A Maid in Montana

I took the job as a maid at the golf resort because, one, I figured I'd be left alone a lot of the time while I cleaned, and two, because what else was I going to do after high school? Work a bar, work a cash register at the feed store, either one I'd have to deal with assholes who poked fun at me for being a fat girl. I didn't consider myself fat, just sturdy. It wasn't because I ate potato chips and candy bars all day, it was just genetics that made me as strong as an ox. And not afraid of hard work, so if I spent all day scrubbing and cleaning, and did it well, nobody would be in my face about it. So the job at the hotel was just fine by me.

What you don't realize until you stay in a hotel is just how much sex is going on all the time. I guess it has to do with being on vacation, some kind of excitement about getting to do it in new places. But not only do lots of beds have wet stains every morning, but you find the signs of sex everywhere-- condom wrappers in the woods out back of the place, used condoms and the ends of joints in the sauna, panties scrunched into the cushions of the furniture on the veranda, and-- I'm not kidding here, you'd be surprised how often this one happens-- clumps of shaved pubic hair in the bathtub. ("Honey, let's go to Montana so I can shave my dick." What's up with that?)

Oh, and that little sign that goes on the door saying "Do Not Disturb?" You soon learn, as a maid, that a lot of people have no idea what it's for, and you need to knock, say hello, jiggle the door and probably drop a room service tray on the bathroom tiles if you don't want to accidentally walk in on somebody pounding away at his girlfriend (or shaving his dick). Which probably isn't an accident at all; a lot of guys think it's really clever to let some maid come in on them in the nude, like we'd just immediately drop to the floor and start licking their pole. Well, usually they see me, glaring at them like a linebacker for the Broncos, and they get over the idea real quick.

Okay, I'm making it sound like I have to deal with assholes all day, and I really don't. I don't deal with anybody most of the time, but now and then you chat with folks, you find out about different parts of the country, old ladies show you their grandkids' pictures-- there's a kind of freedom that comes from knowing you're talking to someone you'll never talk to again. It's not bad. More interesting than talking to the folks I grew up with in town.

There was this one nice couple, Roger and Patricia, middle-aged I guess you'd call them, very nice-looking people, very fit and healthy-looking. They were staying for two weeks so by the second or third day we got to chatting, and within a day or two after that we had gotten pretty friendly. "Do you have a husband or a boyfriend?" Patricia asked me.

"No, I don't really think there's anybody here that I'd want to be married to," I said.

"You're not fond of the town?"

"It's all right, I guess," I said. "But still, I pretty much know everybody by now, and it's hard to imagine any of them seeming any more appealing than they do already."

She laughed. "Maybe you're waiting for someone to come along to the hotel."

I rolled my eyes. "I don't think the guys who come to the hotel are looking for me," I said.

"My dear," she said, "People are always looking for more than you'd imagine."

I looked at her to see if she was joking. "You really think guys are looking for somebody shaped like me?"

"I think," she said, and she put her hand on mine to emphasize her point, "there are a lot of people who would find you, as a person, very attractive, your shape, your intellect, and your personality." She stood up. "It only takes one of those to win somebody over; the rest will follow soon enough. Don't sell yourself short in any department."

I thought about what she said while I cleaned their suite after they went to run. I guess what she said was true; if somebody went for one part of you, they could look past the other parts, maybe even get to where they liked them okay. I started to pull the sheets off their bed-- noticing that there was a very wet stain in the middle of it, as there had been every morning. I blushed at the thought-- sex every night. Hard to imagine when you'd never really had sex at all-- been felt up at parties, I jerked a guy off once, practically ripped it off him if truth be told, I kinda got into the spirit of things a little too much. But that was basically it. And to think of-- doing it every night.

I suddenly realized I was sort of rubbing my thighs together. In fact, I had an itch in my pussy that I was going to have to take care of if I didn't want to be distracted the whole day. They were going to be gone for at least two hours, I knew, so I quickly put the DND sign on the door and bolted it for extra safety (this WOULD be the day they forgot something-- I'd be the first maid who ever got naked to "accidentally" surprise a guest). Then, scarcely able to believe what I was doing, I started to undress myself in front of the mirror.

