I read an essay on a story site about women who are unfaithful. I found myself agreeing with much the author said. But he was pretty entrenched and dictatorial in his views and seemed to think that all women could be put into a couple of categories. I can’t entirely agree. I’ve slept with more than a few married women, and all have had different reasons for screwing around, so I believe you can only ever generalise.

The reaction to his essay was what intrigued me, though. Most of the replies were from haters, not that much of a surprise, but the fact that many of the comments suggested that 99% of women would never sleep around and that all stories were just fiction did astound me. Have these guys not lived? One person even stated, and I quote, “If my wife wants sex with someone else, tell me, and we can get a divorce. You can shove open marriages and swinging up your ass. Anyone who is remotely religious would never do anything like this, and if they do, they are delusional.”

I have to laugh at naive comments like this. I have known men that swear their wife hates sex, and would never look at another man. And I’ve known the dirty lucky bastard screwing that same wife. Also religion has no bearing on fidelity.

Hell, I worked with a Pommy guy once who had travelled the world. He told me as soon as he moved into a new town, he joined the local church (Catholic was his first choice), even though he was not a Catholic; in fact, he was not the least bit religious. He stated that a church group was the best place to hook up for sex, far better than any pub or nightclub. And he said many he bonked were married, and they were some of his best fucks.

Now, was this true or false, and was he exaggerating? I do not know, but he came across as pretty genuine. I did meet the woman he was living with and knew he had met her at the local church, so I don’t believe he was exaggerating.

Let’s face it: After a few years in a marriage, spontaneous, great sex doesn’t happen as often as it did in the early days. Work pressures, money issues, children, etc., certainly soak time and energy. And getting libidos to match is never an easy task - that unique spark between couples in the first few years wains. I speak with some experience, having been married twice and having children in both marriages.

My view is that every woman has the potential to be seduced and, therefore, be unfaithful. Finding the right triggers and meeting them at the right time and place is the key. And they are definitely not all sluts, as many haters like to comment. I agree, though, that most married women never play around. But I would argue that it is more because they are never lucky enough to find themselves in a situation where it could happen - than they never would.

Airing my opinions has made me remember a fling with a married woman I met at Disneyland, Los Angeles, in 1992.

I was in L.A. on business. I had attended the ISA show in Las Vegas a few days before and then travelled to my company’s head office in L.A. for meetings. At the end of the meetings, I had a free day before I flew back to N.Z. I decided to visit Disneyland, a place I had always dreamed of visiting. I arrived just after lunch and hit the rides. At around three, I joined the line for the Jungle River Cruise. There were four or five lines separated by railings that fed into two, then into a single line for the ticket box. I looked over to my left and noticed a beautiful woman who looked to be on her own.

She had long dark hair and was small but looked to have a very well-proportioned figure.

The lothario in me jumped to the fore, and I spent the next few minutes manoeuvring myself in my line so that I was directly behind her when I paid for my ticket. Once on the boat, I had to push myself in front of a married couple to ensure a seat next to her. The ruffled wife that I bumped into gave me a dirty look, but the husband winked at me; he understood what I was up to.

As I sat, the pretty lady gave me an ‘Here we go again’ look, and now that I was up close, I saw that she was even more attractive than I had first thought. But I also noted her demeanour and presence and knew I was unlikely to get further than a few sentences with her. She had that prim, prudish look of a woman who would not put up with anything indecent.

But never mind, I’ve never been one to shy away from a challenge, and I apologised, saying, “Sorry, but I’ve been on my own for the last week, and thought as we are much the same age, you may also enjoy having someone to talk with and share the ride.”

I said this as most of the parents on the boat were young, mid-twenty-year-olds with children, and we stood out. And we were close to the same age. I was to find out later that she was thirty-eight. And I was forty-two.

“Are you English,” she asked. “You sound like it.”

“No. I’m from New Zealand. But I lived in the U.K. several years ago and have not totally thrown the accent.”

She introduced herself as Stephanie and said, “I was born in the U.K. and came to the States when I was three.”

For the next twenty minutes, we talked about England, where I had lived, and the fact that she had never been back. I kept my conversation light, telling her funny stories about places I had visited. She commented that I must have travelled to many countries, as I seemed very worldly and knowledgeable.

In those early snippets of conversation, she was at pains to explain to me that she was uncomfortable befriending a stranger. I learned that she and her husband were heavily involved with the church, that she was a mental health counsellor for her church, and that she was here in L.A. attending a seminar on domestic abuse and therapy that would help in church settings.

