Hotel: Chapter 2
I should like to say that things had not even begun until we reached the shower, but I have already changed the story enough by way of the gracious filter of memory, removing what must have been a great number of awkward moments. Truth be told, we arrived at the shower sore and heaving. I pressed him to the wall, he regained his feet, and I pulled out. I was more than a little amazed at what flowed down his thighs, but as it happened the shower seemed automatic, and though it was gradually building from a trickle, the floor was designed so that it was soon washed clean.
At this point, I feel the shower bears a proper description. It wasn't a stall or an enclosure inside a bathroom so much as it was a room of its own. The floor was densely ribboned marble at first, full of rich deep reds and a hint of green here and there. This area stayed mostly dry, as it was separated from the rest of the room by elevation. If you wanted to shower you stepped down a few inches onto what I could only guess was black granite, accented by smoky white veins. I don't know much about stone but you could tell by repeating but distinct features that each slab was cut from the same block. This black stone also lined the ceiling and most of the walls. The walls touching the marble entry floor were recessed an inch or two from the black stone and made of a third rock that had the color of sandstone. Peppered across the ceiling, but only over the lowered floor, was an innumerable set of holes out of which flowed a variable amount of water. The floor must have had in imperceptible slant, as all the water flowed to the marble and disappeared at the boundary. It was impressive, to say the least, but if one was given to worrying, the various slick surfaces, sharp edges, and oppressive slabs of rock were more than ready to be the subject of fret.
In the corner of marble furthest from the door (straight down the right after entering, as the shower area consumed most of the room) there was a simple counter and sink. One would expect it to have two cabinet doors and a drawer or two if it weren't entirely composed of unpolished, rough hewn stone, identical to the stone used for the walls that weren't black.
As we stood, catching our breath and avoiding eye contact, the ceiling started slowly to rain. At first it only trickled from the perimeter and ran down the walls, but soon it closed in on us and took the form of a torrential downpour. He slid to a sitting position, the water running down the wall tumbling into his head and back, falling around him like it was coming from buckets. I followed him to the floor but opted instead to lay spread eagle in the center of the rain, shielding my eyes with one paw so that I could survey the room.
Having taken stock of the structure and deciding the plumbing was impossible to figure out, I turned to him as he crawled back from the sink, a bottle of wash in one paw.
"What other extravagant features does this suite have?"
He squeezed an overly generous amount of the stuff onto my chest, then a more reasonable amount on his paw, going to work cleaning himself as the cold goop thinned and sank into my fur untouched.
"I dunno... When I took over the hotel I kinda shut myself up in here and made it a project. I guess I know the contractors more than the staff... They don't respect me anyhow."
I was a bit confused by the digression and his sudden admission of power and wealth so I gave him a queer look. He blushed and reclined with his head near my feet, finishing the cleaning of his chest and starting on my footpaws. I began cleaning my own chest so as to avoid losing all the soap that I neglected to the rain. He started explaining the layout in a tone that sounded like he was detachedly listing features to a potential buyer.
"You saw the main room; it's kind of a living room, bedroom, and bar. There's this room, a proper bathroom and small kitchen all in this center portion here. On the other side, through the kitchen, there's an office and... I guess a reading lounge."
We got up slowly with various creeks and pops, having postponed the fatigue of morning by means of the passion held over from the previous night, and slowly washed each other. The rain of the shower had thinned out and seemed to be waning. When we were sufficiently clean and had exhausted our curiosities with each other's bodies he walked to where I had held him against the wall and put his paw on a flush mounted control panel. I was impressed by how well hidden it was but wondered it I had damaged it slightly by not seeing it before.
The shower picked up, heavier than before. The water was nearly oppressive, in fact, as we rinsed off every trace of soap. Then, suddenly, it tapered off to nothing. He was wringing water out of his ears as I shivered slightly, holding myself out of discomfort from standing there cold and wet. I stood there for the better part of a minute, wondering what was next. He shot me a mischievous glance as the ceiling clicked and whirred.
"This is my favorite part."
