Like most years, we went to my wife's family's place on Christmas Day, and my family's the next day. Spread the joy around a little, let the kids play with the cousins. My parents still run a motel, so it was a traditional Florida Christmas. Fake tree in the lobby. Turkey and cold beer in the adjoining office. It's a good drive from home, so we stay the night in one of the empty rooms.
My parents went to bed early and the wife took the kids to bed around nine. She wasn't feeling too hot, so it was just me and my brothers Eddie and John. We were hanging out in the office, drinking beer and shooting the shit when someone knocked on the door.
It was Kim, the maid. She's twenty-six and chubby with big eyes and bleached blonde hair. She was wearing these red velvet pants and a spaghetti strap tank top and a Santa hat. Eddie said "Ho, ho, ho," and cracked up.
"Merry whatever," she said, smiling slyly. "I came by to see you boys. Call me nostalgic."
Boys? We were older than she was, but not by much. We'd known her since she started working for my parents at sixteen, cleaning rooms and skimming the scum from the swimming pool. Not literally. Men, I mean. She came in and sat on the couch, tugging her shirt slightly up over her huge tits.
John got her a beer that she downed pretty quick and we bullshitted over old times. Eddie and me both work construction. John's in real estate. Kim was still a maid, had three kids with different dads. They were at her mom's tonight.
"Smoke?" said Eddie, getting up from the couch. John and I followed. We'd been sneaking beers since we'd gotten there at lunchtime, and my body felt heavy. Better knock those off, I thought. I'm a good two-twenty, but I'm also tall, and a lot of it is muscle. I'd like to keep it that way.
"Kim's looking haggard," said John, taking a cig from the pack Eddie offered around. I shrugged. A new year was coming up, what were a few smokes? Not much on top of the whiskey and the beer.
"Three kids, three dads," John said outside.
"Someone needs to have a talk with her," I said.
"You said it, Dan," Eddie gave me a nudge. "No, I mean, you said it. You have a talk with her. She might listen to you."
"Aw, come on, guys."
"I don't think we're good ones to lecture Kim," said John, winking at Eddie. I looked from one to the other, slow to comprehend. "We're no better than she is."
The guest in #15 came out with a bucket in hand and walked across the lot to the room with the ice machine. Her jean shorts cut into her thick thighs and her belly pressed against the camouflage tank top, but I liked the way her tits and ass jostled around, the toss of her hair, the rattle of a cheap ankle bracelet on the top of her foot.
"I'd hit it," I said, and John giggled. A slow smile spread across Eddie's face. When it came to marriage, I was punching above my class but back in the day it'd always been the cheap girls that made me hot.
"Remember Lynette Dixon?" said Eddie. "That's who she reminds me of. Girl could practically unhinge her whole jaw, like a python."
"Didn't need to with you," said John, and we broke up into the usual punching and wrestling thing that we did now that we were adults. We went inside before she came back out with her candy bar and ice bucket and whatever. Dad would kill us if we were leering at the guests. It'd been so fun when we were kids, though. And teenagers. All those vacationing women laying out by the pool, trying to tan.
"She reminds me of Kim," I said, not thinking that I'd just been lusting after this stranger.
"What? What," said Kim, rolling her eyes. She was sitting on the carpet with her legs tucked up under her. She threw her Santa hat at John. "Oh my god, why are you guys laughing at me? So mean."
I went to the bathroom. When I unzipped my fly, my cock tumbled out half hard from watching that chick jiggle across the lot. God, I needed to get laid. It was heavy in my hand, veins just starting to pop out, and I gave it a squeeze, but I needed to empty my bladder so I stopped bothering it and just stood there, looking at the little photo of the motel above the can. I sighed, relaxed, let gravity and six— seven?— beers take their course.
The photo was about ten years old, before the remodel, and I picked out my favorite landmarks. There on the south side by the pool was where I'd seen my first pair of tits in person, pert ones on a tourist whose top accidentally came undone. They'd had big nipples, like pink pencil erasers, white triangles on her pink skin. To the side of that was a short maintenance road where I'd parked one time the summer after my first year of college and let Lynette blow me. Remembering how the head of my cock had hit the back of her throat made my cock jump again.
Finally, over at room ten, ground floor, is where I'd seen Kim getting fucked. She must have been twenty. I was back in town for some reason. I'd pushed it to the back of my mind, but that didn't mean I didn't think about it. Often. Like live porn. It had been so hot. A guest in his forties, good looking enough, but had drank too much and got too much sun. Kim was in her uniform, all starched and already her body was popping out, tits straining against the buttons of—
Stop, I thought, my cock hardening. I couldn't, though, at her tits bowing out the buttons of her shirt, and her skirt pulled up and this guy's head between her pudgy thighs, munching away at her bush. She stroked at his salt and pepper hair with her French tips, eyes rolled back in her head. He'd stood up and unzipped, poked his short, fat cock into her mouth and she'd given it a suck, and then he'd rolled her over the edge of the bed and exposed her thick butt and when he found that fat pink twist of wet flesh she'd whimpered—
"If you're taking a shit in there, at least turn on the fan?" John's voice outside the door made me jump. "We're headed off to bed. See you in the morning."
