Snow had been predicted all week, the forecasts more dire with each passing day: A Spring blizzard would come roaring out of the Rockies, Donner-Party style, and paralyze the City.
My flight out of Denver was early enough, and I figured I'd get out OK.
First it was delayed by an hour - then another, and then a third. The cancellations started right about then, and at 3pm they closed the airport. Clearly I wasn't getting back to New York City for a couple of days.
I found a hotel near the airport, jumped on a short-bus shuttle, and was soon checked in and headed to the bar to get something to eat and watch whatever game was on the television.
The bar was nearly empty. All the smart people had left town the day before, and with incoming flights cancelled, nobody was arriving. I found a seat at the end of the bar, propped up my tablet, and ordered a beer and a sandwich.
I was finishing up when another stranded traveler came into the bar; he looked around, and ambled over to where I was sitting.
"Mind if I join you? Looks like we're the only ones here."
I keep to myself when travelling. My consulting work is intense, and there's nothing worse than getting cornered by a chatty stranger after a long, tough day of meetings.
Tonight it was different. I wasn't going anywhere, work was over, and there was nothing pressing to take care of.
"Sure, no problem."
He pulled out a bar stool, leaving an empty seat between us, put his iPad on the bar, and settled in. He looked like another version of me -- older guy on the road on one more business trip with that slightly weary, clean-but-wrinkled business-casual look.
We sat in silence, each swiping at our respective tablets, the football game silently unfolding over the bar.
A few minutes later he broke the silence. "You get snowed in too?" Not really a question, more of an ice-breaker.
"Yeah, crazy, huh? I knew it was going to snow, but didn't think the airport would shut down completely. Denver's supposed to be able to handle snow."
"I hear ya'. Same here."
We sat in silence for a few minutes, until he asked me to keep an eye on his stuff.
"Hey, would you mind watching my tablet while I hit the head?"
"There's nobody here to steal it but me -- but sure."
"Ha, OK, thanks." He got up and went off to the restroom. I glanced over -- he had been looking at a news feed, and the screen held the usual jumble of headlines and video stills, mostly about the snowfall.
I had turned my attention back to the game and my beer when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw his tablet flicker as the screen saver came on with the image of a woman about his age dressed in a bright red camisole.
I was looking at her picture when I heard his voice behind me. "Thanks for keeping an eye on it. And for keeping an eye on my wife, too!" He laughed, nervously, I thought.
"You caught me. Sorry, I didn't mean to be nosy. Nice picture."
"No problem -- thanks. Actually, I put her on my screen saver because I like to look at her, too."
" 'Too?' What do you mean, 'too'?"
"I don't mind other guys admiring her. I tell her all the time that she still has her looks. Makes me kinda proud when we are out and I see guys checking her out. I tell her -- you know, 'hey, I think that guy over there is looking at you.' She always says 'No he's not, stop it' but I can tell the idea flatters her, and even excites her sometimes. The truth is -- hope this doesn't sound too strange -- I'd love to see another guy hit on her. You think that's weird?"
"Hey, at my age I'm pretty open-minded. People should do what they want, whatever they feel comfortable with. Life is short, you know? Remember Dr. Ruth? That's what she said."
"Dr. Ruth? Who's she?"
"Nobody. Never mind. Anyway, you ever talk to her about it?"
"A few times -- when we were in a bar, I would tell her -- "that guy is checking you out, I could move down the bar so he could hit on you'. I even told her once that I'd like to see her with another guy. You know..."
"You mean in bed? Having sex with another guy?"
"Yeah."
"And did she go for it?"
"Well, it's funny. In the beginning she say 'no, no, stop it saying that' and then we would have the craziest sex, like she's maybe thinking about it at the same time we are having sex. After a while I noticed that when we'd talk like that she would get really vocal and cum hard, if you know what I mean, and then she began to talk about it and tease me. But she always says she'd never actually go for it."
"Well, I guess that's good that she will talk about it. So you'd like to 'see it'? See your wife with another man?"
"Yeah, I would. I mean, just look at her. Most guys would love a chance to be with her."