I don't think my face is unattractive. It's round, it's pale, I blush easily, but it's open and honest. I see thinner faces that I think look mean, or bored, or vain, and I prefer mine. Sometimes, anyway. Then there was my top. Yeah, I'm pretty big and square-shouldered. Dad would make that crack about how I should have gone out for football, even after it was obvious that it bugged me. But as I unbuttoned my blouse my boobs were big and round, boys liked that, let the room get dark at a party and my big boobs suddenly got more attention than I'd gotten with the lights on. I unbuttoned my bra and let them hang loose over my soft but not too big tummy. Like I said, I don't think I'm exactly fat, just big. I rubbed them up and let them fall, then pinched the nipples, which stood up.

That sent a jolt to my pussy, too, and suddenly I had an idea, a very dirty idea. I went over to the wet stain on the bed, and let my big tits flop onto it. It was cold and slimy, but I started to warm it up with my body. I let my tits roll in the ooze, smearing my nipples with what was there. A little gob of goo made a string from my nipple to the bed. I held my tit up to my mouth, and then impulsively, I licked the goo off my own nipple. I smelled sex, sweat, the bleachy smell of sperm. I sucked my nipple, sucking it into my mouth for a minute or two, long past the point of having licked everything I'd smeared on me off.

Now I stood up and let the rest of my uniform slide off me, and then my panties, revealing my broad, boxy hips, my big round ass, my strong, sturdy thighs. I got onto the bed, positioning my big butt into the middle of the wet spot, as if I had been responsible for it, and I used my finger to spread my pussy lips wide. Now I started rubbing my clit, my ass grinding into the wet spot. My other hand rubbed my tits, then my thighs, then my big ass, caressing my ass as it squirmed against the wet spot, as my fingers flashed over my clit, faster and faster. Now I was fucking the bed, as if Roger was fucking me, as if he was on top of me, his cock driving into my pussy, pushing my ass into the slimy wet stain on the bed.

I squeezed my ass as if he were holding onto it, using it to pull himself deeper into me. My tits bounced up and down furiously, my fat belly jiggled, my ass dug itself a trench into the bed as Roger, in my imagination, dug into my trench, my vagina that had never had anything in it other than my fingers (my cherry having broken in gym class years before-- I thought I was having a period every week). I slid my fingers deep inside, thrust them in me as if they were a cock, not that I knew what a cock felt like. I could feel my juice running down my ass. My come started to build and I squeezed my nipples so hard I thought they'd pop. Then it went through me, my thighs squeezed together, sparks shot out the top of my head. I relaxed and sank back into the goo I was sitting in and looked at myself in the mirror, legs up, pussy spread.

Slowly I lifted myself out of the bed and stood up. My ass had marks like someone had been holding onto it for dear life. (Well, one side did, anyway, the other hand had been busy.) My face and chest were as red as a stoplight. The wet spot was considerably larger, my juice had mixed with theirs. Theirs. Suddenly I had guilt-- Patricia had been so nice to me and there I was thinking of fucking her husband. Now a bit ashamed of myself, I wiped my wet butt off with the sheet, then quickly put my uniform back on and stripped the bed. I put the sheets in my laundry bag, then opened the door and looked out. No one there, so I quickly removed the DND sign and went back to cleaning up as if nothing had happened, as if the door had been wide open the whole time.

It wasn't until I was rolling the cart to the next room, thinking about how I would look at them with a straight face when I'd been jilling off to thinking about fucking him in their own bed, that it really hit me how I had not only been licking up his cum but her juices too, when I'd spread my tits over it and then licked them off. I looked at the sheet, crumpled in my bag, and picked it up and sniffed it again, this time smelling mainly a feminine smell, hers and mine, mixed together. I'd licked up another woman's pussy drippings, I said to myself. I thought about it for a minute, and then I decided I was okay with that.

That evening I was about to end my shift when Roger and Patricia came walking out from the hotel toward the sauna, which is up a little hill in the woods, about 25 yards from the main building. As a result it doesn't get much use, although what use it does get usually seems to involve sex, as I always discover while cleaning up.

They were dressed as if for swimming, he with a linen shirt over his trunks, she with a one-piece suit on and a wrap billowing around her legs. He also had a bottle of wine in an insulated cooler slung over one arm. They were cheerful and friendly as ever, a really nice and classy older couple. As opposed to me, who'd been wallowing nude in their juices, I thought, and blushed. Had to not think about what I'd done, or I'd never be able to speak to them.