She said she had skipped the afternoon’s final session as she wanted to see Disneyland and was travelling back to Florida the next day. I knew she was giving me all this information so that I would be under no illusions about her morals and that I was not to get too familiar.

I read between the lines that she had led a very sheltered life centred around the church. And that her husband was the only man she had ever known.

But the early conversation did not deter me in the slightest. It just made it easy for me to relax and enjoy her company. Let’s face it: If you expected to bed every beautiful woman you ever spoke to, you’d be a very disappointed and frustrated individual. As was my way, though, I dropped plenty of compliments into our conversation and enjoyed watching her blush and giggle with guilty pleasure at my more risqué innuendoes.

When we exited the Jungle Cruise, I offered to go on my way if she felt outside her comfort zone, as she had mentioned several times that she shouldn’t be fraternising with a strange male. But I added that I enjoyed her company and would love to join her on another ride. 

Stephanie blushed and said she shouldn’t, but she also enjoyed my company and would love to go on the Matterhorn roller coaster with me, as she had been a bit nervous about riding it alone. So, I playfully placed her arm in mine and walked her along to the line for the Matterhorn ride. 

We spent the rest of the afternoon trying out every ride and experience we could. She admitted that she would never have tried many of the rides if I had not accompanied her. I played the perfect gentleman but snuck glances at her fantastic figure whenever she looked the other way. She was about 5’4”, slim but curvy. She wore a sundress, the hem ending well below her knees. It was bright but conservative, picked, I had no doubt, to conceal her figure. But it did not do a very good job. The buttons down the front were stretched over her chest, indicating she had a decent set of tits.

Around 5:00 p.m., the sun started to fade, and it began to get much colder. I had a jacket with me, but Stephanie was only wearing the sun dress. She hadn’t planned to stay into the evening. However, she was enjoying herself, and when I suggested we stay for the Fantasmic show, she hesitated, obviously wanting to see it, but then declined. 

“I can’t stay with a man I hardly know after dark,” she explained.

“Rubbish, what’s the difference between our talking and enjoying the sights in the daylight and staying together after dark? The place will be lit up like daytime anyway.”

It took a little more persuasion, but she finally consented. But she was very direct with me that if she was to stay, I must behave like a gentleman.

“Have I not been a perfect gentleman all afternoon?” I asked. 

She replied that I had, and with that settled, we set off searching for somewhere to eat.

We soon found a free table at a restaurant, and along with the food, I ordered a bottle of wine. Stephanie resisted my pouring her a glass, saying they never had alcohol in their house, and she hardly ever drank. I countered, “Well, I have ordered it now, and I don’t want to be drinking a whole bottle myself. Besides, it will warm you up. Just have one glass with me.”

Stephanie hesitantly accepted and, halfway through our dinner, accepted a second glass without any argument. Then, when we were ordering a dessert, a couple of cocktails arrived at our table. The older couple at the adjacent table took ownership, saying they thought we looked such a beautiful couple that they wanted to shout us the drinks. I have a feeling they thought we were on our honeymoon.

Stephanie was at pains to point out to them that we had just met and that there was nothing romantic between us. The couple were not fazed; they said we looked so comfortable and good together and for us to enjoy the drinks. The cocktails were like fruit punches, but I’m sure Stephanie did not realise the alcohol content, as she knocked hers back faster than she should have, as we wanted to get out for a good position on the bank by the lake.

When we got to the lake, it was already packed. Stephanie suggested we stand at the back, but I knew it would be a long show and wanted to be seated. I saw a few gaps in the crowd. One down the front, next to a couple with two children, looked promising. So I grabbed Stephanie’s hand, and we carefully wound our way through the seated spectators. Once we were alongside the family, I asked the mother if she minded us squeezing in.

“Not at all,” she replied, then made the kids shift over and sit in front of them.

I offered my jacket to Stephanie, as it was getting pretty cool at this stage. She was declining when the mother piped up, “Rose, give your blanket to the lovely couple. You can sit in front of me and share mine.”

Rose, who was about nine, jumped up, handed me her blanket, and excitedly plopped down between her mother’s legs.

The blanket was large, so I wrapped it around my shoulders and indicated to Stephanie that she sit on my jacket between my legs, and I’d wrap the blanket around us both.

I was surprised she so willingly sat and wriggled up against my chest without protest. Forty minutes before, she had protested about staying out after dark with a strange man. I wondered if the alcohol had mellowed her. But, in my books, we had not drunk very much, and she didn’t appear to be at all inebriated.

