This Might Have Been a Mistae

This might have been a mistake. After all, I was happily married. But in any event I agreed to accompany my girlfriend Sally to her convention. She was a professional, and she went to these conventions twice annually. She would stay at a large convention hotel, either a Hilton or a Marriott usually, and it would always be in a large city that was accustomed to such conventions.

For Sally this was work as well as a little pleasure. For me, it was a much-needed vacation with a girlfriend, away from my husband. I needed a break from the double stresses of work and marriage.

This time it was in Chicago, and since it was Chicago the convention was in a Hyatt. I had only been to Chicago once before, but I liked it. It's an exciting place, with lots of good restaurants and especially it has a great bar scene. Sally likes to get drunk, and she is a bit of a slut by her own admission, while I am most definitely not. Indeed, I have never cheated on Jack, my husband. Never.

Let me explain my marriage with Jack. I love him with all my soul and all my heart. I am sure he feels the same way about me. But my sex life is somewhat lacking with him. We have sex around once a week, always in the evening, always in bed, and always in the same missionary position.

Jack never wants me to give him a blowjob, and he has never eaten me out. Not even once. He does like sex, and his technique is to finger me a little until I am wet and ready for him, and then he mounts me and plunges his nice cock in me. He always cums deep inside me, so I assume he enjoys it; don't heterosexual men always enjoy blowing their loads into a woman's mouth, ass, or of course her cunt? I guess they must. But with Jack it's always my cunt, and only once each time.

Truth be told, I would like more. I too would like to cum on occasion. I do of course, but only when I'm alone, and not from any effort of Jack. I would like to try other sexual positions, and oral sex, and maybe even anal sex. I'm the type of girl who would love a little variety.

I secretly would like risky sex, in the sense that someone might discover us having sex, or see us through our windows or something. But there is no way Jack would ever agree to such a thing, so I have never raised the idea. It's just my little secret desire.

I do love Jack, enormously, and I have made my peace with my situation, which all things considered is a very nice one. But I became restless from the incident I am about to describe. I guess what I wanted is for Jack to lust after me, and to be consumed with sexual desire for me. That was not going to happen, and I knew it.

There was this one incident. It was at my office Christmas party when everyone was drunk, including (perhaps especially) me, and at midnight everyone grabbed the nearest person and kissed. My favorite co-worker Steve grabbed me and kissed me. It was not a casual kiss, but a rather passionate one, with lots of tongue action. While he kissed me he pulled me into him and shoved his erection against my stomach. He then fondled my ass while we kissed.

This was at an office party, with of course many of our co-workers there. So when he put his hands under my skirt and on my panties, and then under my panties, and everyone could see him do this, it kind of freaked me out. What freaked me out all the more however was how aroused I got. I was definitely wet down there.

I should have pushed his hands away or slapped him, but instead when he pushed my panties down and off, I simply stepped out of them. My short, tight skirt covered my ass, so I thought what the hell.

But then Steve pushed my tight skirt up, exposing my naked behind to many of my coworkers. My skirt stayed up at my waist; it sort of defied gravity, I guess because it was such a tight fit.

He caressed my ass in front of everyone while he kissed me, and I just let him. My ass was visible for quite some time. So was my hairy bush for those who could see the front of me. Mostly Steve's body hid the frontal view.

A lot of men checked me out as much as possible, and so I helped a bit by putting a small distance between my private area and Steve, giving the voyeurs a little visual access to my bush and cunt. I did this on purpose but made it look innocent. I got really wet.

I don't know what was wrong with me at that party. It's true wild things happen at these Christmas parties, as people unwind after a year of stress. But I am a prim and proper office worker, and this was totally outside of my persona.

I freaked myself out as much as I was turned on. That was as far as I let it go, thank goodness. I knew Steve was about to finger me in front of everyone, so just before his fingers entered me, I pulled away and quickly stepped into and pulled up my panties.

Steve is good looking, and we had often harmlessly flirted, but maybe it had not been as harmless as I had thought? Anyway, I was a bit freaked out by his behavior, and I pushed myself away from him. But then when he seemed crestfallen at my rejection he looked so cute that I leaned back in and kissed him sweetly on the mouth.

