WARNING. This story contains sexually oriented adult material. This includes sexual relations between adults and minors. All this has no basis in truth and is all fictional. Author does not condone of any illegal activities as this is purely for fantasy. Feedback and comments welcome at jockboydad@outlook.com. Thanks for all the feedback, comments and ideas so far!
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Copyright 2023
Adventures of a Bellboy (Chapter 1)
The summer after high school graduation, I had it all. The star quarterback of my football team, the best in Texas, I had a scholarship to the University of Florida, making me the first in my family to escape Texas and go to college. In top physical shape, I worked out six days a week, knowing that training camp was going to be hell, and I had to live up to high expectations.
And then, just a week before I was due to go out for summer training in Florida, I was horsing around at the neighborhood pool and slipped, falling and hitting my throwing arm right on the edge of the pool, fracturing it. My scholarship and starting position on the team was suspended. They said I should take a year to recover and come back, but I knew it was over, before it even started. My family was poor and there was no way they'd be able to pay for college without my scholarship.
It took about two months for my arm to heal, and then the cold hard reality set in that I needed to get a job. I moved in with three guys who had graduated a few years before me. It was a shitty two bedroom apartment in Houston, and I only got the couch in the second room, but it beat living out in the country with my folks.
I was having trouble finding a decent job, until one of my roommates, Jeremy, who worked as a sous chef at the restaurant in a luxury hotel downtown, said that he heard a bellboy position had opened up.
"The hourly pay isn't great, but the guys say they make good money in tips from some of the rich clients. And you get to lift heavy shit all day, so it's kind of a workout, haha," Jeremy said, telling me about the job.
"Bro, at this point, I'll take anything. I gotta start making some money," I said.
A couple days later, I borrowed a suit and tie from one of the guys and went in for an interview with the hotel manager, an older guy, well dressed in a double breasted suit and tie.
"Jacob, is it?"
"Yessir," I responded.
"With that accent, you're obviously from Texas," he said, looking up at me over his wire rimmed glasses.
"Yessir," I replied.
He chuckled. You don't have to call me sir every time. The clients like that level of formality, and I'm sure they'll enjoy your accent, but you don't have to call me sir every time," he said.
"Yes, siiii...I mean, understood," I said, smiling back.
"You don't have any work experience?" he asked.
"Not formally, sir, but I grew up working on my grandpas farm since I was 10, and I played varsity football all four years of high school. I can lift heavy things and take orders, and I know my manners," I said, trying not to sound too desperate, but I really needed this job.
"Ok, I'll tell you what. My best night shift bellboy just walked out last week, off to find himself in California or something, so lucky for you, I'm pretty desperate. We'll do a one week trial period. If I hear one back comment from any of our guests or the other boys during the trial, you're gone, ok?" I nodded. "Night shift is 7pm to 3am. Pay is $12 an hour, and you get to keep any tips. If you're good, the tips will vastly exceed your hourly wage."
"Thank you, sir. You won't be disappointed!" I said, almost giddy.
"Jacob, I cannot stress to you enough, this is the finest hotel in Houston, one of the best in the country. We pride ourselves on meeting the highest of guest expectations. So whether they ask you to carry ten bags up to their room, to walk their dog at two in the morning, or to sprint down to the store to get them a stick of gum, the answer is always 'yes,' understood?"
"Yessir!"
"Christ, again with the sir," he laughed.
"Oh, and I need you to start tonight," he added.
"Not a problem!"
"Good. Martha will take you on a quick tour, and then get you fitted for your uniform," he said, reaching out to shake my hand before turning back to his papers on his desk.
A younger woman named Martha came and gave me a tour of the hotel, starting in the grand lobby, with its high painted ceilings and traditional high end decor.
"They're going to like you," she said, continuing her brisk walk through the lobby. I struggled to keep up.
"Pardon, ma'am?"
"The guests. They always like the young cute ones. Better tips," she said before turning to point me to the key areas on the ground floor, including the hotel bar, restaurant, reading room, etc. With each description, she would drop in a note about rules for the staff. I learned quickly that staff is not allowed to eat or drink out in the areas where the guests are.
I tried to focus as much as possible, but I was also a bit overwhelmed by the opulence of it all, as well as the high class clientele walking in and out of the lobby.