Fantasmic was absolutely amazing. Neither of us had ever seen anything remotely like it. The highlight for me was Maleficent the Dragon spurting fire into the lake. Stephanie got quite a fright and wriggled back into me for protection.

Without a thought, I hugged her tight, brought my head down, and kissed her neck. As I did it, I realised I had crossed a dangerous line. But she didn’t react or resist; she just relaxed in my arms and sighed. So I kissed her neck again, then nibbled my way up to her earlobe. That did get a reaction, but not the one I was expecting. She turned her head to me for a kiss, which I returned with plenty of ardour.

We both looked around guiltily when we broke apart to see if our neighbours had noticed. But everyone around us was totally enthralled by the show. So we each twisted our heads and kissed again. Stephanie broke the kiss and whispered to me, “I shouldn’t be doing this, but I’ve never had such a wonderful day.”

I agreed with her, saying, “Likewise,” and as the fireworks started, we kissed again. My hands found their way to her breasts. She protested and grabbed my wrists, but the blanket fell open, and she had to let my wrists go to sweep the blanket closed over her knees again. I glanced around to see if anyone noticed but saw that everyone around us still had their eyes glued to the front. 

I touched her bare leg, as I reached forward to help her arrange the blanket. In sitting and wriggling around to get comfortable, the hem of her dress had risen well above her knees. Expecting to be admonished, I nervously placed my hand just above her knee and stroked lightly with my fingers.

Stephanie offered some half-hearted resistance to this. But I could tell she was more worried about the people around us noticing what I was doing. As a stunning explosion of fireworks burst forth, and Stephanie gasped out her appreciation, I moved my hand higher up her thigh, and my other hand cupped a breast again.

She turned to me to object, but when I kissed her, I felt her rigid legs relax a little, and she pressed back into me. In the next twenty minutes, I massaged my way up her legs and worked my other hand inside the buttons at the front of her dress. It was not an easy task as we had to remain pretty motionless lest those around us tumble to what was going on under the blanket. At one point, the lady sitting to our right spoke to Stephanie, asking her, “Was it not the most beautiful sight she had ever seen.”

“Just wonderful… beautiful,” Stephanie replied. I’m not sure she meant the fireworks, though, as her voice was husky with desire. And by that stage, I had wriggled a finger under the elastic of her panties and was exploring the folds of her drenched slit.

Stephanie seemed less worried about our neighbours than me and kept turning her head for some passionate kissing. As the last fireworks expired, I pulled her dress down and whispered in her ear that we needed to go, as the family were packing up and we needed to give the blanket back.

I was mortified as I opened the blanket and slipped it from my shoulders. The sexual aroma that permeated the air was heady and pungent. I nervously handed the blanket to young Rose, terrified she would ask what the smell was. But she gave no indication that anything was unusual, and with some relief, I grabbed Stephanie’s hand, and we hurriedly made our way towards the exit and out into the car park.

I asked where she was staying.

“In the Disneyland Hotel,” she exclaimed. “But we can’t go there, as other delegates are on the same floor as me.”

That one statement told me all I needed to know. Stephanie was not looking to dump me and scurry off to the safety of her hotel. On the contrary, she was keen to stay with me for a while. Although I still doubted that she would go further than the light petting, I now did not doubt that she wanted to go somewhere private and continue our amorous antics.

I didn’t want to take her to my hotel, which was miles away in Irvine. So I told her that I would take her back to her hotel, let her out at the front door, and park my car. Then, if the coast was clear, I could come to her room.

Unbelievably, she didn’t oppose this and gave me her room number. But when I pulled out front to let her out, a bellhop approached us and asked for my car keys. Stephanie hesitated, then said to put it on her room number, and she let me escort her into the hotel lobby. She had a good look around, and, as there was hardly anyone in the lobby at that hour, I stayed beside her as we made our way to the lifts. She made me wait as we exited the lift, though. We had a good look left and right, then hurried down the corridor to her door.

I followed at a respectable distance, prepared to carry on past should anyone step into the corridor. Not a soul appeared, and with noticeable relief, she dragged me into her room and collapsed into my arms.

Suddenly, she was conscience-stricken and mumbled that she had never done anything like this. I told her I understood and was not in the habit of seducing women myself. Well, you have to say something like that, don’t you? You don’t admit to being an unscrupulous womaniser in the heat of the moment, do you? 

All the guilt in the world did not quell her ardour, though. She pulled my jacket off and began unbuttoning my shirt. So, in between kissing her and telling her she was beautiful, I undid some buttons and pulled her dress over her head. She wouldn’t let me remove her bra or knickers, saying she was embarrassed about her stretch marks and flabby body. Wow, her stretch marks were minor, and many a twenty-year-old would have given her eye teeth to have a body like hers.

