The incident in the alleyway seemed to flick a switch in John. Sex at home became dominated by his narrative of me being taken by other men. And the more I thought about it, the more it turned me on too. Eventually, we had a frank conversation and agreed to follow through on this the next week.

We booked into a hotel in a town some distance from home, arriving late on  Wednesday afternoon. Having checked in, I had a bath with a glass of wine, and then dressed in a red sequinned mini dress, with full-length sleeves and a plunged front that opened to just above my navel; revealing enough of my full boobs to draw interest, without going too far. With the dress, I wore a matching red lace thong and suspenders with sheer black stockings and a pair of gold high-heeled shoes.

Whilst I applied red lipstick, my husband came into the bathroom and stood appraising me. “You look like a high-class escort,” he smiled approvingly.

“Well, let’s hope I find someone who wants to fuck me like a less classy one,” I replied, looking at him in the mirror and winking.

John went ahead to the hotel bar, positioning himself in a booth in a corner; his laptop giving the impression of a man catching up on some work over a drink. Some ten minutes later, I followed. Entering the room, I saw a middle-aged man sitting on his own at the bar. He appeared to be a businessman, alone and away from home, which was perfect. And, whilst a little overweight, he wasn’t bad looking.

The man glanced up and registered me with approval; his eyes following me as, taking small steps and walking with a slight wiggle of my hips, I made my way slowly across the room. Sliding myself onto a bar stool a little distance down the bar from him, I put my clutch bag down in front of me. With his full attention now, I slowly crossed my legs, my sequin dress riding up slightly to reveal my stocking-clad thighs and shapely calves.

Ordering a white wine, I played on my phone, shooting him occasional glances and rather obviously re-crossing my legs. After a while, with much of my glass of wine drunk, the waiter placed a fresh glass in front of me and, indicating to the man, told me it was with his compliments. Smiling my thanks, I motioned for him to join me. Needing no second invitation, he moved around the bar, positioning a stool so as to sit close beside me. Introducing himself, Alan explained he was staying in the hotel on business. Indeed, his job was such that he was routinely away from home.

Alan was doing his best to chat me up. I responded with flirtatious laughter, touches of his arm, and leaning forward to give him a better view of my cleavage. Shifting forward on the bar stool caused my dress to be pulled further up my thighs, which I parted slowly to give him a clear view of my thong and suspenders. His jaw dropped as he stared at them.

Smiling knowingly, I reached forward and traced a slender finger up his inner thigh and over his crotch, which twitched in response. Drawn to the glint of the diamonds on my engagement ring, he muttered, “you’re married, then?”

My eyes fixed on his, and my finger caressing his growing hardness, I leaned forward and whispered, “do you know what a Hotwife is, Alan?”

“You are joking,” he exclaimed in a voice that was both dubious and hopeful; his face lighting up with sexually-charged anticipation, “surely that’s only something that happens in, well, a certain sort of films…”

“Oh, this is for real,” I reassured him, taking his hand and placing it between my legs, whilst continuing to run a finger over his length as it tented against the material of his trousers.

“My husband, John, is sitting in a booth over there, hoping you will take me upstairs to our room and fuck me in front of him.”

“No strings, no tricks, no filming, just your husband getting off whilst watching?” he asked, casting me a quizzical look.

Holding his gaze, I nodded, feeling him slip a hand inside my thong and run a finger across my labia. “Mmmm, you’re wet,” he muttered approvingly, as I stifled a moan, “being felt up in a bar turns you on, then?”

“The fact that we are sitting here, and no one can see what you are doing with your finger really turns me on,” I whispered huskily, pushing myself forward against his finger. “But knowing I am going to be fucked by a stranger has me climbing the walls in anticipation.”

“Is that my cue to take you upstairs,” he asked, with a smirk.

“Thought you’d never ask,” I pouted, sliding from the stool, smoothing down my dress, and looking knowingly over his shoulder at my husband.

We walked together out into the lobby and then took the lift up to the fourth floor. Unlocking the room with the electric key, I led him to the bed, before sliding the dress from my shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. Stepping from it, I stood facing him, dressed only in a thong, suspenders, and high heels.

“My God, you’re gorgeous,” he stammered.

In silence, I took off his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt, as he kicked off his shoes. Then, whilst moving my mouth to his, I peeled off his shirt, before unbuckling his belt and unzipping his flies. Between us, kissing passionately now, we removed his trousers and pants.

Reaching down, I wrapped a hand around his shaft in a reverse grip. As we explored each others’ mouths with our tongues, I began to slowly stroke him; moaning in response, his fingers dug into the fleshy cheeks of my arse. Pulling away from the kiss, he looked at me with lust, as I continued to gently massage his cock. “Get on the bed,” he demanded.

Releasing his manhood and lying back on the sheets, I peeled off my thong and made to remove my high heels. “No, leave them on,” Alan corrected me, pulling off his socks, and then moving forward to join me on the bed; parting my legs, so that he could position himself between them.

Slowly kissing his way up my inner thigh, his fingers eased apart the lips of my labia; his tongue lapping urgently at the soft pink flesh of my mound. My sighs turned to loud moans when his tongue found my clit and flicked at it repeatedly; my thighs tensed and my hands went to his head, tugging at his hair, whilst he alternated between burying his tongue deep inside me and circling my sensitive clit.

As I moaned and writhed on the bed, the electric lock on the hotel room door sounded, to be followed by the door closing behind my husband. Having entered the room, and taken in the sight of a stranger eating out his clearly highly aroused wife, John crossed the room and settled himself into the armchair in the corner. Alan lifted his head and glanced questioningly at him, sitting observing us.