"We tried to operate the sauna last night, but couldn't make it work," Patricia said. As opposed to something you operated last night which worked just fine-- stop! Do not think about that, I said firmly to my subconscious.

"They probably shut off the main switch," I said. "They're not supposed to but they do anyway." I went over to the cover and lifted it, then turned it up. "It'll take an hour at least to reach temperature."

He looked at her. "That will give us just enough time to enjoy a glass of wine," he said to his wife. Then he turned to me. "Would you care to join us?"

He was just being polite, I knew. "Thank you, but I'm not even old enough."

"I doubt that we have to worry about the Feds swooping down on us out here," he said, smiling a crinkly smile. "What time do you get off?"

Uh, about ten thirty this morning, in your bed? "Actually, my shift's over. It's very kind of you, but I--"

Patricia reached out and put her hand on my arm. She had soft, supple hands; my arm tingled as her fingers gripped it lightly. "Please join us, my dear. We would very much appreciate having the company of such a lovely and intelligent young person."

They really did mean it. I couldn't turn them down. "Uh, thanks," I said. "I'd love to."

I thought they were going to set up in the deck chairs around the sauna-- there's a great view of the sun going down from here, which is why they're there. But Roger opened the sauna door and lay his cooler down on the wooden bench, then took out the bottle, the corkscrew and three wine glasses. Three.

Suddenly the thing I hadn't believed when it crossed my mind became a lot more real. It was no accident that they had come out here in their suits. They had seen me, and they were here-- to seduce me. The question was, which one of them? And how did I feel about that? I'd wanted to fuck Roger when I'd been rubbing my pussy, but was that what I wanted now?

Then I found myself saying, stupidly, "So you came prepared for company, with the three glasses?"

"Actually, four," Roger said as he pulled the cork. "You often run into another couple, and it would be ungracious not to be able to offer."

Of course. Of course, of course, they weren't here to seduce me, they were just being nice. How foolish of me, to let my lonely horny imagination run off with itself. What an idiot.

Roger closed the door and slid the lock. Patricia took off her wrap or sarong or whatever it was, and reclined on the bench, stretching her long, athletic legs out. She was a fine-looking woman for her age, lean and tan, yet not bony like so many of the rich ladies we saw here. She saw me looking her over and I turned away to Roger, just as he handed me a glass of white wine. "Cheers," he said.

"Thanks," I said. Then he looked at me, and said, "You don't mind?" It took me a moment before I realized he was clutching the top button of his shirt.

"Oh, please," I said. "Go ahead, it's like being at the pool."

"She's exactly right, Roger," Patricia said, as if correcting him. "In fact," she said to me, "if you want to just get down to your bra and panties, well, there's no real difference between that and a swimsuit to any sensible person, is there?"

I looked at her for a moment. Was she talking me out of my clothes? For a reason, I mean? Or was that just my wild imagination running in horny overdrive, again? "Sure," I found myself saying. If they wanted to seduce me, I was ready to be seduced. If they didn't, then they were right, it was harmless. Either way, I suddenly wanted to be out of my clothes, and so I unbuttoned my maid's uniform-- as they both watched me. I slid it over my breasts and then down over my hips, just as I had done in their bedroom hours earlier. If you asked me there wasn't much sexy about my plain white bra and panties and my big ass and belly sticking out of them, but they both stared at me, enraptured.

"Lovely, isn't she?" Roger said.

"So youthful and strong and beautiful," Patricia said, standing up. She took my hands and looked into my eyes. We gazed at each other for a moment, but nothing happened. Was she afraid of my reaction? Didn't she want to fuck me? I looked at Roger. He smiled back at me-- but still they seemed to be in no hurry to do the thing that would make it impossible to pretend that we weren't here for sex. Maybe they just took things slower, because they were older, but I needed it, now. I grabbed Patricia's head, a hand on both sides of her face, and pulled her to my lips and kissed her, mashing her lips hard, shoving my tongue between her lips, grinding my face into hers. We did that for a moment and then she stepped back, wide-eyed and panting a little.

"Sorry I got a little rough there," I said.

