.
Strangers With Candy is a 9,400 word work of fiction by Kiki Wellington. All names, characters, and events are products of her libidinous imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
From the Author:
ADULTS ONLY PLEASE. Strangers With Candy contains sexually explicit material and adult language. This story is not appropriate for children and may be offensive to some readers.
The thing about working in a hotel is, you're surrounded by sex...even when you don't mean to be. I've seen people going at it so much that I can pretty much tell what kind of sex they're having: Long-term relationship sex is different from new relationship sex, which is different from affair sex, which is different from one-night stand sex. And when you've worked in hotels for as long as I have, you see examples of every kind of sex—from the good to the bad to the freaky—on a fairly regular basis.
The first long-term relationship sex I saw in a hotel was when I worked as a part-time maid during college. I knocked on the door, loudly, and made sure they heard me when I announced "housekeeping" before entering the room. I opened the door with the intention of cleaning up and changing the sheets, but I stopped in my tracks when I saw the couple going at it like there was no tomorrow. It was missionary all the way, although they did appear to be having a really good time. Her legs were wrapped around his and he was in mid-thrust by the time it actually registered in my mind what was going on. She moaned a bit, and then let out a horrified gasp when she saw me standing in the doorway of their room.
"Honey, honey, honey," she said in a loud, fearful whisper. I didn't know if he saw me, or heard her, but he just kept pounding away at her pussy, oblivious to anything that wasn't wetting his determined, hard cock.
"I'm sorry, I thought you were out," I said as I quickly closed the door. He never seemed to notice or care that he had been busted with his dick in the pussy jar. I imagined it had been so long since he'd gotten any, he was going to finish up their sporadic lovemaking session even if it was broadcast on the big screen at that night's basketball game. The wife, or long-term girlfriend, on the other hand looked poised to push him off of her, so she could hide under the covers had I stepped one foot through the door.
But I didn't.
That's not to say I haven't taken the liberty of watching someone in a hotel—but only if the couple made it so completely obvious that they wanted to be watched. That's generally where the new relationship sex comes in. And these two were so hot for each other, they didn't care where they did it, who saw them doing it, or how long people watched.
I wasn't the only one watching them. In fact, a few of my coworkers warned me that there was some freaky business going on in the back elevators—the ones guests rarely knew about, let alone used—and thought I would appreciate a sneak peek to break up the monotony of having back-to-back meetings all day. I dashed to the elevator—amazed that guests had found it and didn't care if the hotel staff saw them. Maybe they knew what we did—no one who used that elevator was about to report it and end our entertainment for the day.
When I got into the elevator, the woman was lying on the floor, legs spread wide open, and the naked man on top of her was kissing her neck. He had a huge cock, and I couldn't help but watch them
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