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The sixty-ninth hotel of the city - The libertines' ghetto

After more than a month searching and searching, the canine couple had learned about the existence of a half-star hotel located on the outskirts, on the other side of their territory, near a dangerous neighborhood in which drug addicts and gang members met up often, and in many cases, they quarreled and fought over money. The police rarely intervened in the surroundings for fear that some hit man would intercept them.

Although the vixen had been estranged from her partner for more than eight years, meeting him again was the most enjoyable relief of her life. She felt terrible for having left him adrift for so long, yet she had a good justification for that. She had chosen to stay away from him to avoid legal problems and a sweeping prosecution that would destroy the scarce dignity she had.

For the coyote there was nothing more important than his girlfriend's well-being, he was delighted she was safe from the execrable hounds of the Treasury Department and the incompetent police officers. It would have been spectacular to be able to receive her visits in prison, especially the conjugal visits the other inmates enjoyed so much. Deprive an animal of its freedom was possible; deprive it of its sexual appetite was not. He worshiped sex like a deity, willing to suffer a lot he was to feel the most intense carnal pleasure.

By mere intuition, he found her in a far-off place working as a miserable kitchen helper. In one of the erotic patisseries in the city, she had been working while he struggled against other territorial males and went through horrendous experiences with a bunch of savages unable to do him a favor without sex.

The coyote had used his body as a means to gain access to all sorts of benefits. In prison, regardless of the captives' sexual orientation, sex was a necessary ritual to acquire special permissions and/or group protection. In a filthy dungeon, he had met an old black-furred lion sentenced to life imprisonment for multiple homicide, from whom he learned many things. The lion told him about several shelters no lackey of the judicial system would go into, and in that extensive list of names, it was the sixty-ninth hotel known as Furtel 69.

Despite being a second-rate hotel with disorganized employees, it was the ideal den of vice for two criminals with unbridled passions and no desire to go out. Exposed in urban centers, the canines were easy prey for curious inspectors; spending the day locked inside an old building in a sparsely populated area was a great strategy for staying incognito.

As the delicate situation demanded a radical change, there was no option except leaving everything behind. They had to travel by bus to the aforementioned hotel where they would stay as much time as possible. As they stepped onto the unfamiliar shabby sidewalk, they had the feeling they would not be safe if they went out more than necessary. They needed someone to buy their supplies and take them to their shelter; and considering the coercive abilities they had, they could con any wimp into running errands.

Hand in hand, dressed in faded rags and worn footwear, dragging a suitcase on wheels and carrying two black backpacks, the canines moved to the corner, turned left, walked two blocks, and arrived at the famous refuge they longed to know.

The hotel had three floors, a spacious basement, massive doors with metal handles, small louvered windows, a rough ceiling in bad conditions, poor facilities, common lights in each area, broken electrical outlets, a porous ceramic floor, cracked and stained walls, low-quality pieces of furniture, cozy bathrooms, and a bar with a grand variety of drinks.

From the inside, the receptionist saw in the distance two quirky strangers approaching the entrance. He could see them through the small windows on the old doors that were at the entrance. In the lobby, there were four comfortable armchairs where visitors could sit. A short hallway led to the back, where the gas bottles and the thermal keys were. An entrance on the ground led to the basement.

On the right, the one-meter seventy-eight tall vixen with light blue eyes, long straight snow-white hair, slim neck, prominent breasts, narrow waist, wide hip, fleshy legs, and shining tail, looked like a good-looking princess. The radiance of her feminine figure wondered any male that passed by her. She had a beautiful body and an angelic face typical of an important actress or a supermodel. She frequently got comments and wolf whistles from unknown males when she walked alone on public places.

On the left, the one-meter seventy-nine tall coyote with green eyes, small ears, short wavy brown hair, broad back, flat abdomen, stringy legs, and short tangled tail, looked like a sporty animal or an Olympic competitor. Even though he did not possess the uncompromisingly attractive loveliness of an alpha male, he was well-endowed and affectionate when it came to making love. He had a thick, provocative male voice even being a peaceful and asocial animal.

The receptionist was a picky one-meter fifty-nine tall raccoon called Gregory Prick, with curly black hair, gray eyes, a plump body, a bulging belly, a striped fluffy tail, and big feet. He was known to be a bit unfriendly, having extravagant tastes, odd ideas, frequent tics, and very little desire to work. He was available from eight in the morning to four in the afternoon; from that moment onward, the hotel manager took his place until midnight.

Mr. Anthony Wilson was the one in charge of the hotel. He was a bald and pot-bellied two-meter ten tall walrus with a wrinkled face, protruding yellowish fangs, chubby cheeks, crooked mustaches, bulging limbs, a broad thorax, and gigantic feet. He was over three hundred kilograms. All the clothes he wore fit him tight and his rolls of fat came off everywhere. He had a watery voice and spoke in a slow manner.

The vixen took the lead and spoke to the receptionist to see if there were rooms available. With a sullen face and a reticent attitude, the raccoon hinted there was one room vacant, the last one on the third floor, located at the end of the hall. Of the twelve rooms in total, eleven were already occupied.

