I Seduced the Maintenance Man on My Getaway to a Country Hotel

I booked three days at a country hotel tucked away among the hills of the mountain range because I needed to switch off my phone and stop thinking. For months, I had been running on autopilot: work, home, work. I promised myself that weekend would be just for me. I had no idea how completely I was going to keep that promise.

I took the largest suite, one with a private terrace and a jacuzzi overlooking the valley. The first afternoon, I went down to the pool. There were barely two couples there, wrapped up in their own worlds, so I spread my towel out in a corner of the lawn, took off my dress, and stayed in my bikini. I didn't dare go topless with people nearby; drawing attention to myself that way wasn't my style.

I would swim for a while and then lie back down in the sun. That's when I saw him. A maintenance man, wearing shorts and a sleeveless shirt in the July heat, was checking some pipes near the wall. He must have been about thirty-eight, with tanned skin and a lean, muscled body, the kind you earn through hard work rather than in a gym. He couldn't stop looking at me. And instead of making me uncomfortable, I was delighted.

It had been far too long since anyone had looked at me like that. At home, I had grown used to being invisible, just another woman caught between meetings and deadlines. That stranger's gaze, brazen yet bashful at the same time, gave me back a version of myself I thought I had lost. I propped myself up a little on my elbows, unhurried, letting the sun outline my figure, and saw him pause for a moment in the middle of his task before pretending to concentrate again. Beneath the bikini triangle, I felt my pussy beginning to grow wet, tight and throbbing, simply from knowing I was being watched.

I dozed off for a few minutes on the towel. I don't remember what I dreamed, but I woke with my body burning, with that warm restlessness in my lower belly that I hadn't felt in a long time. I looked around for him, but he was gone. I gathered my things to go upstairs, and when I raised my eyes, I spotted him on the roof, adjusting something under the sun.

So that's where you were.

I went up to the suite with a silly idea circling through my head. I stepped onto the terrace and discreetly looked toward the side of the building. I could see him perfectly, although he was working with his back to me, facing the opposite side. I don't know whether it was the interrupted nap or the weeks of drought, but I decided to get into the jacuzzi completely naked, using the excuse that I didn't want my bikini to leave tan lines.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him turn his head toward my terrace, once, twice, pretending to check something on the tiles. Every stolen glance ran down my back like an electric current. I behaved as though he didn't exist, as though I were alone in the world, and the performance excited me more than any touch could have. I slid one hand over my tits beneath the water, pinching my nipples until they hardened, and let the other travel down between my thighs. I found my pussy open, slippery, already swollen. I stroked my clitoris with two fingers in small, slow circles, biting my lip to keep from moaning, my eyes fixed on his sweaty back up there. I pushed in one finger, then two, moving them slowly inside me and imagining they were his. I came close to cumming right there, but I stopped. I wanted more.

When I got out of the water, I didn't dry myself. I stretched out on the hammock on my back, at the exact spot where I knew he could see me without it looking obvious. I let the sun caress my wet skin while I felt the weight of his attention on me. I opened my legs a little, just enough for him to make out the wet slit between my thighs from above. It was a silent game, and I was winning.

***

When he finished on the roof, I watched him come down. By then, I had a complete plan in my head. I called reception in my most innocent voice.

—Excuse me, I think the shower in my suite is dripping, and the terrace blind doesn't close properly. Could you send someone up?

—Of course, ma'am. The maintenance technician will be up in ten minutes.

I hung up with my heart racing. Ten minutes. I didn't want to come across as too brazen right away, so I put on only the bottom of my bikini and a short, slightly transparent T-shirt, one of those that shows everything underneath in the right light. I let my hair down, looked at myself in the mirror, and took a deep breath. When I heard the doorbell, I opened the door as though nothing were out of the ordinary.

It was him. Up close, with his forehead beaded with sweat and his defined forearms, he was even more imposing. I held his gaze for a second too long.

—Hi. It's the blind there and the bathroom faucet —I said, pointing inside—. If you don't mind, I'll get into the jacuzzi in the meantime.

—No problem —he replied, his voice coming out slightly hoarse.

He began examining the mechanism of the blind. With my back to him but knowing he was watching me from the corner of his eye, I slowly took off my T-shirt. I was left topless and got into the hot water. I felt his gaze fixed on the nape of my neck, traveling down my back to my ass, barely covered by the wet bikini bottoms.

After a while, I got out to fetch a glass of white wine from the fridge.

—Would you like something to drink? —I asked, offering him the bottle.

He swallowed. His eyes went straight to my tits before returning to my face. My nipples hardened beneath his gaze, as if they had a will of their own.

—When I'm finished, thank you.

I smiled to myself. I went back out to the terrace, picked up the bottle of sunscreen, and rubbed it all over my body with deliberate slowness, turning from side to side and letting him see everything in the reflection of the glass door. I ran my lotion-covered hands over my tits, squeezing them and making them bounce slightly, then moved down over my belly to my hipbone, brushing the edge of my bikini bottoms. After that, I sank into the jacuzzi again, pretending to be calm when I wasn't. Beneath the water, I noticed that the bulge in his shorts had been showing for some time.

—I'm going into the bathroom to look at the faucet —he called from inside—. I might take a while.

—Take your time —I replied.

***

Five minutes passed. Curiosity got the better of me. I climbed out of the water without making a sound, barefoot on the warm tiles, and crept toward the bathroom. The door was ajar. What I saw left me breathless.

He was facing away from me, looking toward the sink, his shorts pulled down to his thighs and his shirt off. He had a thick, dark cock, glistening at the tip, and was slowly jerking it with his fist, his head slightly bowed, holding his breath so he wouldn't make a sound. In the mirror's reflection, I saw his face, his eyes half-closed, his mouth open. The faucet, of course, had already been forgotten. He was masturbating while thinking about me, about my wet body stretched out three meters away from him.

