OpenFly Air, Part II - The hottest cold war

All English translations are done as honestly as possible by a non-native speaker. However, if there are any mistakes, please feel free to comment.

🇪🇦 spanish version

Spain's leading airline OpenFly Air will be among three airlines to win the prestigious New World Horizons award in its second instalment to be presented this weekend in beautiful and frigid Moscow. The powerful but equally mysterious Arab oligarch Mohammad Bin Sawiris will grant the winning airline exclusive commercial air transport rights over the rich skies of Kurwastan for two decades. US-based ConLingus Air, Russia's Rasputin Wings and our own OpenFly Air will be finalists for the coveted award. They will be judged on the aviation management model, the price-quality ratio, adherence to schedules, sustainable tourism and, with great attention to detail, the skill of each airline's stewardesses. Our spectacular hostesses, Manuela García, Vanessa López and, for the first time, Yurena Macías couldn't be more excited to be part of the exclusive cast and honored to represent the interests of the homeland company.

The 5-star Ritz-Carlton hotel, just 400 meters from the Bolshoi Theatre and a few meters from the Kremlin, is pure luxury. The sheikh has spared no expense. His image and that of his small but wealthy Kurwastan are at stake.

Manu, Vane and, to an even greater extent, Yurena are eager to enjoy the spacious halls, hotel rooms and Russian culture this weekend. Our Spaniards have taken to Russian culture and are dressed for the occasion. Parka's, fur hats, matching high boots topped with all the splendor of their full lips. They exude beauty and femininity in spades. The girls are not intimidated by the Moscow cold or the serene beauty of the Russians. "Where there's a Spanish girl, there's no chance for the pale Russian girls...", says Manu. The verdict will be known on Sunday afternoon, and both they and the virtues (or defects) of the airlines will be thoroughly evaluated throughout the weekend. Manu knows the representatives of the other finalists very well. He already had to suffer them four years ago, during the first award ceremony on a similar weekend in Zurich. In the end, it was the Russian delegation that won the day.

Representing ConLingus Air will be the loud and exuberant Maddie Kane, Samantha O’Sullivan, and Candy McCann. "It was clear that the Yanks were going to play the 'American way of life' card - economic muscle, brute strength and the bleary-eyed Barbie doll type woman to impress the sheikh with exotic gushes," Manu thinks with amusement. "Admittedly, dressing the delegates in cowboy hats as part of their attire is a masterstroke. The Russian delegation from Rasputin Wings, on the other hand, will be harder to beat. The stunning sisters Yulia and Anastasia Nóvikova along with the no less spectacular Miska Ivanova. Three portents of Soviet beauty, with white skin, burning red lips and an analytical military gaze. Tighter than the screws on the Minsk submarine. Capable of melting the snow and the stoutest man with every step of their very long legs. Two blondes so blonde that their hair looks almost oxygenated and a third member with very long dark hair down to her hips in an ornate regional Russian ponytail. Our girls haven't prepared anything, they rely on their own self-confidence and vitality. Improvisation is very Spanish, and what the hell? it works!

"Girls, this is the Champions League, here every shot has to end in a goal, a shot that doesn't end in a goal is a shot against us", Manu ratifies to Vanessa and to Yurena, a first timer in these matters. "Manu, not even that Aunt Mari can be beat us for charming sluts, the spy... you know," Vanessa confirms. "It's Mata Hari, you uncultured slut," laughs Manu while pinching his friend's ass. "I know, I know... let the Russians tremble. ". "What about me?" demands Yurena, smiling, inattentive. She receives a long kiss with tongue on Manu's mouth and a pinch on Vane's tits, "How delicious they are, my girl! They all laugh and walk into the hotel, arms entwined, as a friendly bellboy dressed neatly in black opens the door for them. "Thank you, handsome. Very kind," they say with a chuckle in Spanish. "I love it when a man opens the door for me, this is service, and if he works hard, then maybe he can spread my legs later," Manu comments with amusement.

