I wrapped up breakfast at the dining room table, entranced by my wife’s jiggling booty. She was clearing the sink of dirty dishes wearing an old shirt of mine that fell some inches above her knees; leaving me salivating at those thick, beige-toned legs. A deep breath, sigh, and throat clearing later, I sprang to my toes and shuffled over to her carrying my just used wares. I reached around in an embrace and placed my utensils into the sink, attempting to steal a nibble at her neck. A mission failed given she slipped out of my grasp and chipped towards the table where I just sat.

“You don’t wanna be late for work, babe,” she said while plucking my briefcase from the floor next to my abandoned seat. Dark curls from her untidy bun flopped and swiped her face upon bending down and standing up with it in one motion.

“Of course not.” I gave a faint smile as she approached me, extending the briefcase in front of her.

“Get to work safely,” she murmured, mirroring my faint smile. I didn’t bother going for a goodbye kiss as the hint which was in continuance was crystal clear. Within seconds, I flew through the door, into my ride, and sped away to another anticipated bland day at the office.

***

My work was completed by lunch, so I perused the news as a way to pass the time. While scrolling through current events, an article about some poor sap who was the victim of a hit and run caught my interest. I never understood how people could be so callous that they’d leave someone bleeding or severely injured laying. Luckily, this guy survived. More interesting than that however was the building in the photo’s backdrop. L’Amour Inn or as it was more popularly called: The Love Hotel.

“Yo, Shane,” I started, “Come over here a sec.”

My blonde, spiky-haired co-worker nosed out of his cubicle and rolled over to me in his chair, stopping at my side, staring at my desktop.

“Ah yeah, I read about this. Dude was lucky as hell but damn, people are so heartless nowadays,” he said.

“True, but I don’t mean him. Check out the building in the background.”

“Oh, the L’Amour Inn?”

“Yeah, The Love Hotel.”

“What about it?”

“Is what they say about it true? About it shooting your libido through the roof?”

Shane reclined in his chair and scoffed.

“Come on, buddy. You don’t really buy into that stuff do you?”

“Not usually, but what if there is something to it? Rumours about it couldn’t have just sprung outta nowhere ya know?”

“Dude.” He sat forward and swivelled his chair in my direction. “Most of the time these rumours are started by the businesses themselves to gain…well more business. Anyways, why are you so interested all of a sudden?”

I released a heavy sigh, cocked my head to him, and glanced back at my monitor.

“Aaaah, I get it now.” Shane nodded slowly and folded his arms. “Issues still with Tamera huh?”

“Gee, what gave it away?” I replied sarcastically and we both chuckled.

“I mean you’ve tried talking to her about it right?”

“Yeah, but it never seems to take.”

“Well, what are you gonna do then? A sexless marriage sounds like it blows.”

“If there was more blowing, maybe I wouldn’t be so agitated.”

Shane cackled before covering it up quickly. The last thing we needed was management being pissy about us being loud on the production floor.

“Okay, being serious now: What are you gonna do? Can’t very well divorce over lack of sex right? I mean, marriage is way more than that.”

“It is yes, but sex is always the best gauge of how everything’s going. When a relationship is at its sweetest, the sex is usually spectacular. When a relationship is sour… I think you understand.”

“And this is why you wanna do a getaway eh?”

“Yep.”

We sat in silence a few more moments. Shane tapped his fingers on my desk while I read up on tales and speculations regarding L’Amour Inn. Everyone on these forums and blogs came across like whacked-out quacks looking for attention. I would’ve bought a news article from The Onion more than most of what lit up my monitor.

“Alright look,” Shane started before looking over his shoulder and continuing, “There is this one person who says they stayed at L’Amour Inn last summer. He said that the effects aren’t myths but actually legit. Also mentioned that it isn’t just a matter of booking a stay and that’s it. You gotta present a token or something and a passphrase before they let you into another level.”

“Go on.”

“That’s it. That’s all he really said about it. Didn’t say how this level looked or anything about what he saw when he was there.  Just that he and the lady he took have been screwing like animals since.”

