Kinky Memsaab

If your fiancée worked twelve hours a day to save for your wedding, and one day a hotel guest offered her a whole month's salary just to take her top off, do you think she would say yes?

In a quiet hotel room, a young guest lies alone in bed, holding up his phone to watch porn and jerking off.

Out of nowhere, a maid opens the door and walks in. She has long dark hair and wears a black dress with a white apron, and she gets a full view of the guest jerking off.

She freezes in the doorway, mouth hanging open, and quickly holds up the card in her hand. It says Please make up room.

She quickly apologizes and starts to close the door, but the guest calls her in. She apologizes all over again.

She offers fresh sheets, a fresh towel, new flowers. He doesn't care about any of it. All he complains about is the TV missing from the wall. He tells her straight out that he likes to watch porn on a big screen, and on his phone everything looks so small.

She's so shy she can barely get the words out. "That's not something I should talk about with you. I'm just a cleaning lady, and I'm engaged." Her fiancé is a bouncer who doesn't make much money. She holds up three fingers. Three hotels, twelve hours a day, every day, and even after all that there's not enough to pay the bills, let alone save for the wedding.

Hearing that, the guest gets an idea.

His eyes run over her from head to toe. That maid's uniform can't hide her full figure, and a woman who works twelve hours a day and still can't pay her bills isn't going to turn down money easily. He pulls out a wad of euro notes and fans them out in front of her, all for one look at her boobs. She just stands there, confused, not sure she heard him right, her eyes going from his face to the money and back.

That money is her whole month's salary. She takes it and holds it, a finger at her lips, but she still hesitates. "What if my fiancé finds out?" Then she moves as if to hand the money back, and the guest quickly holds out one more note before she can change her mind. "Nobody will know."

In the end she gives in, but she's so shy she asks him to look away. When she tries to undress herself, the zipper won't come down, so she has to turn her back and let him help. His fingers slowly open the back of her black dress, showing honey-colored skin. "Don't look, okay?"

"Okay, I'm ready. You can look." When he turns back, she's standing there in a black bra, her full boobs packed into the cups, a finger at her lips, shy. "Is this enough?" She's beautiful, he says, his hand working under the blanket.

He asks her to take the bra off too. She hesitates for a moment, but in the end she gives in. "Our secret, right?" The black bra comes off, and both of her big, full boobs are bare in front of him.

He calls her in closer and holds out more money. This time he wants to see under her skirt. She shyly reaches out and takes the money.

She lifts her skirt with both hands, showing small black panties and full thighs. "You're still wearing panties?" he asks, like he's disappointed. She fires right back. "I'm at work. You think I clean rooms with no panties on?"

He calls her in close and pulls her panties down himself. She keeps her skirt and apron held up while the little panties slide down her thighs, until her peach is right there in full view, a small patch of dark hair in the middle, the honey-colored skin around it smooth and begging to be touched.

He offers her more money, and this time he wants her to come up on the bed with him. She stands there topless, looking at the money in his hand, unsure.

She climbs up and sits on the bed next to him, her big, full boobs hanging right in front of him, smooth honey-colored skin, dark nipples pointing down. He reaches out with both hands and sinks his fingers into them, squeezing slowly.

It does feel good, she admits, but she still has so many rooms to clean. "This much money... I really need it for my wedding."

He asks to see her peach. She leans back on the bed, the black skirt and white apron bunched at her waist, and slowly spreads her full thighs, but she still keeps a hand over her peach, the other on her boob, her eyes on him, shy.

He reaches over, takes her hand and slowly pulls it away from her peach, until it's right there in full view, plump lips a shade darker than the skin around them, pressed together under the dark hair. She stares at him, mouth open, but she doesn't resist.

He rests his hand beside her peach and runs his thumb slowly up and down along her peach, pressing gently until it opens and shows the deep pink inside. She leans back, her full thighs held open, both hands holding the apron up at her waist, brows slightly knitted, mouth a little open, looking straight at him as if she's still not sure, but her hips start rocking into his thumb on their own.

He gives her more money, and she takes it and holds it in her hand. Then his fingers slowly part her peach and slide deep inside, slick and warm. Her eyes roll up to the ceiling, her mouth pressed shut, as if she's fighting not to feel how good it is.

