As its name suggests, the Mountain Nest Hotel caters to travelers seeking more than just a place to sleep.
For both men and women, the hotel offers a wide selection of hosts and hostesses, each providing a unique experience tailored to guests' desires.
In Room 401, the most erotic—and most expensive—hostess has been booked for a two-hour private session by Trud.
While preparing herself in the shower, the hostess recalled the look of the client she was about to pleasure for the next two hours.
Trud was young and handsome—not particularly tall, but with a muscular build that made the hostess feel a rush of arousal.
Unable to contain her excitement, she began touching herself, imagining being dominated by those strong arms. Her left hand cupped her breast, fingers teasing her erect nipple, while her right hand slipped between her legs, rubbing her already sensitive entrance.
The heat building inside her grew unbearable. She pushed two slender fingers into herself, searching for that familiar sweet spot.
He's probably hiding a monster rod in those pants, she thought, trembling as she reached a climax.
"Ahh~!"
A loud moan echoed from the bathroom, reaching Trud, who was already waiting on the bed.
The hostess emerged from the shower in a semi-transparent white bathrobe. Her damp skin caused the fabric to cling to her body, accentuating her slender figure and revealing glimpses of what lay beneath.
"I didn't pay that much just to listen to you getting off by yourself," Trud said, unable to hide his arousal after hearing her moans.
Driven by lust, he walked up to her, grabbed her waist, and pushed her down onto the bed.
The sudden force thrilled the hostess. Her eyes glazed with lust, her lips parted with a faint moan. With each breath, her robe slipped slightly, exposing more of her ample cleavage.
Unable to ignore the itch deep inside her, she rubbed her thighs together in anticipation.
"Since you're so impatient," she purred, "why don't we skip the foreplay and get right to it?"
Trud responded with a smug smile. He climbed onto the bed, removed his robe, and proudly revealed his toned body.
The sight of his muscular frame made her heart race—until her gaze dropped lower.
What she saw deflated her excitement: an erect, twitching stick, barely four inches long.
Seriously? she thought. Still, as a professional, she hid her disappointment and spread her arms in welcome.
Trud, however, had no interest in tenderness. All he wanted was to plunge his stick into her wet hole and satisfy his craving.
Grabbing her hips, he lifted her and thrust into her in one motion.
The scene was one of primal passion. Her lithe body arched, breasts bouncing, hair flowing as Trud drove into her.
Yet no matter how hard or fast he moved, the hostess felt… nothing.
He's awful, she thought, even as she faked moans of pleasure.
Trying to make the most of it, she matched his rhythm, moving her hips in sync. But just as she began to engage, he suddenly froze.
Moments later, he pulled out, the condom filled with a disappointing amount of semen.
---
"FUCK! That wasn't even sex!" the hostess screamed as she stormed into the manager's office, still in her bathrobe.
"Don't tell me that rich hunk you were excited about was a One-Cum-Man?"
"Worse!" she snapped. "A One-Minute-Man with a tiny stick, hiding behind his good looks, muscles, and money. And you know what's even worse, manager? He passed out afterward like he just gave me the ride of my life!"
She was no longer interested in Trud. Her real frustration came from still being aroused—still craving the real thing.
"Well," the manager said with a calm grin, "if you're still frustrated, would you like me to help?"
Normally, he didn't lay hands on the hostesses. But part of his job was to ensure their well-being—especially when left unsatisfied.
The offer sent a jolt through her body. The manager was known for his skill—not for being prolific, but for being so good that anyone who slept with him wanted more.
He restrained her hands on his desk. She instinctively pushed her hips back, rubbing her ass against the firm bulge in his pants.
He leaned in, groping her breasts with both hands as he kissed the nape of her neck.
When she looked back at him, eyes filled with desire, he understood her silent plea. He removed his pants and rubbed the head of his thick rod against her entrance.
"Please, manager… enough foreplay. Just put it in."
He didn't need to be asked twice.
"Ahh~!"
His seven-inch rod filled her all at once, and the pleasure was instant.
It wasn't the biggest she'd ever had, but the way he moved, the angle of his thrusts—it was perfect.
As he pounded into her, he leaned forward to kiss her, hands never leaving her breasts. Her hips began to move in sync with his, both of them lost in rhythm.
Each thrust sent electric shocks through her. Her entire body trembled with the overwhelming pleasure building inside.
When she finally climaxed, it hit her like lightning. She convulsed, her body tightening as she screamed out in bliss—the most powerful orgasm she'd had in ages.
"Ahh... Thank you, manager," she whispered, leaning on the desk to steady her shaking legs.
She was satisfied—but not nearly done.
And neither was he.
Without a word, he lifted her onto the desk. She looked down and saw his still-throbbing rod poised at her soaked entrance.
"I forgot… you haven't cum yet," she said breathlessly.
"Then you don't mind helping me out?"
In answer, she leaned back on the desk and spread her legs wide.
"Your rod can enjoy my hole for as long as it wants, manager."
No reply needed. He grabbed her waist, pinned her to the desk, and thrust deep—again and again—as her moans echoed through the office.