After the tour, Martha took me to a staff locker room, and I got fitted with a uniform, consisting of black slacks, a grey fitted blazer and crisp white button up shirt. It was a bit more tight fitting than I usually wear my clothes, but I was told that was the standard fit.
I was then introduced to the other bellboys, whose afternoon shift overlapped mine as they were wrapping up. The three guys were all within a couple years of my age, and all clean cut former high school or college athletes. I was pleasantly surprised, and figured I'd fit in well with other jocks like myself. A few of them even gave me a few tips of the trade while we were waiting for guests to arrive. A couple times, I overheard the guys talking about big tips they'd received for "special requests" that night, but I just chalked it up to demanding guests like the manager had talked about.
After the end of the evening rush, the other bellboys clocked out and it was just me for the rest of the night. Before the concierge left, he gave me a small radio that he said the front desk would use to call me for anything a guest needs, and unless with a guest, I should always leave it on. He introduced me to Chip, the guy manning the front desk for the night, and took off.
By about 11:00 pm, the lobby was empty, other than the last few leaving the bar and heading up to their rooms.
"Sometimes we like to bet on whether the guy is with his wife or mistress," Chip joked, as we watched a couple stumble by, his hand on her ass. Before the elevator door even closed they were making out against he wall.
"Mistress..." I joked.
"Bingo," he said. "Funny thing is that his wife arrives tomorrow."
"Oh shit," I said.
"So, you're the new night shift guy? Welcome."
"Thanks, man. Looking forward to it," I said. "So, how is it during the late night here?"
"Definitely different than the day. Certainly less hectic, but the guests are pretty demanding, and you just never know what they're going to call and ask for, so it's got its ups and downs," he said. "So it's up to you and me to keep this shit going until morning, haha," he said as his phone started buzzing. "Speaking of which...."
"Front desk....Yes, ma'am....Right away....Of course...." he said into the phone.
"And you're up. Mrs. Wilkenson needs a martini delivered to room 545. The bartender will know how she likes it. And play up the accent. She likes southern boys," he grinned as he nodded, directing me toward the bar.
I got the martini on a tray and went up to the fifth floor. I knocked softly on the door, not wanting to disturb any other guests, and within a couple seconds, the door flung open and I was greeted by an attractive woman, probably in her 50s, wearing a silk robe. Like out of a movie, it was fringed with feathers, or fur, or something, and her giant tits were practically falling out.
"Good evening, ma'am. I have the martini you ordered," I said, standing at the door.
"Do come in dear boy," she said, in a heavy British accent, turning to walk back into the room. I followed, feeling a little uncomfortable intruding in a guest's room. She turned and looked at me standing there, holding the tray. "I say, they do know how to find the most delectable young men," she said, looking me up and down, causing me to blush a little.
"Thank you, ma'am. Should I set your drink here?" I asked.
She walked over to me, her eyes locked on mine, and took the drink from the tray, and after taking a sip, pulled an olive off the pick with her tongue, all while maintaining eye contact with me. This lady was clearly flirting with me.
I cleared my throat, and said "Can I bring you anything else, ma'am?"
"No, I think that will be all for now, dear boy. But hold on, let me get you a tip for being such a delicious young man." She walked over to her purse and pulled out some bills, walking back toward me. Despite me politely holding out my hand, she reached forward and put the bill into my pocket, her hand getting dangerously close to my crotch as she put it in my pocket, smiling at me.
"I do appreciate that, ma'am. Please let us know if you need anything else this evening. Good night," I said, exiting her room.
Walking back to the elevator, still in shock from how forward she had been, I reached in and pulled out a hundred dollar bill. I couldn't believe it. Just from delivering a drink and letting her flirt a little with me. I was grinning ear to ear when I got back to the lobby.
"Bro, she gave me a hundred bucks just for taking that drink up!" I said to Chip.
"Yeah, she's a big tipper. Assume she copped a feel though?" he said.
"Ha, a little. Just a hand down my pocket though," I replied, causing both of us to laugh.
The phone buzzed again. "Yes, sir....you're usual?....right away," he said, before hanging up.
"You're up again. Bottle of Angel's Envy, right away to the penthouse suite on the top floor. This is Mr. Hardigan, one of the hotel's most important guests. Don't fuck this one up," he said, looking quite serious.
