Author's note: I had this idea come to me a while back, and couldn't get rid of it. I don't know if it'll be everyone's particular cup of tea, but the idea was simple--what would it take to get a good man to cheat? Really, truly take, before he cracked? Please note that there's a lot of buildup, as I wanted the sex to make sense, so be patient with it. As always, feedback and votes are appreciated.
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One of the things I hate most about international travel isn't the jet lag, it's the immediate fatigue and borderline hallucinations I experience due to total exhaustion. I can't sleep on planes even with a sleeping pill, so by this point, I had been up for nearly 30 hours continuous. But, I had to admit, sitting here on my hotel balcony, overlooking the beach and a bunch of gorgeous women sunning it up, I was already in love with Australia.
"We should move the business here," Jim joked, gesturing with his beer to a particularly leggy young blonde in a bikini. As she turned our way, he raised his beer in a salutation, and she waved back cheerily and smiled before turning back to the beach and her friends. I guess they were right when they spoke of Australian hospitality, I thought.
"Yeah, that'll make your custody battle go great," I retorted.
"If I got to look at this every day, I might care less about it." We chuckled briefly and clinked bottles in a joking toast. "At the very least, we might have some fun this week."
"You enjoy that," I countered.
"Marcus, it's the other side of the world. It doesn't count. I understand you're hanging on for a bit, but at least have some fun while we're here, and leave your problems in Seattle."
"I don't know about that. Seems like a really dumb idea, I think."
"Whatever, brother. I just want to see you happy."
Jim and I had been friends for over a decade at this point, and I trusted the guy with my life. We met at a work flag football league, and bonded after a particularly long game filled with talking shit to each other, each struggling to one up the other with creative insults. Three years ago, he came to me with an idea for a simple logistics application that would drive massive amounts of saving for shipping costs of freight, with a simple question—can it be done? We created a company, with a simple division of labor—I'm the tech mind, and Jim is the business and sales guy. What started in our respective homes quickly moved to getting investors, an office, and now we had a staff of over 45, with a respectable profit. We were in Brisbane for a week for a summit on entrepreneurship, and hoping to triple our sales and potentially double our business in the coming year. We'd even been the subject of a couple of articles in the technical press, and were releasing a subscription-based mobile application in a couple of months, as soon as we got a few vital bugs fixed. Not bad for two guys who just turned 40.
Everything was going great on the business front, but there was a lot on the personal that was difficult. Jim had gotten divorced just before we started the company, and his ex-wife was currently doing her every other yearly "we need to revisit custody and child support" tour of the court system—pretty rough, considering he was one of the most devoted fathers I knew, and his ex seemed to be using the children as a bargaining chip for money, especially since her alimony had run out. Plus, my own marriage was now on the rocks as my wife had cheated four months prior, and copious marriage counseling didn't seem to be making things any less tense. I had my part in it, to be sure, as I had been putting in insane hours to build this business into a money maker, and when I came home, being a dad trumped being a husband regularly. But now, as things changed, I was slowly realizing the only reason I was still in the relationship was that I didn't want split custody and to lose a lot of my money. We hadn't had sex since her affair, and while I was still extremely angry with her and occasionally contemplated giving her a taste of her own medicine, I would never give her the satisfaction of stooping to her level.
I realized I'd been zoning out, and I hadn't answered Jim for a few long moments. I was just about to look back and give him my pat answer about being reasonably happy in life, when I saw him gesture down to the beach and say, "Marcus...brother, I think I see your happiness moving her way down the beach."
I turned to follow his gaze, and saw her immediately. Jim really knew my type. She was tall, leggy, but almost obscenely curvy, with proportions that didn't seem like they should naturally occur in nature. Her waist was slender, almost wasp-like, but her hips were wide, her ass full and amazingly pert. Her skin was pale like milk, with bright red hair that was long, past mid back, with a slight wave. As she turned, her bikini top, while not indecent in any sense, barely contained breasts that were simply gigantic—at least a triple D—and seemed to have no regard for gravity. I exhaled abruptly, transfixed, and as she looked toward my balcony, she stopped, and raised her sunglasses. Even at what had to be 50 yards, I could tell that her eyes were large and an arresting bright blue, and as they seemed to lock on to mine, her full lips curled into a large, stunning smile. I froze in place as she stared at me, then waved demurely, I had to remind myself to wave back politely without drooling. "Looks like we found what you'll be doing after hours this week," Jim remarked.
