A September Day at the Motel
It was a warm day in early September. The air conditioner in the dodgy old motel was doing its groaning, rattling best, but the temperature in the room was still approaching eighty. Lynette was lying on her back, her legs spread as far as she could get them as her lover supported his upper body above her on his elbows and pounded away at her pussy with a series of hard rapid strokes that were pushing her ever closer to her second climax of the day. Her first climax had come half an hour earlier as Howard had lain between her legs lapping at her pussy with his talented tongue. She had gone off like a skyrocket after only a few minutes of Howard's oral pleasuring.
Lynette reached down and pulled her thighs back and up until she could wrap her legs around Howard and hook her heels into the small of his back. They were both coated in sweat, but neither noticed.
"Oh fuck!" she groaned as she felt his fat prick bottom out against her cervix. "Oh fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" she repeated as he maintained his rhythmic pounding. "You're going to make me cum again! Are you close?"
"Yeah. Kinda," Howard said between gasps. "Can you talk dirty to me? That always gets me off." The sweat was dripping off his brow, landing on her tits, but she wasn't noticing. Her world revolved around the thick prick stuffed in her cunt.
The first time Howard had asked her to talk dirty Lynette had been surprised. No lover had ever asked her to talk dirty. But then, she hadn't had that many lovers, so why not, she thought. As their affair continued it became a regular thing between them and, truth be told, she loved it. So nasty. But she never told Howard she enjoyed talking dirty to him, and she always made him ask—just 'cause.
"Oh fuck that's good. That's it—just keep reaming my cunt with that big dick of yours. Pound my pussy you stud. You're so fucking big. It feels like you're going to split my cunt in half."
"Fuck!" Howard responded as he continued to pound her. "That's it. That's just what I wanted to hear, you horny slut. Keep it up. I'm getting really close."
So was Lynette. As Howard spoke, Lynette was moaning and crying. She was so close now she wasn't sure she could talk coherently, but she would try. She wanted to feel his cum spurting into her as she climaxed.
"Yes, I'm your horny slut, Howard. Pound me. Pound your horny slut with that big hard cock of yours. Then cum. Cum and squirt that hot jism of yours into my cunt. My cunt wants to feel your prick flooding it with your hot cum."
Her lewd talk succeeded. Howard went rigid, with his cock buried as far into Lynette as he could get it. "Oh fuuuuuck! I'm cumming. AAAAAGH!"
She felt the first blast of his hot cum flood her pussy, and that set her off. Lynette screamed as her pussy contracted around Howard's still spurting cock. She used her legs, still wrapped around his back, to pull him ever deeper into her. It felt like someone had given her whole body a shock.
There was more groaning from Howard and screaming from Lynette as successive waves of heir orgasms ripped through them until they finally began to relax. She pulled her legs down and put her feet on the bed. Howard collapsed onto her chest and then tipped them to one side. They lay there—their chests mashed together, their legs tangled, and his slowly shrinking cock still delightfully filling her pussy. Neither said anything for a while as they gradually recovered.
Howard began to move his hips to remove his cock. "Oh no." she said lazily. "Not yet. It feels too good." She reached down and put a hand on his ass to hold him in place.
"Okay," he said sleepily.
Lynette nuzzled her face into the space where his neck met his shoulders and held him close to her until she realized he had nodded off to sleep. Then she relaxed and rolled on to her back, feeling regret as his cock slipped from her pussy.
She lay in silence for a long time, just staring at the ceiling.
"What on earth am I doing here?" she silently asked herself. "I'm a forty-year-old married woman with a husband, two teenage children, and a job as school teacher."
"I just spent the last hour fucking the principal of my school. And he's married. And we've been doing this regularly for months. How did it come to this?" she mused. As she lay naked on the motel bed, her lover sleeping soundly next to her, she could feel his cum dripping from her pussy and making a pool on the sheet beneath her.
She knew, of course, exactly the steps that had led her to be spending an afternoon in a cheap motel with her boss.