“Fair enough. So who is it?”

Shane reclined in his chair again, grimaced, and then exhaled, puffing his cheeks while looking around.

“Shane?” I furrowed my brows and turned my chair to him.

“It’s um… it’s Dean.”

I slowly blinked, clenched my jaw, and ground my teeth.

“Dean,” I said with my eyelids constricted to slits.

“Yeah.”

I leaned forward, rested my forearms onto my thighs, and interlocked my fingers, before speaking again in a lower, calmer tone.

“You remember what that motherfucker said he’d do to my wife and sister?”

“I know, I know,” Shane whispered and bent forward to close our gap, “But who else could give you the four-one-one on how to access this place’s secrets or whatever? Especially on such short notice?”

He was right. I didn’t want to dawdle and search endlessly for someone else that could provide me with what I needed to make use of this mysterious hotel.

“Is…” I paused a bit and then resumed. “Is he in today?”

“Yeah.”

“Same office? Same floor?”

“Mmhmm.”

And with that, I locked my desktop, rose to my feet, and left the production floor to have a chat with Dean.

***

To say he was surprised at my standing over his cubicle was an understatement. To say his laugh was anything short of incredulous when I said I wanted to ask about The Love Hotel would’ve been an outright lie. The air surrounding us tightened the further away we strayed from the cubicles on his floor. When we entered an abandoned office, there was enough humidity and tightness to rival a tropical storm – Mind you, the AC was blowing at nineteen degrees Celsius.

“How long has it been, Chris?” Dean placed his hands akimbo. “A year? Maybe more now?”

“A year. Look, I’m not here to make up or anythi-”

“You wanna know about the hotel.” He bowed his head and snorted. “Whaddya wanna find out?”

“How to access it.”

“Alright first you gotta look it up on Maps, then-”

“Stop fucking around and give me a straight answer.” I jabbed my index finger into his chest.

“Hey… watch it, buddy.”

“No, you watch it. I haven’t forgotten about your inappropriate remarks about my wife and sister.”

“And I haven’t forgotten about you nailing that intern after hours and covering for you with the wife. And not ratting you out to HR.”

Motherfucker had me by the balls just as I had his; a game of stalemate that’s been in play for a year and started when he sounded off about the women in my life.  I stopped messing with him since reporting him pretty much meant I’d be a goner too.

“Dean.” I took a couple of deep breaths before continuing with my palms outwards, then dropping them. “I don’t care to talk about any dirt, or why we stopped being cool with each other. All I want…”

“Okay… okay.” He nodded.

“So, what do I need to access this hotel’s secrets?”

“First, you have to say a pass-phrase to the receptionist. Once you give it to him, he’ll nod once and you then present him a token.”

“What’s the phrase?”

“Tell him, ‘Ya know, if it weren’t for this hotel, I probably wouldn’t be here right now’.”

“Dean…”

“I’m serious. Swear to God I’m not fucking you over.” His expression relaxed and showed a level of sincerity not seen since our conversation began.

“Alright, and this token?”

He pulled out a wallet, opened it, and fetched a silver card sporting a heart engraving on one side and writing engraved on the next. It was slightly longer than a credit card and seemed stiff as a wooden plank. He pushed it towards me and I snatched it from him before examining it for myself. A bit heavier than expected – also, I was correct about its lack of flexibility.

“Chris, there’s something you should understand about taking that car-”

“Nah, I’m good. I think I’ve got everything I need.”

“Okay,” he said with an upward inflection, jutted out his lower lip, slapped both thighs, and walked past me and out through the office door.

The AC’s effects finally touched me on his departure prompting me to dial my wife from my cell. Before she finished her greeting, I jumped in.

“Pack up a few things, babe; we’re spending the weekend away.”

***

The entire drive over, Tamera went on about us not needing a getaway and worrying about the kids. It amused me because she still agreed to come anyway and the kids loved spending time with their uncle whenever possible. Plus, they weren’t stupid; they must’ve smelt the lack of heat between their parents and sighed in relief at a chance to escape the awkwardness.

