The Back Room

It was reaching the end of the night in the restaurant where Rachel worked and she said goodbye to her last customers. She went to cash up and then started sorting her tips, proud of the money she’d made in just one night.

“Hey Rachel.” It was her boss, Mr Moore, a balding man in his fifties. “Good job tonight, you really stepped up your game. I think you’re ready to help in the back room.”

Rachel’s eyes lit up. The back room in the restaurant was where certain wealthy customers went for privacy. She’d never been in before and didn’t see anyone go in or out – the room had a separate back entrance – but had heard a couple of other waitresses mention it. Apparently they tipped generously but expected the best service in return.

“I’d love to boss. Shall I come in tomorrow?”

“Actually if you can start now that’d be better. Go in and give them this champagne, there’s a doll.” He handed her an expensive looking bottle and left to sort the place out for the following night. She placed the bottle on the counter and looked at herself in the side of the toaster. After checking her make up and smoothing down her uniform she picked up the bottle and headed for the back room. She knocked on the door.


“Enter,” came a gruff reply, and she walked in tentatively. The room was large and furnished well, with a deep blue paint job and a crimson carpet. The voice obviously belonged to the large muscley man to her left, seemingly guarding the door. In the centre of the room stood an oval table with six men sat around it playing cards. All were fairly built and didn’t look like the type to get on the wrong side of. She smiled at them. “Here you go, our best champagne,” she said brightly, and walked towards the table.

“Thank you love,” said one of the men at the table. He was the smartest looking of the lot with short jet black hair and a well fitting shirt covering his clearly gym honed torso. Or any-way-well-exercised torso, she thought, whatever the exercise may be. “Pour it for us too, will ya?”

“Sure.” She looked around and spotted glasses in the corner. She laid them out in front of the men then uncorked the bottle and started pouring. The first man plainly stared down her chest while she poured his drink and the second did the same. The third went as far as to slap her on the ass, and at this she frowned. The fourth was the man who had spoken, whom she had realised by now was the man in charge, and after pouring his drink she felt both his hands on her ass. As she turned to tell him off he pulled her onto his lap and she heard the door locking. “These two can pour their own. You’re going to be my good luck charm,” he said, grinning and handing the bottle to the next man along. She smiled timidly, thinking better of refusing even as she felt his hand resting on her thigh, his fingertips just touching the end of her skirt.

They resumed their card game and through the chat she learned the man was called Sir by the others. They seemed to let him win the round and he attributed it to her. “Well done girl, we’re doing well.” He started moving his hand up her leg, only just hidden from the other men under the table, and soon reached her thong. She felt his fingers stroke the cloth and her face reddened. The others were playing and chatting as though they had no idea, and maybe they didn’t. She pretended to be focused on the game as the stroking persisted and the material was moved aside. He was now rubbing her lips and they were wet despite herself. His fingers massaged and wiggled, moving her juices around so her whole pussy became soaked. After another winning round a victorious finger pushed its way inside her and it became harder for her to follow the game. A second finger joined it and they explored deep inside her, rubbing the sides of her cunt and flicking her opening. She started struggling to hide her moans and gripped onto the table, averting the eyes of the other men.

Before she knew it the game had finished; Sir had won. He slapped her ass with his other hand and pulled out his fingers, cleaning them off on her skirt. “Good game men. To my victory in this game, and others.” He raised his glass and they toasted, then all took a gulp of their drinks except Sir, who downed his. “Aaah. We are celebrating, my dear girl. Refill?” Rachel stood up and walked round the table. She reached over to get his glass, giving the men another look down her front, and refilled it. As she walked back she felt her pussy clench. He calmly took his glass and had a gulp. “Excellent. And now for my entertainment.”

He smirked and stood up, facing Rachel. Slowly he started undoing the buttons on her shirt while staring into her eyes. After the last one he pulled it off her and took in her full breasts. They were large Cs, and held only in a thin, lacy bra. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the other men staring devilishly at her but she ignored them and refocused on Sir. He grabbed her hips. “Still wet?” He yanked up her skirt and an unfamiliar hand ran through her juices. “Still wet,” the man behind her confirmed. Sir pulled her hands to his crotch and looked at her. “Take my cock out and rub it,” he ordered. She glanced at the guarded door. “Come on,” he said. “You’ve been a great waitress so far.” Knowing she had little choice she unzipped him and undid his belt, then pulled his cock out. She touched the head softly and rubbed up and down his shaft. She then gripped it at the base and started rubbing, grazing his balls and then massaging his head.

He groaned and stopped her. He grabbed her hips and lifted her off the ground. Her cunt landed first, slamming over his cock. She let out a cry and gripped her legs around his waist, clinging on. He carried her past the watching men and up against the wall where he started fucking her furiously. With every thrust she let out a moan as her body banged against the wall. She gazed past his head as the men looked on, seeing her tits bouncing up and down, nearly falling out of her bra, as their boss thrust in and out of her, his hands gripping her ass as they held her up.

“Do you like them watching you, watching you take it?” He was also looking at her while pumping away. “Do you like six men watching you writhing as I fuck you?”

“Yes .. yes I do .. ” she moaned, and it was the truth. “Dirty girl.” He shifted his cock and pushed her up further, so he was rubbing close to her ass. She moaned and yelled. She felt herself starting to come and he felt it too so lifted her up and moved her onto the table, the men moving out of the way. “Come right here, so everyone can see.” He fucked her faster and harder and she came hard, her juices flowing onto the table. With the clenching of her pussy he slammed into her extra hard and shot his load into her. The feeling of filling a girl’s pussy after a successful deal was his favourite. He pulled out and smiled, taking an offered tissue and cleaning himself up. He did his slacks up and dropped the tissue on the girl.

“Name?” he enquired.

“Rachel,” she responded, breathing heavily. The men all rose and left, except Sir, who handed Rachel the bottle of champagne along with a tissue and several bills.

“We’ll ask for you next time.”

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The Back Room, 6.4 out of 10 based on 12 ratings

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