For some of you that read our stories on a regular basis, you may be a little heart broken with this one. It is just about me and the wife getting together for some hot, hot sex. Give it a read, I thnik that you will still enjoy it!
I travel extensively on business throughout the United States and Canada, and over time I have had the pleasure of visiting many lovely and exquisite hotels. I relish the luxury of a really good hostelry, and when I find one I tend to return to it again and again, whenever I am in the area. The only thing I miss on these long journeys is my beautiful wife of two years, Tracy I usually call her from whatever hotel I'm staying at, to tell her all about it, and often we imagine being there together.
One of my favorite places, one that I've often told Tracy about, is the Mark Hopkins Hotel in San Francisco. I love the city as well, and Tracy and I have often talked about going there together at some point. But on my last trip west we had not made any particular plans, so you can imagine my surprise and delight when I walked into the hotel and saw her sitting there in the lobby! I'd been on the road for nearly two weeks at that point, and couldn't have been happier to see her.
"Hi, darling," she said as she rose to greet me with a warm hug and a sweet kiss. "Bet you didn't expect to find me here, did you? How would you like a roommate for the night?"
"Absolutely!" I eagerly replied, still in shock at seeing her there. "But what in the world are you doing here?"
"Just had a sudden urge," she said with a smile and a wink, and flew up this afternoon on one of those last-minute airline deals."
We hugged again, and I tried to smother myself with her body right there in the lobby of the hotel. Tracy is a beautiful woman. At twenty-two, she's five feet seven inches tall and one hundred thirty pounds. Her slender body, brown hair and green eyes were a sight for sore eyes that not beheld them for weeks. She was wearing her long black woolen coat with the antique rhinestone brooch on the collar. I wondered what she had on under it. I was hoping nothing.
"Well, come on up to the room," I said. "Where's your bag?"
"Oh, this is all I have. I packed light," she told me, motioning to a small carry-on beside the leather sofa. "I'm flying home first thing tomorrow morning."
Tracy was quite impressed with the elegance of my accommodations. She pulled off her coat and swept around the spacious suite, admiring the amenities and tasteful decor. Beneath the coat she wore a red sweater that buttoned down the front, a short wraparound skirt, black hose and a pair of stylish western boots, with just enough heel to enhance her slender body and make her seem a bit taller.
"You look great," I told her, moving to hold her close. I ran my anxious hands down over her butt, trying to detect what she was wearing underneath. Tracy is a beautiful woman, as I've said, but she tended to underestimate the power of the right lingerie. She was prone to dress in bras and panties that were more functional than fun. She usually went for cotton jockeys rather than the sheer lacy thongs and frilly undies I always saw her wearing in my fantasies.
"Mmmm, nice," I cooed as I inhaled her scent and ran my hands up and down her body, stopping to admire her un-proportioned 38DDD breasts. "What's underneath the fine wrapping?"
I wondered out loud as I pulled her sweater away from her chest just enough to peek inside.
"You'll see later," she teased, turning away. "But don't worry," she said, as if reading my dirty mind. "I didn't fly all the way to California to be with you for one night dressed in ordinary cotton underwear."
"Oh come on," I pleaded. "Just a peek."
"Okay, just one little look." She moved back a few steps, turned away slightly and unbuttoned the top two or three buttons on her sweater. As she turned back I got just a glimpse of the top of her cute, lacy bra. I recognized it as belonging to the bra-and-panty-slip set I'd gotten for her a few years ago. It was white, made of a sheer ribbed material and trimmed with lace and ribbon. She'd only worn it once that I could remember, but I recalled how great her lovely tits looked in it, her nipples faintly visible through the thin material. What excited me most, though, was the thought of her in the matching panty-slip. The panties were thong-style, with a short lacy slip all around that fell lightly over her hips and only a short way down her legs. Regrettably, Tracy didn't usually wear thongs. Her ass looked great in them, though, and she knew I'd just as soon she wore nothing else.
My mind raced ahead to the moment—hopefully soon—when I'd have her out of her sweater and skirt, and down to just the bra and panties I loved seeing her in. I reached out and pulled her to me for a longer, wetter kiss. "Oh baby, I only caught a glimpse of that sexy little bra you have on. Are you wearing what I hope you're wearing?"
