St. Moritz--Badrutt's Palace Chapter Two
I continued to watch the snow falling through the train window. I must have fallen asleep, as the next thing I knew; the steward was gently waking us. We had arrived in St. Mortiz. The steward informed us that our driver was retrieving our luggage, and we could disembark when we were ready.
As we exited the train, our driver had the car at the ramp for us. It was quite cold, but the snow was no longer falling. The driver held the door open, and we got into the car. The heater was running, and the interior of the car was toasty warm. We settled ourselves in as the driver closed the door. The driver introduced himself to us, telling us his name was Maurice, and told us he would be taking us to the hotel. The hotel had thoughtfully provided a bottle of Champagne, which he opened and poured for us. John and I toasted each other and the start of our holiday.
It was a short ride to the hotel. As we pulled up in front, the doorman met us, opening the car door, welcoming us back to Badrutt's Palace. Heinrich always provided a genuinely warm welcome to us. A bellhop appeared and began unloading the luggage. John provided the customary $50 gratuity to Maurice while thanking him for his service.
Heinrich escorted us to the impressive lobby doors, opening them gracefully for us. We stepped into the lobby, and the feeling of being home washed over us. John smiled at me.
We began making our way to the check-in counter, when Émile, the concierge, met us. He assured us that our check-in had already been taken care, and pressed the room key into John's hand. He steered us across the lobby to the bar and offered us drinks, as our suite was not ready for occupancy. He led us directly to our usual table by the large windows that overlooked the lake. John told me about his latest business dealings while we sat. He also let me know how well the company was doing. I smiled as always, feigning interest in the business. John was my life and my interest, not the business. We had time for one glass of Champagne before Émile returned to our table and told us the room was ready whenever we wanted to go upstairs. We told him we were ready, and he escorted us to the elevator. Once we arrived on our floor, he took us to our room. While John fumbled for the key, Émile slipped his master key into the slot and opened the double mahogany doors for us.
The smell of fresh cut flowers wafted through the air as we entered. The floral arrangements were beautiful, and there was a large fresh fruit basket on the living room coffee table. He gave us the usual quick guided tour through the suite, and informed us that our luggage had been unpacked. Our tuxedos were at the laundry for wrinkle removal and our shoes were out for dressing and polishing. He made his way to the coffee table, and opened the Champagne bottle for us. He poured two glasses and as he excused himself, he surveyed the room one last time, making sure everything was in place. I thanked him for all his thoughtfulness, and John extended his hand to him, pressing a $100 bill into his palm, also thanking him. As he exited the door, he informed us that our day butler would be Jacques, and he would be arriving shortly to help us settle in. With that, he backed out of the room closing the doors behind him.
Finally alone with John, I lunged at him, planting one of my most passionate kisses on his warm, Champagne flavoured lips. John wrapped his strong arms around me, pulling me to him, while driving his hot tongue into my waiting mouth. He allowed his hands to slip down to my buttocks, where they began a soft, sensual massage on the tender skin. I felt myself hardening at his touch. I slipped one hand between us and allowed it to work its way down to John's groin. I had barely reached the top of the zipper when I felt his hardness strain against the material of his pants. I could tell from the throbbing that he was ready to lose his clothes, and get into some serious sex.
I worked his belt buckle loose, and allowed his pants to slide to the floor. His erection was straining, struggling for release from his tight boxers. A small spot of wetness had already formed on the material. John took hold of my shirt and attempted to unclasp the buttons. He was not having much luck, and in his frustration, he tore my shirt off, sending buttons flying. Wanting to keep my pants in one piece, I quickly unbuckled my belt and let my pants fall to the floor. John leaned over, took my nipples in his fingers, and began a squeezing, twisting motion. I felt my spine start to tingle. I managed to slip down enough that I could get his nipples in my mouth. I licked and sucked each one individually, while he continued the caressing of mine. Soon I felt the familiar push of his hands on my shoulders, encouraging me to go lower. I slowly slid to my knees, which placed me directly in front of the bulge of his boxers. I could see his manhood straining against the fabric. My fingers made their way into opening of the boxers and grasped the raging beast they found. With my free hand, I reached around to John's buttocks and slipped my fingers into the waistband of the boxers, pulling them gently down. As the boxers made their way to the floor, his erection sprang free, slapping against my lips, as if to demand immediate attention. I allowed myself the luxury of tasting the crown of his phallus, with the foreskin in place. With my tongue, I dug into it, the tip of my tongue finding the head of his tool already slick with pre-cum. Intent on my task; I gently rolled back the foreskin, fully exposing the crown. I leaned in, took the entire head into my mouth, and gave it a tongue-lashing that would excite even the dead. John began soft moaning as my tongue attacked the sensitive head. He soon had his hands on the back of my head, forcing more of his maleness into my mouth. I opened my mouth wider and allowed him to force as much in as he wanted. No surprisingly, he soon had all of it in my mouth and I found myself deep throating him. He began the usual thrusting, and I continued to enjoy the slapping of his couilles on my chin. John increased his thrusting movements, and I knew he was on the verge of shooting. Pre-cum was pouring out of him, and I could feel the pulsing of his head with each inward thrust. I applied maximum suction and began massaging his couilles. The combined actions pushed him over the top, and he began shooting his load into my mouth. The first blasts were savage, striking the back of my mouth and racing down my throat. I barely had time to taste it before the next volley was flying across my tongue. After three or four shots, the semen shots slowed and started to dribble out of him. This allowed me the opportunity to taste his sweet juice. As I cleaned him up, he looked down smiling at me.
I sat on the floor, and moved over to the sofa, leaning back against it. John joined me and we sat naked enjoying the after glow of our heated encounter. John draped his arm around my shoulders, and pulled me to him.
After a few minutes, John got to his feet and helped me up. He went over to the wine bucket and pulled the cool Champagne from the ice. With practiced expertise, he slipped the foil off and loosened the cage. He took the towel wrapped bottle, and slowly turned it until the cork made the traditional "pop". He gently poured the wine into the flutes and handed me mine. We toasted each other and our love, slowly sipping the wine. We made our way to the sofa and sat down, the leather cool on our warm skin. We finished our first glass, and John poured us a second.
As he poured the wine, I took note of his nakedness, the outline of muscles showing under his skin. My eyes made their way to his face, and I found myself staring into his dark eyes. They held a look of exotic mystery that promised much more adventure to come.