"On it," I said, speed walking over to the bar to get the bottle, some glasses and some of those giant round ice cubes.
The top floor only had two rooms, both the largest suites in the hotels. Slightly nervous, I knocked on Mr. Hardigan's door. When the door opened, I was greeted by a man wearing only white boxer briefs. Probably in his mid- to late-forties, he had dark brown hair with a mixture of grey, a very muscular build, like that of a former professional athlete, and the attractive face of a typical wall street business man.
"Please, come in," he greeted me warmly, stepping aside for me to enter.
"I haven't seen you before, are you new to the staff?" he asked me as we walked into the main living area of the enormous penthouse.
"Yes, sir. Today is actually my first day. My name is Jacob, sir," I replied, sitting the tray on the table.
"Ah, well, welcome. I tend to stay here quite frequently, so I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot of each other," he said, sitting down in a large leather chair, his muscular legs spread wide, giving me a full view of the large bulge in his boxer briefs. I tried not to stare or let him see me catching a glance. I did notice that one of his thighs was wrapped, like he had an injury.
"I hope so, sir. I'm on a one week trial period, but I'm doing my best to make it a permanent position," I said. "Shall I pour you a drink, sir?"
He nodded, and as I poured his drink just like the bartender had told me, he said, "well, I happen to know the owner of the hotel, so I'm happy to put in a good word for you, Jacob."
"Thank you, sir. I really appreciate that, but I'd like to earn the job on my own," I said, walking over to him to hand him his drink.
"A man who wants to earn his own way. I respect that," he said. "Why don't you pour yourself one and join me for a little," he said, taking a sip from his glass.
"Thanks, but I, uh, I can't while I'm working, sir," I said.
"Oh sure you can. It's my request. Trust me, it won't be an issue with your boss," he said, prodding me. "Go on."
I hesitated a bit before acquiescing, reaching over to pour half the amount of whiskey into my glass as I had for him. A surefire way of getting fired on my first day would be to get drunk in a guest' room.
"Atta boy. Please, take a seat," he said, grinning at me.
For a good minute, he just looked at me, sipping his drink. I was somewhat fixated by his masculine confidence, sitting there proudly in just his underwear. I took a few sips of the whiskey, enjoying the taste. I usually didn't get to taste the expensive stuff.
The silence made me a little uncomfortable, so I asked, "Did you injure your leg, sir?"
He looked down at his thigh, then responded, "Yeah, my personal trainer was pushing me hard on squats, and I tweaked my quad the other day."
"I've been there man...er, sorry, sir. It took me a while to get my form right, and then I stopped getting injured so much," I said.
"You look like you play sports?"
"Football. High school, quarterback. I just graduated. I was going to go to Florida but I broke my arm this summer, and well, here I am," I said, opening up to him.
"I'm sorry to hear that..." he said, taking another sip of his whiskey. Then he looked over at me. "Say, maybe you could show me the right form for squats, in case my trainer is an idiot that doesn't know what he's doing."
"Sure, sir. I'd be happy to." He looked at me, raising his eyebrows. "Oh, now? I'm sorry, sir, but I'm afraid I'd split these pants if I even went halfway down. They really fit me with a tight uniform," I explained.
"Why don't you take them off while you show me? You can hang them up so they don't get wrinkled. It'd really help me out. This injury has kept me out of the gym for a couple days, and it's really thrown me off," he pleaded.
Debating in my head about how strange it would be to take my pants off in front of a guest, versus Chip's statement that this was one of the most important guests of the hotel making this request...
I decided it was more important to satisfy the guest, as he genuinely seemed to want the help with his workout.
"Ok, sir," I said, standing up and walking over to the coat closet to grab a hanger.
I took off my blaze and started unbuttoning my shirt, as Mr. Hardigan watched, slowly sipping his drink. I had been naked in plenty of locker rooms to not be embarrassed in front of other men, even ones in as good as shape as him. As I pulled my button up shirt off, he commented, "It looks like you spend just as much time on your upper body as your squats."
"Thank you, sir."
He was right. I had always hit the bench press hard, resulting in large round pecs that impressed both the guys on my team, and the ladies. I had large rounded shoulders and large biceps with a large visible vein running down the length of them. It took me a long time to get this body, and I was proud of it.