"It's okay for us," she said and exchanged a slight glance with her partner.

"Documentation, please," the raccoon demanded with his hands extended forward.

They gave him their identity cards so that he could fill in the details on the check-in form. The newcomers' data did not appear in the National System of Registered Inhabitants hence he checked them in as foreigners. After pressing several keys, biometric data of other similar-looking citizens appeared on the monitor. They looked very much like a fugitive couple the authorities were looking for. Since the raccoon did not give a jot about legality, he ignored the similarities and went on with his task.

"Is there any nearby market where we can go shopping?" asked the vixen.

"The closest one is in the back neighborhood, nine blocks away from here," he answered.

"Hey," interrupted the coyote, "before you go on, could you show us the tariff?"

"All rooms are single-sized and have the same lodging cost throughout the year, which is thirty bucks a day. No extra services or personalized attention are included," he answered as if it were a phrase learned by heart.

"Well, for that price we can't expect too much," the coyote whispered.

"We don't know how long we'll stay," the vixen added. "It may be a week, a month or two months. Could you give us a discount per stay?"

"We don't accept extortionate clients here," the receptionist looked askance at her.

"It was just a doubt. We were in other hotels and each one had a different system."

"Well, don't expect much from us. We make the minimum effort to like customers."

"I've noticed."

While the vixen and the raccoon exchanged challenging gazes, the coyote looked around. Behind the receptionist desk, not very well hidden, there was a VHS tapes row of classic adult films from the nineties. He recognized them instantly for their titles. They were films he had watched in his youth and had served as inspiration for a future business in the audiovisual industry. Together with his girlfriend, he had filmed several scenes having sex that he later edited to sell online. Even without being a very lucrative business, it always made a profit.

"Do you sell porn here?" he asked the receptionist.

"That collection is mine," he pointed at it. "What we sell to our clients is lube and condoms," he showed them a box with the intimate products.

"You should've said it before," the vixen said. "How much for the lube bottles?" she asked excited.

"Take a 250-milliliter bottle for ten bucks," he showed her a medium-quality one with a yellow label.

"I'll take five," she handed him fifty bucks and took the five bottles.

"Wait a minute!" the coyote interrupted, "Since when hotels sell this kind of stuff?"

"This place used to be a motel in the past. As it didn't make too much money, the proprietor turned it into a hotel, without losing its essence."

"Hey, sir, doesn't it bother you guests have sex in the rooms?"

"I don't give a damn what guests do in their rooms," he replied with little interest, "as long as they pay for their stay, everything will be okay."

"Shit! What a good service!" he snickered.

"By the way, if we ever need something, who can we turn to?" asked the vixen.

"The bellhop will attend to you."

"Do you happen to know where he is now?"

"If he's not fucking with one of the guests or with the bartender, he's in the basement. He's not a very responsible puss."

"Don't you have chambermaids here?" asked the coyote.

"Yes, we do. Six horny bunnies who are always busy doing the best they can do."

"It seems that we found the right place at the right time," the vixen muttered with a suspicious wicked smile.

"Definitely!" the coyote agreed with her.

Having completed the registration card, the raccoon filled out the new guests' identification cards and told them where the bar was located in case they wanted to go drinking. He also told them there was no butler to help them so they had to carry their belongings on their own.

The canines gave him a promissory note that they would pay the expenses before they left, the raccoon gave them the key with the room number and they headed to their new lair. Since there was no elevator, they had to walk upstairs.

They crossed the last corridor to stand in front of their new room, where they could do whatever they wanted without any restrictions. After an eternity of going around everyplace, they finally found the right site to stay for who knows how long.

Upon getting into the room, they inspected every nook and cranny to make sure it was in good conditions and that there were no concealed cameras or microphones. The interior was comfortable, with a large duvet-covered double bed set between two nightstands with three drawers, a large closet with a bar and ten fixed hangers, a side window, a decent bathroom, and two incandescent bulbs.

"So what do you think about this hotel?"

"It's better than the hovel we were before."

"A cesspool would be better than our old apartment."

"I don't like the receptionist though. Couldn't they find a more unfriendly animal to serve the public?"

"It's a half-star hotel, my dear. What did you expect to find, a luxury service?"

"Well, at least I got some lube," she held the bottles of clear liquid in her hands. "I'll try how good it is," she threw herself at bed.

She quickly undressed, threw her clothes on the floor, took off her underwear, stretched out the length and breadth of the bed, opened one of the bottles and smeared some of the ointment on her fingers. She smeared her tits with lubricant and stroked her pink nipples, making them very wet. Her restless hands traveled from her chest to her belly and from there to her crotch, crossed over the hairy mound toward the lower part. As she spread her legs, she exposed her clitoris and her vertical mouth with fiery lips. Her hands moved freely across her vulva as her fingers circled, one after the other, seeking more intense sensations.

"You don't mind doing it here and now?" he asked her. He could not take his eyes off her. "We've just arrived."

"The horniness doesn't wait. You know that very well," she replied. "Besides, you jerked off in public places hundreds of times.

