This story is mostly fictional, with scenes of infidelity, revenge, and some incredible sex which is based on some of our real-life experiences. We hope you enjoy, comment and let us know if you enjoyed it. Happy reading.
I was furious! Absolutely furious. How dare he cheat on me, and with a whore stripper, of all people!
He tried to explain it all away, he was drunk at his buddy Gord's bachelor party, it didn't mean anything, he didn't enjoy it, didn't remember it, and on and on the bullshit excuses went.
I didn't give a rat's ass what his excuses were, he still cheated on me. I, unfortunately, found out from my girlfriend Cindy, whose husband let it slip to her. Cindy happens to be the biggest gossip in town, and by now, I was sure everyone knew.
Why did he do it? I mean, yes, I'm almost 50 and have had 3 kids, but I also take really good care of myself and I think I'm pretty damn good in bed. I work out 3x a week, eat well, rarely drink alcohol, and can even still fit into my wedding dress from 30 years ago. My stats, for those interested them, are 36, 25, 34 and I have full, perky C-cups and long red hair. If I had a dollar for every time I've been hit on, I wouldn't even need the cheating bastard in my life.
It was as I contemplated my life and situation that I started to recall parts of my conversation with Cindy.
"What a bastard!" Cindy exclaimed a little too loudly into the phone, emphasizing her sympathy.
"Right?" I replied, choking back tears, "I mean, I'm not as sexy as I was, but I give him everything he wants, whenever he wants. That fucker!"
Cindy continued, "Don't kid yourself, you're damn sexy. You could have any man you want. I've seen how the husbands around here look at you."
"I have half a mind to teach him a lesson and cheat right back!" I exclaimed, immediately regretting my words to the big mouth. I loved Cindy, but she always repeated everything.
"You should!" She exclaimed into the receiver. "Wouldn't it be amazing if you let a male stripper fuck you so you could get even?"
"Ya, I wish. But you know me, that would never happen" I replied, still sobbing.
"I know, but wouldn't that be perfect irony?" she asked rhetorically.
"Uh huh. Sorry Cindy, I have to go now. Thanks for listening." I hung up.
I sobbed for hours, laying awake all night, wondering if he was sleeping in his car, or finding comfort in the arms of another, until finally out of complete mental exhaustion, I fell asleep.
I woke a couple of hours later feeling heartbroken. I showered, enjoying the hot water as I followed my routine, soaping, then shaving. As I shaved my pussy, I stopped, asking myself why I was bothering for a man who didn't appreciate the effort.
It was then that I had a moment of perfect clarity. "If he doesn't appreciate it, I bet someone else would." I didn't realize just how true my words were. Gathering strength and resolve, i declared "I'm going to do it right back. I'm going to get even". I pondered for a minute, then realized there were no male strippers within at least 100 miles of here. "Damn that bastard!" I yelled to myself, frustrated by the realization that getting even would be next to impossible.
After my shower, I paused to look at myself in the mirror, noticing the small stretch marks on my hips, how my breasts weren't as perfectly perky as they had been, along with every other flaw, now more obvious due to my new insecurities. I was my own worst critic. "No, fuck him!" I screamed at the mirror. "I have a damn good body, better than any of my friends or coworkers."
I wasn't ignorant to how men looked at me with lustful stares. I then cemented my resolve to get even. I looked up male entertainers, finding an advertisement for a bar about 250 miles away. "Damn, that's far. I would have to get a hotel to sleep in too. I pondered for a moment, "So what? Maybe a night away is all I need, even if I don't do anything else."
I went to my underwear drawer, pulling out his favorite lingerie, a set of black Lycra underwear consisting of a thin thong and an under boob bra which didn't cover my nipples or areola. I'd never worn the set out of the house, until today. I put the set on, smiling at myself in the mirror before going to my closet and picking out a short black satin dress with spaghetti straps. I loved this dress for how it hugged my curves perfectly, ending just barely below my underwear, but I rarely wore it out because he said it made me look slutty. With the bra I was wearing, allowing my nipples to nearly poke through the dresss, it certainly did!
I left the house, got into my car, and entered my destination into my navigation, a questionable hotel a short distance from the bar I was trying to convince my self that I would be going to.
The drive gave me lots of time to ponder my situation and I nearly cried a few times but choked back the tears, determined not to let him get the better of me.