A warm rush of air came from the ceiling just as ominously and organically as the water had, building to a deafening wind. When it ended we were both dry. He exited the room and I followed.
"Do you like opera?"
"In particular moods, I do... It depends on the opera. I could go for something"
Tristen and Isolde came over a sound system that seemed to wrap around every part of the bedroom, though its workings were completely hidden. It felt like being in a concert hall wherever you went, though the volume rested comfortably under the conversation. I laughed a bit to myself.
"German."
The bed had been made while we were showering. The maid had left a condom on each pillow. The rabbit sat on the edge by the window as stark naked as I was, and pressed or kicked some hidden switch. The wood blinds slowly pulled up and out of view. He took one of the condoms and turned it in his fingers as he looked out over the view. As I approached his side he held it up and smiled awkwardly at me.
"The maid worries about me. I swear I'm going to leave this whole place to her."
"I thought the staff was a bunch of strangers."
"Not her... Sweet woman... She's old enough to be my mother... Translates my Spanish operas for me and chides me for listening to things I can't understand."
He sighed fondly, if not overly loud, and tossed the condom back to the pillow as I sat down. I put my arm across his shoulder and tried to find someone staring at us in all the little ants walking around in the city streets.
"She's the only woman I've ever had sex with."
I gave a slight start, more from readjusting preconceptions than from distaste. I imagined some wide-hipped and sensual Spanish donkey, defying age and hypnotizing young men. I pressed against him and turned towards his ear, irreverent of his pensive reflection.
"Hmm? Tell me more of this youthful indiscretion."
He faced me and brought his paw down on my nose softly.
"You're horrible."
He pulled a black plastic rotary phone from under the bed that looked like it came from a vintage hotel 6. I get the impression that he thought it was cute.
"Maria, please."
He turned to me. The color flushed from his ears. He looked genuinely afraid.
"Shit! What's your name?!"
I paused, suddenly embarrassed that we had skipped that part or at least that we had both forgotten shortly after introductions the night before. He looked increasingly worried as I continued to pause.
"Mark."
"Hi Mark I'm Ben, a slut pointed you out to me at the party but officially we met at a coffee shop, got it?"
He grabbed my paw in his and shook it vigorously, holding the phone with his cheek and shoulder. I thought of how to respond, but as soon as he finished talking he dropped my paw and grabbed the phone.
"Maria, come have breakfast with me."
His voice was warm and charismatic. More than that, his voice was young. I felt the now almost irritating sense that we were acting like kids.
"Yes, he's still here... Ha ha, his name is Mark... Yes he's going to be here for a while... Maria how many times do I have to tell you, I haven't slept around since I met Howard...? And I'll do it again as soon as you drop your guard... Right... Alright, I'll see you when you get here... Bye... Of course I'm not going to wear pants; it's my damn hotel... If you didn't like it you wouldn't visit me... Alright, see you soon."
Ben told me the story of his night with Maria some time later. I apologize for revealing it thusly, but "Ben and Mark" became a notorious couple, though few people knew us well enough to point us out. It was a year into the relationship when Maria, finally old enough to throw some shame to the wind, began having lunch with us nude almost every day. Once that barrier was crossed (and believe me, it was quite a barrier to cross) it was only natural that they would explain it to me. I took Ben's version, Maria's version, and my knowledge of the two of them over the years to come up with what I figure most likely happened.
Ben had lived in the hotel since he was around eighteen. It hadn't always been in palatial surroundings, but by twenty he was well taken care of. At the time, Maria - then thirty-eight - was charged with his care. She did his laundry, cleaned his room, saw that he ate well, and gave him the mothering he had lacked through childhood. Ben was shy, a little flamboyant, and intelligent. His passion was design and architecture and she would listen to his ideas over dinner. He called her when he was excited and cried on her shoulder when he was upset, and she would brag about him to her ex husband constantly.
