The Favor

There were a couple conventions in town, so I went cruising the downtown hotel bars, looking for some 'desperate businesswoman' tail. I do it every month or so, when I'm not scoring by my usual methods.

At the Radison, I struck gold. I had just ordered my drink and commenced to scanning the room, when I locked eyes with an 8, maybe 8-and-a-half. She was already looking right at me as I was scanning. She crooked her finger and beckoned me over. I got the bartender's attention to indicate my new seat, and joined her in a booth near the door.

Brunette milf, wedding ring. She had on a nice white top and a maroon skirt, and a pink bra that I could plainly see through the white. As I sat down, she said, "Hi, I'm Margaret." Obviously a lie. I can tell. I told her my name was Ron, which is technically true; I go by Ron, but my real name is Renault, which you'll never find if you search online for Ron or Ronald. I asked her what she was doing in town, and she said, "Enjoying this drink. I want you to do me a favor, Ron."

"What's that?"

"Do you have a dollar bill in your wallet?" I checked, and I did. "Give it to me." I did, and she slipped it into her bra. "Now come up to my room and fuck me."

I said OK. My drink arrived just in time, I downed it, and we got up.

In the elevator, she grabbed my groin and pushed me to the back wall, then turned around and ground her ass into my quickly growing cock. I nuzzled her neck and tried to kiss her a few times, but she kept pulling away. Fine with me, I'll gladly lick an earlobe.

As we passed the tenth floor, she took my hand and guided it down between her thighs, and then up her skirt. I wasn't really surprised, but I was pleased, to discover she had no panties on, and was sopping wet. I stuck a couple fingers in her for a few seconds, and then tasted them. Tangy.

We got out on 16 and she walked down to a room that appeared to be held open by the deadbolt being already engaged before the door was closed. She opened it right up and walked in. I followed her in, put the sign on the door, and locked the deadbolt correctly this time.

She went to the couch and started hiking her skirt up over her hips. I grabbed a handful of her ass, and another handful of her left tit. She turned to me, and began unbuckling my belt. She told me, "Now listen. Don't take off your shoes. No matter what happens, keep fucking me. And don't say one fucking word. Got it?"

Fine with me. I nodded, and she got on the couch on all fours. I slipped my pants and underwear down to my ankles, got behind her, and went right in.

I grabbed her hips and started thrusting, and she pushed back against me, grunting a little. It wasn't long before I found a good rhythm to keep up with her, and then it got really good.

I saw motion from the bedroom, and a guy walked out into the room. He was wearing a three-piece suit, minus the jacket, and a shocked, almost hurt expression on his face. I hesitated for a moment, but she thumped her ass back into my hips, and I remembered what she'd said, and kept going.

I couldn't see her face, but her head moved a little so it was obvious she was staring at him. He walked across the room, his back to the wall, facing us. He came to a stop in front of her, leaning against the counter of the little kitchenette, open-mouthed and staring at her.

She asked him, "Are you going to make me stop?"

He drew a breath. I couldn't tell if he was going to yell, or cry, or charge me. It felt awkward looking at him, so I looked down at her asshole and kept thrusting. I heard him gasp out, "No."

After a few more grunts, she asked, "Are you jealous?"

Almost immediately he said, "Yes."

"Are you angry?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to hurt me?"

He was real quiet after that question, and I glanced up at him. He'd clearly figured out her intentions, whatever they were. Now he had a determined look, and spoke more confidently, "Yes."

"Then slap me."

He walked up to her, raised his hand, and slapped her in the face. The sharp noise rang out, and I felt her cunt clench around me. I concentrated on the thrusting, and let them have their game.

"Again, harder," she told him. He hit her again, and then again, backhand on the other cheek.

"Spit on my face." He took a moment to work up a glob of saliva, and spit right on her. I couldn't see her face, but I sounded like a lot of spit. Then he slapped her again.

She reached up with one hand and fished the dollar bill I'd given her out of her bra. "He paid me. What does that make me?"

He answered her almost immediately, "A whore." Another slap. "A dirty fucking whore."

She looked back at me and said, "Take your belt off."

He started to move to unbuckle his belt, but she stopped him. "Not you. You don't take off one stitch." He stopped. I reached down for my own belt, where my pants had gathered behind my knees. I grabbed the buckle, and pulled it out smoothly from the loops. "Give it to him," she told me.

I handed the belt to him, trying not to make eye contact. I needn't have bothered; he was looking right into her eyes. He took it, and put the end through the buckle.

"Put it around my neck, and pull it tight."

He did as she told him, slipping the loop over her head like a necklace, and then slowly sliding the belt through the buckle until most of it was above her head. He wrapped the end around his fist a few times.

Now her pussy was clamped down hard on me, and her bucks became more energetic. I struggled to match her new rhythm. I could hear her gasping for air. "Fucking whore," he called her, and spit on her again. Three more slaps in quick succession.

I felt her cunt gush, and squeeze me nearly too hard. I know some guys like to pull out when a girl squirts, but I can take the squeeze, so I kept thrusting as she drenched the sofa cushions. I felt like this was important information, so I broke her rule and told him, "She's cumming."

Her body relaxed a few seconds later, and he released the grip on the belt. She gasped for air, and once she'd caught her breathe, she resumed rocking backward onto my cock. He didn't move.

After about a minute of fucking, she stopped grunting and said to him, "So now you've done what you said you could never do. You've achieved the impossible." That last part with a bit on condescension in her tone. "Do you think you could do it again?"

He nodded. "Yes."

She collapsed forward onto the arm on the couch. She turned to me and said, "You're done. Get the fuck out of here." She slipped the belt off her neck and handed it to me.

I guess I wasn't surprised at that point. I grabbed the belt, pulled up my pants and underwear, and walked out the door. I stopped in the hall and turned around. She was right behind me, and said to me, "Thanks for the favor." He was standing by the couch, taking his own belt off.

"You're welc-", bang. She'd already shut the door in my face.