They had known each other for years. Howard had started out as a teacher about the same time as Lynette and they had worked together at the same school for fifteen years now. At some point he had gone into the management track and was now principal of her school. She liked teaching second and third graders and really didn't have any ambition to go beyond that. So Howard, the cute grammar school teacher she had known for years, was now her boss.
But now he was her lover too. How did that happen she asked herself? Yes, he was handsome and always paid attention to her and flirted with her. She enjoyed the attention and the flirting and returned it. But that had been going on forever, and it had never led to this until a few months ago. She always let Howard go just so far, just for the fun of it, and then made it clear to him that he was reaching her limits. Howard seemed to respect the limits she set. That was the way their relationship worked, until last winter's Christmas party, that is. Now she had been fucking Howard regularly for much of the last nine months—and she was thoroughly enjoying it, well, at least the fucking part. But she had begun to learn that having a successful affair required more than just great sex.
The Christmas Party
Lynette let her mind drift back to the beginning of her affair with Howard.
The Christmas party had been held for the whole school district in the ballroom of one of the bigger hotels in town. There were several hundred people there from schools all over town, most of whom were strangers to Lynette.
Her husband, Andrew, had refused to go—said he had too much work to do. That was typical of Andrew. Over the twenty years of their marriage, he had become increasingly self absorbed until he had reached the point of essentially ignoring Lynette and the children most of the time. They had fought over the party, and she had told him she was going to go on her own if he didn't want to come. He said, "Fine," and walked off to his home office.
It was a typical Andrew solution to a problem between them. When they couldn't agree about something, he just ignored her and did whatever he wanted. For the last few years he had been ignoring her generally. He was more like a roommate than a spouse, and not a very good roommate at that.
The other part of the problem with Andrew's treatment of Lynette was that they no longer had a sex life. He wasn't interested in even a peck on the cheek, much less a romp in the sack. Lynette didn't think about it much, but from time to time she remembered how good sex could be, and of late she found herself horny quite a bit of the time. Her trusty hands just weren't getting the job done anymore.
The couple's twin daughters were high school seniors who would leave for college in a few months. While they didn't show Lynette the outright hostility that Andrew did, they were typical self-absorbed teenagers. They wouldn't share their world with Lynette any more, and they weren't interested in hearing about her world.
In summary, the people who had needed and loved her for the first twenty years of her marriage no longer needed her or loved her. She was increasingly frustrated by her situation, but had no idea what to do to address her problems.
On the night of the party Lynette wore a dress that was, for her, more than a little daring. It was bright red, fit her round hips tightly, and stopped several inches above the knee. The dress showed off her legs and ass to perfection. Also the dress had a plunging neckline that exposed a lot of cleavage. Lynette had generous C-cup breasts, and they were well displayed in this dress. The outfit was completed with a string of pearls and a pair of Christmas-red stiletto pumps.
She was a little worried about whether it went too far and was hoping, unrealistically, for some feedback from Andrew. When she walked past Andrew on her way out of the house, he ignored her. Not so much as a "You look nice" or "Have a nice evening." She paused, thinking about asking him how she looked, but decided not to, because he would probably say something totally unhelpful and meaningless like, "Yeah great," and then retreat back into his Wall Street Journal. As she got into her car, she was fuming about what an asshole her husband was.
She was still annoyed with Andrew when she got to the party. As she wandered through the mass of partygoers, she downed two or three gin and tonics in fairly quick succession. Lynette wasn't normally much of a drinker, but after an hour she was feeling a little drunk, and she was enjoying it, even if the party was a bit boring. She also decided she no longer gave a shit about her husband's attitude.
That was when she ran into Howard. Thank god, she thought—someone to talk to. Unlike her husband, Howard definitely noticed her. They had only been talking for a few minutes when she realized that he had positioned himself so he could look down the front of her dress. How nice, she thought. I know he is a bit of lecher, but he at least appreciates me.