Friday night

As expected, after the relevant introductions and dinner, the organizers end up inviting them to have a last drink in the hotel's O2 Lounge bar, with its spectacular views and large terrace. As soon as our protagonists enter, they are intercepted by the Russian entourage. "Well, well... who do we have here, comrades... the Spanish prostitutkas," says Yulia Nóvikova, smiling with her younger sister Anastasia and sister-in-law Miska. All three have perfectly synchronized arms folded across their pronounced chests at the same time. Anastasia laughs shyly, showing a perfect set of teeth. "I'll be very sorry to see you cry your eyes out on Sunday, but that's life... hard as winter in a gulag," Yulia asserts as she intones the word hard and gulag in a strong Russian accent. "Excuse me, comrade, wasn't that bald man back there calling you to go fuck off with your little friends," says Vane, as she digs three centimeters of stiletto heel into the Russian's foot. Yulia smiles a laconic smile, remains silent for a moment, and then replies to Vane, "This has only just begun, bitch."

Manuela watches them leave for the soft armchairs and is ratified in her suspicions and comments, "The devil knows more for being old than for being a devil". "And a whore," adds Vane. Two of the five judges are having a drink with them. "They'll take them to the room and fuck their souls out". The oldest judge, a French, has Anastasia by the waist and is whispering funny words in her ear. Phrases that must be very funny to the judge but which she finds just as funny as those recited by the frog in the fairy tale to the princess. But she hides it well and the toad goes on about his business. The Russian laughs uproariously, putting an arm across the toad's chest and playing with his oxygenated hair. The other judge, a native of bella Italia, at least ten years younger, has pulled his jacket over his lap to hide the handjob Miska is giving him with her left hand while she drains her vodka with her right. The young man opens and closes his eyes like a shutter, and by the trembling of his legs, he has already cum in her hand and on his jacket at least once. Yulia watches with pleasure from a few meters away, sipping her drink. She gestures to her compatriots to move to a more comfortable place to finish securing the votes.

On the carpeted floor of the room, the youngest of the judges, Italian Domenico Costa is aggressively penetrating Anastasia from behind. Her code name is Siberian Dog, but they all call her Laika because of her panting and howling when she is penetrated. Yulia is known as The Tsarina and oversees the operation to curry favor with the judges and secure the lucrative economic benefits of the ruling for Russia. She commands and the others obey. The Motherland demands it, and they will not fail her, as she caresses her Aspid pistol strapped to one of her black stockings. She is dressed elegantly in a flowing transparent bathrobe, no bra, just lace panties and black stockings.

She turns up the music on the old gramophone with traditional Russian military songs, takes a puff on her cigarette and checks the room again. She drains her bottle of vodka. There is a knock at the door. It's the Arab bellboy again. She opens the door, is surprised that he is slightly older than the previous bellboy and curtly instructs him to put the vodka bottles on the floor, while blowing the smoke in his face. The bellboy makes a move to go inside and put the bottles down. "Back off, not another step," Yulia orders him, intercepting the bellboy. He nods. She leaves him no tip (she's had enough of seeing half his leg) and tells him to leave in an authoritative manner, that she'll call him if he needs anything. She slams the door in his face and The Tsarina goes back to watching her girls. Her agents are forbidden to cum. They may show pleasure, but it will be feigned. They are not here to fall in love or feel anything, this is a task like many others in the agency. Control over the body must be maximum. They, for their part, must not notice anything. Let them think they are the most virile in the universe, the most macho, let them think what they want, let them cum ten times if they want to, whatever.

The somewhat older judge, the French Jean Marc Durand, barely has enough strength left to cum, gorged on vodka, and that's why the remarkable ejaculation, not at all in keeping with his age, with which he gifts Miska on her breasts, is more surprising. Like the bursts of a stagnant sprinkler that, finally released, can release all its pressure. Ample rivers of semen trickle down between the generous boobs of the Vodka Gulag agent. She lasciviously licks each drop from her nipples (as she has been ordered to do), much to the judge's delight, while whispering in Russian "Finally, the filthy old man has cum". Laika, i.e., Siberian Dog, is already living up to her name and howling like a bitch, uttering insults in Russian that would make Dostoyevsky blush. The anal sex was Anastasia's idea, knowing from the files they have studied repeatedly that the young man is an ultra-Catholic but secretly devout practitioner of anal pleasures and that his wife never leaves him. The surprise is all the greater, therefore, when he surprisingly alternates the orifice and virulently penetrates Anastasia's sex, oxygen-colored and depilated in the shape of the hammer and sickle. The agent knows the Russian way of doing things very well. No margin for error is allowed, and Anastasia picks up the pace. She must keep going until the flaccid penis comes out on its "on its own feet". That's how a good Russian mistress finishes... to the last drop. "There you go, my little capitalist", gasps the Italian, "And by the amount I've thrown out, that's at least three". The young man finishes cumming, pulling his sinewy, swollen prick out, onto Siberian Dog's arse and back, still holding her reddening arsehole from the slaps he's been giving her. The final lashings of sperm stain Anastasia's silver hair.