I unbuttoned the pants and pulled them down. I struggled to get them off my ankles due to how tight they were, and almost fell over in the process, causing both of us to laugh.
"Maybe cross off stripper as your backup job," he joked.
I was now standing there in front of him, just in my tight white briefs, when my radio buzzed with Chip's voice. "Jacob, come in. We have another food run for you to take up. Where are you?"
I froze for a minute in my state of undress. But Mr. Hardigan reached over and grabbed the radio and responded.
"Hi, Chip. It's Mr. Hardigan here. Jacob is still with me. I've asked him to help me out with a special request."
"Oh, yes, of course, sir. Terribly sorry to interrupt. I didn't..."
"Don't worry about it. He might be tied up for a while," he said.
"Yes, Mr. Hardigan. Again, apologize for the intrusion."
And then Mr. Hardigan flipped the off switch on the radio. "There, now you can help me out without worrying about running food to those other insipid guests," he said, smiling. I was starting to like this guy. Who knew I'd be spending most of my shift sipping expensive whiskey and talking about working out with another jock. "So, where were we?" he said.
I figured I'd start with demonstrating how I go down in the squat position, standing in front of him as he watched me go up and down, pretending to hold a barbell across my shoulders. He listened intently as I gave a couple tips each time I went down, holding the position with my ass sticking out.
"Here, come here, and I'll show you the muscles yo want to focus on flexing to maintain the right posture," I said, standing in front of him, offering a hand to him as he stood up.
I had him stand right next to me as I slowly went down into a squat position. "Now, here, feel how my quads engage here," I said, pulling his hand and placing it on my upper quad as I started to stand back up. I felt his firm hand grasp my thigh, his fingers edging around to my inner thigh, as I extended my legs. "Feel that?" I asked, as he nodded, his hand still on my thigh.
I grabbed his hand and placed it on my lower back, just above the waistband of my briefs. "Now, see if you can feel the difference between these two," I said, going down and back up, his hand feeling my lower back muscles engage.
"Now, feel my glutes on this one," I said, pushing his hand lower until it was firmly grasping my ass, as I repeated another squat.
"Could you tell the difference?" I asked, turning to him, and realizing I was slowly working up a sweat doing all these squats in the warm room.
"Um, I think the second one felt better, I think. I'm not sure," he said, staring back down at my ass.
"Ok, here, try this," I said, pulling the briefs down over my ass, so that his hand could feel my glutes directly as I repeated the squat. This time I felt his hand grasp my ass even harder.
"Wow, you've got an amazing perky ass, kid," he said, his hand lingering even after I was standing straight up.
"Thank you, sir. My ex-girlfriend always said that's what she noticed first about me in my tight football uniform," I said, laughing.
"Ex-girlfriend? So you're not together anymore?" he asked.
"Nah, we were both heading off to different colleges, and we both knew it wouldn't work long distance, at least exclusively, so we called it quits," I said, taking another sip of the whiskey.
"I'm sure you'll have no trouble finding someone else," he said.
"I don't know, man. It was so easy when I was the star quarterback, but now that's all gone," I replied. "What about you? You married?" I asked.
"I am, but it's, uh, complicated," he replied.
"How's that?" I asked, but then realized I had probably crossed the line. "Oh, crap, I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to pry. It's none of my business...."
"Jacob, relax. It's ok. I'm enjoying our conversation, so you can ask me whatever you want. If I'm not comfortable answering, I'll let you know," he said, his smile giving me comfort that he wasn't annoyed with my personal questions. "To answer your question. I am married, but we long ago lost the spark, so to speak, so we both find our fun elsewhere," he said.
"So she's fucking another dude?" I blurted out.
"Yes, her yoga instructor to be specific," he said, chuckling.
"And you?"
"My personal trainer," he replied.
"But I thought you said your trainer was a he..."
"He is..."
"Oh...Ohhhh," I said, as it finally sunk in.
"I'm bisexual. Does that make you uncomfortable?"
"No, sir. Not at all. I've seen lots of bi guys in porn. I just don't think I've met one before," I replied. Despite growing up in rural Texas, I really didn't see why people made such a big deal over who other people hooked up with. If guys got off on seeing two girls making out, I never understood why girls didn't want to see two dudes going at it. There were only a couple gay kids at my school, but people mostly left them alone and didn't care one way or the other.