She tried to get under the covers, and I attempted to hold her and convince her to strip further. But she informed me that not even her husband had ever seen her fully nude, so I let her climb into bed and pull the covers tightly around her.

I left my briefs on and climbed under the covers as well. Stephanie rolled onto her back and opened her legs, expecting me to get on top straight away. But no way did I want a quick bonk with this beautiful lady. If I had climbed aboard then, I would have spoofed all over her stomach. So I lay beside her, running my hands all over her fantastic body while asking her questions.

In the next ten minutes or so, I learned that her sexual experiences were minimal. I doubted she had ever had an orgasm. She and her husband had both had strict religious upbringings. It was always lights out under the covers of sex. And done for procreation purposes, not for enjoyment. As I listened to her, I determined I would give it my best shot to repair her inadequate sexual experiences.

I had been with other women who had never had an orgasm. I had some successes but failed with most of them, so I knew this would not be easy. I determined I would need to change my tactics, be forceful with her, and push her limits. My somewhat firmer approach had already worked at the bank at Disneyland. It was not an approach I usually used - I was raised to be gentle and respectful of women.

I snuggled against her and nibbled at her neck whilst my fingers worked at her nipples through her bra. The way she twisted around to get more contact with me and how quickly her nipples hardened told me that she was very aroused.

Dipping my head, I used my teeth on Stephanie’s hardened nipple that I’d not yet managed to get out of her bra. And once her resistance faded, I lowered a hand to cup her crotch. She moaned and opened her legs, and so I continued down her stomach, licking down past her belly button. But when I moved further and tried to stick my head between her legs, I met with the first real resistance of the night. She fought like a tiger, saying she had never, and cried out that she was dirty there.

“You are not dirty. That is nature’s natural secretions. I love your smell. It’s driving me wild.”

 And I forced my head past her restraining hands, pulled her briefs to the side, and eased my tongue into her inviting slit. Her legs clamped together and went rigid, and her hands grappled with my head, but as I wormed my tongue into her, her legs slowly fell apart, and she began to moan her appreciation.

Once I felt she was enjoying the experience, I managed to slip a finger under my chin and worked it into her hole. Her panties were saturated, and I wondered if she had ever been wet before, as she was very concerned about how messy she was and kept apologising to me.

I scooped up some of the mess, rose, and offered it to her lips.

“Try it,” I ordered her. “It’s nectar from the gods.”

She tried to twist her head away from my insistent fingers. But I forced them past her lips. And once they were in her mouth, she sucked and slurped on them like they were her favourite popsicle. I withdrew them and scooped up some more of her slick cream. This time she gave no resistance and greedily sucked my fingers clean.

“Good wives suck their husbands clean after sex. You have to try that later.”

“Nooo... What are you doing to me?” she moaned. "I could never do that."

I resumed eating her out. I used a finger to separate her folds, and I turned my hand palm up so I could hook my finger up and search out her ‘G’ spot. My finger slid inside her so easily. Her wet tunnel was so warm, and it clamped my finger, and her hips jerked up to meet my thrusts.

Before long, she cried out for me to stop as she was feeling funny, “I’m lightheaded and all overwhelmed,” she cried out. And she hooked her hands under my armpits and tried to pull me up from between her legs. But I was having none of it. I slipped another finger in, then set to licking and sucking on her clit until she went rigid, and I was pretty sure she had climaxed. Not a sound out of her, though, and I determined to try and change that before the night was over.

She started to cry... from happiness, I hoped. So I moved alongside her, pulled her head into my shoulder, and told her she was beautiful. She calmed down and sheepishly asked if she had to do the same to me. She said she was worried, as she had never done that before. I noticed she could not say blowjob, not a word in her vocabulary, I guessed. I told her she didn’t have to do that for me. I let her calm down and cuddle into me while she got her heavy breathing under control. The funny thing was, I thought I noted a hint of disappointment that I did not force her to blow me. She had gotten very submissive.

After a while, I pushed her away slightly and removed her bra. She was very reluctant to let me look at her breasts, but soon, I had my mouth down, working on her bare nipples. I was amazed that she did not want me to see her breasts. They were small but perfectly formed. When she was relaxed enough, I moved a hand down and began fingering her again.