Saturday morning

During the breakfast buffet, Manu, the improvised leader of our protagonists, updates Vane and Yurena on his observations. "The Russians have almost certainly won at least two of the five votes. That's 40% in one go. The Americans, they're always going for the rough and tumble. They have something in mind for sure. The smartest of the Yankees, Maddie Kane, the redhead, has already thrown a coffee on a judge's leg, and offered to clean his trousers, while squeezing his dick in the process. She's not smart or anything... Vane, see how you can coax the guy and give us an idea of where the voting is going. The guy is fit like a fiddle. If you go for your 5-6 km morning run every day, I'm sure you'll meet him on the street or at the gym. I'm sure that the slutty yellow tracksuit with pink stripes that you wear to work up a sweat doesn't leave even Misha Bear indifferent".

"Yurena, lend me a hand, keep an eye on Yulia, she keeps sneaking glances at you... maybe it's only because of your skin color, but it seems to me that she plays in the opposite corner, maybe she's from the other side, take advantage of it", orders a resolute Manu, ready not to let herself be defeated like that time, years ago, in Zurich.

Portugal's René Souza has a big problem above his trousers and an even bigger problem below them. The red-haired American stewardess has got him all hot and bothered. His erection can hardly be hidden any longer, but before he goes to Maddie's room to bring her the trousers, he needs to change his clothes, think with a cool head, think about his wife who is waiting for him at home with their young children. Determined, he heads to the gym to let off some steam with the weights and a bit of sauna. After 45 minutes on the exercise bike, he decides to go into the sauna. He leaves his towel hanging on a rack and enters the cubicle where only one other sweaty person is enjoying the refreshing high temperatures. It's one of the OpenFly Air stewardesses, the short-haired blonde. He saw her this morning at breakfast, and then when she went out to do some sport. What a piece of ass. Vane recognizes him too and tells him to sit next to her, patting her right hand. "Ugh... it's hot, but it's good to break a sweat to get rid of all the negativity, right senhor Souza?", Vane comments in all his sweaty splendor. "Yes, it's true, sweating is always good," confirms a sweaty René, unable to look away from Vane's shiny tits and erect nipples, "I really like sweating, but of course I don't always have a sauna or a good cock to make me sweat." Unable to conceal his erection any longer, Rene feints to get up only to find that Vane has already grabbed his erect member and is jerking him off. "Not so fast senhor, you've left some homework to do..." as she shoves an ice cube into her mouth and without further words then the phallus of the long-suffering Portuguese. The hot-cold contrast is wonderful. And Vane's tongue curiously explores every inch of the judge's cock. Glurp, glurp. No stopping, no mercy. "God, I'm going to cum," thinks Souza mesmerized by the skills of our hostess and warns Vane of his imminent ejaculation. "Cut the crap senhor juiz, don't put it all down here and cum in my little mouth whenever you want, no need to warn me... I'll swallow it all". Said and done, René grabs the back of Vanessa's neck with both hands and unloads in her mouth while Vane keeps squeezing his balls. The door opens and, amidst the fumes, another guest enters, Vane lays a towel and her hand on Rene's flaccid member. "Good morning, it's hot in here, huh?" says the unexpected and extremely funny guest. Vane finishes swallowing his cum and replies, "Yes. Very. Good thing I just hydrated." Souza's voting intention is more than clear and his cock more than milked.

Maddie, for her part, has had enough of waiting in the room dressed as a cowgirl (lasso included) and has returned to the living room more pissed off than a mule.