After parking and drifting over to the entrance with our luggage, I marvelled at how unremarkable the building’s exterior appeared. It was maybe three storeys tall featuring an off-white and brown colour scheme for the walls, ledges, and roofing. Not even the street lights or the ones shining from its windows gave it any extra oomph. We pushed through the swinging glass entrance and ambled towards the receptionist standing behind his desk; a tall, skinny, red-headed kid with deep-set brown eyes. They made him appear to be stuck in a state of perpetual suspicion. Neatly attired in a black suit, white dress shirt, and plain coloured maroon tie, he grinned at us as we hit the brakes at the waist-high laminated desk.

“Welcome to L’amour Inn, my name is Peter. May I have the name on the reservation please?” he asked maintaining a grin.

“Christopher King.”

“And the name of the lovely lady?”

“My wife, Tamera King.”

“Wonderful.” He shifted his attention over to the desktop, searching for the reservation.

“I probably wouldn’t be here now if it weren’t for this hotel ya know.”

“What makes you say that, Mr. King?” Peter continued skimming for our reservation smiling wryly.

Wait, wasn’t he supposed to nod or something? Oh wait, I think I fucked up the phrase. Ah come on, come on what was it?

I cleared my throat and looked about to see if anyone else was close by. Tamera folded her arms and raised an eyebrow while piercing me with a glare.

“Boy what… are you doing?” she asked while bobbling her head at me.

“Trust me, babe, you’ll see,” I whispered.

“There we go,” Peter said while punching what had to be the enter key three or four times.

“Ya know, if it weren’t for this hotel, I probably wouldn’t be here right now.” I winced awaiting a response.

Peter’s smile disappeared as he removed his gaze on the monitor and placed it on me. A smile returned, but only the lower half of his face participated. His stare remained cold triggering a swallow whilst shifting my weight and daring not to look away. Then it came; the long-awaited nod. I scrambled my wallet from my pocket and nearly dropped it before calming myself and pinching the engraved silver card, handing it to him.

“Thank you, Mr. King.” His voice seemed to drop several octaves and for the first time, I questioned if he was a kid. “Excuse me for one moment.”

My heart ran a mile a minute, not sure of what to expect. Tamera’s scowl morphed into an expression of worry as her arms unfolded and she rubbed her thighs.

“Honey?” she asked, “Is everything fine? You seem tense.”

“Heeeey, everything’s fine,” I snickered, flashing a toothy grin.

“Good Evening, Mr. and Mrs. King.” A booming yet feminine voice shook us out of our brief banter and pulled our attention to its source. The skinny read-head was no longer behind the desk, but before us stood a tall – not as tall as Peter though – auburn-haired woman with blue eyes, a heart-shaped face, and swollen, red lips. She wore a tight blouse that was unbuttoned just below her cleavage with the collar popped and pearls draping her chest. Immediate fantasies of giving her my version of a pearl necklace flipped through my imagination, but I shook them off as I didn’t want to lose sight of my goal.

Hold on. I didn’t see her arrive or him leave. How is that possible?

“Good evening, Ma’am,” I replied, maintaining eye contact but boldly gravitating to her heaving tits.

“I will be your hostess for this evening. Will those be all of the bags you’re carrying to your suite?”

“Yes,” my wife replied, showing a tinge of attitude and refolding her arms. Quite some while since she last even hinted at feelings of jealousy. She couldn’t have been too pleased with me checking out the hostess, but probably more vexed that she was looking at me so intently also.

“Okay then.” She smirked while shifting glances between Tamera and myself. “Please come with me.”

The Hostess marched from behind the desk and down the long hallway towards the elevator. Her ass – struggling to be contained in that short black skirt with a rear split – was too heavy for her wiry waist to handle with how it swayed and swivelled the further she got. My sense of guilt for staring simmered because when I glanced over, Tamera did the same while biting her bottom lip!