Soon, I felt her legs spread to give me better access, and I eased my briefs down with my free hand, then pulled her panties down her legs and slipped them from her ankles. She pulled me on top of her, and I pushed her hands down to my aching cock. I hesitated, waiting to see what reaction I got, as I’m a little above average in that department. But apart from her not wanting to touch it, there was no gasp of surprise. So I thought to myself that it must be similar to her husband’s in size. I was to find out later that she had never handled a cock, and so had no idea that there were different sizes.

I pushed myself up so that I could watch her. Her face was deeply flushed, and she looked astounded that she was letting me do this to her. I ran my hand across her warm skin and then leaned down to lick a circle around each of her nipples. They hardened as my tongue swirled around each of them. I wanted her so badly, my cock was in agony.

The musk of her arousal was driving me bonkers. She was breathing heavily again, and her chest rose and fell, pushing those delicious mounds up to my sucking lips. She was pulling at my cock, trying to get me to insert it. So I complied, and relaxing my hips, I let her direct some more of my cock into her hole.

She tilted her hips upward to get more of my shaft embedded. But I held back, only giving the slightest of thrusts, letting her have no more than an inch or so. It came to me she had never been like this before, and I was overtaken with a mad urge to be dirty and fuck her in as many ways as I could imagine.

I held back, “What do you want?” I asked.

She shook her head from side to side, not knowing how to reply.

“Do you want me to fuck you?”

She winced at my use of such filthy language. But a tiny, needy moan escaped her lips. This did not surprise me. I had had supposedly pure, innocent women before who loved to have foul language spoken to them.

“Say it. Say what you want.”

“Please?” was all she could conjure up.

I gave her several small thrusts, letting a little more cock slide into her warm tunnel. Then withdrew, almost so it fell out. “If you want it, ask me. Say you want me to fuck you.”

I held still for what seemed an eternity. Then she uttered the magic words, “Do it to me, please!!!!”

“No! If you want more, say the word Fuck.”

Almost too quiet for me to hear, she mumbled, “Please fuck me.”

“Good girl,” and I slowly pushed my cock home. Stephanie’s hips rose to draw me in deeper. I held myself still for a second, trying to hold back my pending eruption. Then, as the urge subsided, I began to move. Her cunt tightened around me. I couldn’t believe how tight and wet she was. She had told me she had three children, which was hard to believe by how tight she was. I looked at her face, taken by the look of yearning and hunger there. Her eyes were closed, her lips narrow, intense lines. I kissed her lightly and used my tongue to pry her lips apart and ease the tension in them.

Stephanie let out a suppressed sigh, then returned my kiss with all her previous ardour. As I gave her a long deep thrust, she threw her head back and asked me to fuck her. Her speech, now rich and passionate, was becoming easier for her to utter the filthy words.

I went to town, pushing deep into her depths until the motion of her hips changed, and a series of sudden jerks rocked her body. Her little cries of ‘Fuck me’ came closer together. And I felt the muscles in her butt tighten. I knew her second orgasm was upon her. I slammed into her hard and exploded. Her legs suddenly wrapt behind my arse, trying to hold me there tightly.

Finally, we rolled to the side, still holding one another tightly. I may have slipped into sleep for a minute or two as I returned to earth with a start when she began easing away from me, saying, “Should I.”

For a minute, I didn’t understand what she meant. Then as she repeated the question and nodded at my crotch, it came to me that she was asking about giving me a blowjob and cleaning up her mess. Fuck did that turn me on. I felt a tightening in my stomach and knew that as sensitive as I was down there, I was likely to become hard again.

I rolled onto my back and pushed her head down, knowing she would feel much more comfortable with this if I made her. She resisted my pressure for a moment, studying my messy softening cock, then let me push her down, and she sucked Percy into her mouth like a pro.

I watched the tiny drops of sweat roll down her skin into the small of her back as she let me force her head onto my groin. Involuntarily, I lifted my hips to meet her and felt myself begin to harden.

She popped her head up, “Am I doing it right?”

“Oh, Steph. You’re a bloody expert. Are you sure you haven’t done this before? I’ve never hardened again this quickly.”

A look of pride washed over her face, and she lowered her head and recommenced sucking on my burgeoning erection. I haven’t got some eight-inch monster, but I am a little above average in the manhood department, and being petite, she was only managing to get a couple of inches in her mouth. So I took her hand and tried to get her to wrap her fingers around my shaft.

She was reluctant and, lifting her head, said, “I’m not sure what to do touching that.”

“Just stroke it,” I replied.

“How,” she asked, demurely keeping her eyes lowered.

“Here, like this,” and I gripped my shaft and gave it a few hard strokes.

