I love my wife Cheryl – in many ways, our life together is great. But I'm just not satisfied sexually. We've never really done it that much, and she's never been adventurous, and is hardly ever sexually playful, not wanting to try new things, even positions. When it comes to sexual intimacy, there's not much there. It's kind of like she just lets me have it occasionally, acting like it's okay, without being into it. Sound frustrating? It is.

But, like I said, I love her, and we have a great time together and get along fine, including pretty nice vacations abroad and smaller getaways here and there. Not long ago, we spent a long weekend halfway across the country at a Bed and Breakfast, a giant mansion built in the 1800s, three stories tall with rustic wood floors, quaint guest rooms, and plenty of antique art and furnishings. The entrance led into a huge reception area with a kitchen and dining area to one side and lounge area to the other, with a grand staircase in the middle going up to the dozen-or-so guest rooms down the hallways of the second and third floors. Rather than being numbered, the rooms were named after famous people from the manor and community in generations past. We were in the Dawnfield room on the second floor.

Our second evening, Cheryl and I arrived back at the B&B after spending the day out, grabbing a snack and drinks in the lounge area. Two people were checking in – a kind of dumpy guy probably in his late forties – graying hair a little unkempt, wearing old faded brown pants and running shoes and a t-shirt, not completely fat, but with a large belly and kind of skinny looking arms and legs. The woman was not dumpy at all – she was dressed in a waist-length jacket that called attention to what was below it: her nice slacks were wide in the legs but snug enough at the top to proudly display her shapely hips and butt. When she turned sideways, I was able see that she probably wasn't much younger than he, I guessed a well-maintained early forties. She wasn't gorgeous, but pleasant-looking, mature but not aged, with thick dark styled hair cut above her ears and short at her neck. The two of them were digging into the same bag to get documents and stuff, and by their relative ages and mannerisms, I assumed they were husband and wife. They looked like they went together, all except the fact that he looked like he'd let himself go over the years but she hadn't. Ah, and yes, there was the rock on her left ring finger.

Cheryl and I refilled our drinks and picked some more snack foods out of the small dishes with the tiny tongs. The stairs creaked loudly, attracting my attention as we returned to our little table. As I watched the couple ascend to an upper floor, the woman's mature but shapely ass swaying with each step, her slim boots gently creaking each of the stairs, I couldn't help but think that tonight, while Cheryl was already asleep with two layers of clothes and bed covers, withdrawn, this lady would be wide awake and naked, her husband going down on her, or perhaps her riding him. I told him with my mind, if I had an elegant lady like that, I'd get myself in shape for her, to demonstrate that she didn't deserve to have to be fucked by a dumpy pudgy guy. Yeah, I was judging him.

That night and the next (our second and third nights of vacation, and hey, the first too, come to think of it) played out in the same uneventful way. Back at the B&B after visiting a variety of sights during the day, Cheryl was ready to call it a night before I was, which was typical. Sure enough, after washing our faces and brushing our teeth, she got fully dressed in her pajamas – she brought the light blue ones on this trip, the ones with the subtle tartan pattern which make her butt look extra cute for some reason – while I was in only my boxers, hopefully as an encouragement to her. After some giggling social media viewing and commenting, she burrowed down in too many covers and turned the light off. I knew it was no use, but I tried to get amorous with her, kissing her neck and face, sliding my hands under the hot covers and finding as much of her bare skin as I could. She didn't reciprocate as I ran my hands up her back inside her pajama top and worked it around to a boob. I often did this, and the result was the same: she'd let me, almost as if she thought she had to, but didn't give back, and after a few minutes of genuinely trying to arouse her and not just grab, I'd give up and just lie against her.

As was typical, I lay there face up as she was turned away, and stroked myself with my fingertips, lightly so as not to make any movements and because, well, no lubrication. Thoughts of being with a partner willing to fuck bent over the chair or up against the window, or hell, anywhere for that matter, occupied my mind. I would often fantasize about having an affair or at least a tryst, a one-night stand, but I have never seriously considered propositioning someone I know, like a friend or coworker, because I'm afraid any advance I made would be met with hostility, and even if a fling did get started, I've seen enough movies to want to avoid even the remote possibility of things going south and the woman turning out to be a psycho bitch who would ruin my life. So I have been stuck with my fantasies and my porn and my self-gratification.