He swiped across the tablet, dropped into a file folder, and tapped into a picture.
Just like in the screen saver she was wearing a blood red camisole, but in this picture she was holding her breasts, as if she were offering them. "Nice, huh?" he asked.
"Oh yeah."
He looked down the bar. The bartender had disappeared into the kitchen. He scanned the seating area, making sure we were alone, and swiped again. Same camisole, but this time she had her breasts out, holding them and looking right at the camera, her lips slightly pursed.
He swiped again. Another picture, probably taken right after the prior one, as she was pinching a nipple. Then another -- the aftermath -- her nipple hard, jutting from her pinch. Another picture, as she was lifting a heavy breast to her mouth and about to take her own hardened nipple into her own mouth and suck it.
"She seems to like the camera" I said, "the way she is posing and looking right at the lens."
"She loves it -- the attention, and acting, too."
"Acting?"
"I guess you could call it that. In the videos. I shoot clips of her on a high def camcorder."
He swiped, clicked on a video, and the clip started. It was a tight shot of her face, just her mouth and lips, and she was licking a large, lifelike rubber or plastic cock. He had forgotten to turn his audio down -- and as the clip started her voice blared out over the bar. "Tyler I know what you want to see, you want to see me..."
He fumbled frantically for the tiny volume buttons, and before she could tell the empty bar what Tyler wanted to see he found the mute button, and then the pause button. "I guess it isn't a good idea to show this here."
We both laughed. "No, probably not. You never know who might walk in."
We turned back to our beers and the football game. Thirty seconds left in the quarter. The last play ran down and they cut to a commercial.
"I could show you her videos in my room."
He caught me off guard. I looked over at him. "Sorry?"
"I could show you her videos in my room. I could hook this up to the TV on the wall
and we could really enjoy it."
I looked at him. I'm 6' 4", and figured that he was probably no more than 5' 2" and pretty harmless overall.
He smiled at me. "I mean, why go back to your room and look at internet porn when you can watch my wife instead? I've got a bunch more that I think you might like. Up close and very personal, if you know what I mean."
He had a point. Jerking off in my room by myself while juggling the laptop -- been there, done that. And I was curious about the rest of the videos.
"Sure, let's go -- hang on a second." We hadn't seen the bartender in nearly an hour. I reached behind the bar, tucked two twenties under the register, grabbed four beers, and turned to him. "Lead the way."
We walked out of the bar and popped into the elevator, making small talk about the weather, and then headed down the hall to his room. He opened the door, flipped on the lights, and held it for me as I entered, the beer bottles clinking softly.
The room was standard issue -- a couple of beds, his suitcase propped open on a luggage rack, phone on the nightstand, a narrow desk with a chair, tv, mini fridge.
"I've already set this up -- I always prefer to see her on the big screen." There was a white cord hanging down from the flat screen and he plugged in, turned on the tv, tapped and swiped, and his tablet started projecting on the big flat screen.
"Might was well get comfortable. That's where I'm sleeping -- you can stretch out on the other one."
I kicked off my shoes, cracked open a beer for each of us, and settled on the bed against two pillows I bunched up, waiting for the show to begin.
"I have a lot -- what do you want to see? How about the video I shot after I took those pictures you saw at the bar?"
"Yeah, sounds good."
He tapped and her image swam onto the screen, almost life sized, in the red camisole that she had been wearing, holding her bare breasts, her nipples hard.
She looked at the camera and was nearly whispering. "I know you always love to see this, don't you." I could hear him from behind the camera, a soft "yes dear, I do."
She lifted a heavy breast to her mouth, bent over slightly, and licked her hard nipple, slowly, as if she were savoring the moment. She took her nipple into her mouth, and I could hear the soft sucking sound she was making as she nibbled on her nipple. She looked up at the camera again. "I love to do this -- I feel shivers in my pussy when I suck my own breasts. It always makes me so wet." She bent over and sucked her shining nipple into her mouth again, slurping for a moment, before the clip ended.
I was hard as a rock. I took a long pull of my beer. "She's quite sexy."