He took my hand and led me to an empty office, bent me over a desk and pushed up my skirt, then pulled down my panties for a second time. This took only a few seconds.

I spun away from him and found his cock out of his pants and sticking out at me. I said, "You're a bad boy, Steve. I'm a married woman, you know."

He again looked crestfallen. He is irresistible when he has that sad puppy dog expression. He said, "Yes, I know. God your husband is a lucky man."

That's when I bent down and kissed his cock and even gave it a gentle suck. Well, truth be told it was a pretty spectacular suck; I took as much of his cock into my mouth as my mouth and throat could handle. This was quite a bit (but not all) of it. I sucked it hard and then let it drop from my mouth and I said, "Merry Christmas," pulled up my panties and quickly walked away.

I avoided Steve at work after that as much as was possible for me to do. Nevertheless one time he found me alone and he took me to a utility closet and we kissed passionately, both of us sober and without the excuse of me being drunk.

But we only kissed. Okay, maybe his hands wandered more or less everywhere over me, but my underwear always protected all of my special areas. Okay, not my boobs, since he got me undressed to the waist, but no farther. Really.

That is, unless you count sticking his hand down my skirt and under my panties and fingering me a little. Yeah, I guess that would count. Okay, the truth is that he fingered me a lot. But my clothes stayed on. Mostly.

Well, my panties stayed on; I guess at the end I was naked except for my panties in that utility closet. It was a very sexy moment, but one that we never repeated. I almost allowed him to remove my panties, too, and you can imagine what would have followed had I allowed that. I kept my panties on, luckily, in a fleeting moment of sanity.

When Steve had me down to my panties, we were surprised when a curious co-worker, a man named Joseph, heard our noises and probably my soft moans, and opened the utility closet door and found Steve and me almost naked. Steve was busy both kissing me and fingering me and did not stop for even a second.

Joseph apologized, but he smirked a bit and took a good long look at my near naked body, focusing like a laser on my slightly too large boobs, with their prominent nipples and large areolas. Recovering from the sight of me near naked and in the throes of lust, he ever so slowly closed the door.

Instead of being embarrassed, as you might expect, I was so turned on by him seeing me in that state that I quickly came while Steve frantically fingered me.

After that incident, Joseph would always smile broadly when he saw me, and sometimes he would wink. I always felt as if he were mentally undressing me and revisiting the sight of my naked body and my being fingered.

No doubt I was right. I was tempted to take him to a room and strip naked for him but of course I never did anything. It was just yet another fantasy. My fantasy life was getting quite complex, due to my near constant state of sexual frustration. But I was ready to visit the utility closed with Joseph, should he ever had put the moves on me. But he never did.

After the Christmas party combined with Joseph discovering us, I realized how much I like exhibitionism and risky sex activity. I changed the way I dressed, too. I started to buy lacy panties and bras, and became a regular at Victoria's Secret.

One salesgirl at Victoria's knew me by name. I bought and wore more low cut blouses and sweaters, and wore them to work. My skirts became a little shorter and much tighter, and the heels on the shoes I chose to wear became higher.

Everyone noticed my new sartorial choices, not just the men but the women, too. I got lots of complements on my attire, and they extended to me, as well. People noticed me more. I was happy.

That Christmas party and later the utility closet incident were in my mind (actually it rarely left my mind; I was obsessed with the memory of it and what might have happened) while I sat next to Sally on the airplane.

Sally likes to gab, and we ended up discussing the ethics of infidelity. Sally seemed to think if Jack never found out, there was really no problem in having a little fun, as long as I was careful regarding STDs and pregnancy.

When we checked into the hotel, our room was really nice. Sally's meeting began the next day, so we went down to the hotel bar to unwind after the trip. Sally saw a man she knows in her profession also at the bar.

For Sally, such men are strictly off limits; she never sluts around with colleagues. She does not want, and certainly does not need, the consequences of gossip and moral approbation among her colleagues.

But for me, none of this applied. Nobody at the convention worked with me. What stopped me were my own morals and my own code of ethics. I had a religious upbringing, and "Thou shalt not commit adultery" was burned into my self-identity.

Sally introduced us, and when she did, the incident with Steve rose up to the front of my consciousness. The man's name was Ethan, and he was tall, even very tall, and good-looking. He was not exactly loquacious, but he was clearly interested in me.