At home, after Cheryl drifts off to sleep, many times I get out of bed and have some “me time”, staying up a while, reading, or watching something on TV or streaming on the computer. Of course, that means watching porn and masturbating frequently, and not too long before this trip, I'd gotten into an online sex story site with forums and such where I could read dirty stories and make dirty comments and post dirty pictures. Sorry, not dirty, but, ahem, tastefully erotic.

I always take my computer with me when I travel. Yes to check emails, including work emails, download and edit photos that I take during the day, and pop in to news and social media. And of course, to watch some porn if I get the opportunity. So this third night, I crept out of bed and grabbed my computer bag that I had already prepared, pulled on some socks, pants, and a t-shirt, stepped into my shoes, and left the room. I always tell Cheryl that I may get up, and she's always known me as a night owl and is fine with it I suppose, and I always spin it that I don't want to disturb her, so when we're on vacation, it never surprises her for me to leave the room for a bit.

I had already scouted out the reception and lounge area, so after creeping as quietly as I could down the stairs, close to the outside to try to minimize the creaking, I tucked myself into the breakfast area, making sure no one else was around. I sat with my back to the wall, plugged in my computer, and connected to the WiFi and to my VPN. I started to scroll through work emails first, just to make sure nothing had blown up. It hadn't, and after I deleted a bunch of spam, I closed it and went on to personal email. Nothing much there. Social media... same old stupid political memes, a couple health issues and some pet and baby pictures, but nothing to hold my attention.

I heard creaking outside the room a couple times, thinking it was the stairs, but it stopped quickly. I thought I could hear muffled voices but couldn't tell if it was from inside or outside – maybe just guests going to their rooms? After a couple clunks in the distance, all was quiet again. I was so glad it was no longer raining – it had poured earlier in the day, and the rain and street noise would have made it hard to hear faint stirrings inside the building, but it was pleasantly quiet inside, thankfully.

So... on to the porn. First, I got up and surveyed the room to make double sure no one was around, then stepped outside into the lounge area for a quick peek. Seeing no one, I crept back to my station, knowing now, in case there was ever any doubt, that I'd be spending the next little while getting my porn fix. After switching my VPN connection to a server in Belgium, I stopped by the erotic story site and picked a couple shorter stories to read, looked at dirty picture forums, and then logged off to watch a couple videos out of the folders I'd copied to my hard drive before leaving home. Listening intently to make sure no one else was downstairs, I plugged in my earbuds and stuck one in my ear, leaving the other open. I unzipped my pants and fiddled with myself while I watched a hot blonde and brunette play with each other in their lingerie, pulling it off piece by piece while they kissed and fingered and sucked and licked each other everywhere. I stroked my full-on boner while the next video played, an elegant Japanese woman with an older man, removing her kimono and his robe and giving him an oily full body massage before they fucked in a variety of positions.

I didn't cum while I was watching. Many times I don't – cleaning up and risking someone catching me wasn't worth it in this setting, and I don't want to cum every time I watch porn, but rather like the feeling of edging myself and not feeling like I need to every time.

Shit, it was 12:42 am. Had I really spent over an hour and a half down here already? I zipped up, logged off everything, and packed up my computer and phone. As I left the room, the door creaking upon opening and closing, I was surprised that the floor was quiet, but stepped lightly anyway, anticipating the creaky stairs.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a blueish glow, and turned, expecting to see it coming from some signage outside. But I was surprised to see a face, inside, up against a wall, not a window, aglow with the light of a screen in front of it. Shit, had I really missed the other occupant when I peeked earlier? Had my ears not been as attentive as they should have been, and allowed creaking stairs and floor to go undetected?

I couldn't tell if it was a man or woman, but it was definitely someone, looking at a computer screen. I didn't want to stare, or even try to sneak away in case the person would think I was creeping, so I made a little bit of noise to let them know I was there, at a distance so as not to startle them. The person didn't move as I walked over to the snack table and clinked a couple things.

Closer to the person now, I was at this point sure it was a woman's face.

A long bench seat ran the length of the wall, with three tables in front, and chairs opposite the seat, so that the bench was seating for all three tables. The woman was at the very end, in the corner against the wall. Evidently to make room for her computer, she had pushed the other items on the table aside – a water glass, a tea cup and saucer, a honey jar, a small ceramic pitcher, a stack of paper napkins, and a vase of flowers. Studying her screen, but not typing or clicking, she was unaware of my presence.