"Haha. I'm sure you have, you just didn't know it," he said.
"Yeah, you're probably right." As I thought about it more I said, "Wow, so you just get to hook up whenever you want, and guys are always horny and up for sex, so you must get laid all the time!"
Realizing both our drinks were empty, I walked over and grabbed his glass and refilled both of them, also refreshing the ice. I hadn't bothered pulling my briefs back up above my ass at this point, probably a sign I was getting tipsy. I plopped down next to him in his leather chair, turning to face him, my right leg propped up against the back of the seat, as we continued our chat.
"Well, yeah, it is true, guys tend to have a stronger sex driver, especially the younger ones," he said. "So, you've never done anything with a guy?" he asked.
"No. I mean, sometimes after a game or a hard workout, some of us will jack off in the showers next to each other. Oh, and one time my buddy and I tag teamed this girl, but we didn't cross swords or anything." The whiskey was also starting to make me chatty, as I continued, "But one of the guys on the team had a gay cousin, and he would let him suck his dick. He would always say guys give much better head than chicks."
"Well, that rumor is true," he said, laughing. "The lesser known fact is that guys are also better at making out."
"Damn, for real?" I asked.
"Wanna see for yourself?" he asked me, confidently, leaning toward me.
"Wait, what?" I said, but before I knew it, his hand was on the back of my neck, gently pulling me toward his face. I'm not sure why, maybe it was the whiskey, or my dry spell, but I didn't resist, and before I knew it, our lips were locked. I felt his large plump lips caressing mine, his light stubble brushing up against my face. And then his tongue was dominantly entering my mouth, toying with my tongue, as I reciprocated. It certainly was different than kissing a girl. It was rougher and more aggressive, yet still sensual.
When he pulled away, he looked me in the eyes, grinning, as he licked his lips. "So, what did you think?" he asked.
A bit shellshocked, I mumbled, "I, uh. It was definitely different than I was expecting."
"Well, looks like somebody liked it," he said, looking down at my hard dick straining through my briefs. He leaned in to kiss me again, his hand reaching down and grabbing my cock.
I jumped back and off the couch. "Woah, man. I'm not into that."
"Not into what? Getting off?" he said, leaning back, looking me up and down as I stood almost naked in front of him, my dick still hard.
"Nah, man. I mean, sir. Not into, you know, with other guys," I said.
"Jacob, you're obviously horny. I find you incredibly hot, and I want to suck that rock hard cock of yours. I guarantee you, it'll be the best head you've ever had. You won't even remember the name of that girlfriend you just broke up with. Now, come here, stud," he said, leaning forward on the edge of the couch, motioning for me to walk toward him.
I don't know if it was my horny teenage dick or he was just that persuasive, or both, but I relented and slowly walked toward him, his eyes fixated on my crotch like a ravenous dog.
As soon as I got to him, he reached up, grabbing my chest, and slowly running his hands down my torso, feeling every crevice of my chiseled frame, until his fingers were hooked in the waistband of my briefs. With a quick motion, he pulled them down to my ankles, as my dick slapped up against my stomach. His eyes widened as he saw it close up.
In addition to my athletic body, I was also blessed with good genes and sported a girthy nine inch cut cock. While it gave me confidence, especially when walking around naked in the locker room, it did have its downsides. Most chicks could only get a couple inches in their mouth, and not many of them could take a rough fucking by it.
"Damn, Jacob. You are one hung stud. I'm going to make you feel so good," he said, reaching out to wrap his hand around the base, still admiring it.
"Thank you, sir. Most people can't get much of it in their mouth when it's this hard," I said, looking down at him.
"Is that right?" he said. He leaned forward, opened his mouth and slid my dick in, immediately causing me to moan as I felt his tongue and lips squeezing my sensitive skin. But where most would stop, he kept going. I felt my swollen head push back against his throat and then a new sensation for me as my cock slid into this throat. He didn't stop until his nose hit the base of my dick.
"Holy fucking shit!" I yelled out, having never felt something like this in my life. My cock was throbbing from the feeling of his throat wrapped around my entire shaft. He definitely was not lying about gay dudes and blowjobs.
