It was almost nine o’clock at night when I reached
Albuquerque. The long desert drive from Flagstaff was
brutal for a midwestern boy like myself. My rental car had
become covered with fine yellow dust.
I pulled off the highway at the first exit ramp where I
could see more than two motel signs. There I tried motel
after motel, but all the big chain places were full. There
was only one more motel I could try, its sign barely
visible behind an industrial park. Above the vacancy sign
it said only Motel; there was no other name.
I took my one luggage bag from my car’s trunk, and lifted
my heavy camera case to my shoulder. All of the lenses and
camera bodies would need cleaning tonight–damn the yellow
dust.
The motel lobby was hotter even than the outside air. A
box fan sat on the floor blowing the heat around, and a
second box fan stood on the check-in counter, blowing the
heat back again. There was a girl on the phone–no; her
sweaty breasts, ostentatiously displayed by her plunging,
open shirt, showed that she was very much a woman.
She spared me barely a flick of her eyelids, and then
ignored me for 15 minutes while she spoke in Spanish to
whomever was on the other end of the line. I knew only
enough Spanish to understand she was arguing with someone
that they had to work tonight because the rooms were almost
all full.
I was hot and tired, but I waited patiently because I
needed a bed for the night and didn’t want to be turned out
to the highway again. When she finally put down her
telephone she rolled her chair to the reception counter and
leaned forward in an enticing way that instantly made me
forgive her my long wait. “Welcome,” she said with very
pleasent sincerity She was very good at being likable.
The room price was cheap, only $35. I got the room nearest
to the office. “Twelve is the special channel,” she said
as I took my room key. I didn’t understand that, but I
said nothing anyway.
The room smelled of cigarettes, and of heavy perfume to
mask the cigarettes. There was no air conditioning, just a
slowly turning ceiling fan. I showered, wearing my shower
flip-flops into the bedroom too because the carpet was
dirty. It was too hot to wear clothes so I sat on the edge
of the bed and cleaned my camera gear while dressed only in
my underwear.
I’d had no supper. Eating would have to wait until
breakfast. At 11 o’clock I turned on the room TV and
watched the news. After that I started surfing the other
channels.
Oh, this is what she meant by channel 12 being the special
channel. Channel 12 showed a woman applying a very big,
knobby dildo deep within her pussy. It was a long, rubbery
phallus. She sat on a bed, her legs spread for the camera,
working the dildo for a quite a long time. Her climax
wasn’t easy to achieve. It took a lot of effort from her.
The poor girl obviously needed a man, and found tortured
difficulty in self-release. Finally a good deal of wetness
gushed from her pussy, making me relieved and happy for
her. I couldn’t help myself from playing along.
My arousal was interrupted by a knock at the door. A
glance at the clock showed that it had just then turned
midnight. There was no peephole, so I parted the curtain
and saw that the motel receptionist was outside. I was in
only my underwear, totally erect, but with sudden insight I
knew why she was here. As I opened the door she asked, “Do
you want company tonight?”
She’d started to recite it as if by rote, but half way
through her sentence she looked down at my taut briefs,
smiled in an amused way, and came into the room without
waiting for my answer. Before closing the door I had time
to notice that at least two other girls were also making
the rounds of the motel rooms.
As soon as I shut the room door my new guest knelt on the
floor, pulled down my shorts, slipped something into her
mouth, and began sucking my cock and teasing my balls.
Somehow during that she’d slipped a condom onto me.
“How much?” I asked, but she stopped sucking only long
enough to pull her shirt off. What tits! She was wearing
a bra, but it was just a lacy support, open at the nipples.
She started sucking me again right away.
“We . . . ooh . . . should talk about price first,” I tried
to say, but she was very good at cock sucking and I was
already close to explosion. I couldn’t tear myself away
from her although I was trying to. I’ve traveled about
enough to know what a prostitute’s price is if you don’t
bargain ahead of time–all the money you have.
She pulled my cock from her mouth just before I came.