"But I was discreet."

"I've been coping with this anxiety since we left. I can't take it anymore. I want to cum like a fucking bitch," --she kept touching herself.

Her labia were sensitive; touching them generated moderate pleasure. She exposed her vestibule and cingulum to her boyfriend's eyes so he could see her incomparable beauty. Her second hole, under the urethral orifice, was deep and very flexible. The vaginal tract was a dark and gloomy tunnel that went to the uterus, where it became less soft. The excitement it brought produced the vagina's dilation and the lubrication of its rough walls; however, she was always fascinated by having much lubrication. Little by little, both her labia and her clitoris were swelling.

"Are you trying to provoke me to give you pleasure?" he gaped at her.

"I get more excited when others watch me."

Even without being in her estrous cycle, the vixen behaved like a nympho. If there was something she knew how to do professionally, was to act like a sultry female. Sex was part of her everyday life, letting go of her lustful desires was not possible.

The coyote took off his clothes, sat on the bed, approached the vixen, felt his warm body and admired her beauty. When he touched her, her glands produced more lubrication. His thin snout he reached out to sniff out the pungent scent the female released. Like a magnetizing fragrance, it attracted him, filled him with libido, made his groin tingle, made his fur stand on end.

"Whatever you plan to do, do it with no embarrassment," she asked him.

"I don't know what that is."

Without wasting time, he caressed her thighs with his hands and rested his chin on her belly to continue inhaling the pheromones she excreted. He focused his attention on her most sensitive spot and his tongue stuck out to explore her fleshy bell. The rigid clitoris was the vastest source of nerve endings, and the one she liked to stimulate, or rather, to be stimulated. Without haste, he began to lick her up and down, left to right, in a zigzag, drawing circles and hemicycles; he did it in a thousand different ways.

"Jack, I'm dying," the vixen moaned. "Keep it up."

To intensify her pleasure, he inserted his right hand's fingers into her hole, examined the inside of her vagina for more pleasure. Both his fingers and his tongue were on a par in effort, producing delight in a different way. The more he explored the more enjoyment he caused. He was almost as excited as she was. His member had already come out of the hairy shaft that protected it, growing briskly at the same time his knot inflated like a balloon.

"Oh, don't stop! I'm about to cum," she said.

In less than expected, the vixen squirmed with pleasure, her legs trembled and she came like a wave. Her genitals ended drenched. Out of breath she was and very contented she got.

"You certainly know how to turn me on."

"I have plenty of experience in this."

"Since we're here, why don't we do it?" she suggested the idea to spend a good time. "We have plenty of lube."

"We'll hook up for a while."

The vixen took more lubricant from the bottle, rubbed it on his dick, moistening his balls and his foreskin. Once they were ready for the copulation, the coyote settled on top of her and fucked her gently. The penetrations varied from soft to hard. At slow pace, he got ready to start to shove it eagerly. When he pushed hard, he made her scream like a bitch in heat. Red-hot he became when he reached the exaltation limit. He felt his coming was imminent. Before climaxing, he inserted the knot into her vagina to initiate the buttoning both enjoyed intensively.

"Jack, I'm dying of pleasure."

"Me too."

When the contractions appeared, he expelled the semen and introduced it inside her sexual organ. The orgasm was sharp and long-lasting, the ejaculations were continuous, some more intense and some less intense. Knotted by their private parts, the canines remained in the same position for almost half an hour. They took advantage of the circumstance to show reciprocal affection. They kissed, nibbled, licked and caressed each other.

"We didn't do it since a long time. I had already forgotten how tasty it was," he spluttered as he made an enormous effort to stay steady on top of her.

"We did it one-thousand times, and I still enjoy it as if it were the first time," she admitted with a candid smile on her face.

"The first time you bled and almost had a heart attack."

"I thought you had hurt me. My friends told me it was pretty normal to bleed the first time."

"You were a naive scoundrel the day I deflowered you."

"I was eighteen years old," he reminded him. "My parents wanted me to remain virgin until I got hitched."

"What your parents didn't know was that you were a potential debauched whore. After twenty years, you're still the same insatiable bitch."

"And you're still a dribbly dog."

"I sleep with my mouth open, that's why I drool on the pillow."

"Whatever," she laughed at his last comment.

Her long love game ended at four o'clock in the afternoon, time for a snack. They separated, got dressed, took the luggage and took out plastic containers with some sandwiches of meat and vegetables they devoured in a flash.

They went to the bathroom and bathed together under the shower that barely wet them both at the same time. They realized the bathroom was the most beautiful part of the room. It was ideal for having sex, drinking a strong drink or smoking some prohibited weed. As there were no towels, they had to lick each other in order that their thick fur dried.

The drying process took more than three hours. They were sleepy as they had woken up very early that day, they preferred to skip dinner and go to sleep.

Cuddled up like two puppies, they lay on the bed and fell asleep in few minutes. At no time did they hear noises from other neighbors in the building. The thick walls made it impossible to transfer sounds from one room to the other. They had spent their first day in the Furtel 69; they had no idea of everything that awaited them to discover.