Then he pulls out his laptop and hands it to her. He confesses he likes being watched, and the person he wants watching is her fiancé. She holds the laptop, brows knitted, looking confused, as if she's not sure she heard him right. "If he finds out, we're over. I might even lose my job."

He tells her she'll just video call her fiancé on her own, and he'll stay out of the shot. But she and her fiancé have never done a video call like this. They don't even do sex chats. Her fiancé is bound to get suspicious. So the guest gives her more money. She takes it, eyes on his face. "Promise he won't find out you're in this room."

She kneels on the bed, the white apron only half covering her boobs, and leans toward the laptop open in front of her, a finger resting on the call button, lips pressed tight. She hesitates for a moment. "Fine. Let's see what happens." Then she presses call.

Her fiancé picks up, his face filling the screen. She leans toward it with a big smile, one hand holding the apron to her chest and slowly tugging it down, a little at a time, for him to see. "I'm at work... oh, no, I'm not at work." She tells him she's just feeling a little naughty. His mouth falls open. "Baby, it's not my birthday." He has no idea there's a pile of money right beside the laptop, or that a few steps away from the camera, another man is watching.

"Maybe I should show you a little bit more." She leans back on the bed, spreads her legs right in front of the laptop and hikes up her skirt to show her fiancé her peach, one full boob slipping out of the apron, her mouth open as if she can't believe what she's doing. "We've never done this," her fiancé says. "Wow, babe, I'm impressed." They're getting married soon, she tells him. They have to keep it spicy.

Everything is going perfectly, until her fiancé says he wants her home, and that's when the guest gets off the bed and comes to stand right beside her, his banana sliding into the shot. "What the fuck? Who is this guy?" She jumps and looks up with the face of a woman caught red-handed.

But she doesn't close the screen. She grabs his banana with one hand, snatches a wad of notes with the other and waves it at the camera. "I'm sorry, baby. I did this for us. Look how much money he's given us." Her fiancé can't believe it. "You took this money, really?" Her answer is short. "Just watch."

Her fiancé won't stop shouting, but she doesn't care anymore.

She kneels and leans in toward the banana standing hard in front of her, her full lips wrapped tight around the tip, then slowly takes it deeper, inch by inch, her cheeks hollowing, until the whole thing glistens with her spit. Right in front of her is the laptop, her fiancé's face filling the screen, a hand on his head, mouth wide open, screaming that he'll kill this guy, that he knows where she is. But the louder he yells, the deeper and hungrier she sucks. She pulls off just long enough to tell her fiancé she's only practicing for their wedding night, then goes right back down, and the man standing over her jokes that he's her pre-wedding trainer.

She stops sucking, pulls her mouth off the banana and turns to argue with her fiancé on the screen. "I'm doing this for us. For our wedding." But he won't hear any of it. He's yelling his head off, unable to understand why the woman he's about to marry is on her knees in front of another man's banana.

The banana still in her hand, she says what she's been holding in for a long time. "It's because of you I have to scrub toilets. We have no money because of you. You're not man enough. I have to do this, for us." Her fiancé goes red in the face with rage and screams through the screen. "Stay right there. I know which hotel you work at. I'm coming for you right now."

So angry she can't take it anymore, she reaches over and slams the laptop shut, cutting her fiancé off mid-call. Then she turns back and looks up at the guest, still gripping his banana tight. She doesn't say a word. She lets the look in her eyes be the answer, then slowly lies back on the bed.

She rolls onto her stomach, the black skirt shoved up around her waist, her round, full ass raised and waiting right in front of him. One of the guest's hands presses down on her cheek while the other guides the banana into her peach, its lips slowly spreading around the tip. Her wet peach clenches around it, pulling him in.

Then he drives the banana all the way in. Her round, full ass presses flat against him, his hands squeezing both cheeks, her peach stretched tight and gripping the base of his banana. Skin slaps against skin, and a long, broken moan spills out of her.

Her fiancé knows which hotel she's in. If he opened that door right now, what do you think he'd find?

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Bonus scenes