The door closes, leaving behind my beloved wife and her bull for the evening.  What started as a normal session has just taken a very abrupt turn.  I have always been present for her encounters – never a participant, a voyeur only, but present nonetheless.  This is our arrangement, or was until, just a few minutes ago, she politely asked me to leave so that she could spend the night with this young hunk who had obviously fucked her into another dimension.  This after she had broken another taboo by allowing, no, begging him to cum inside her.

I walk down the hallway of this luxury hotel in a daze.  I enter the elevator and descend to the lobby.  As I wait and the car makes its way down, my head swims with thoughts and emotions.  What I have just witnessed was unexpected, to be sure, but what to make of it all?  The doors open to the gleaming lobby.  A handful of travelers traverse the space.  I’ve been banished but cannot face going home to an empty house and bed just yet.

What I desperately need is a drink.  Now.  To steady my nerves and give me some time to collect my thoughts and sort out my emotions.  I scan the lobby for the bar, and find it tucked discreetly into a corner.  Not one of those big, raucous atrium establishments.  I walk through a wide entryway into a lounge tastefully decorated in dark wood and moderate lighting.  I glance around.  The place is sparsely populated, to my relief.  A few tables with small groups of patrons and no one seated at the bar.  Perfect.  I crave tranquility.

I order a bourbon, neat.  The first sip pours warmth into my mouth, then down my throat to my insides.  Another sip.  Gradually a calm begins to descend on me.  Now I can reflect, begin to sort things out as best I can.

My midsection betrays the intense orgasm I let fly just fifteen minutes ago.  And it was intense indeed.  No doubt there were large globs of cum left on the carpet of the room.  I replayed the scene in my head, remembering the feeling of his spunk dripping out her onto me, how it lubricated my masturbation, how frightening the volume and distance of my eruption.  Clearly, I was turned on beyond measure, my libido pushing through the emotions roiling me as they always do in these encounters.

I think about her, and us.  It had all started as such an innocent game if you can call it that.  Us sharing fantasies.  I can’t even remember which of us brought it up. We talked it through carefully, built up gradually.  The first time was exciting, scary, wild, and wonderful.  To see her like that was like discovering someone new.  It thrilled me. 

It also left me empty.

Over time, we perfected our little game.  Always in nice hotels out of town.  Our room. 

Except for tonight.  Not our room.  Her room, now.

My imagination races.  It goes to them, nine floors above.  Of course I can picture the room – perfectly.  And him.  And her, how she responds to him.  Them.  How they couple, kiss, embrace, communicate verbally and non-verbally.  What are they doing now, I wonder.  I left them embracing tenderly like familiar lovers, him hardening again.  At twenty-five or so, he is no doubt pounding her into oblivion for the second time tonight.  And I know without a doubt it won’t be the last.

How many loads will he dump in her?  Will she wash herself clean or return home leaking him all day tomorrow?  Will there be marks?  How sore will she be?  Will she walk normally, or will her gait betray the blissful agony she has endured for the last twelve or more hours?

Will she embrace me or simply stride into our bedroom to sleep the sleep of one who has milked every ounce of lust out of her bull without so much as slumbering?

And what does this mean for us?

I am startled to find myself nearly fully erect while pondering these things.  I shift myself discreetly, lest anyone be able to see.  Silly, of course, since I’m the only one at the bar.

“You seem lost in your thoughts”.  A soft, feminine voice from my left.  I glance in its direction and see a woman of roughly my own age.  I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t notice her slip onto the stool two down from mine.  How long she’d been there, and how long she’d been observing me, I can’t begin to estimate.

I smile politely.  She smiles back.  “Would you prefer to be left alone?  I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

She is attractive.  Her business attire is fitted over a slim build.  Her hair is stylish, only a modest amount of makeup.  Expensive jewelry, including an impressive diamond on her left ring finger.

I smile again, a wan smile this time.  “It’s okay.  I think I’m done replaying the events of a long day and ready to just empty my mind and relax.”

“Business?”  she responds.

“Something like that, yes.”

She introduces herself first.  She is forward.  In no time I have her story.  Occasional road warrior.  Hates the grind but appreciates the escape from home and family.  We are several drinks in now.  She has closed the distance between us and has moved the adjacent stool closer to me.  Her skirt rises rides up her crossed leg to reveal a tanned, toned thigh.  Tennis player, I guess.  Probably spends time in the gym or yoga studio.

Her hand touches my forearm playfully whenever I make her laugh.  My eyes take her in.  The stirring begins in my mid-section.  My mind returns to the scene playing out above us in the room.  My wife screaming in orgasm, drenching the sheets.  Her bull emptying himself into her.

She leans in, conspiratorially, and speaks in a hoarse whisper.  “You seem turned on.”

I am startled by her boldness.  “What makes you say that?”

“I’m very intuitive.  I read men well.  Your type really can’t conceal it.”

I feel myself blushing.  “Listen, I won’t deny that I find you attractive.  But in no way am I hitting on you.”  That much is true.  I’m in a one-way open marriage.  I’m a faithful cuck.

“You don’t have to.  I’m quite happy to be the huntress here.”  I shoot her a quizzical look.  She continues, “I’ll get straight to the point.  One of the benefits of business travel is I get to indulge my naughty side, let my inner slut out to play as it were.  I’m selective, so it doesn’t always happen for me.   I came down tonight to see what I might find.  I was quite disappointed to see how few people were here.  Then I saw you.”

“And…?”

“You intrigued me.  You’re attractive – I think I’ve already told you that – but you were giving off something else.  Intuition again.  I can smell arousal.  I thought you’d make an interesting companion.  In fact, while we’ve been talking, I’ve been imagining what it would be like to fuck you.”

