"Take it all the way in, your lips should be touching my balls," I shouted the instruction to Mrs. Shetty as she worked on my cock. It is not an easy instruction to follow, I am aware of that. The human throat was not made for engulfing 2-inch-thick meat. But, it is something she must get used to, for what is about to come next will really test her limits.
Mrs. Shetty was of a plump construction. Full breasts with dark areolas and dark nipples, my favorite. Her figure tapered down to a narrower waist but quickly changed shape to accommodate her thick thighs and a gorgeous round ass. Her skin was smooth and flawless. She has been regular with her coconut oil moisturizing routine, I could tell. She followed my instructions with a rare enthusiasm. She had an audience to please after all.
Her husband Mr. Shetty sat in the corner of the room, observing. He had his camera out and tried different angles to capture his beautiful wife.
"Ah yesss," just then I felt the head of my dick slide down her throat. As I slid down deeper I felt her lips kissing my balls. I moved one hand to the back of her head and held her still while the other hand moved down to her throat and felt myself sticking out. I invited Mr. Shetty to feel the bulge as well.
"Good job, you are so hot Kanna," like a proud husband he kissed her face and spoke words of encouragement in her ears. She looked at him through her lush hair, her mouth stretched to its limits. Tears rolled down her eyes. I pulled out with a jerk.
Mrs. Shetty gasped for air. My dick was dripping wet with her saliva. Mr. Shetty kissed his wife and held her as she lay down on the bed. He even helped her lift and open up her legs. It was time for my grand entrance.
I am, what they call, a bull. Until a few years ago the only reference of a bull for me, were the bovine creatures that pulled heavy carts in fields. Bulls, beasts of burden, were closer to what I actually did for a living for 15 years. I worked as a bell boy, among other things, at a 3 star hotel, The Good NIght Inn or GNI. In its golden days, it was Shimla's crown jewel. The favorite destination of newly married couples. At one point, he cum stained bed sheets that piled up at the GNI would require round the clock laundry service. There were washing machines lined up in the staff quarters lobby, churning all night, washing away the love juices of its guests.
But now, the hotel remains a relic of its past. With empty rooms and dwindling profits, the owner, Mr. Mahajan, was getting desperate and looking for options to sell. Many lost their jobs and the hotel kept only the bare minimum staff needed to operate. I, because of my strong build, was retained and took on multiple jobs. I wasn't complaining, A decent place to stay, some money to spend and getting to learn the ropes of the hotel business, it worked out fine for me. But things were about to change drastically. It all began on one phone call to the front desk.
"Hi, I read that you have a massage service. I need a Male Masseuse in room 204. Please send soon," Kumar, the receptionist, did not know what to do. The spa service of the hotel had been discontinued many years back. Under usual circumstances Kumar would have declined the guests request and apologized, but this was no ordinary guest. He was what we called a HP or "high profile". Mr. Verma could have paid top money and stayed in the Taj or Radisson or any of those 5-7 starts, but he preferred our humble GNI for nostalgic reasons. You see, Mr. and Mrs. Verma had celebrated their honeymoon at the GNI. Now after 20 years they wanted to rekindle some old flames.
Mr. Mahajan rang up some people, he tried other hotels and spas to see if anyone could spare a Masseuse for a few hours. No one was willing to come at such a short notice. Good Night Inn's reputation was at stake. After many full moons we have a chance to cater to an HP and no way could we let this opportunity slip. Kumar and Mr. Mahajan discussed among themselves and occasionally glanced at me. They were cooking up a plan.
"Vishal, can you do it? We don't have any other option." How could I say no, it was for GNI after all. But I was scared, the only massages I have ever given were to my Abba and sometimes to Kumar when his back hurt after sitting at the reception all day. I did not want to disappoint a "HP". There was no time for self doubt. Kumar got me some essential oils and informed room 204 that their Masseuse is on the way.
Mr. Verma opened the door and gave a hard stare. "I am Masseuse, you need a Massage?" "Oh yes, please come in."