"Yeah, goodnight," I said, stuffing my cock back into my jeans and zipping in a hurry. I'd take care of this in a bit, sneak into the bathroom while my wife was asleep and jerk it. How lonely. I should have just opened the door and walked out with my brothers, but I didn't. There was some primal part awakened in me, some sixth sense. They left, the door slamming as I washed my hands.
There was a couch in the office, but Kim was still on the floor. I grabbed another beer out of the fridge and sat down near her, trying not to let my eyes fall into the tunnel of cleavage right in front of me.
"How's married life, Dan?" she said, with a grin, reaching for my beer. I handed it to her, and she raised it to her lips.
"Oh," I said. "You know."
"I don't, actually," Kim handed me the beer back, the neck sweet with the taste of her lip gloss. "Tell me all about it. I hear married people stop fucking pretty quick. Is that true?"
Sitting back, I rolled my shoulders. "Mostly. Maybe you should get married."
"Because I keep having kids? Nah, marriage would ruin all my fun," she said, wobbling to her feet. Not wobbling because she was drunk, wobbling because that's what her tits and ass were doing. My hog, which had barely settled down, ached. "I've got a better solution."
Kim made her way to the bathroom and I heard the toilet seat get set down. She was peeing with the door open, and practically tempting me to stand, and look, to watch her stand and pull her cutoffs back up. Did she shave? I wondered. Was it bare down there or was there some fuzz that would be poking out from her thong? I couldn't remember from the hotel room, just the wet sound of the guest's mouth on her pussy, tonguing her cleft. I grabbed my dick and gave it a squeeze, arched my back and pressed into my hand. Wet my lips.
The toilet flushed. "What's your solution?" I asked, and she puttered around the kitchen.
"What's that?" she said, getting her own beer out of the fridge, and getting me another one, too.
"Your solution," I said. "You said you had a solution for not having more kids besides getting married."
Could have let it go. At that point, though, could I have? No.
"Blowjobs," she said, grinning, flashing her white teeth. "I love 'em. And guys do too."
"You don't like blowjobs," I said. "Women don't like blowjobs.
"I do. And I give the best ones," she said, and licked the top of her bottle, adding, "Ask John. Ask Eddie."
She shrugged. "Take it up with them."
And she left it there, dangling, devil-may-care look on her face. I touched her arm with my foot. Maybe she was just drunk and horny, or bored, or whatever, but then she was running her hand up my leg, up the inseam of the drab khakis my wife had picked out for me to wear for the holidays. It tickled, it made my cock twitch, and by the time her scarlet fingernails scraped the outline of my package, it was hard. So hard that the big mushroom tip was visible through the poly blend.
"Wanna see?" Kim whispered, sharp pink tongue darting out, moistening her full lips, sticky with the sickly sweet gloss she painted on. It made her mouth look always wet, wet and lush and pink like a cunt on her face that needed to get filled.
"Impress me," I said, and she strained to unbutton that top button. The zipper practically undid itself, and then there was just a thin cotton layer between my cock and the warm air.
Dark and broad, my shaft was pulled through the slit in my boxers, sprouting out of the thick, curling pubic hair. I'm proud of my cock, the way it can make even my wife gasp when I slide it home for the first time in a while. Kim's eyes grew wide, and she did quick check with her hands. One on top of the other, and still that big bell-end poking out the top, sputtering with a few drops of pre-cum. When she squeezed the head grew tight and glistened. Ropy veins twisted up the shaft.
"It's so big," she said, and opened her mouth wide, and let go. My cock bobbed freely in the air, but only for a moment. Kim fastened her lips around the tip, teasing for a second the underside, and the thrill of seeing my huge cock in her mouth was almost too much. I resisted. Make her work for it. Make her earn the huge load currently churning in my nuts.
A second later she was giving the shaft a tongue bath, working from the looser skin at the base. Her tongue wasn't overly wet. It was pleasantly sticky, clinging to every inch, every ridge and furrow.
"Take it all," I said, and she opened her mouth as wide as it would go, and worked the head in. Her big brown eyes watered, and I gave her a nice big groan as a reward, and put my hand in her hair. "Good girl."
She bobbed up and down on it for a second, and then pulled it out of her mouth in a hurry, coughing, a long string of drool tying her to my joint. I spat in my hand and worked it myself for a second, admiring how hard she'd made it while she recovered, sitting on the floor.
"Gotta work on that," I said.