***

As the three of us exited the elevator into what I guessed was a subterranean level, the just concluded ride left me with more questions than answers:

Where exactly are we?

Why when we inquired, she didn’t tell us a name and only wanted to be referred to as ‘The Hostess.’

What the hell was that glow from the elevator panel when she touched it, allowing for a button that wasn’t there before to appear? The very one she clicked to bring us down here!

Does Tamera want to fuck her just as badly as I do? Tam isn’t bisexual… at least I don’t think she is.

We padded along a narrow hallway illuminated with lighting that flashed different shades of purple, red, and pink. The walls were lined with photographs on either side of what must’ve been past guests posing with the same individual in them all. Our esteemed hostess was that individual, leaving me to nod with my jaw elongated at such scenery. A few photos made me squint as surely my sight or the rising euphoria was playing tricks on me: A to C list celebrities posing next to her. More importantly, some of these were senior citizens now but much younger in these pictures and The Hostess looked just about the same!

“This will be your suite for the weekend,” she said swinging in our direction and pointing to a room with her palm up and a smirk. She scrolled me up and down again, pushed her chest upwards, and then laid sights on my wife with pouted lips.

“I’m assuming we will be seeing more of you, ma’am?” my wife asked opening her mouth and pushing her tongue into her cheek.

“Indeed you will. I’ll be here to handle all queries and satiate all needs.” The Hostess pressed her palms together and pointed at Tamera, then myself. “Mr. King, I must advise you of the price of holding that token in case its previous holder has not.”

“Yes, please do tell.” A tingling in my loins was taking precedence of my thinking and all I craved was release.

“Once you are the holder of that token, you will be indebted to its previous holder for a period of five years. Anything they ask, you must do. If you do not comply with their request, you will perish.”

“Hold on. You’re kidding right?”

“This is not a matter of which one kids, Mr. King.”

Under normal circumstances, I would’ve been pissing and moaning about what she said, but with the state of randiness coursing through me at the time, I shrugged it off.

“Okay. Okay, so how does it happen?” I queried.

“Stroke.”

“I see.”

“Trust me on this, Mr. King: This isn’t something you want to test. Hesitation may make you feel a taste of one coming on, but an outright denial of a request will end your existence.”

I ground my teeth and nodded. She unlocked the door and my wife filed in followed by myself. We scanned the room and the lighting shone a bit dimmer than the halls, but the same colour scheme followed. A queen-sized bed was the nucleus with its head-board braced against the wall and an aroma of cinnamon fumigated our nostrils.

“Once again, please don’t hesitate to call me for anything you may need,” said The Hostess.

“We’ll be sure to,” replied Tamera, folding her lips inwards, eye-balling her tits and then bottom during her exit.

The door closed, leaving us finally with some privacy. I took another scan of the room before turning and being startled by Tamera. This was the closest she was willing to be with me in months and it was quite refreshing. She fumbled with my belt buckle and at that moment, I was captivated by her tits bouncing under her long-sleeved sweater and the wicked look in her eye.

“Tam, what’s gotten into you?” I questioned with a humorous tone.

“I don’t know what it is about this place, but I want your dick down my throat so bad. I need it. Give me this fucking dick now!”

I chuckled at the sudden change in her appetite from non-existent to voracious. Not that I was complaining really. Our bags remained by the welcoming mat and my feeling was they weren’t going to advance any further. Tamera reached success with pulling my pants down and was on her knees at the same time my pants hit the ground. She stuffed herself with my fat cock like she was eating her first meal after suffering through a famine. Her animalistic growls and panting bloated my organ until it was the hardest it had ever been. Even flexing it proved difficult. Tamera held the back of her head as if doing sit-ups and fucked her throat onto my girth before withdrawing causing a giant pop and gasp.

“Fuck! Have I ever told you how much I love your fucking dick? How much I love this long, thick, veiny motherfucker? Have I?”