“Oh! You grip it so hard. Doesn’t it hurt?”

“Not really. Trust me, if you hurt it, I’ll tell you.”

And I took her hand and placed it back around the shaft. She didn’t look comfortable, but she began to jerk her hand up and down. Then, after studying it for a minute or two, she lowered her head and took my glans in her mouth again. It felt incredible; the interaction and the novelty of having a beautiful, inexperienced woman going down on me had me harder than I’d been in years.

I felt the beginnings of another release burgeoning in the base of my cock. I quickly rolled to the side and pushed her head away, not wanting to blow my load just yet.

“What did I do wrong?” she gasped.

I pulled her up and kissed her. “Nothing at all. You were too dam good. I was about to ejaculate.”

“I wouldn’t mind. I was trying to get you to.”

“I don’t want to come yet. I want to show you lots of different positions. Would you like that?”

Stephanie looked embarrassed and nervous. “I don’t know. But I guess so.”

“Right, on your hands and knees. Let’s show you doggy style.”

I helped her out from under the covers, straightened them out, and got her onto her hands and knees. After moving her knees further apart, I took in the beautiful sight of her engorged cunt, gaping open before me.

Grabbing her hips, I thrust forward, and Percy slipped in, completely unaided. The bugger was like a homing missile. He knew precisely where to go. I gave her a few good lunges, then reached under her and searched out her nipples. Another half dozen strokes, and I moved my hand back to search out her clit.

She began to rotate her hips, searching for more stimulation. I could see she was getting into this.

“Would you like it harder,” I asked.

“Oh, yes.”

And I increased the pressure. But I was running out of gas. Geez, I was not eighteen anymore and had ejaculated only ten or fifteen minutes before. To her gasp of dismay, I rolled away and slumped down on my side. Stephanie complained, but I told her I wanted to show her another position. Then, pulling her down beside me, I spooned into her back, lifted her leg and directed Percy between her legs. This time he did not find his way in but slid along her slit.

I was quite surprised when, unasked, she reached down, grabbed Percy and franticly guided him in again. This single action had to be up there with the most erotic experiences of my life. I was in fucking heaven. I slid back into her hot, slick quim, and I banged my thighs hard against her willing, firm derriere.

I made sure Percy fell out a few times to feel her grasping frantically to insert him again. And before I knew it, she gasped and shuddered against me.

“Did you just come?” I asked her.

“I think so.”

“What did it feel like?”

I thought she would clam up, but instead, hesitantly, she explained. “I went all hot and shivery, and it felt like liquid honey flowed out of me. I had one before, but this one was better.”

“I thought you climaxed before. I felt you go rigid. You must tell me when you come so I can help you.”

“How?”

“Well, I might increase pressure, fuck you harder, go much slower or pinch your nipples. Those are all things we need to find out. But I can’t do what you need without you telling me.”

She did not comment on this, but I could see she was thinking about what I had said. Then she said, “I’ve nearly had that feeling happen before when my husband took longer than usual, but I always lost it before it happened.”

“Do you want to try another position?” I asked, expecting her to say no.

“Ooooh, Yes, please.”

“Right, climb on top of me. It’s called Cowgirl. Some women love it this way as it gives me access to your tits.”

She rose and straddled me, and after she settled down on me, I began to pull and twist on her nipples. After a few minutes in that position, I manoeuvred her to face away towards my feet.

“This is reverse Cowgirl. Women like this as they can watch themselves being impaled.”

Stephanie leaned forward, dipped her head and watched my rampant shaft sliding in. She was very wet. Copious amounts of her slick juices had flowed when she climaxed. There was a distinct creamy watermark around the base of my cock. I withdrew so she could watch the full-length sliding in. But it slipped out, and she had to grab and insert him again.

This simple action turned me on more than I can express, and I felt the pressure building again. So, after a couple of minutes, I hurriedly guided Steph around to face me again and pulled her down for a kiss.

We were both losing control, and the passionate kiss tipped me over the edge. I broke away from our kiss and yelled that I was coming.

“Fuck me hard. So am I,” she exclaimed. That was the first time she had said ‘Fuck’ without any encouragement.

We clung together, trying to get our breaths back. Then, as our breathing calmed, sleep hit me like a hammer. Steph wriggled down and began to lick and suck on my rapidly deflating cock. She couldn’t get much more than the head in her mouth, and her fingers barely closed my girth. Not because I’m that big, but because she was so petite.