But what caught my attention more than her face was the image behind her. You see, she was oblivious to the fact that the glass picture frame directly behind her was hanging, not fastened flush, angled downward a bit, and thus reflecting the image of her screen plainly to anyone standing in front of her, as I was now. And she wasn't looking over any documents, that's for sure! There were two naked bodies on the screen, intertwined, moving passionately. Was she watching porn?

It definitely was porn, I determined, as I shuffled another couple steps closer and continued to watch the reflection. It wasn't a set of fleeting glimpses of out-of-focus bare flesh that you'd see in R-rated moves. This was actual bare bottomed thrusting and naked titty sucking. A woman watching porn in the B&B lounge – how scandalous!

I decided, what the fuck, I was going to say hello. So I grabbed the pitcher of water from the table to use as a conversation starter, holding it up to her.

“Would you like a refill, ma'am?”

I knew that was an awful choice of words a split second after uttering them, and I knew I had said it too loud a split second after that. She jumped – literally jumped – off the seat, banging her knees into the table and yelping. Yanking on a little cord I hadn't seen before, an earbud popped away from her head as she clicked furiously a few times before closing the lid of her computer halfway.

“I'm so sorry,” I followed up with my nice quiet voice.

“You scared the f--” She censored herself and took a breath, “You really startled me.” What was that accent?

“I'm sorry, oh, I didn't see that you had earphones in.”

This was the woman who checked in with her chubby husband a couple days ago, I was sure of it. Even though I couldn't make out her body behind the table in the dark, that hair style was unmistakable. She wasn't a hot perky teenager, but she was kind of sexy, especially paired with my recollection of the rear view of her shapely figure from fifty-odd hours ago.

“I was wondering if you wanted a re-, um, for me to top off your water glass.” Her glass was at least two-thirds full, so, I probably looked as dumb as I felt.

“Um, no, no thank you, I am... I have quite enough.” She picked up her glass and set it back down. What was that accent?

“I really didn't mean to scare you. I thought you looked at me, saw me, when I came over here,” I lied. “I tried to make a little noise rather than sneak up on you in the dark.”

“Oh, well, I... I suppose I was concentrating so much.” She sighed. English was evidently not her first language. Not French or German or Spanish, I thought.

“Yes, um, I could see.” I set the water pitcher back down. Emboldened by the experience of encountering a woman in the midst of erotic entertainment, and that exotic accent piquing my interest even more, I figured, what the hell, and just let her know I knew what she was up to. “Looks like I'm not the only one who can't sleep even though it's after midnight.” Then I grinned. “Or, doesn't want to sleep.”

“Um, what do you mean? I sure would rather be in bed than... up... doing this for work...” she was stumbling, trying to find the right words to use in her lie. Not Italian, I thought to myself.

“Oh, work?” I asked. “Interesting work. I saw what you were watching.”

“What-” she glanced sideways, then up. “Yes, my spreadsheet of our project? If you could see from there... it was not interesting.” She was nervous. Not Russian, but perhaps Greek or Eastern European?

“Seriously, not judging, and I understand... I saw in the reflection, in the picture behind you.” She clicked the lid of her computer closed all the way and craned her neck up and back. Busted.

“May I join you?” I didn't wait for her to answer, but took the seat at the table next to her, sitting on the bench not too far away. “Like I said, I understand you watching that. I promise, I was, um...” I patted the computer case I was still carrying, “...doing the same thing.”

“What is it with you?” She was a little annoyed. “Sneaking up on people in the dark and saying such things?”

I thought of something about “spread” and “sheet”, trying to hold back a laugh. “No, I wasn't sneaking.” I tried to keep my voice low, just in case anyone else could hear from anywhere else in the place. “I was in the breakfast room, through that door. When I came out and saw you, I actually walked across the room and shuffled and made noise, trying not to startle you.”

“I... had my earphones in and... I didn't hear.“ She seemed to be giving me the benefit of the doubt.

“Yeah, you were pretty into it. Hey, I'm not a creep, I swear.” Oh, crap, I just thought of something funny about “figures” too. I let out an involuntary snicker.