"You'll have to wait," she repeated, running her hand down to my crotch and lightly squeezing my cock, which had already started to get hard in my trousers.
"Oh please," I begged. "Show me a little more."
"Well, okay, just one more little peek, and then we have to get some dinner. I'm starved."
She drew away from me, the hand on my crotch being the last part of her to break contact. I scarcely recognized the sultry look on her face as she reached up to unfasten another button. What had come over my conservative little wife? She watched me watching her as she ran both hands up over her rib cage, cupped her breasts and pushed them together, creating a massive cleavage and pushing more of her bra into view through the top of her unbuttoned sweater. Smiling slightly, she lightly pinched her nipples, making them poke out just a little against the cloth.
"That's all for now," she said, releasing her tits. "Let's go eat."
She had her sweater buttoned up, her coat on and her body halfway out the door before I snapped out of my trance. Never in all the years I'd known her had Tracy used her body in such an erotic way, putting on a little show just for me. Mind you, she was a terrific lover, and we enjoyed some positively Olympic sex sometimes. But our love life, like that of many married couples, I suppose, tended to be more predictable than erotic. I was hoping that we could sexually fulfill our fantasies in the years to come and not just occasionally conjure up thoughts when I masturbated. So seeing her before me with that naughty look on her face, her nipples hard under her knit sweater, in her new boots, really made me wonder what was in store later in the evening. Right then, food was the furthest thing from my mind.
At dinner Tracy chatted about things at home, and I was afraid those few splendid moments in the hotel room would be all there was, other than maybe a quick romp before we fell asleep. Then Tracy slid close to me in the booth and told me that she loved me. She ran her hand up my thigh, and didn't seem to mind when mine crept under the hem of her short skirt.
She must have sensed my anxiety, because she said, "Don't worry, sweetheart. I'm saving dessert for you. My pussy has never been sweeter than it is right now, and I'm dying for you to put your tongue in it for me."
She reached over to squeeze my hand, encouraging me to move it further up her smooth leg. It wasn't until that moment that I realized she was wearing thigh-highs, rather than pantyhose. Touching the bare flesh above her stockings was a thrill that send a warm wave through my entire body, and straight to my dick. Glancing around to see if anyone could see what we were up to, she encouraged my eagerness again by putting her head on my shoulder and moaning softly, "Touch me."
"Touch you where?" I said teasingly, but my hand continued up her thigh until it found the lacy material of her slip.
She parted her legs a bit more and shifted toward me. I'd fantasized more than once about playing with my wife's pussy under the table in a public place, and now it seemed it was about to happen. I reached higher, feeling the warmth of her crotch. But just then the waiter came by to check on us.
"Is there anything else I can get you?" he asked.
"Just the check," I answered. Now I couldn't wait to get back to the hotel. I paid the check and we headed out the door.
"Let's go in here," Tracy said, smiling at me teasingly as we passed a bar.
"No, let's go back to the hotel, dear. I want to pick up where we left off." My eagerness was obvious, but Tracy had other ideas.
"Look," she said, peering through the window. "This place has saddles for bar stools. Let's have another drink, and I'll try my boots out in the stirrups."
She practically pulled me inside. The bar wasn't very busy, and only a few stools were occupied. A few more patrons were scattered around the place. I sat down near the end of the bar, away from the door. Tracy stood between me and the next stool, her arm around me as she stroked my neck and kissed me. The bartender came over for our order, and Tracy ordered two beers, and two shots.
What had come over her? I wondered again. She hadn't done shots since before we got married. She got onto the saddle-like bar stool then, stepping into the stirrup and swinging her leg over the saddle. With her long wool coat hanging down behind her, only I could see how high up her leg her skirt had ridden. I could see the dark tops of her stockings, and the bottom of her slip peeking out below the hem.
She reached for the shot glass, held it up as if to toast the occasion and threw the liquor down her throat. She shuddered, then looked at me and smiled, running her hands up her legs.
"Wooo," she breathed. "Another one of those and I'll be taking my clothes off right here."
She slid off the saddle, took off her coat and got back on, this time sidesaddle, facing me. Now I could practically see all the way up her legs to her panties. She looked sexier than ever, and she was really getting into this.
"Sweetheart," I said, "shall we go back to the hotel now?"