One night, Ben had turned on some rock and roll and was enjoying some time alone, dancing and singing to himself with the lights dim and his clothes off. He had entirely forgotten that a week previous he had told Maria to come up for dinner that night. Maria, on the other hand, had taken the day off to meet her sister's new husband. He was young and handsome and the marriage was full of young lust. She found herself feeling more sexually frustrated than she had during the final year of her own marriage. She was glad to have Ben to take her mind elsewhere for a bit.
Maria, thinking she was expected and being so close to Ben, simply used her key to open the door when she heard the music. She stepped in and shut the door silently, looking to where she could see Ben's silhouette and waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. She noticed his state long before he saw her. She just stood there, staring at his body, feeling herself get hotter and hotter thinking about the young bunny's sheath. She felt at the same time the instincts of a mother and the passion of a lover.
Without thinking, and with her eyes locked on the smallest hint of pink coming from his sheath, she flicked on the overhead light. I can't imagine she didn't have her hand over her mound. He had to be impressive at that age. With the light on, though, she realized that the pink was a trick of her mind, she had simply wanted it so bad that she saw it in the shadows.
Ben jumped near to the ceiling in fright, then noticed it was Maria and covered his sheath with both paws.
"Mom!" Reflex had got the better of him. He blushed hard and tears came to the corners of his eyes. He was frozen in embarrassment and cursed the music that just played on in ignorance of his predicament. He started to shake all over but she was too embarrassed and startled herself to say anything. She tucked one arm under her breasts, pushing them up in an impressive mass, and took a tentative step forward.
Maria was the only one to mention the next part. She can't tell the story without blushing over it, no matter how much Ben and I corrupt her modesty, and she can only mention it when Ben is gone. I think that, as far as Ben knows, I don't know about it.
When Maria took that step, pushing up her breasts and biting her lip, unsure of weather she wanted to drop to her knees or hold him to her platonically, Ben's embarrassment crossed a line. From behind his paws his bright white fur stained yellow and a few drops fell to the carpet. It was just a small amount, he had simply lost control of his faculties for a moment, but he fell on his bed crying openly, keeping his face covered in the sheets.
She turned off the music and ran to him, falling to his side and rubbing his back. She fawned over him and tried desperately to tell him it was ok. Ben, even at this point, had a vague reputation for his sexual proclivities. Nobody assumed he had any shame. It took me a while, myself, to reconcile his sexual freedoms with his penchant for blushing.
Maria sat beside Ben while he cried for as long as it took. She wondered how someone his age, as handsome as him, could be so fragile. She wondered what it was he was trying, and failing, to say, or if he was trying to speak at all. She sang him a lullaby in a language he didn't understand, and it was this that soothed his nerves.
Maria can seldom speak positively about her appearance, either now or then. Ben explained her to me in his version of the story through constant blows to the arm from her. She was a donkey, my initial prejudices got that right, but she was from Bolivia. At the time she was shorter than him, wide in the hips, thick, and busty. She was by no means fat but rather voluptuous in all the right ways. Where she wasn't covered in short gray fur she was black as coal. Her fingertips were neatly rounded hooves and she had a habit of twitching her large ears whenever she was suppressing a powerful emotion. Ben's favorite aspect of the woman, other than what he described as the most perfect set of sexual organs, was her thick, blunt muzzle.
In her most maternal way, Maria coaxed Ben to a state of deep, restful breathing. His tail twitched in appreciation of her hand stroking the small of his back. Perhaps, she now admits, her hand was traveling further down than motherly comfort should allow. She turned him over slowly to hold him close and he started shaking and blushing again. Instead of crying, though, he had a bright, if not confused, face. She looked down just in time to see a string of pre strain between the bunny's tip and the bed before it broke, leaving a large drop at the source.
Maria gasped lightly and blushed, but continued with her plan to simply hug him. Ben swears that he had no intention to do so, but when Maria hugged him he did a little more than just hug back. He pressed his hips against her and groaned, almost inaudibly. I think there must be some secret they keep to this day about the specifics of this instant, but thankfully they spared me few lewd details concerning what immediately followed.
