Four horny guys entertain some escorts at the high class Ritz-Carlton hotel.
Chapter 65:
ESCORTS
65. It was still Saturday at the Fucked Up Four reunion at the Ritz-Carlton Atlanta. It was well after six in the evening, and the golfers weren't back yet. I distinctly remember telling them that the hired entertainment started at 8. With a fresh drink in my hand, I turned on some music just as the door flew open. My suite mate, Al, walked in, stumbling on the edge of the thick pile carpeting inside the entryway.
"I know, I know ... it's only 6:30 ... plenty of time ... just a quick shower ... I'll be fine." He lurched toward the bathroom, hunched over, waving me off "I'll be fine ... I'll be fine ... no worries ...." I turned up the volume on the music to drown out his hideously loud singing from the shower and concentrated on my drink. Then the phone rang.
In a panicked tone, Tommy blurted out "Sailor! Jack's drunk!! The girls get here at 8! I haven't had dinner! Sailor, this is awful! What are we gonna do?"
"First, take a deep breath. Dinner will help sober them up. Yes, them. Al's a bit tipsy, too. Have Jack take a shower. That'll help. Not to worry, Tommy. After his shower I'll bring Al over and we'll all have dinner. Maybe you could stir up a sissified cocktail and chill until then. Think about getting to use your new toy tonight. We're gonna have fun!"
I arrived at the Presidential Suite with Al freshly dressed, walking without assistance and not so drunk that a little food wouldn't help. I found Jack in the same condition. Tommy was cowering in a chair in the far corner, his legs pulled up in the chair, and a fruity, multi-colored drink complete with fresh garnish on the table next to him.
I called the concierge and ordered food sent up, ASAP. Within 10 minutes the bellhop wheeled in a cart of hors d'oeuvres. "This is compliments of the head chef. Your dinner will arrive shortly. Will there be anything else, gentlemen?"
We descended upon the hors d'oeuvres like frat boys at an all-you-can-eat place. Sure enough, about when we finished the first course, a lavish spread of food arrived. We gorged ourselves until we were sated. Tommy and I made certain that alcohol was off limits for Jack and Al, at least for now. Dinner seemed to help, and our dream girls wouldn't arrive for another half hour.
Out of nowhere, Jack jumped up and rushed to the kitchen sink, the closest receptacle for his vomit. After spewing his $150 dinner down the drain, he wiped his face on a kitchen towel and dashed off to the bathroom. Tommy went to the sink to clear the mess down the sewer. I checked on Jack who was busy brushing his teeth and gargling with mouthwash.
By the time we heard the ominous knock, Tommy had adequately cleaned up Jack's mess and Jack was again presentable. In fact, he acted revived somewhat, almost chipper. Tommy answered the door.
In walked four 10s. Maybe the guy and one of the girls were a 12. In any event, they were all visual perfection. No introductions were made or needed. I took their wraps as Tommy took drink orders. He served the male last and I overheard him whisper sotto voce "I have something I want to show you. Follow me." They surreptitiously disappeared into the bedroom.
Jack and I mixed with our newly arrived guests. One girl noticed Al sitting alone, off by himself sobering up. A gorgeous blonde, she approached him and engaged him in conversation. As Jack and I were getting settled in on the couch with our new-found friends, I saw that blondie was squatted down next to Al, working on his belt. My squeeze had grabbed my head and was avidly kissing me. Over her shoulder I saw Jack's Brazilian Babe had pulled her short skirt up and was sitting on his lap, rubbing her crotch on his and smothering him with her ample boobs. Things were progressing nicely.
When things got too steamy, the redhead making out with me pulled away and said "Can we get another drink and find the bedroom. There's more room there for what I want to do with you." Jack overheard her.
"Fuck yeah! Come on Al. I'm ready to get this thing goin'!" All six of us moved to the bar and we poured generous drinks, doubles for the ladies. We all raised our glasses in a group toast. "To fucking the Fucked Up Four!! Hear, hear!"
When we filed into the bedroom, we were instantly overcome with the overpowering smell of shit. Tommy had it smeared all over his torso, it covered his privates, and there were streaks of it on the carpet, chair and one bed. The male escort had it smeared all over his junk. Tommy was standing there holding his new dildo, covered in feces, about to stick it in one hole or another.
Jack bellowed out "What the fuck, Tommy! There's shit everywhere. We can't fuck in this mess. Come on girls, let's go fuck on the couch. And clean this shit up, Tommy! Damn!"
Tommy, his bubble burst, meekly said "I'm awful sorry, guys. One of my kinks is coprophilia. Guess I just got carried away ... this fancy hotel, my new toy, this 'to die for' hunk ... it all overwhelmed me. I'll pay for any damages, Jack, I promise."
We returned to the living room. On the way the Brazilian Babe said "Fuck. I'll let you have your way with my ass but smearing it around like that ... Un uh ... ain't no fucking way. I need to get drunk to get past seeing that shit. Lead me to the bar first, then I'll let you get your money's worth." Blondie and my redhead both chimed in, agreeing that getting drunk was the solution.
The sex that followed was not what I had expected, especially having sourced them through such a high-class place. Of course, when it was happening it was superb. It's just that the girls kept stopping to get more drinks. As they got increasingly drunk, the sex got looser and looser. On one trip to the bar, my redhead and blondie bumped into each other causing blondie to spill her newly filled drink.
"Watch where you're going, tail. You just made me spill my fucking drink. Jesus! Shape up, bitch!"
The redhead snapped back "You bumped into me, cunt! YOU watch where you're going, hole." Blondie took offense and hurled her half full glass at tail, missing her but crashing into a large mirror on the wall, shattering it. In retaliation, tail threw her glass at hole, glancing off her shoulder and ricocheting into an oversized ceramic table lamp, smashing it into pieces.
I jumped in before the girls got to fisticuffs. "Girls, girls ... simmer down. There's no need for violence or breaking things. It looks like you girls get an early night tonight. Why don't we see you to the door." As they gathered their things they called to their male colleague who appeared, freshly showered. I watched them stumble down the hall to the elevator, the guy alternately holding them in line and keeping hole and tail apart, who were jostling each other and making rude remarks.
A week later, Jack sent a group text. The hotel waived the hooker fees, but the damage and cleaning fees had pushed the bill into the low 5 figures. "I had my company sponsor our reunion. I'm just glad the hotel didn't ban us from using them again. We do over a billion annually in the United States alone and the Ritz is our preferred venue worldwide.