The hotel lounge hummed with low jazz and the clink of crystal. Steve, sixty and silver at the temples, loosened his tie at the bar, nursing a scotch while the day’s deals faded. Three women caught his eye: a blonde with a high ponytail and knowing smirk, a redhead whose curls framed sharp green eyes, and a statuesque Black woman whose long platinum hair cascaded like liquid silver. They moved as one, sliding onto stools beside him.
“Business or pleasure tonight?” the blonde asked, her voice velvet. Steve chuckled. “Trying for both.” The redhead leaned closer, her breath warm. “We specialize in both.” The Black woman’s dark eyes held his. “Name’s Lena. That’s Mia and Jess. And you look like a man who needs... unwinding.” Their laughter was light, but their gazes lingered on his mouth, his hands. Steve felt the first spark, heat coiling low.
They bought him another round, witty barbs flying. “Sixty looks good on you,” Mia said, fingers brushing his wrist. “Bet it feels even better.” Jess’s hand grazed his thigh under the bar. Steve’s pulse jumped; he was off-balance already, their confidence magnetic. The blonde’s ponytail swung as she whispered, “Elevator’s calling. Care to join?”
In the mirrored elevator, the air thickened. Lena pressed against his back, her curves firm. “Relax, Steve.” Mia’s lips found his, deep and hungry, tongue teasing. Jess’s fingers worked his belt open, freeing his cock—already hard, throbbing. “Look at that,” she purred, stroking slow. Steve gasped into the kiss, hands roaming their waists, their asses. Panting, he felt their cocks press against him through silk—hung, heavy. The drugged scotch they’d slipped him earlier began its work, engorging him further, thoughts blurring with raw need.
Upstairs, the suite glowed. Another scotch waited, laced. Steve drank, head spinning pleasantly. Mia kissed him again, her tongue skilled, while Lena and Jess stripped—revealing busty forms, thick uncut cocks springing free. Lena’s was massive, head doorknob-sized, already glistening. “Surprise,” Jess laughed, filming on her phone. Steve’s eyes widened, but the drug muddled protest into hunger. They overpowered him gently at first, then firmly, pushing him to the bed.
The blonde claimed his ass first, her cock sliding deep, stretching him. Steve moaned, “Fuck—too much,” but his body betrayed him, pushing back. Lena’s thick length filled his throat next, salty and insistent, while the redhead’s phone streamed live to the glory-hole room next door, men groaning in anticipation. Sweat slicked their skin; Steve panted, horny beyond reason, his cock dripping. They took turns—blonde pumping cum into his ass, redhead flooding his throat, Black woman destroying his hole with relentless thrusts. Cum leaked, dripping down his thighs as they emptied themselves, bodies slapping, wet sounds filling the air.
Brought like a prized stallion to the adjoining door, Steve saw her: Adele, his stacked boss, watching from shadows, fingers buried in her wet pussy, circling madly. She sucked his aching cock while the shemales used him, her tongue wicked. “Good boy,” she murmured around him. Then she turned, demanding doggy, his cock slamming into her dripping heat as the stream continued. The men next door grew restless, glory holes waiting.
The night had only begun to unravel.
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