“N-n-noo, you d-d-didn’t,” I stuttered out. She’s never sucked my dick with such aggression, furthermore spoken with any. Not even when we initially started seeing each other.

At it again, Tamera wrapped both hands around my length and twisted in opposite directions while bobbing up and down quickly. A long trail of saliva swung from her chin and pooled on the floor between her legs. She then took the dripping saliva, cupped it into her palms, and massaged my balls while choking herself on my cock.

“I’m cumming, you sexy bitch!”

With every pulse; with every shudder, Tamera dug her nails into my ass harder while staring me down with her light grey eyes; gulping my semen down.

Whoa, I’ve never talked to Tam that way before either. This place is insane!

She jumped to her feet and sashayed towards the telephone next to our bed – sexy even in her baggy ass slacks. After dialling and receiving an answer, she spoke in a deep, husky voice:

“Hi, is this The Hostess? Yes, everything is going well. Very well actually but I may need your assistance. Yes, he’s cum in my mouth once so far, but he hasn’t done so in a bit. You’d be more than capable of draining more out with me, wouldn’t you? Thank you, I’ll see you shortly.”

With barely a second passed, there was a rapping on the outside. Tamera kneeled in front of me again and sucked me to another erection. Never had I ever recovered that quickly from an orgasm. She removed my tool from her throat, peered over her shoulder, and shouted, “It’s open!”

The Hostess, who before had her hair fallen over one shoulder now had it in a high ponytail; strolling through the door. I was so enamoured with the rest of her previously, I didn’t notice she was wearing heels as she clopped on approach.

“Quite the talented one isn’t she, Mr. King?” She stopped by my side and admired Tamera’s servicing. I nodded while peeking down at Tamera and back to her. The Hostess pulled my length from Tamera’s oral grasp and beat it against my cock-sucking wife’s face.

“Yes, take that beating from this fat, fucking cock. You never knew you could be such a whore did you?”

“No,” my wife replied, shaking her head with clenched teeth. Her throat slime smeared against her features, and hands rested on her thighs.

“And she hasn’t even taken her clothes off yet, Mr. King. My goodness!” We locked eyes as the audible dick slaps against Tamera’s forehead, lips and jaw widened our grins.

“Bend over, lift that skirt and let my husband fuck you,” the voice below commanded us.

The Hostess rolled her skirt up and over her bare, fleshy rump which wobbled upon exposure. She then bent forward, putting her hands on her knees, and looked back with a twirling tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth.

“Go ahead, Mr. King. Do as your wife commands.”

I gulped as I dragged my cock from my wife’s slimed visage and slapped The Hostess’ porcelain rear which rumbled like jello. Tamera’s hand grabbed the root of my schlong and fed it into the awaiting slit before me. My hands took hold of her waist and ground her deep, changing her smug expression to one of pain mixed with pleasure.

“Fuck you, you big-dicked bastard!” The Hostess exclaimed while gyrating on my pelvis. Tamera scooted – still kneeling – under our third party and unbuttoned the rest of her blouse as pearls dangled onto her. Pushing the pearls aside, she caught a nipple in her mouth and twisted the other with fingers moistened by her earlier blowjob. Her hand slithered into her slacks and fiddled underneath, inspiring her to vibrate The Hostess’ captive nipple with loud moans. It popped out and she scooted down to the site of penetration; lapping my balls and The Hostess’ clit simultaneously. Stuttered moans emanated from us both as she hummed with our sensitive regions in her warm mouth. Alternating between each ball, then sucking both in one go. Just as The Hostess thought she was safe, her clit was succulently pinched by Tam’s lips. This continued until she could bear no more and released it, flared her nostrils, and crossed her eyes while rubbing under her slacks vigorously.

“I’m gonna fucking cum. Fuuuck!” she grunted, still shiny from being slimed and strands of hair sticking to her forehead and cheeks.

Should’ve stuck your hair in a ponytail too hon.