Yulia and her companions are also having breakfast in the restaurant. Impeccably dressed in long blue trousers, tight white shirt and closed jacket. They are not going to show off their many feminine charms to mere mortals without having a reason to do so. They have all tied their hair up in a discreet and functional bun. Neatly made-up but icy-looking beauties. Unlike our Spaniards, their faces reflect no passion whatsoever. They barely speak to each other; they don't laugh at each other. Only when the French judge approaches to ask them how their night was, do their faces change to Seducer Mode, and it's all laughter and lovey-dovey eyes. The toad pretends to sit down next to Miska, only to awkwardly realize that there is no chair nearby. "Then let Miska give me the seat and she can sit on my lap, right? They laugh with their hands covering their faces. The toad not only feels like Giacomo Casanova himself, but also the king of comedy. He winks at them and walks away. They all return to a serious look. They don't find Casanova the least bit amusing. Yulia, on the other hand, gets a glance and a faint smile when she sees Yurena sipping her coffee and licking the rim of the cup. It makes her so horny; she fantasizes about having her between his legs, the contrast of her tan skin against his white skin. Grabbing her backcombed hair and ordering her to eat his pussy in her rusty Spanish. She bites her lower lip. Yurena, notices and smiles back. Yulia is not used to being discovered and finishes her coffee abruptly. "We're leaving," she orders her sister and sister-in-law. Yurena has stood up and indicates to The Tsarina that she has dropped something, a piece of paper, and tucks it folded in a jacket pocket. The paper reads "I want to eat your pussy, snowflake". Yulia's eyes widen in surprise, she can't believe it, hides the paper and, with her pussy drowning in vaginal fluids, withdraws thoughtfully.

The rest of the morning is an endless stream of PowerPoints from the rest of the judges where endless presentations show the strengths and weaknesses of each company. After the first four hours, AirCon Lingus is left somewhat behind on the initially irrelevant issue that their flight attendants only speak English on the flights. Maddie and her girls can't hide their anger with Danish judge Per Nielsen and let him know it. The man justifies himself by saying that in a global world, English is the vehicular language, but not the only one, and that the sheikh, a cultured man if ever there was one, values thinking "Out of the box". Miss Kane asks him for a private conversation later to iron out his outburst and apologize. Mr. Nielsen will of course appreciate any initiative for improvement and is delighted with her proposal two hours later when Maddie "Bazooka" Kane is riding him rather better than the annual winner of the Longhorn, Texas rodeo contest. She is dressed in nothing but dark leather chaps and a white cowboy hat while waving a lasso above her to the cry of "Yee-haw!". Sam and Candy assist in the staging by sucking and nibbling on her balls. American style, showing all the hype, all the advantages of the country in one fell swoop. "Do you still like idiomatic globalization now, Mr. Nielsen?" asks a curious Maddie as the man finishes cumming inside her, hair disheveled and eyes rolling. "Fucking shit!" says the Dane as his flaccid penis withdraws defeated from Maddie's "Box".

Saturday evening

After the final presentations, the rapporteur and last judge, Fredrik Antonsen, "My colleagues and I will deliberate all afternoon on which company is the most suitable to represent the interests of Mohammad Bin Sawiris and we will let him know. But our esteemed sheikh, who has confirmed his presence at the hotel on Sunday morning, will close the competition and have the final say. He has spared no expense, as you know, and would appreciate being able to greet you all personally at breakfast," concludes the Norwegian. "Now, enjoy your dinner and try to get some rest, ladies."

The Tsarina is far from satisfied. The uncertainty of who will finally get the exploitation rights is eating her up inside. Her serious countenance cannot calm her inner storm. Both the Norwegian and the Portuguese must decide on Rasputin Wings. The Dane has already written him off. He knows that the capitalist bitches have been fucking him mercilessly all morning. He didn't even go to lunch. They have been taking turns. The exhausted look on the judge's face is proof enough. For the Spanish women, on the other hand, he has no fears whatsoever. He is not aware that they have been able to "convince" any judge and they are pure chaos. He sends Miska to meet Antonsen by chance: "Play clumsy in front of him, break a heel, simulate an ankle injury and let him help you. Then fuck him. For your part, Anastasia, find the Portuguese, but don't let the toad or the Italian "analyst" see you flirting with either of them. We don't want to risk their votes. Men are jealous, they don't like to share their trophies."