He pulled off about halfway before going all the way down to the base again with ease. Christ, it felt even better than fucking a pussy. The guests next door probably heard me moaning out, but I was in a state of pure bliss as he continued worshiping my cock with his lips, his tongue, his throat.
"Fuck yeah, man. That feels so damn good. Please don't stop!" I yelled out.
I felt him reach around and grab each of my ass cheeks with his rough hands, using the leverage to pull me into his mouth each time he went back down on my dick. Almost involuntarily, I reached down and put my hands on each side of his head, starting to get into a rhythm of fucking his face like a chick. He seemed to like when I got more aggressive with my thrusts, moaning while never letting my dick leave his mouth.
As I continued to push my cock deep into his throat, I felt his hands start to pull my cheeks apart, and then his finger started rubbing the outside of my ass hole.
I paused my thrusts into his face. "Sir, I'm not really into that. Just suck my cock. It feels so good."
For the first time, he let my dick out of my mouth, looking up at me, saliva running down his face. "Trust me," he said, with a sly grin, as he stuck one of his fingers in mouth, pulling it out as he wrapped his lips around my cock head. I leaned my head back in pleasure, just as I felt his finger press against my hole. Instinctively, I clenched it, but with the saliva on his finger, he managed to push it into my hole about an inch.
I gasped at the completely new sensation coming from my ass, and the incredibly hot mouth on my dick. He continued to deep throat my cock, but with each time I pulled my dick out a little, he slid his finger in a little more.
"Oh fuck, man!" I yelled out, a flood of sensation running across my body.
And then after one deep thrust of my cock all the way down his throat, I slowly pulled back, as his finger slid even further into my ass. And then he pressed on something inside me that caused a chain reaction. My balls immediately drew up and the first volley of cum shot out of my dick almost with the same force as a strong piss.
As soon as he felt me cumming, he pulled me deeper in his mouth, his finger staying in my hole, pressing on the magic button, as I yelled out in pleasure, continuing to pump his mouth full of my boy seed.
"Hollllyyyyyyyy fuuuuccckkkkkkk!" I exclaimed, pulling his head onto my cock. I struggled to stay standing, as my body was shaking from the intense, continuing orgasm. I'd never cum this long before, and it didn't feel like my balls were letting up. I looked down and he was trying to keep up with the barrage of cum, but it was starting to leak out of the sides of his lips and onto his own cock, which he was vigorously stroking.
I soon felt his breathing intensify, along with his heaving moaning around my dick, as he started shooting cum up across his chest and stomach, not letting my cock escape his mouth until he finished cumming.
I finally stopped shooting, as did he, and he released my cock. I was still breathing heavily from the intense sensations and realized I was covered in a light coating of sweat.
I collapsed next to him on the couch, and looked over at him, drips of my cum still on his face. "Fuck, sir. You were right about that. I've never felt like that before," I said.
"Damn, Jacob. I don't know how your balls were storing that much cum. But it was fucking delicious. And that farm boy cock!" he said, reaching over and grabbing my still semi-hard cock. I have to admit, I was enjoying the admiration from him.
He squeezed my cock until a final drop of white cum oozed out of the tip. He ran his thumb over it, and then pulled it up to his mouth, savoring the taste of it. The look of pleasure on his face made me smile, and I leaned over and gave him a kiss. I hadn't expected the taste of my load to be so strong.
I pulled back, and he immediately knew why. "You taste your own load, huh?" Although I had only tried my own cum a couple times before, tasting now in his mouth was somehow much hotter. I leaned back in, running my tongue along the sides of his lips to gather up the stray gobs of my seed before our tongues shared it in a passionate, firm kiss.
"Damn, boy. You've got a bit of a kinky side buried under that cornfed quarterback persona," he said, grinning, clearly turned on by what I just did.
I chuckled. "I don't know, it just felt hot, I guess," I said.
I was slowly coming back down to reality and realized I was still at work. "You know, I better be getting back down to the lobby. They're probably wondering what I'm up to," I said, standing up, stretching, as Mr. Hardigan sat back, admiring my physique, grinning.
"What?" I said, smiling over at him.
"Nothing. You're just one hot young man," he said, causing me to almost blush at his compliment.
"You don't need to butter me up, you already got what you want," I joked, grabbing my dick and wiggling it at him. "But I've gotta get dressed and get back down," I said.