I changed it up from grinding to pounding as the desire to hear The Hostess’ buttocks clapping consumed me. I wrapped her ponytail around my hands and listened to hearty applause as my wife crawled over to the bed with her slacks gathered at her ankles. She then lay prone with her knees hanging off its edge and spreading her cheeks; providing a visual of a tight, puckered brown eye and a neatly packed, flush pink cunt. I directed The Hostess to Tamera as if jockeying a horse and shoved her face into Tamera’s spread crack; my wife gritted her teeth again and writhed.

“Don’t you dare give her my cum, Chris. Get up here and finish off inside of me!” Tamera barked.

I removed myself from The Hostess’ warmth and stepped forward, replacing it with my wife’s. Her mouth gaped and she released her cheeks, putting both arms straight in front to dig into the mattress for dear life. The Hostess stood beside me, massaging both shoulders and leaving soft kisses over them, my neck and jaw.

“Do as she asks, Mr. King. Empty those big, frustrated balls into her starving cunt.” She pecked me on the lips several times. “Please? Please cum inside of your fucking whore of a wife! Do it! Do it now!”

My entire body contributed to this load as everything on me shook and shivered. I alternated between grabbing Tam’s cheeks tightly, slapping them, grabbing The Hostess’ neck and choking her, grabbing her hair and making her kneel. All of this while bellowing, releasing swears and degrading phrases so vile, they would make the crudest porn directors blush.

“I’m going to eat your husband’s cum out of your cunt. Is that fine?” The Hostess requested.

“Yes. But only if you crawl up here and share it with me.”

Kneeling and me gripping her hair at the sides, she arched forward and burrowed into Tam’s cunt once again after my withdrawal; slurping away at its leaking contents. She then craned her neck back and gargled my cum while looking at me upside down. I pulled her up by the hair and led her to my prone wife’s face who with a lip bite and lick of said lips, parted them and snaked her tongue in circles saying, “aaaah.”

They continued kissing and swapping my seed, leaving both sloppy, spermy messes, and I palmed my forehead and whispered, wow repeatedly at what played out before me.

I’m getting hard again? No way, this can’t be real. This can’t be happening!

***

Monday morning all that ran through my mind was how many fuck sessions all three of us had that past weekend. I creampied both in every hole with exceptions made for their nostrils and ears and sniped them in their faces – separately and together – just as much. During down periods, The Hostess explained that the hotel’s effects are permanent but will lessen to ninety percent effectiveness in the outside world. It wasn’t that great of a difference in my opinion as Tam blew me several times on our return trip and we stopped to park out and fuck frequently also. She explained to me the reason for the sex lacking in the marriage was that she just didn’t feel sexy anymore. Didn’t put any blame on me for it or anything; said it was just something that she over-thought herself into and couldn’t escape it. As I sat and smiled recalling our morning fuck – doggy style over the kitchen sink – Dean appeared above me with a serious look on his mug.

“Dean, before you say anything: I want to apologise.” I stood and directed him with my outstretched palm to walk with me.

“Why?” he asked as we distanced ourselves from everyone else and stopped in an empty hallway.

“What you said about my wife and sister I can’t condone… but I understand it now. That place turns you into… into a goddamn monster.”

“Hey look, regardless, I still should’ve been more respectful. But, I accept your apology and I hope you can accept mine.”

“Accepted. Now, excuse me for being frank, but why were you standing over my cubicle?”

“I assume you understand the deal regarding taking my token?”

I sighed, shut my eyes tight, and re-opened them. “Yes, The Hostess explained.”

“So um…about your wife and sister.”

“Oh Dean, come on!”

“Hey…hey. Hey! You can’t deny me! That’s the deal.”

A light throbbing niggled at one temple and The Hostess’ warning replayed in my brain. Oddly enough, the initial irritation of his request subsided and was replaced by intrigue. Watching my wife fuck someone else was a thought that left me rubbing my chin and flexing down below. My sister and him getting down offended me very little too since she’s grown anyhow. I looked down, then back up and stretched into a mischievous grin, which made his stare widen and torso tremble.

“So, what do you have in mind?”