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I took my suitcase off the back seat and made my way to the door. A cold wetness in my right shoe reminded me it needed to be resoled.As I approached the door, I could see that the hotel was a big house that looked to be a hundred years old: three stories, a steeply pitched roof, several chimneys, narrow clapboard siding, probably a wooden fire trap. On either side, long, lower additions, showing no lights, extended into the darkness, the far ends invisible.The inside was nice enough, kind of rustic, with a fire in a stone fireplace. I went over to the knotty pine front desk and stood for a moment, catching my breath and brushing snowflakes off my coat. No one came, so I tapped the bell, one of those little chrome hemispheres with a button on top, sort of like a tit off a four foot female metal manikin. I'm sorry, that observation was out of line, but I guess I've gotten to be a dirty old man these past years.Anyway, two women appeared, one perhaps thirty-five, and the other could. All the while Ms Marjorie slept, blissfully ignorant of my situation. If at any moment she had awakened, I would be caught “Red Handed” so to speak. The danger of the moment had my heart pounding in my ears, interrupted by the increasingly frequent beeps issued by the device on the counter. Meanwhile, I steadily worked myself to frenzy. I knew it wouldn’t be long when the clear precum began to run freely even after I stopped stroking. My cock fairly throbbed when I released it. Looking down to the hem of Ms Marjorie’s sleepware, I saw faint fine black hairs on her pale legs. Liver spotted, they were more like trunks designed to hold a woman approaching 250 lbs upright rather than legs. Thrust out and crossed, her swollen feet were covered by pink house slippers that matched the dress in color if not fabric. Fucking hell man, I thought as I closed my eyes tight to ride the wave of approaching orgasm. I could feel the cum rising and struggled to keep my breathing under.
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