After a few hours, I reached my destination. This hotel was certainly not one I would normally choose, but wasn't all that terrible. I checked in, noticing the man across the counter trying to sneak glances at my chest. The fact that he was checking me out helped me feel a bit more attractive.
Even if I didn't do anything tonight, and at this point I was fairly sure I wouldn't, I'd let the cheater see my credit card bill for the hotel so he would at least think I'd done something. I went into my room, a spacious but unimaginative room with a king-sized bed. "At least I'll have a comfortable sleep" I assured myself.
I sat on the side of the bed and started to feel sorry for myself. Before I got bummed, I forced myself to get up and go out, "Don't sit here and get depressed! Go get a drink!"
I was about to leave for the bar when I stopped to double check my appearance in the mirror. My straps were in place, my long ginger waves fell down my back, my breasts were pushed up with my areolas nearly visible and my perky nipples trying to push through.
I drove the few blocks to the bar where women were trickling in, along with a few men. "Maybe one of them would like to spend the night with me." I tried to convince myself. " Who am I kidding? You won't do anything and you know it!" I scolded myself. "Might as well have a couple of drinks before heading back to my room." I took a deep breath, then entered the bar.
The place was lively! The DJ was playing great tunes, the women were lined up and hollering, and the guy on stage! Well, how do I describe him? Let's just say that his oil covered body showed off every hard curve of his muscular physique, and the tiny patch of cloth over his penis barely covered anything as his hips gyrated before the deafening audience. "Take it off!" someone screamed, her pleas echoed by others.
I grabbed a seat a few rows back, not comfortable enough to sit closer. A scantily clad man dressed like a Chippendales dancer leaned over my shoulder, "Get you a drink miss?"
I couldn't take my eyes off the Adonis on the stage, or more accurately, his minimal clothing. "Yes please." I realized my reply was both to the question of a drink as well as to the specimen on the stage. "A double!" The irony of my statement wasn't clear until much later that evening. "Double vodka, neat." I hadn't even thought about the fact that I get incredibly horny and uninhibited when I drink vodka.
The waiter slipped away, returning minutes later with my drink. I handed him my credit card, again intending to leave a trail implying my infidelity even though I knew I wouldn't go through with it, "please start me a tab."
"Sure thing!"
I was mesmerized by the dancer. He had short brown hair, a dark tan, the physique of a body builder, gorgeous eyes, but it was the way he moved his hips that drew me in. Everything he did emphasized his groin, and I wasn't shy about staring, drinking him in with my eyes as I took a big swig of my drink, followed by another and another.
He stood there on the edge of the stage, gyrating in my direction as I stared. I let my eyes wander up his body again when I suddenly realized he was staring directly at me. I blushed, looking away but then realizing how silly that was, he was there for us to admire! I looked back into his eyes, his beautiful blue eyes, as he licked his lips, then pointed downward.
I followed his direction, watching as he hooked his thumbs into his waistband, suddenly tearing them off in one quick motion! His cock, yes cock, this was no mere penis, sprung forward, no longer restrained by the fabric. I'm sure my jaw dropped as my eyes took him in.
I'd been with a few men before him, all in college. I'd seen more than a few hot men, but what I was observing now was, for lack of a better term, perfection. Not only was his body perfect, but his cock! It hung down between his legs, at least 7 or 8 inches long, thick and circumcised. I think I licked my lips subconsciously in response, as the other women nearby screamed their appreciation.
He started to gyrate again, making his cock swing in circles. When I averted my eyes momentarily, looking back up to his, he was still staring me in the eyes. It was then that I felt the dampness between my legs as my cheeks flushed red.
Soon he made his rounds along the stage, then a minute later as the song ended, he was gone, replaced by a new dancer. The new guy was cute, even sexy, but I lusted for his predecessor. Regardless, he was gone, as was my drink.
My bartender flew by, "another hun?" I nodded, my eyes now fixated on the new dancer, watching him wiggle around.
My drink arrived and I drank it down quickly, still watching the newer guy as he disposed of pieces of his outfit. I ordered another drink, now resolving myself to finish it and go back to my hotel to wallow in my drunken sorrow.
"Dance darlin'?" I heard over my shoulder. I was about to decline, having not really let the words register and thinking it was an offer for another drink. I suddenly felt his hot breath in my ear, "I'd love to give you a lap dance darlin', free of charge."