Nonetheless, Stephanie did her best to swallow the whole thing. She licked the veiny shaft clean, and my last recollections were of her sucking up the creamy mess at the base of my cock. Unfortunately, I was too tired to appreciate this erotic moment fully.

I woke around 2:30 a.m., busting for a pee. Stephanie was snuggled into my back. I tried to move away without waking her, but she woke mumbling, “Where was I going?”

“I need to use the toilet.”

“I do, too,” she stated, rolling out of bed behind me.

She went to pull on her nightgown, but I moved in and stopped her. “No clothes. I’ve already seen everything, so you shouldn’t be embarrassed.”

But she looked terribly self-conscious, and I realised her old self was forcing itself forth. I guessed that much of her earlier behaviour was probably induced by the alcohol and that it was wearing off.

It was a shame as I didn’t want her to regret what she had experienced and think it was me using alcohol to lower her guard. That had never been my intention.

I went first, explaining that I loved to watch a woman pee and that I would probably get hard watching her and then piss all over the ceiling if she went first.

She laughed at this. And seeing her mood lighten, I got her to hold my cock as I peed. She was reluctant at first, but soon was having fun directing my stream all around the toilet.

When it was her turn, she became very flustered and embarrassed, so I relented, left her to it and returned to the bed. When she returned, she apologised for her modesty and climbed under the covers. I told her it was alright; I’d forced a lot of stuff on her, probably too quickly.

But she rolled over and spooned into me again, wriggling her arse to let me know she was keen for some more action.

“Let’s try another position. Roll over on your stomach.”

I threw the covers back, lifted her bum and slipped two pillows under her hips. Then bent over her and nibbled her neck. I whispered in her ear, “This call the snake position. It will allow me to fuck you deep, and you can writhe around like a snake to get as much stimulation as you want.

She had turned the lights out before climbing back to bed. There was some light from the window, but I wanted to watch, so I switched on the bedside light. It was far too bright, and Stephanie complained. So I threw her nighty over the lamp, hoping to hell it did not catch fire. That did the trick, though. The room was now bathed in a soft, warm glow that let me see her clearly.

I fed Percy between her perfectly formed cheeks and began to thrust. I was fucking tempted to slip into her bum accidentally, but I knew that would not be at all welcomed and fuck up what had been a perfect night.

She buried her head in my pillow and began to grind her bum around on my every thrust enthusiastically. After I had watched my cock sinking into her depths for a bit, I leaned forward and began to worry her neck and shoulders with my teeth.

All too soon, I realised she was building up to another orgasm. She was no longer quiet about it, and I hoped one of her fellow delegates was not awake in the room next to hers. I removed my legs from between hers and directed her to close her legs tightly together. And once she closed them, I asked how hard she wanted it.

“Ooooh, hard, please. I’m going to come again.”

I upped the pressure and banged into her hard until she exploded. This time, as we rolled to our sides and cuddled, it was Stephanie who fell asleep first. I lay there staring at her perfect face and body, puzzled that she did not complain about the mess she was lying in.

She looked beautiful. Not all women look good when they sleep, but she did and seemed to be at peace.

I pulled the nighty of the bedside lamp and turned it off. I doubt I lasted a minute before I joined her in sleep.

When I awoke, it was broad daylight. We hadn’t closed the curtains the night before. Stephanie was lying beside me, studying me.

“Have you been awake for long?” I asked.

“No, only five minutes or so. I was contemplating how to ease myself out of bed without waking you. I need to use the bathroom.”

“Can I come and watch you this time.”

“I’d rather you didn’t. I’m feeling very self-conscious and guilty this morning. I’ve been plucking up the courage to ask you to go.”

With that, she climbed out of bed and took off to the bathroom. I lay there, ears pricked, trying to hear her pee. Actually, I didn’t want to continue our sex this morning. I was feeling guilty myself. I didn’t want her leaving with the impression that I was some lecherous lothario, that had gotten her drunk just to lead her astray.

When she returned, she had a towel wrapped around her naked form. And she stood by the bed waiting for me to get up and leave.

“Come and sit and talk with me. Then I’ll have a quick shower and leave. But first, I want to clarify what happened between us.”

Stephanie sat at the end of the bed. She gasped at seeing the large, dry white patch on the cover.

“Oh, help. What are we going to do about that?” she exclaimed.

“Don’t give that a thought. Trust me, the housemaids have seen much worse. They will hardly blink.”

“I’m so guilty. How am I going to tell my husband? We are always so honest with each other.”