Manu goes to the lift that will take her to the room she shares with Vane and Yurena. She'll freshen up and go up to the terrace for a drink. Her friends should already be there. She has no idea how the vote will end. Vane has indulged herself with the Portuguese, but neither she nor Yurena are going to go looking for the others like cheap whores. The splendid lift, framed in shiny ivory black, opens. The lift is surrounded by large mirrors. A man, consulting his mobile phone, greets her. It is the elusive Norwegian judge. "Ah hello, Miss Garcia. Are you enjoying your stay?" he asks her amicably in more than correct Spanish. "Yes, very much. I didn't know you spoke Spanish so well," replies a surprised Manu, "A little bit, I studied at the University of Salamanca when I was a little more... how do you say, youngster," laughs Fredrik. "I was amazed by the culture, the food and of course enchanted by the Spanish women." "Really?" replies Manu as he fiddles with his wide hoop earrings. "Which floor are you going to, señorita?" asks Antonsen. "I'm sure you didn't get to enjoy all the excellences of my people, though perhaps we're not too late...", Manu sentences, pressing the stop button and kneeling in front of him. "I'm sure as hell not," reaffirms Miss Garcia, as she slowly unbuttons the judge's fly and grasps his erect Nordic member in her hand. Fredrik leans back and grips the handrail. He glances up at the mirror above. He loves the sight of himself, and he loves the sight of her plunging her face into his open trousers.

Manuela hasn't enjoyed such a nice cock in a long time. All of it is perfect. Thick, rosy, veined, generous in her throbbing. Exulting with pre-seminal fluids. With her thumb she rubs the cerulean glans again and again. She slowly kisses every inch of his rock-hard cock only to then play and rub his member like lipstick in her mouth. He gasps. "I bet you've never had a real Spanish girl suck you off." He increases the speed a little as he takes off his panties. If he likes to look at my friend, let him see my ass with the dimples on both sides, and my asshole too. But don't let him cum yet. Fredrik has leaned on the metal armrest and between gasps confirms that this slip won't help OpenFly Air collect more votes. "Shut up, you fucking Viking, I'm not doing this for OpenFly Air. I deserve this and I'm going to enjoy it." Another lick. The lift starts up and heads eight floors up. "God, we're going to get caught." The Viking tries futilely to cover the lift's security camera with his tie, but he can't reach it. For his part, Manu searches the shops for the stop button while continuing to suck on the mast. The doors open to the sound of a happy little tune. "Wow, with the straggler," says Yurena cheerfully as she lovingly nudges Vane "We'll leave you; I'll see you later Manu... sorry, you can't talk now, you've got a mouth full..." Manu nods with the Norwegian's cock in his mouth and giving a thumbs up. The doors close. "I don't want any more blowjobs, I want to fuck your soul out," Fredrik says in perfect Spanish. Manu only manages to say "Well, fucking does it, destroy my fucking cunt. I won't even be able to walk" while she opens her blouse and shows her splendid tits with their wide aureoles. The Viking lifts her up with his beefy arms and presses her against the bar and the mirror in front of the lift door. He spits on her hand repeatedly and moistens Manu's waxed cunt (even though it wouldn't have been necessary) to stab him with a stab of flesh, which, due to its virulence, leaves our protagonist breathless. In the process, she provokes a fleeting but intense and unexpected orgasm. Like a pile hammer, Anderson continues to tighten Nordic-Hispanic ties (and fluids). Manu bites his shoulders and sucks his ears. The lift door opens again. But this time no one is waiting outside. Manu makes use of the Norwegian's stiff cock to press the door close button and manages not only to close the doors but also to press three more floors of travel and get the whole button panel full of manhood. Unable to hold back any longer, the Norwegian withdraws his swollen sword and pushes Manu's shoulders down with both hands to cum on his face. As he does so, he stares at all possible mirrors without stopping, so as not to miss any angle of his cumshot and to treasure this fuck as the best of his Nordic life. Manu is masturbating when the first shot (of many) of cum blinds his right eye and starts to slide down his gorgeous face. Another shot runs through her hair like a tractor in a cornfield. She cums almost instantly, too.

