Aiming To Arouse

It had become a habit. She’d go out, with the girls, maybe, dolled up, and leave me at home. No problem, I’ve plenty to do, and there’s no question of her misbehaving, if you know what I mean. I’d go to bed, eventually, and lie there waiting for the sound of the taxi, the good natured goodbyes and the front door. She’d come upstairs, and stand by the bed, usually slightly drunk, always with that look on her face, the one that first attracted me to her, the one that says, “I’m horny”.

Then, she’d reach under her skirt, slip off her knickers, and climb onto the bed. Swinging one leg over my head, she’d lower herself upon me, giving me a glimpse of her womanhood before pressing it to my face. It wouldn’t take long before she’d reach a shuddering climax on my tongue, gripping the headboard tightly and covering me with her essence. This would be the prelude of some frenzied lovemaking before lying back in reflection, murmuring those things that experience fits to long-standing intimacies like a made-to-measure suit.

“One time”, she’d tease, “I’ll bring something home with me. Maybe next time. Would you like that?”

I’d usually laugh. As if. She’d never dare.

This time, we were staying in a hotel. I had some work to do, a meeting in the Big City, and we thought we’d make a long weekend of it. We travelled up by train together, and I went to my meeting while she braved the Northern Line to check in to the hotel. By the time I’d finished work and got to the hotel - an enormous Gothic pile overlooking a leafy square - she was waiting for me. In bed. Much strenuous activity ensued.

We fucked. We rested. We fucked again, then bathed. I cleaned her, and then we dressed before braving the hotel restaurant. A reasonable meal, with reasonable service, nothing to complain about, but nothing to trouble Michelin either. And afterwards, a nightcap in the bar.

I was yawning.

“Sorry dear - tough day, what with work and the rest.”

“Ah yes, the rest”, she giggled. “It wasn’t much of a rest, was it. No wonder you’re exhausted. Bed?”

“Yes, I think so. You haven’t finished your drink, though. Don’t rush, I’ll go on ahead. Here - have the other keycard.”

I took the lift up to our floor, and within a few minutes I was lying in bed, naked, listening to the dull sounds of the traffic outside and people moving around the hotel. I dozed. I don’t know how long for.

I was awoken by the sound of the door opening. I switched on the bedside light, and in its pale illumination she stood beside the bed looking down at me. She had That Look, and despite my earlier fatigue, I knew what was coming. Well, she was, for a start, and she was going to make sure of it.

The usual routine. She climbed on the bed, swung one leg over and lowered herself. I caught the usual glimpse in the half-light. Except this time, it wasn’t the usual glimpse. Sure, she was always wet and glistening, but this was different. As was the hint of dark pink colouring around the lips, and the slight openness. I didn’t really have time to register before being embraced in hot, slick femininity.

Except … no. Not entirely. The taste was different. Familiar, yet not quite. I’ve never been squeamish about doing this after lovemaking, but it was quite clear, this time:

This time, I was eating my wife’s freshly fucked pussy. And it hadn’t just been fucked by me.

As realisation hit, I stopped. Not surprisingly, she noticed. We paused, me with the taste of her and a strange man on my lips, her holding her breath and waiting for an explosion. It was as if the world stopped, for a split second, the calm before the storm.

And then I reached up, grabbed her hips and pulled he down, pushing my tongue deep into her and feeling the flood that had taken place. And she groaned. Loudly.

Some minutes later, as she caught her breath, we lay side by side, facing each other.

“Your face”, she giggled. “Do you want to go and get cleaned up?”

“Actually I’m fine. I like having you on me like this.”

She raised an eyebrow. We stared each other out, daring the other to end the silence. She won.

“So, darling”, I whispered. “Is there anything you want to tell me?”

“Everything, if it’s what you want. Everything. Is everything good for you?”

I nodded.

“First, it was unplanned. You must believe that. The opportunity presented itself, and I took it. If the talk was supposed to stay as fantasy, I’m sorry. Really sorry.”

“Don’t be. Really. Carry on.”

“Well, there I was, in the bar. Alone. I finished my drink, and I fancied another, so I called the waiter over. A few minutes later, he came back with another G&T, but no slip to sign. ‘The gentleman has already dealt with it’, he told me.”

“Gentleman?”

“Yes. Young looking, sharp suit, sitting at the bar. I raised my glass, he raised his, and the next thing I knew we were sitting and talking.”

“And when did you decide …?”

“Not sure, really. I suppose I was thinking about getting back to you, and he’d made me feel horny, and then I thought, why can’t it be ‘this time’? He’d noticed the ring, knew I was married, and I’d dropped hints that you were in the hotel somewhere.”

“I see. Go on.”

“I can’t remember what made me decide. One minute I was getting ready to come back here, and the next I was asking if he had a room.”

“I take it he did. Does, even.”

“Yes. Don’t ask me where, I wasn’t paying attention. I think he was surprised, though, when he opened the door to the room, and I went in. A large room, a suite, I think, because we went straight to a sitting area and a dining table. I just said, ‘Quick, I need to get back to my husband’, knelt down and extracted my prize.”

“What was it like?”

“Long. Quite thick. Very hard - I had to push back the foreskin. I was tempted to take him in my mouth, but I wanted him to fuck me, so I stood up and bent forward over the table. ‘Fuck me’, I told him. ‘Fuck me hard.’ I could feel him move behind me, and raise my skirt, and somehow, it seemed a condom packet had appeared. I told him it wasn’t necessary, that I wanted to go back to my husband with him inside me, and he just groaned, grabbed hold of my knickers and tore them to shreds.”

“I did wonder what had happened to those.”

“Souvenir, I think. Anyway, he just took me. He knew I’m married, he knew he was bare, he just didn’t care. Lust took over. I hardly felt him lining up before he was in me, all the way, filling me up. Fuck, he was hard. And he fucked me hard. I fucked him back of course, especially when I felt him swell up and I knew he was going to come. I pushed back, held him deep so he wouldn’t leak out before I got back here.”

“Did you come too?”

“No - that’s what I came here for. No, I waited for him to finish and then pull out, stood up, dropped my skirt, grabbed my bag and left, pausing only to give him a peck on the cheek. Didn’t even retrieve my knickers. Found my way back here, I don’t know how, and you know the rest.”

We lay, in silence, listening to the sounds of the city outside.

“Are you OK, darling? Did I do wrong? Did I fuck up? I’m sorry, I didn’t know you wanted it to remain a fantasy.”

I took her hand, and pulled it down to my cock, hard as a rock, as it had been since I realised what it was I was licking from her pussy.

“Tell me”, I said, kissing her. “Does that feel as if I think you’ve fucked up?”

And with that, I rolled over, and became the owner of the second cock that evening to slide deep into her hot, wet cunt.