The contrast with my short and tiny body was dramatic. I had to look up at him, way up at him. I suspect men like it when women have to look up to them. It inscribes the submissiveness of women in their macho minds. Or at least that's what I think.

We hit it off. He bought me drinks, and I drank them. I figured out he was trying to get me drunk, which actually is a good strategy for getting into my panties, I found out later that evening. Another colleague joined us, named Kevin, and now we were four. Sally suggested we leave the hotel and go to a nice bar she knew where there is often live music. She had a decent knowledge of the Chicago scene.

Off we went. The bar was dark and had a dance floor. The small band's lead singer was a woman with a good voice. She wore practically no clothes at all. She had a great body, too. When she gyrated on stage while singing and playing her guitar, I could see glimpses of her small but pretty boobs, nipples and all.

The bar was a sexy place, with lots of couples. Some of them were clearly making out in dark corners. One woman was in a state of partial undress. I had never been in such a place and even had no idea such places existed.

Both Kevin and Ethan asked me to dance at different times. While dancing a slow dance with Ethan, he began to feel me up through my clothes while we danced. It reminded me of my Christmas kiss, and the memory of it turned me on. So I made no protest while he did this. Ethan clearly lusted for me, and I was enjoying to the max the feeling of a man lusting for me.

Kevin must have seen the liberties Ethan was taking with me, because he did the same when he danced with me. But both men were totally correct and proper when they danced with Sally, even though Sally was a siren. Indeed, I could not imagine a man being able to resist Sally. I was so happy to feel as if the two men lusted for me. I could feel it in between my legs.

We got hot and tired and took a break from the dancing and had yet another round of cocktails. This must have been my sixth margarita of the evening. I was much too drunk when Kevin asked if I could settle a bet between him and Ethan.

I said, "Well, I don't know if I can; but I'll be happy to try. What is the bet?"

"Kevin thinks he kisses better than I do, but I bet him you would like my kisses better," Ethan said. "Can you help us settle the bet?"

Then before I even answered, Kevin took my face gently in his hands and pulled my mouth to his lips and gently kissed me. After a minute or two he opened his mouth and our tongues played with each other. While he kissed he ran his hands over my boobs, even if they were protected by my blouse and bra.

I felt dirty and sinful. I was wantonly kissing a man I had just met in a bar that was selling an ambiance of sex. Technically this may not be adultery in the biblical sense, but it some way it was clearly emotionally cheating on my husband Jack. Sally's words that maybe it was okay if Jack never knew kept spinning around in my head.

When the kiss ended, I was about to say, "Wow," when Ethan gave me an equally wonderful and sexy kiss. He went further and unbuttoned my blouse while we kissed. But he did it so gently I did not realize he was unbuttoning me. I was, after all, giving all of my attention to the kiss.

I was flushed, embarrassed, and aroused by the two wonderful kisses. I was in a drunken daze. Sally pointed to my blouse and only then did I notice it was open. I shot Ethan a look, and clutched it together. Sally had a smile and seemed to be enjoying my distress.

Now I was really upset. I felt like those cartoons where you had a good angel on one shoulder saying, "Stop it Joan, say goodnight and return to the hotel. Masturbate in the hotel bed if you need to, but stop this now," and a bad angel saying, "This is your chance to enjoy feeling lusted after, and Jack need never know."

Ethan said, "Well Joan, what do you think? Who kisses better?"

I didn't know what to say, so I just said, "Sorry boys; I think it's a tie. You want to help with their bet, Sally?"

Sally laughed, "Not me, Joan. No colleagues, remember?"

We were all too drunk, so we left the bar and caught a taxi back to the hotel. The men walked us back to the door of our room, and they took turns kissing me as Sally stood there awkwardly. Sally excused herself, needing to get some rest before the talks the next day, and disappeared into our room.

The men convinced me to give them one more chance to see who's the better kisser, and they led me to their room. I was very drunk at this point, but I'm not an idiot. You do not go innocently to a man's hotel room trying to decide who kisses better and expect nothing is going happen to you. Even booze cannot make me that stupid.