As she shifted in her seat, I saw that the top button of her pants was undone, now that my eyes had adjusted and there wasn't such a contrast between the dark room and bright screen. She whispered, “oh, what's funny?”

“I'm sorry... it's bad....” I shook my head. ”It's just that, you said spreadsheet, and, you were watching porn, and I thought, they were spread on the sheet, ugh.”

“Oh, that is bad,” she giggled, covering her mouth. Her English was very good, and I thought I may be able to make jokes that she would understand. “And no, I was not watching porn!”

“Um, I'm being honest... I was in the other room there watching porn on my computer just now, and, well, I know porn when I see it.”

“The word is, I think, 'erotica'.” She smiled, warming up a bit, figuring she might as well admit it.

“Huh, I guess you could call it an educational film if you want to. It's still porn.”

“It is not. It is... romantic drama. There happens to be a lot of erotic scenes in it, so?” She squirmed a bit, and I saw right into her burgundy shirt, through the opening where at least two buttons should have been closing it off, but instead were revealing the black bra inside.

I laughed again at the next silly quip that ran through my mind.

“You said you were watching porn,” she whispered. “And if it was really porn porn, then that's worse than mine.” She shook her head. “It is that funny?”

“It's just that... spreadsheet... looks like the man was examining her figures...”

“Uuugh.” She giggled though. “Actually, yes, closely.”

“So, you admit it... you're watching porn.”

She raised her voice. “Not porn. A romantic drama.” She smiled again. “Maybe erotic.” Wow, her mouth and accent were really sexy, turning me on even more.

“Sshh!! Okay, so, men watch porn and woman watch erotic dramas.” Then I pushed further. “And, we each, well, touch ourselves when we watch.”

“What?” She was not at all quiet.

“Sssshhh!!” I pointed at her lap, and grabbed my shirt in the front, nodding at her.

Embarrassed, she closed up her pants and folded her arms across her chest, but left the buttons of her shirt undone.

“Hey,” I whispered. “I'm not going to lie – I fiddle with myself when I watch too. Like I said, I'm not going to judge you.” Then I got personal. “So, does your husband know you watch?”

“Noooo, I'm sure he doesn't. He knows I like to be up at night, just thinks I'm down here having a cup of tea and reading. And who said I have a husband?”

“I saw you check in a couple days ago. You sure looked like you were together, and, well, the ring. It's not that difficult.”

“Does your wife know you are down here watching porn? Real porn?”

“Nooooo,” I mimicked her voice. “She thinks I'm answering emails and editing photos and stuff. Hey, and who said I have a wife?”

“Um, the ring.” Oh, yeah. “And, if you were here alone, you would be up in your room with your porn, not down here.”

“Touché.”

During the next few minutes, we actually has a semi-serious conversation about our love lives, or lack thereof – two strangers from different parts of the world, who had just met in the lounge of a B&B late one night She didn't say, but hinted that she was not attracted to her husband much any longer, and he wouldn't push her; she did say their sex life was dull to say the least. She had fantasies about having affairs but didn't think anyone was interested in an older woman, and wouldn't want to risk it with anyone she knew, kind of same as me.

The conversation came back around to what she was watching. “Okay,” I whispered, “time to finish the show. How much more is left?”

“What, you want to watch with me?”

“Sure, let's see what this erotic romantic drama is all about.”

“There is nothing pornographic, so, I doubt you would be interested,” she smirked.

“Oh, I'm interested. So, what did I miss?”

“You want a plot? Character story? You don't want to just watch people fucking?” It was kind of shocking, but not something I shouldn't have expected, hearing her enunciate the word “fucking”.

“People were just fucking in the last scene,” I whispered. “There's more fucking?”

“Probably,” she giggled. “There is a lot of fucking. But you have not seen enough for tonight? Were you able to... to satisfy yourself in the other room?”

“Um, no, I didn't, well, get myself off.”

“You didn't... cum?”

“No.”

“If your real porn was not enough for you, I'm sure this will not be!” Her voice was getting a bit too loud.

“Ssshhh! I don't always. I stopped myself this time. Anyway, I want to watch yours with you.”