Slipping the condom off me, she quickly stroked me to
splashing orgasm right over her tits. My cum oozed
downward between her breasts. Before I’d even finished
cumming she had my cock between her boobs, and was fucking
it with her cleavage. She had me fucking her tits with my
own cum.
She cleaned my cock off quickly with some kind of very soft
towellette, taken from a purse that she’d brought with her.
Then she used another towellette to finger-clean between
her breasts. I wondered how many men’s semen her bra had
been soaked with.
“Do you like to take pictures?” she asked, indicating all
of my camera gear around the room. She took her bra off
and towellette-cleaned the rest of her breasts, sucking her
own nipples for a finale. Her skirt and panties came off
in one movement. Taking a vibrator and several condom
packets from her purse, she got into my bed.
“Can we talk about the money first?” I asked, hurriedly
grabbing up my camera gear and stuffing most of it away
into my camera case to prevent its theft. I quickly
twisted a wide-angle lens onto a camera body that I knew
was loaded with Kodachrome.
“We talk about money afterward,” she said. “It depends on
what we do.” She said this with such inticing promise that
I shut up about money, feeling like a jerk for having
mentioned it.
I got fresh batteries into my smallest flash unit, clipped
it into the hot shoe, and started snapping away. Covering
a hundred car races in my younger days had taught me to
load and shoot fast. She started with one finger first,
just inside her pussy lips. Her wetness was genuine; it
came from within.
Then she two-finger fucked deeply, spreading her juice on
her nipples and sucking her fingers. That pussy must have
known a lot of cocks, I thought. She was very brave to
taste it.
“Do you want to taste?” she asked suddenly, offering with
her fingers. It declined. “It tastes good,” she teased,
sucking her fingers again.
And now the dildo. She spread her legs, arching her hips
to give me a good view. I got some really excellent
pictures. She only interrupted for a moment, to grab a
towel out of the bedside table drawer. I’d never have
expected to find a towel there. She triple-folded the
towel and placed it underneath her.
“Do you want to fuck me,” she asked, “or have me cum like
this?” I had her continue as she was. She lay full upon
the bed and dildoed herself to a gush. The towel caught
her juices, and my camera caught everything else. She
dildoed through three rolls of film.
“Now we fuck,” she said.
“I really couldn’t,” I told her. “You made me cum so good
before.”
“I make you cum again,” she said. “I bet I make you cum
again.”
Two girls were climaxing loudly on the television, which
was still on during all this time. This woman in my bed
looked terrific. Her open, just-gushed-with-cum pussy
seemed irresistible. The eroticism of the moment was
overpowering.
“I promise I can make you cum,” she said, “I promise you
can have me until you do. I promise you own me for as long
as you need.” She knew her business. I was hesitating
from lack of confidence, but she her coaxing was impossible
to refuse. Hers was the promise of a professional. I put
my camera down.
She swiftly brought me to half erection with her fingers,
firm enough for her to slip a condom on me. That’s when I
fear losing it, during the condom fumble, but her technique
was perfect. By the time the condom was on me I was as
hard as a teenager. Then she went to work with her mouth
and made me feel like a steel rod.
“Me on top,” she said. I lay on the bed and she mounted
me, her pussy clinching with insistent passion while she
breast-bounced above me. She took my hands and cupped them
to her breasts, spanking her own ass hard as if whipping
herself to fuck better. Her sex noises were loving and
sweet.
She tore my cum from me. I can’t put it another way. She
demanded it with her whole body. Her breasts begged me to
cum. Her pussy pleaded for my semen, her ass squashed it
from my balls. “Oh, you are fucking me so well,” she
praised just as I was cumming.
“I have to use the shower first,” she said, popping in and
out of the motel room’s shower in only a minute, her hair
somehow still dry.
“You make love good,” she said. “Can I have copies of the
pictures?”
I promised to send her some, although I never asked her
name or where to send them. It was $100 for the blowjob,
$300 for the fuck, and $600 for the pictures, another $100
in tip for excellent service. She accepted a credit card.
As I heard her knocking on another room door I wondered:
how am I going to charge all that to National Geographic?