After gently helping her to sit up, Per thanks Manu for the unforgettable cumshot. "I haven't cum so hard since I was a young boy in my native Oslo. You Spanish girls are simply the best," says Anderson. "I know," Manu says as she kisses him passionately goodbye. "You have such a beautiful cock; it should be displayed in the Prado museum." The tie remains on the floor as a tribute to international relations.

30 minutes later, spruced up in her best evening dress, Manu goes up to the O2 Lounge to enjoy the last Moscow night with her best friends. She is indifferent to tomorrow's outcome. She is startled by exaggerated laughter. It's Vane laughing her head off with Anastasia and Miska at the bar. Looking at them, they look like lifelong friends. The Russians are "tipsy". A quick glance at the bar confirms the fact. A string of empty vodka shots. The bartender intends to take them away, to which Miska threatens, "Don't take a single one, Samir, I want to see who drinks the most. Whether it's my friend Vane, my sister-in-law or me... Remove a single glass and I'll shoot you and make your corpse disappear." Samir curses his fucking bad luck... he thought maybe he could fuck one of the Russians.

What a party you've got going on here... What's the occasion, and where's Yurena," asks Manuela amused. "Chocolate cake, she's licking my sister's pussy right now... oops, sorry, my boss," confesses Anastasia. "The die is cast, let it be what it will be. Now it's time to drink, by Lenin's beard!". "Well, I think it's a fucking great idea, so let's drink!" replies an exultant Manu, raising a shot glass. "My sister-in-law and I were wondering if you'd like to go down to our room and have a fuck," asks Miska determinedly, wrapped up in three bottles of vodka, her ponytail undone, as she touches Miss Lopez's tits without disguise. "No commitments. Tomorrow is another day in Moscow. "That's the second fucking great idea you've had today, Miska. You're not going to be such an asshole in the end," Manu says as he kisses her as only a woman can kiss, much to Samir's despair. "I'm going to lick that bitter face you have in the morning off your face. We're going to bring you up to date with the Mediterranean diet. You haven't eaten pussy like this in all of Russia." Manu whispers to Vane "How come you're so stiff and these two are so drunk?". "If I tell you I have to shoot you and get rid of your corpse," replies Vanessa amused. "I'm from Cantabria, for fuck's sake, there's no Russian born to beat me at drinking". "What about the Americans?" asks Manu curiously. "Those? The girls have given the bellboy a hard time about the towels in the room, they've called him all sorts of names. They think they've got the upper hand; they're being arrogant, and they've gone to sleep or whatever. Fuck them. You and me, we're going to have a treat now with the Russians. If they eat their cunts as much as they can drink vodka and swear, they're going to leave it bare".

As the door to the room opens, loud gasps welcome the quartet. It is, without a doubt, the Tsarina is having the least harsh winter in living memory. Good old Yurena is eating Yulia's oxygenated pussy on the imperial bed like there's no tomorrow. She has put on a pencil as a makeshift hair fixative. Yulia rests her very long, delicate legs on the canary's caramel shoulders while she keeps licking her nipples. Her slender wrists are tied to the bed with two silk scarves. A fact she doesn't seem to mind at all. "Look at the little dead fly, she knows more as we though," Vanessa points out to Manuela. Yulia grunts again as she reaches her third orgasm with Yurena's restless tongue. The petite canary rises and sits on her mouth. "Suck," she commands authoritatively as she licks the Russian's unloaded pistol with her Ushanka cap on her head. The Tsarina obeys as Miss Macias dances from right to left on top of her and squeezes her breast. "Yeah, fuck me properly, Elsa, ice queen," she gasps as she cums with Yulia's tongue still inside her rosy vulva.

