Tag Archives: hotel

Naked Surprise

11 Feb

A few years back, after a particularly boozy works party, I found myself in the unfamiliar and quite seedy surroundings of a Premier Inn hotel room. Swaying about the room in a drunken haze, I decided that the best course of action would be, of course, to get completely naked. Off came my clothes, as I did my own sensual striptease to no one in particular, using the music from the Channel 5 smash hit TV program Quiz Call which I had on in the background. I seem to recall swinging my shirt around my head before flinging it against the wall, and as I slipped out of my jeans, I lost my coordination and balance, and fell face first against the bed – thank fuck there was no one around to see me. Fortunately, it was quite a soft landing, despite the fact it was a hotel mattress.
Undeterred by my stripping shortcomings, I removed my boxer shorts and stood proudly in front of the mirror. Something wasn’t quite right, ahh yes, my socks! I whipped them off in a flash and sat on the bed, at this point unsure of what I was going to do next. Afterall, I had countless options! I could choose to watch Quiz Call, I could walk around naked for a bit, I could go and be sick if I really tried, or I could half a half-hearted attempt at a wank.
I decided that, in my state, Quiz Call seemed the most appropriate course of action. It was actually quite good, and I contemplated phoning in myself.

“Ok, so we’re looking for words that can follow ‘Hand’”, the annoying male presenter shouted at me through the screen. Surely ‘job’ would be one of them, I thought to myself, feeling smug that no one else would phone in and say that, thus missing out on a whopping £500. However, as I watched and noticed that no one was getting a correct answer, I decided against wasting my phone bill, instead getting more vocal and angry at the show because no one was getting a correct answer. Before long, I was in a bit of a rage, shouting at the nauseous presenter through the glass of the TV screen, calling him all manner of things, mainly a ‘fucking twat’.

It was then that things took a turn for the worse. There was a knock at the door. ‘Who could that be?’ I thought to myself, before getting to my feet to answer it. As I stood up, I stumbled slightly, forgetting that I was still quite drunk. I ambled over to the bedroom door and pulled it open.

“Yes, what’s up?”, I enquired, in a quite cheery fashion.

The woman, in her late 40s, that was outside my room looked me up and down, very slowly. Then she looked down again. It was at this point I remembered that I didn’t have any clothes on. It probably wasn’t helped by the fact that I was propping the door open with my foot, and had my hands resting on my hips. I felt like a filthy pervert, but felt that I had to carry on to save face.

“Can I help at all?” I asked again.

The lady looked up at my face, struggling to make eye contact with me.

“Erm, yes, er sorry. Can you keep the noise down please? It’s a bit loud in here?”

I looked around behind me, hands still sat proudly on my hips, my flaccid cock free for the lady to view.

“No problem”, I smiled, before closing the door. I’m sure I saw her roll her eyes before she walked away.

I went and turned the TV off, and did what I should have done in the first place. I had a rubbish wank

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