"Shh," she said, and then she put her hands on my hips and her arms around me and began rocking me, slowly, as we kissed, gently and deeply, my big floppy breasts mashing against her small ones. Now her tongue flicked against my lips, and we kissed romantically as I felt her butt and she responded by gently caressing my back and over my hips, then drawing her fingers up the side of my panties and along the skin. I shivered with the electric feel of her fingers.

A moment later she stepped back, her gaze locked on mine, and she slipped one strap of her suit off, then the other, and lowered the top to reveal her chest. Her breasts were indeed small and a bit sagged, but she was still in great shape. Quite a contrast to myself, I thought, as I reached back and undid my bra and my big hooters plumped out of their cage. But Patricia looked at mine marvelingly, like a kid in a candy store, and began stroking them, feeling her way around the cup of my breasts. I rubbed her nipples with my fingertips, and then slipped my hands inside her suit and slipped it down over her hips, pushing it to the floor. She was naked now, with a neatly trimmed blonde bush and lean, muscular thighs. I slipped my own panties off, and then she pushed me toward the bench. I hopped up onto the second row, leaving my legs apart and flashing my beaver at Roger, which it amused me to do.

Patricia placed herself between my legs and climbed on top of me, just high enough to kiss me again. Then she moved down to my tits and began sucking one of my nipples, caressing my whole big boob as she did it. She did that for a few moments and I could feel my pussy getting wetter and opening up. Then she moved down, kissing my stomach, and finally arrived at my pussy. She kissed my inner thighs but I wanted tongue, now, so I thrust my crotch into her face as my big ass ground against the bench, my tummy jiggling, my tits bouncing up and down. She got the idea and her tongue went to my slit and licked upwards in one smooth slide.

I about exploded there, the first feel of a tongue on my pussy and clit. It felt so fantastic, the way she glided over my pussy, and I knew I wanted to do it to her too. I squeezed my nipples as she licked at me, over and over, like a cat-- in less than two minutes I was suddenly cumming, my hand going down to press on my clit as the orgasms rocketed through me. I lay there for a moment and she just sat there, watching me. I looked over and Roger was watching too, so I took my big tit in my hand and licked it, just for him.

After a moment Patricia and I sat up and we kissed some more, then I pushed her back to do the same for her that she'd done for me. She spread her legs apart and I dove right in, burying my face in her wet, gleaming pussy, trying to shove my tongue as far as it would go. Here I had gone in just a day from being a little freaked out about another woman's juices to wanting to drink them in, to smell and taste her briny pussy and cover myself in it.

I licked at her vigorously and her hand came down to start rubbing her clit. It was a beautiful sight, watching her narrow fingers flicking furiously up and down until she too came, her thighs slapping against my head.

Patricia lay there, exhausted, smiling at me. But I wanted more, I wanted everything. I got up and went over to Roger, standing there watching us patiently, not even touching the obvious tentpole in his trunks. I looked at Patricia to make sure it was okay, and then I straddled him, that cock in his trunks pressing straight up against my snatch, and began kissing him. It was different, kissing a man this time, rougher and hungrier, kind of the way I'd kissed Patricia, except that he was clearly enjoying licking the taste of his wife's pussy off my lips. I stood up a little and rubbed the cock in his trunks, then got down on my knees and pulled them down so it would spring out.

I licked my lips and then sucked the head into my mouth. With each bob up and down, I went further onto his cock until by the fourth or fifth round he was pushing against the back of my throat. It was wonderful having my mouth filled by that warm, living animal, just as natural and fulfilling as smearing Patricia's pussy all over my face a few minutes before had been. Well, I guess I'm not a lesbian, I thought, at least not only one. My pussy needed some, too, though, and so I decided it was time to fuck Roger, just liked I'd imagined before. I got up and straddled him again, as wet as I was his cock slid inside me easily, he almost jumped with how quickly I took him straight in. As my big ass bounced up and down on his thighs, Patricia came over to us and kissed me, then the three of us were kissing, tongues sliding in and out of each other's mouths. Patricia put her arms around me from behind and caressed my big tits as they bounced up and down against my belly and I rode up and down on her husband's cock, amazed at how complete and satisfying it was to finally have one inside me, a feeling I wanted as often as possible now.