"Don't be ridiculous, Jim. It's just a cute girl. Besides, she's got to be 25 if she's a day."
"That doesn't matter. Especially when they're willing and ready, brother." Down on the beach, the redhead glanced down at the wrought-iron railings, and smirked a bit before walking off, taking a moment to give me a glance over her shoulder. "Uh, bud..." Jim trailed off.
"Yeah?"
"Looks like little Marcus might need some attention before you pass out."
I looked down, and realized that my cock was tenting very noticeably in my khakis. "Oh, shit. That's embarrassing."
"She didn't seem embarrassed. Anything but. However, on that note, I'm about done with this soldier, and ready for bed. See you sometime tomorrow-ish." Jim went in a few inches to give me his customary bro hug, looked down, and thought better of it, waving and walking out the door to his own room.
As he cleared the door, I turned back to the beach, but I couldn't see my new "girlfriend" in the crowd of people. Probably good, since I knew perfectly well I wasn't going to do anything with her anyway. This week was about work, and I was here for only one reason—to turn our business into a major player. Distractions like women were simply a silly diversion I didn't need, let Jim chase the younger babes on the beach, I thought.
Still, as I stripped off my clothing and settled into what felt, with my exhaustion, like the most comfortable bed I'd ever been in, I couldn't ignore the fact that I was hard as a rock. I turned one way, then another, and finally, after five or six position changes, I grew restless. I was completely zonked, but couldn't drift off. Finally, I gave up, and threw back the covers. My erection was long, thick and almost painful, as it hadn't had any attention in I don't know how long. I glanced across the room, and saw body lotion amongst the small bottles of hotel supplies, so I grabbed it and lotioned up my hands and cock, working my pole with both hands. I thought briefly about grabbing my phone or tablet and finding some porn, but my hands were completely covered in lotion, so I thought twice. I started to cycle through some thoughts of ex-girlfriends, but nothing was doing it for me, then started thinking about celebrities and a couple of porn actresses I liked, but nothing was working. Finally, I snapped back to the girl on the beach, and her gaze as she looked up at me, openly assessing. My already painfully swollen prick hardened even more, and as I thought about her mouth on me, pulling my length in, then climbing up and riding me as I manhandled those amazing breasts. Finally, after another minute or so of furious yanking, I came hard, groaning loudly as my balls emptied. I laid there, panting, my entire body spent, and as I tried to regain my equilibrium, I quickly dropped off.
I awoke six hours later, suddenly cold, and dragged myself out of bed to shower. My entire torso, it seemed, was covered in dried cum, and it took a goodly amount of work to get myself cleaned off. I called down and ordered a sandwich from room service, and as soon as it was delivered (by a young and very attractive, somewhat flirty woman), I tucked in, and then fell asleep again, awakening on what was extremely early morning local time. As it was a bit too early for breakfast and I was wide awake, I decided to use the gym downstairs, and pounded out a furious routine, running just over four miles and utilizing the weights for about 30 minutes. I'd been back to working out regularly the last few months to channel my stress and anger, and while I wasn't yet anywhere near the "carved out of stone" status I had in my college days, I'd shed some pounds and was looking damn good for a man 10 years my junior. As I was leaving, I saw her again, coming into the workout room. She quickly hopped up on a bike, and began cycling through the screens, her headphones in and blasting music. I hesitated, taking her in again—up close, maybe 15 feet away, she looked even better. Her skin was flawless, her face chiseled and so damn lovely, with full lips, high cheekbones, and those eyes looked even larger. Her hair was in a ponytail, and although she was dressed in utilitarian workout pants and a large sportsbra, she looked incredibly appealing, and, dare I say it, fuckable as all hell. In fact, I felt myself starting to respond to her proximity and was starting to get some sensory overload, as my mind started clicking with thoughts of bending her over and ripping off her pants, grabbing her hips as I...