I didn't think. I crossed the last few steps without him hearing me and pressed my naked breasts against his burning back. With one hand, I covered the hand that was moving, and with the other, I held his balls, heavy and hot in my palm. He jumped as though he'd been struck by lightning and let out a muffled moan.

—Relax —I whispered in his ear, biting his earlobe—. It's all right. Keep jerking off for me.

I moved his hand aside and replaced it with mine. I wrapped my fingers around his cock, squeezed, and began stroking him slowly, up and down, feeling the skin slide over the hard flesh beneath. With my thumb, I spread the thick drop welling from the tip all over his glans, making it shine. He trembled, his head falling back against my shoulder, while I pressed my nipples against his sweaty back and bit the nape of his neck.

—You have such a hard cock —I whispered—. You were about to come thinking about me, weren't you?

—Yes —he panted—. Fuck, yes. I've been hard all afternoon because of you.

I made him turn around. His eyes were dark and unfocused, with no trace of the discreet worker from a little while earlier. I kissed him. It was slow at first, then quickly turned hungry, his tongue seeking mine and his hands finally finding my tits, squeezing them and tugging my nipples as though he couldn't believe this was real. He sucked one, then the other, nibbling, and I threw my head back with a long moan. Without stopping his mouth from working my breasts, one of his hands moved down and slipped between my thighs over my wet bikini bottoms. He felt the soaked fabric and swore against my tit.

—You're dripping wet —he whispered.

—I've been like this for hours because of you —I replied.

He pushed the fabric aside with two fingers and plunged them into my pussy in one stroke. A muffled cry escaped me. He began pumping his fingers in and out, his palm rubbing my clitoris with every thrust, while I leaned on his shoulders, my knees weak. I was so close that I nearly came standing up against him.

I started moving downward. I traced his neck with my lips, then his chest and his taut belly, leaving a wet trail with my tongue as I knelt on the bath mat. He braced himself against the edge of the sink, his knuckles white from gripping the marble, and his cock stood level with my face, hard, throbbing, pointing at me.

First I kissed all around it, unhurried, licking the sensitive skin on the insides of his thighs, burying my nose in the crease where they met his balls. I ran my flat tongue over his balls, one and then the other, and carefully took them into my mouth, sucking them slowly while my hand stroked his cock at the same pace. His breathing broke into short gasps, his hips thrusting forward in search of more. I ran my tongue up its entire length, from the base to the tip, and gave the glans a long lick before looking him in the eyes.

—Do you want me to suck your cock? —I asked.

—Please —he groaned.

I opened my mouth and took him inside. I felt him hard, hot, throbbing against my tongue, filling me. I began sucking him slowly, my lips tight around the shaft, letting him slide in and out deeper each time. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the salty taste, on the taut skin beneath my tongue, on the thick vein running along the top. I sped up. Saliva began to dribble from the corner of my mouth, falling in strands over my tits and his balls. I pulled him all the way out for a moment, held him against my cheek, and swallowed him again until the outline showed in my throat.

—Do you want me to keep going? —I asked, looking up at him with my lips shining.

—Yes —he panted—. Please, don't stop. Suck me like that.

I sped up. I tightened my lips and let my hands grip his ass, setting the rhythm and making him fuck my mouth. I dug my nails into his ass and he began thrusting, driving his face into me, while I relaxed my throat and let him enter all the way. With every thrust, I felt him strike the roof of my mouth, felt tears spring to my eyes, felt myself running out of air, and I didn't want him to stop for anything in the world. Between my legs, my pussy was streaming, soaking the floor beneath my knees.

I felt him tense, right on the edge. His balls tightened against his body, his cock swelling even more inside my mouth. Then his fingers tangled in my hair and, without warning, he pushed me down to the back of my throat and held me there. I felt the first hot, thick spurt strike my uvula, then another, and another, thick streams of cum flooding my mouth while he grunted above me, my head pressed against his pubic bone and the air beginning to run out.

And yet, instead of making me uncomfortable, that loss of control swept me away. My own body, which had been on the edge all afternoon, lost control without me touching it. I felt the orgasm surge suddenly from my pussy, my thighs trembling, everything inside me contracting in waves while I kept swallowing his cum, unable to breathe. An intense, unexpected orgasm that, in that moment, I barely registered amid the vertigo and lack of air.

I swallowed every last drop. There was a lot of it, and, curiously, it tasted slightly sweet. I slowly pulled him from my mouth, licking him from top to bottom to clean him, sticking out my tongue to show him there was nothing left. When I finally pulled away and drew breath, I remained on my knees for a moment, my forehead resting against his thigh, recovering from the tremor still running through my legs and the contractions still squeezing my empty pussy. Then I looked up at him. He was spent, his back against the wall and his breathing in tatters, speechless.

I rose slowly, savoring the power of that silence. He didn't know what to do with his hands, his gaze, or the fact that the guest in the suite had just knelt before him and swallowed all his cum. That sudden awkwardness, after the confidence he'd shown while watching me all afternoon, seemed like the most exciting thing of all.

—The faucet is still dripping —I told him, wiping the corner of my mouth with my thumb and a smile.

He let out a nervous laugh, still catching his breath.

***

I didn't see him again until the last day, when I ran into him in the parking lot as he was loading my suitcase. He held my gaze for a second, nodded with a conspiratorial half-smile, and continued on his way without saying a word. He didn't need to.

I had come to that hotel to disconnect, to forget everything for three days. And did I ever succeed. Even now, when I need to escape into my own head for a while, I don't think about the hills or the quiet of the valley. I think about an ajar door, a burning back, and how easy it sometimes is to stop being the sensible woman everyone thinks they know.