Maria, with her eyes locked on Ben's, called him son. He called her mother. She traced her hand down his chest and he asked her to show him what a woman was like. She withdrew her hand slowly and undid the buttons on the front of her blouse. She pushed down a simple white bra and revealed two large, gray furred breasts. Ben marveled at them, reaching out both paws and stroking her large, black nipples. She pushed her chest towards his paws and moaned.
Maria, though, had every intention of giving him much more than a simple primer in female anatomy. She rose from the bed and pulled him to a sitting position on its edge. On hands and knees she crawled between his legs and pushed at the underside of his length with her broad muzzle. Ben, unsure of what to do, gently placed his paws on her head and murmured "Oh, mother" over and over, at odd intervals, softly.
Gentle murmurs turned louder as Maria caressed him more fervently. Soon he was shouting her name, calling her mommy, and gripping at her ears as she slid his length to the hilt into her mouth, cradling it with her tongue. She knew he was gay, or at least mostly gay, and wasn't without a broad sexual past herself. She let her spit run down his base to his balls where she gathered it up on a finger before pressing it deep inside him. Within mere moments he was spraying bunny cum into her waiting mouth as she ground his prostate and slid from tip to base at a decent pace with her lips and tongue. He hadn't got off in a long time and filled her cheeks generously. When Ben was reduced to a shivering mass, petting her head, she had a mouth full of his cream, which she sloshed about with her tongue to give her a good taste. She slid his cock out of her mouth and stood, still holding his seed with just a trace running out of the corner of her mouth. Ben wriggled back on the bed so that he could lay down exhausted, but no sooner had he got comfortable than Maria climbed over him, lifting her long uniform skirt to her hips and pushing his cock back between her legs. She slowly moved her hips up and down, coating her ass and sex with her spit and his cum, as she grabbed him behind the head and kissed him deeply, letting all the cum pour into his mouth.
"Ask for your mommy's cunt," she hotly demanded in a whisper.
Ben shivered and begged for it. He begged at great length and with humiliating phrases he has begged me never to repeat. In fact, Maria uses it as a tool nowadays to get him to leave a room by imitating it. She reached back, slid him inside her sopping pussy, and sat up, letting her skirt fall to cover the act. Ben swears that she looked radiant as she bounced and rocked her hips, outlined by a golden light. He's at his most romantic when he describes her first time riding his cock.
Already over sensitive from her mouth he writhed and clawed at the sheets, half moaning and half crying, all out of ecstasy. She pushed her breasts together as she rode, moaning in a great crescendo until her own sadly neglected sexual needs crashed over her in a tremendous climax. Her passage clamped down hard every time she fell down on his cock as she drove herself to orgasm after orgasm, losing herself in her "son's" filling of her cunt.
Soon it became apparent that, though she was having what seemed to be endless bliss, Ben was struggling to cum again. She slowed her bouncing to a stop but continued to grind her hips into him.
"Ben, can you cum into mommy's ass?"
Her voice was so thick with lust that she sounded like an entirely different woman. It tickled him to hear it.
"Mhmm."
She climbed off him, his tip exiting with a lewd, wet pop. Once again she hiked up her skirt as she got on her hands and knees on the floor. Ben jumped from the bed, finding a second wind in his youthful exuberance, and jumped on her hips. He dug into the floor with his massive leg muscles, inherited from his species, and drove himself into her ass. She was by no means ready for the intrusion, but bit her lip hard and soon acclimated. She raked her fingertips across the carpet as he panted and moaned, driving harder and harder against her, rubbing her knees painfully against the carpet as she fought to avoid being pushed across the room. With one last pitiful exclamation of "Mother!" his balls slapped against her, his strength failed him, and he lay on top of her, coating her insides with his cum.
The night ended after both had had their fill of each other's fluids, sharing them constantly with passionate kissing. Maria straightened up in his bathroom and left, blushing fiercely, after tucking Ben in to bed.
They kept up their lovemaking in secret, but as Maria aged she cursed her vanishing libido. Their relationship evolved into something that I'm fascinated studying, even to this day.