I scooted closer, right beside her, and she gave me the short plot synopsis: A lady romance writer was faltering in her career and took a vacation to a quaint manor-turned-hotel in the country to try to get inspired. She had erotic visions of the past two centuries of lewd couplings that went on, imagining herself in the place of the lady of the house who had forbidden lovers, including the hired help, and two very naughty younger sisters.

“What if someone catches us?” She asked me.

“What was your plan before, if someone caught you?”

“Well, I am looking out into the room, and if someone comes in the front door or down the stairs, I'll hear and have plenty of time to pause, go to my email window, like that.”

“Okay, well, that didn't work, so let's make Plan B.” She punched me in the arm, hard. “Ow, fuck.”

“I didn't know you were in the other fucking room,” she said, raising her voice, then catching herself. “It was a good plan. I just did not think of everything.”

“Okay, let's make a couple adjustments,” I told her, and got up from my seat. Creeping over to the door to the breakfast room, I peeked inside. “No one in here.” Then I grabbed a stack of napkins from the snack table and returned to her. Reaching above her, I pulled the bottom of the picture frame away from the wall and shoved a few napkins behind it, so that it stood out from the wall, at least plumb, if not angled up slightly. And I got a great view down her shirt. Her breasts weren't very big, but her bra held them together nicely to give a hint of alluring cleavage. Stepping back in front of her, I gave her the thumbs up. “Can't see anything in the reflection, just the wall back there.”

I settled into the bench seat beside my new exotic lady friend, who already had the lid of her computer opened. I looked her over, noticing her dark pants snugly holding her thighs, her trim waist and curvy hips and ass, her breast inside her opened shirt, her cuffed sleeves over her bare wrists and hands. Her thick, dark brown hair was growing unevenly at the sides and back, short and slightly covering the nape of her neck and tucked behind her ear, at least a couple inches longer on top and falling toward her eyes in front. She smelled nice – not perfume-y, just subtly clean and freshly feminine.

Handing me one of her ear buds, she hovered over the “Play” button on the video player and whispered, “ready?”

I nodded. She clicked Play and the screen lit up with the image of a muscular naked guy face-down between the legs of an equally naked blonde woman, his pelvis gyrating into her.

“Whoa!” I whispered. I shouldn't have been surprised, because it was surely right in the middle of the scene I saw in the reflection a few minutes before. The scene cut to him sitting upright with her on his lap, bent backwards, large breasts fully bared and getting squeezed by his hand. “Not porn?” I asked, as the next cut was to her riding him, tits bouncing, naked hips and leg in full view with more than a glimpse of pubic hair.

The lady on the screen collapsed onto her man, and the scene faded to some people, dressed in 18th-century-looking stuff, in a sitting room or something talking about so-and-so buying such-and-such property.

“Okay, not really porn,” I whispered.

“See, I told you,” she whispered back, patting my leg. “No erect penises.”

“No penetration,” I added, patting her leg, and leaving my hand there.

“No... ejaculation.” We both snickered, and our eyes met, for more than a couple seconds.

My dick stirred in my pants... it was a bit excited already talking to this attractive, sexually frustrated woman about risqué stuff the last few minutes, but now it was actually getting hard. And it was primarily because of my interaction with her, not because of the artificial sex on the screen.

I left my hand on her leg and slipped it a little more to the inside as we watched the naughty sisters in lavish underthings that pushed their boobs up, doing their hair and talking about a guy named Leo.

“Leo is the farmer next door,” my companion told me. “Part of the fucking earlier was them.”

“All of them together?”

She gasped lightly. “I'm not going to give away everything. You will have to watch by yourself sometime.” Her hand was now on my thigh, and we both were moving our fingers a bit, caressing.

On screen, after her husband got arrested and locked up for running a huge banking and blackmail scandal, our lady of the house had a handsome older merchant trying to convince her to settle down with him.

All of a sudden, my empty ear heard a creak and a couple of clumping noises, then more creaking. My companion heard it too, and hit Pause while we popped out the earbuds and I scooted away quickly. Standing up, I grabbed my computer bag and walked through the dark room, my heart racing, the creaking of the stairs growing closer, and my uncomfortable boner refusing to be put away.

Someone was coming down the stairs for sure. Halfway down, legs moved from the darkness into the soft light of the lobby illuminated by the lamps on the ground floor.

Slippers, and blue pajama pants.

~~~~~~~ to be continued... ~~~~~~~