But what being drunk can do is to let you give yourself permission to do something you would never let yourself do while sober. I guess it's called a weakening of your inhibitions. My inhibitions were nearly eviscerated. I knew this was a stupid thing to do, even a likely sinful thing to do, but I just did not care.

I sat on one of the two beds in Ethan's room and I kissed Ethan while Kevin filmed the kiss. Yes, I thought it was strange he shot a video of us kissing. In retrospect I should have been alarmed by that, and stopped the kissing right then. But as I said earlier, and here I blame the booze, I just didn't care.

Kissing is not exactly pornography anyway. Certainly not by the standards of the day. Why they wanted to film it I could not imagine, but I also didn't care just then. But it did puzzle me, and I kept wondering about it.

Next I kissed Kevin while Ethan filmed us. Once again my blouse became unbuttoned. I still could not decide who kissed better. In truth, they both kissed great; I was enjoying the kissing.

We had a third kiss, this time standing up, and somehow one of the men managed to remove my skirt while we kissed. The skirt had a zipper in the back, and once the zipper was lowered, it slid down my hips easily, and once the skirt is beyond my hips, the rest is easy.

When we stopped, Kevin quickly removed my blouse, and suddenly I was in my panties and bra, drunk, in a hotel room with two men who truly kissed well. Even in my inebriated state, I knew this was spinning out of control.

My entire moral being was yelling, "Get out of there," even screaming it. But I was curious where this was going and Ethan and Kevin seemed like nice, respectful men, who would stop when I told them to stop. I know what you're thinking: I'm an idiot. Well, you're right. I stayed.

In truth, I was enjoying myself. I was having the time of my life.

"Since you can't decide who kisses the best, perhaps you can decide whose cock tastes better?" Kevin asked, and then both men dropped their pants and their underpants, revealing two erections and two lovely cocks. At this point I knew I should leave and return to my room. The voices of morality in my head were getting hoarse from screaming so loudly for me to leave.

I reminded the two men I was married, and while their cocks were lovely, they should be lovely for someone else, not for me. "It's time to call it a night, boys. Thanks for a lovely time," I said, moving to pick up my clothes and reassemble them on my body.

Before I reached my clothes however Kevin gently grabbed my head and kissed me, once again wonderfully, and he unhooked my bra while kissing me. He was so skillful I did not feel it get unhooked, but when the kiss finally ended, he quickly slipped off my bra.

I immediately covered my boobs with my hands, but before I could scold Kevin for being so inappropriate, Ethan kissed me. His kiss was so good I got into it once again, and when he lifted my arms to go around his neck, I complied, thereby exposing my boobs. Ethan pulled me into him until my nipples were grazing his now bare chest. (When did he remove his shirt, I idly wondered.) While Ethan and I were kissing Kevin began to praise my boobs. He did it elegantly; it sounded almost like poetry.

So I relaxed, even though the men's hard cocks were sticking out and pointing at me, and now I was dressed only in my panties. The men resumed asking me to do a taste off of their two cocks, and Ethan began to tweak my nipples and caress my boobs, taking one nipple into his mouth.

I had been with only two men before Jack, and I had tried to fellate both of them, but I was very innocent and actually I had no idea what to do and faked it. A girl friend had me watch porn on the Internet when I told her of my failures, and using the porn videos and the age old method of 'monkey see, monkey do,' I figured out how to fellate a man, giving my second boyfriend a blowjob he raved about for weeks.

After what he called 'Joan's great blowjob,' every time we had sex - which was almost every day - he had me blow him until he squirted down my throat. Once he recovered his erection he would fuck me silly. Every day. I got a lot of experience giving blowjobs, I assure you.

So I knew I could give an adequate blowjob, but once we broke up, I had never given one again, because Jack never wanted one. I know it's a strange thing to say, but I kind of missed the taste of cock, of feeling a dick inside my mouth, and especially the thrilling sensation of a man blowing his load down my throat.

What I like most of all is to take a man's flaccid cock in my mouth and nurse it to a throbbing erection. I like to feel it grow and get hard inside my mouth. It makes me feel sexy and powerful. Sadly though this rarely happened, because the only man with whom I ever had oral sex (my second boyfriend) was a sex fiend and he was almost always hard.