“I’ll give you some advice. Shove all the memories from when you stepped onto the Jungle Cruise to when I leave this morning into a small box. Tape it up and store it in your brain’s darkest, most remote part. Do not mention it to anyone, not even your best friend. I have never met a husband who can assimilate rationally his wife being unfaithful. Many will act violently. Some will hold it against you forever more. You have made one mistake, aided by me and the alcohol, that should not mean you screw up your marriage, family and friends. And by the way, I’m also feeling guilty, and I did not intend for you to have more than a pleasant glass of wine. That cocktail must have been stronger than either of us thought.”

Stephanie seemed to relax, “I don’t blame you. I wanted that more than you did. I never knew sex could be that good.”

But I have been very hard on all the women who have come to me with similar stories and have insisted they tell their husbands.

That was sound advice if there was any chance they would be discovered. But if you and I keep this under our hat, there is no need for anyone to know about it.

Stephanie nodded her head but did not look totally convinced. After talking some more, I asked what time she needed to leave.

“I have a shuttle coming to pick me up at 10:30 a.m.”

“Right, I’d better get in the shower,” I said, picking up my clothes, which were strewn all over the floor on my side of the bed, and strode to the bathroom.

When I exited the bathroom, cleaned up and fully dressed, there was knock on the door. Stephanie, looked aghast, “Oh heck. I was meant to have breakfast with Raylene at 7:00.”

She leapt out of bed, trying to wrap the towel around her again. And I followed, scared she was going to open the door. Her towel dropped away in her haste, and I felt an uncomfortable surge of longing bite into my gut at the sight of her alluring heinie bouncing with each stride. My cock gave an unhealthy twinge, and all my resolve about not touching her that morning went out the window.

“Stephanie, are you in there?” reverberated through the door. “It’s Raylene, you were not at breakfast. Are you alright?

Stephanie turned her head and mouthed, what should she do? I mouthed back to her - you slept in.

I could hear two women outside the door arguing. One was saying they should leave her alone. The first voice replied loudly, “I know you’re in there, Stephanie. I can see movement in the eyehole. Are you alright?”

Stephanie piped up, “Sorry, I’ve slept in. I’m not fully awake, and I’m not dressed. I’ll have a shower, then come down and see you.”

“It’s too late for that. Most of the delegates have already left. Sue and I are to be picked up in ten minutes. I’ll write to see if you are attending the next seminar.”

Whilst Raylene was shouting through the door, I was cupping Stephanie’s gorgeous mound from behind. She was not wet. I realised she must have given herself a good clean with tissues after using the toilet. So I spat on my fingers, rubbed them along her slit, bent my knees and thrust Percy home again.

At the moment I thrust home, Stephanie made to answer Raylene. Her ‘okay’ came out more like a whimpering ‘Oooooh kaaaay’, and Raylene asked her again if she was Okay.

As I hammered her from behind, squashing her face and tits against the door, I heard Sue dragging a protesting Raylene away. Stephanie protested for me to stop, but her tight little ass jutted out to allow me easier entry. I hoped the ladies were far enough away because Stephanie began moaning and vocalising loudly that I should fuck her harder.

When she came, and boy did she come, she made enough noise to wake the dead - a far cry from her first silent triumph the previous evening. I withdrew and apologised profusely. Saying I had not wanted to misuse her that morning. I didn’t want to leave her with the impression that this had all been about sex.

“No, no, no. Don’t apologise. That was the best, much stronger than any of the others. I wanted that.”

It truly was a marvellous fuck. The whole situation, having her thrust against the door, made me euphoric and rough. And she had loved it. I wondered what the future would be like for her. Could she return to her pure, uncomplicated marriage? I was sure she would, but I bet she would have some awkward moments.

I helped her to the bathroom and into the shower. Her legs were so wobbly that she could hardly walk. Our goodbye kiss was long and passionate, meaning I left the bedroom with sopping wet shirtsleeves.

I had trouble wiping the smile off my face as I strode through the lobby. And once in the car, I let go a few loud - ‘You lucky bastards’ as I searched for my keys. It was then I noticed the wet, creamy mess around my fly. I hadn’t dropped my trousers but merely unzipped them when I had taken Stephanie from behind.

As I drove back to the Embassy Suites in Irvine, I wondered how many people had noticed the wet patch on my trousers as I negotiated the lobby. I had a late checkout, as I had stayed at the Embassy Suites on three of my previous visits to Irvine. And they knew my flight didn’t leave until 6:00 in the evening. I had another shower, sponged the dry white circle from the front of my trousers, and left them under the air conditioning duct to dry. Then, I slipped into bed for another couple of hours of sleep.