"No, no," she said, moving in again, mascara under her eyes smeared. "I can do it."
That slick pink tongue and that dark warm mouth enveloped my prick again, and now she moved her right hand between her legs and started rubbing the front of her shorts. There was a good bit of groaning and slurping as she pleasured the both of us. She was right. She was good. I told her so. Enough drool had trickled down to my balls that she started working the slick bottom half of my cock with her hands while massaging the top half with that probing tongue.
Kim let go just long enough to undo her shorts and pull them down to mid-thigh. She started going at her pussy in earnest, shoving a couple of fingers up there and jerking her hole. It made a fucking noise that got me closer, along with the moaning and her hot mouth.
"I saw you getting fucked once," I said, pulling her hair. "I'm going to stand up and fuck your mouth, and then I'm going to come in your face."
She moaned, and I slowly, carefully got to my feet. "It was an old drunk, this blown-out middle-aged guy but you were taking it like a hot bitch, shoving that big ass of yours at his fat pecker. I've jerked off to that image so many times, you getting fucked til your ass shook like jello. Do you like that? Do you like being a dirty little slut?"
On my feet, I pulled my pants down to below my butt, and dragged my soggy cock out of her mouth. I held her hair and slapped her with my hog. It'd never been bigger. It was so erect that it curved out and then down. It'd never been harder. She could chip a tooth on it. I poked at her face with the angry purple head, pushing against her cheek, running it all over her chin and cheeks, covering her with a slick mix of pre-cum and her own spit. Kim moaned and squeezed her pussy hard, shuddering.
"Did you come? You want to make me cum? Are you ready to get your face fucked?"
"I didn't come," she said. "I need it inside of me."
"No frickin' way," I said, looking around the office. It was a mess of wrapping paper and gifts and food. My family had left it all for me to clean up before bed. Then I saw the summer sausage. Unopened, still in plastic. One of those big, dark red ones. "Put that in there," I said, joking. But she shuffled over, tits wobbling, and grabbed it. There was a mirror in the door by the racks of brochures, and I watched in awe as she slid her panties to her knees. Her cleft had stubble, and I could see the fat clit poking out.
"Ohhhh," she moaned as she frigged herself with the meat. Slowly she inserted the big thick end into her cunt hole. It was bigger than my dick, but I'm not the kind of guy to be jealous of a summer sausage as long as I get to watch. She lifted one leg up slightly to get the right angle, and sat down. Only half went in, and she started frigging her cunt again. The other hand awkwardly worked the meat out of her pussy hole.
Moving carefully so I didn't upset her balance, I got a firm hold of her hair and her mouth gaped open willingly. In one deliberate but gentle motion I slid in, all the way down until her bottom lip pressed against my fat sack, and my pubes gave her a mustache. Her eyes watered, but she took it. Now, it was easy. Her shaky hand was going a mile a minute in her panties, frigging her hard clit, fucking her fingers. I watched that big, dark red sausage working in and out of her pussy, streaked with cum cream. I was tempted to fuck her, but this was good enough. This time. I pulled back out until the head was in her mouth and then went back down her throat.
"I'm going to cum soon," I said. "I'm going to frost your face like a Christmas cookie."
It was true. Her tight throat was like a hot cooze, squeezing my cock wetly. Tears streamed down Kim's face, and she made guttural moaning noises. She was excited. I'd gotten so distracted by the blowjob that I'd forgotten what I really wanted. In a second, I'd pulled her spaghetti straps down and her big fat tits were bobbing all cockeyed, the nipples bunched up like raspberries. I told her I was going to blow. I was moaning and she was moaning and then I said:
"Here it comes." Giving a last stroke deep in her throat, I pulled that prick out with a wet smack and jerked it. One hand on my balls, I gave my fist a quick fuck and I began to explode in the messiest, sloppiest cum I'd ever had. The first jet hit her square on the upper lip and since she shut her eyes I assumed it was ok to go wild. So I did. The second and third jets striped her like a cinnamon bun, her red lips getting coated in my salty goo.
She shrieked and lifted her leg so the summer sausage fell out, frigging her clit faster. Her pussy gave a little squirt, sprinkling the panties around her knees with lady cum. She kept her mouth open, so I dumped some jism in there too, my ass shaking as I nutted all over her wet, horny face. Once I ran out of semen, I used the purple head of my still-stiff fuck pole to wipe it all over.
"You're not bad," I said, grabbing a handful of napkins, and gently helping her to clean her face. She opened her eyes, and smiled.
"How about a fuck?" she said. "I want to see what you can do."
"Nah," I said, wiping off my cock and tucking it back in my pants. "Maybe Easter, though?"
"It's a date," she said, and took a pull off her beer. I wiped the summer sausage clean and put it back. The lights on the tree twinkled, and I let out a deep, satisfied sigh. Best Christmas present I'd gotten in years.