Anastasia and Miska, still in stitches, can't believe their eyes. The Tzarina is not in control and is having the time of her life. Manu and Vane have already undressed and are waiting for them lying on the floor, spread-eagled. A divine sight indeed. Two glorious sexes await them. "Come on comrades Kalaschnikov and Gagarin, are you going to stand still or are you going to fucking eat our cunts?", Manu demands, licking his friend's tits. Miska slowly undresses, dropping her tiny thong, leg down, revealing a body made for sin. Tender breasts, long hair unbraided. She decides on Vane and starts kissing her. Anastasia, for her part, has only her trousers and panties off. She rummages through the drawers and straps a plastic cock to her belt. "I want to fuck you like a man would," she begs. "Well, do it now, comrade," replies a sinuous Manuela. "Fuck me from behind like a bitch. Fuck me like I'm fucking Uncle Sam". Said and done. Anastasia penetrates her like a bear, grabbing her shoulders, pulling her in. Manu bites his lips in pleasure. "It's not a meat cock, but there's something special about a woman carrying a cock and the kisses are so much more passionate. And the thrusts are divine, rhythmic, in circles seeking to reach all over my vulva. There is no anxiety or fear of cumming. I'll miss feeling the hot cum on my pussy, but I'm sure these two won't leave us in the dark.

Some guests complained the next morning about the exaggerated noise, hidden laughter from the room and Soviet anthems blaring until four in the morning, but in the end, there were not so many and the hotel compensated them with tickets to the Bolshoi ballet.

Sunday morning

At the agreed breakfast time, Manu, and Vane head to the meeting room to find out the verdict. As expected, they have slept very little, but the anticipation of meeting the mysterious sheikh of whom not a single snapshot is known, and the winner keeps them alert and wide awake. The Americans are already sitting in the front row as if that gives extra points at this hour. Maddie, Pam and Candy are also looking spectacular. The Russians, true to their word, enter martially ice-cold into the auditorium. They barely exchange a glance with our protagonists, although they can't help a faint smile as Vane takes a croissant on the fly, discreetly sips a coffee, and sits to Manu's right as she whispers that she's almost caught in her knickers. Yurena rushes into the living room. She'd fallen a little behind when she treated a newbie room service guy to an express blowjob, canary style. He didn't even have time to take off his hat when he was already cumming in her hair. Linking pussy always makes her want to eat cock afterwards. "It's a question of body balance. You have to eat everything, as my yaya used to say," she says as she pours herself a coffee. Soon, the sheikh appears in the stands.

No doubt a handsome man in his 30s who looks strangely familiar to all of them... "Damn, he's the bellboy who opens us the door of the hotel on the first day! Yulia, for her part, doesn't find the situation amusing at all, indeed very worrying. The sheikh had replaced the bellboy... the same bellboy she had sent away with a bang when he came to bring her bottle of vodka after bottle of vodka when the two judges were being fucked. This doesn't look good at all. The Americans are going to win.

"Thank you all very much for the immense honor it has been for me and my company to be able to count on your know-how, your presence and your cordiality. I consider myself to be a discreet man and I do not like hypocrisy. Unfortunately, today's world is full of hypocrisy, and we all play a different role to the way we really are and think. I don't look for that. I want all my companies to reflect me, of my honesty with the client. Always. That is why I have decided to invite you this weekend and "transgress" the rules of the game a little. Please forgive me. My closest collaborators have thoroughly assessed your most valuable assets and I can assure you that the decision was not an easy one. Replacing one of the lowest-ranking employees of this extraordinary hotel has allowed me to gain a much more personal insight. I thank you all. I won't dwell on it any longer, this year's winner is.... OpenFly Air. My lawyers will be contacting your management this afternoon. Congratulations to all of you.

Manu, Vane and Yurena are overjoyed as they jump up and down in a circle. The Russians have risen from their seats, they stand up and after giving them a military salute, they applaud our protagonists sincerely. The offended Americans threaten to sue the sheikh for unfair competition. Maddie claims that she has been raped. The sheikh smiles and tells her to take her story to someone else. "Perhaps we can discuss this in private, Mr. Bin Sawiris," Maddie demurs, "I'm sure we can find a solution that will benefit us all. "I don't think so, Ms. Kane. I encourage you to keep working hard and perhaps our paths will meet again." A taxi will pick you up this afternoon to take you to the airport. Please enjoy the hotel for the remaining hours. Thank you.

Epilogue

Maddie is burning with frustration leaning against the bar. "How is this possible? They were by far the best..." She never contemplated failure. She needs another drink or a fuck... "Hey Samir, do you like the rodeo?"

If you liked the story, leave me a comment. I'd really appreciate it!

Don't miss Manu and Vane's Christmas special at the 18.12.2021!

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