Bell Hop
by Peter Loaf

The bell hop knocking, jacket and cap
The door swings open, walk into trap
The room is empty
His wallet tempting
His voice from the bath, a running tap

Walking out naked, towel in place
The bell hop blushes, a tinny taste
The towel tenting
My ass heís renting
First time in penthouse, my needing faced

Rough trade young hooker, Hotel Pussy
Sent up to penthouse, by Madame Lucy
His hand on my rear
His suitcase of gear
His fingers finding, wet and juicy

Four poster posing, shedding my clothes
Naked and helpless, the cuffs that closed
A gag surprising
Inflated sizing
A hoodwink tying, my wetness shows

He sits behind me, gripping my tit
His naked body, his stiffened tip
Laying back sighing
Services buying
Hooker delivered, hoisted to sit

Riding His pony, pro that I am
Milking his organ, tight as I can
Premium paying
I know Iím staying
Subbie lust flooding, Masterly man

Thrusting and busting, cannot escape
Shackled in irons, faking my rape
His organ stroking
My pussy poking
Fingers grip titties, taking new shape

My passion rising, my nasal screams
Bouncing and flouncing, my wettest dreams
We two become one
Orgasmic our fun
What happens in Vegas, consciousness streams

The weekend stretching, into fortnight
Room service meals, bars holding tight
Fed wed and bedding
Where is this heading
Little pill taking, His holy rite

A fortune spending, he doesnít care
Twenty-four/seven, keeping me there
Face down in shackles
The paddle smackles
Pink hot and juicy, rode like a mare

After departure, Lucy comes up
The shackles open, paying my cut
Fortnight rate paying
Premium staying
A fortune in Euros, poor swollen butt

Bell Hop