“Don’t mind me, pal,” John reassured him, “I’m just going to sit here and watch you give my slut of a wife a good seeing to.”

With a slight shrug, Alan dropped his head and continued to work my pussy with his mouth and tongue. Close now, I wrapped my stocking-clad legs around him and raked the tips of my high heels up and down his lower back; my pelvis rising and falling in time with the increasingly urgent lapping of his tongue.

“Don’t stop. Oh God, please don’t fucking stop,” I pleaded, my eyes locked on my husband, who was pulling down his trousers and releasing his rock-hard length from the confines of his boxers.

“Oh my God, he is going to make me cum with his tongue, John,” I wailed, watching my husband begin to slowly stroke himself whilst I writhed around; my fingers and heels digging into various parts of Alan’s body, as I came to a shuddering climax.

Trembling with the force of the orgasm, I caught my breath, lying on the bed, looking at each of them in turn. Moving up the bed, Alan began to prepare himself to enter me in the missionary position. Shaking my head, I instructed him to sit on the edge of the bed. Lifting myself up, I stood in front of him, facing my husband. Straddling Alan, I reached behind and placed his rigid member between my legs, then lowered onto him, gasping as he entered me.

“Oh shit, John, he is filling me with his thick cock,” I groaned, looking straight at my husband, who was continuing to stroke himself slowly. Balanced on Alan’s lap in the reverse cowgirl, I ground myself rhythmically against his crotch, biting my lip as the waves of pleasure flowed through my body.

Leaning back, with his arms braced, and my hands pressing down on his thighs, Alan pushed himself up into me repeatedly. My boobs bounced rhythmically, and I softly moaned, “yes, yes, yes, yes, yes,” as I rode this stranger in front of my husband, who was applying firm, long strokes to his dick as he watched me being fucked.

“Fuck, he is going to make me cum all over his thick cock,” I gasped, as Alan increased the tempo with which he was using his hips and pelvis to amplify my gyrations.

Riding him faster now, I ground my pelvis down on his crotch, forcing him deeper into me whilst the climax built; whimpering, I pressed my hand against my clit, twitching with each wave of pleasure running through me. John was close now, stroking himself in time with my movements. The sight tipped me over the edge; my eyes dilating and my mouth opening wide, emitting a long, low, sob in response to an almost unbearable crescendo to my climax.

Watching me orgasm so intensely, my husband got to his feet and, shuffling forward with his cock in his hand and his trousers around his ankles, positioned himself right in front of my face. Tugging himself vigorously, his breathing shallow, he groaned, and launched tendrils of cum onto my face and chin, and into my hair. After a moment’s silence, he stepped back and, ridding himself of his trousers, flopped back onto the armchair. “Climb off him, and get on all fours on the bed, facing me,” he commanded.

Turning to Alan, he continued, “take her from behind, and use her to finish yourself off.” Positioning myself on all fours, on the edge of the bed and facing my husband, I felt Alan moving around on the bed, and then his weight on the mattress as he knelt behind me. Holding my husband’s gaze, with his cum plastered all over my face, I watched his reaction as Alan positioned himself and slid the full length of his member into me in one swift movement.

“Oh mate, it feels so good slipping my cock into your wife’s cunt,” he moaned, grabbing my hips and beginning to get into his rhythm, “she is so tight on my dick.”

“Fuck her hard; she likes it hard, don’t you, slut,” John growled, sitting comfortably in the chair, watching a complete stranger take his wife from behind on the bed in front of him.

In response, it was all I could do to nod in agreement as Alan began to take me with a series of long, deep thrusts, each of which was met with a low moan, as the familiar waves of pleasure began to build inside me. “You’re wife really does love cock, doesn’t she, mate,” Alan chuckled, as he saw the effect he was having on me.

“Harder; fuck her harder,” John urged, his gaze fixed on the growing look of arousal on my cum-covered face; his manhood hardening again. Wrapping my hair around his fist and placing his other hand on the small of my back, Alan pulled my head up and drove into me with a series of almost frenzied lunges, sweat pouring from him and dripping onto my bum as he panted with exertion.

John was playing with himself again now; his eyes drawn to a long string of his cum, which had drooled down from the tip of my chin and was swaying from side to side in time with Alan’s thrusts; until, as another orgasm coursed through me, my arms gave way and I collapsed on the mattress, shaking.

As I lay, head down, bum up, pulse racing, Alan continued to take me from behind, breathing heavily. Then, suddenly, with a low moan, he stiffened and pulsed his load deep into my pussy. Spent, Alan slipped out of me and fell back on the pillows, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he recovered his breathing. In his place, my husband climbed onto the bed and positioned himself behind me.

“My turn to use you,” John informed me in a neutral tone, pushing my head down onto the mattress and driving himself fully home in my cum-filled snatch; an action so sudden it made me gasp out loud.

“Does it feel good, fucking your wife with another man’s cum inside her,” I taunted, as he found his rhythm, “his sticky mess oozing from your wife’s sopping pussy as you ride her.”

“Turns you on that your wife is an unfaithful slut, who loves to be fucked by total strangers, doesn’t it, John,” I moaned, whilst he drove into me.

“Watching your wife being used by some random bloke she picked up in a bar,” I continued, provoking him to take me harder and faster, “pounding her whilst you sit patiently waiting your turn.”

“Add your cum to his in your wife’s tight little pussy,” I urged, as, unable to contain himself any longer, John let out a low grunt of release and came deep inside me.

In the silence that followed, with us recovering our composure on the bed, Alan hastily pulled back on his clothes. Then, clearing his throat, in a rather awkward manner he muttered, “well, ummm, I’ll be off then.”