As I reached for my briefs, he interrupted me. "No, leave those with me," he said. I grinned, tossing them over to him, as he pulled them up to his mouth and inhaled my musk from them. I actually saw his dick twitch a little as he was breathing in my scent.
I finished getting dressed, as he watched me, and then turned to him, still siting naked on the couch, covered in cum. "Anything else I can do for you, sir?" I said, sheepishly, leaning down to give him a quick peck on the lips.
"I am perfectly satisfied, Jacob. Thank you," he said.
As I was about to open the door and leave, he called out. "Oh, Jacob, there's an envelope there by the door for you."
I turned and saw the envelop with my name written on it. I grabbed it, and looked back at him, smiling as I left his room and headed into the elevator. It suddenly hit me that I hadn't seen him put the envelope there while I was in the room. I guess he'd put it there before I arrived, which seemed strange.
Riding down the elevator, I opened the envelope and almost fell over once I saw that it contained 10 one hundred dollar bills. Even though I was the only one in the elevator, I shoved the money in my pocket, looking around like I was being watched. Holy shit, I just got the best blowjob of my life, AND I got a grand in tips from the guy who blew me?!
As I walked back to the reception area, Chip greeted me. "There he is! Everything good with Mr. Hardigan?" he asked, with a look on his face that made me nervous like I had cum on my shirt or something. I tried to play it cool.
"Yeah, all good. I think he got what he needed, so all set," I said.
"I bet," he said, grinning at me. "Oh, by the way, Mr. Charles wants to see you in his office."
Shit, the hotel manager is already here for the morning and wants to see me? He must have noticed I was gone for so long. I was sure that I was going to be fired on the spot, on my first night. I nodded and made my way to his office, knocking lightly on the door before walking in.
"Sir, you wanted to see me?"
"Jacob, yes, please close the door and come in," he instructed, me, walking around his desk to sit at the chair next to where I sat down.
"So, Jacob. How did your first night go?" he asked.
"Uh, very good, sir. Still learning the ropes, but I think I'm catching on. Sir, is there something wrong?"
He leaned back in his chair, looking at me in the eyes. "I've received some feedback from a guest. From Mr. Hardigan," he said, looking very serious.
I must have turned beet red, just waiting to be thrown out. The silence was killing me as he just sat there looking at me.
"Listen, Jacob. It's come to my attention that he had what we call a 'special request' this evening."
"Yes, he wanted a bottle of Angel's Envy delivered to his room," I said.
He smiled, and responded. "Yes, I'm aware. But what I'm talking about is, how shall we say, the other drink he received after that."
Oh shit, he knows. I started to panic. "Sir, listen, I'm sorry. I don't know what happened, I just wanted to please the guest, and it just, I, uh....Please don't fire me. I really need this job, Sir."
"Jacob, relax. Nobody's getting fired," he said, trying to calm me down. "It's just, um, a bit...unusual...to have one of our bellboys get a special request on his first night, before we had a chance to talk about it..."
"Talk about it?"
"Yes, well. You see, some of our long time guests stay with us, not only for the top notch service and rooms, but for certain select clients, we do cater to their other needs, which we call 'special requests', and given the high profile nature of these guests, absolute discretion is of the upmost priority," he said.
"Of course, sir. I understand."
"I knew you'd be a hit with the guests, but I guess I underestimated just how much Mr. Hardigan would go after you. Although, he does like a challenge, and a straight farm boy football player is right up on the top of his list," he said, laughing a bit. "But anyways, the deal is, you get to keep whatever tips the guests give you for the special requests. It's up to you, but I don't recommend getting greedy and negotiating tips. The boys are well taken care of. And if there is anything you aren't willing to do, that's ok, just respectfully decline. Although, I would encourage you to keep an open mind, like you did tonight. It will prove quite lucrative for you."
I was struggling to take all of this in, but just nodded and smiled as I processed what he was saying.
"And you can discuss with the other bellboys, and Chip at reception, but do not say or mention anything to any of the other hotel staff, and certainly not to and other guests or your friends. This is really important, and is a surefire way to get ousted on the spot. Do you understand?"
I nodded in agreement.
"Good. Well, after the glowing review I got from Mr. Hardigan, I have no choice but to offer you a full-time job for the night shift. What do you say?"
"I'm in!"
To be continued.....