“And your husband is okay with this?”

“My goodness, no, he wouldn’t be okay at all.  He doesn’t have a clue.  That allows me to keep my marriage and family intact.  Besides, it’s an extra, intense turn-on to be sneaking around behind his back.  But only on the road.  No strings, and no risks.”

I ponder as she propositions me.  The temptation is real – my balls boiling once again – but this breaks all the rules.  My wife and I have never discussed this.  She may be upstairs alone, but the rough structure of our arrangement remains intact.  I know where she is, what she’s doing, and who she is with.  All is transparent, and consent has been freely given. 

Lust begins to breed rationalization.  Yes, transparency and consent.  The rough boundaries – but only rough.  There was no discussion about his sperm swimming in her womb as it is right now.  And no precedent for her dismissing me.

And there is something else.  Something different about this time, even before he came inside her, and she banished me from the room.  Something in her eyes, her reaction, her cries and pleading, the almost desperate way she fucked him.

“Is something wrong?”  Her words startle me from my introspection.  She takes my left hand, runs her fingers across my wedding band.  “Is it this?”

I respond by leaning in kissing her.  I call for the bar tab. 

We enter the elevator, and she presses the button.  Floor ten.  Oh god.

We exit to the left and walk in the direction of her room.  My wife’s that is.  As we approach, the distinct sound of rough sex can be heard through the door. 

She takes my hand.  “Sounds like someone’s having a good time.”

“Indeed.”

The door to her room clicks closed behind us.  Instantly I pin her to the wall, her arms raised above her head, wrists bound up in my hands.  I kiss her with a fierce intensity and press myself into her.  My hardness is evident even through our clothes, and she gasps.  I unbutton her blouse and pull the front of her bra down to reveal her pert breasts, attacking her erect nipples with my tongue, my mouth, my teeth.  She lets out a cry when I release her wrists and pinch the nipples, pulling and twisting.  I reach behind her and unfasten her bra, roughly pushing her clothes off her torso.  I stand back.  She is a magnificent MILF slut, and I am going to fuck the ever-living daylights out of her.

Clothes are shed quickly.  I grab her, shove her against the wall again, this time facing away from me.  My hands run down her back and across her ass.  I pull her midsection back toward me and bend her over.  I slap my cock against her ass playfully, leaving wet marks of precum on her milky skin.  My fingers violate her.  She is drenched.  Her first orgasm takes no more than twenty thrusts of my fingers.  She is a quivering as I shove my cock into her without so much as a second thought.

“Oh fuck, yes.  Fuck me hard.  That’s just what I needed!”

I hammer her hard.  My mind races down the hall.  She’s getting hers.  I’m getting mine.  I smile, a wicked smile, and intensify my pace.  My illicit lover cums again, her screams echoing off the walls.

We aren’t even fully in the room yet.

We move to the desk.  I lift her onto it and penetrate her again.  Her body glistens with sweat now.  I torture her nipples again and she cums violently.  “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” she screams.  Her hair is a tousled mess.  I am a raw animal now.  My own orgasm approaches, and I know exactly what I intend to do.  Fair warning is given, and she responds by wrapping her legs around me, pulling me close, and looking intensely into my eyes.  Their pleading is assent and I empty myself into her.  The intensity scares and thrills me.

I remain inside her, not wanting to lose contact, until my softening gradually forces me to slip out of her.  I pause to admire my handiwork as she coos, “That was hot.”  A naughty thought occurs to me, and I grab my phone.

“Do you mind?”  I aim my phone’s camera lens at the white fluid oozing out of her freshly-fucked hole.

“Not my face please.”

I comply, snapping several pictures, including of her naked body.

I have a sudden urge to pee and excuse myself.  While alone, I reflect on what I’ve just done.  I feel no remorse.  I feel satisfied, validated.  I am hardening again.

We fuck all night and into the morning.  Every position in the book.  No piece of furniture neglected.  By morning, the room is a complete wreck.

“This has been magical,” she says as sunlight streams through the open curtains.  “I wish I were staying, but I must fly this morning.  Home life calls – hubby, kids, suburban bliss.”  She lets out a wry chuckle.  “Being a slut for you exceeded my wildest expectations.”

She invites me to shower with her.  I am pleased to find no discernable marks on either of us.  Not that it would necessarily matter in my case.  Those pictures could come in handy. I grow erect once again as she is lathering soap gently on my cock.  She drops to her knees and engulfs me in her mouth yet again.  I think she is going to finish me this way when she abruptly rises, turns off the water, and leads me out of the shower.

We dry off.  She sits on the vanity, spreading her legs.  She looks deeply into my eyes again.

“We’ve erased all traces of last night.  I want something to take home with me.  I want you to cum inside me one last time.”

She pulls me in and kisses me deeply.  It takes no time for my orgasm to peak, and I am stunned to find that I still have a big load left in me.  Knowing she will carry me home produces the most intense orgasm of our illicit tryst.

She runs to the bed and raises her legs.  “I don’t want to lose a drop.  Get me a clean set of panties please.”  And with that she seals me up inside her.

We leave the room together.  I wonder where my wife is now, but I don’t worry about the risk of running into her with this woman on my arm.  What will be will be.  Her room is quiet as we pass.

Outside the lobby, we wait for her Uber.   As it approaches, she embraces me tenderly and draws in for one final deep kiss.  “I can feel you inside me.  You’ll be dripping out into my panties the entire trip home.  That’s so hot.”

My cock twitches again.  She lowers herself into the back seat, closes the door, and rides away.