Driving into the Huffington Inn's parking lot, I take a deep breath. I am nervous as I've come to fulfill my fantasy of being dominated, controlled, and used by another man. This fleabag motel isn't my choice and its shady appearance allows me to rethink my decision.
There is a large white truck parked outside of Room 101 and a stranger inside. The door is a dark burgundy shade that matches my lipgloss. I cautiously examine it, nibbling my bottom lip.
When he opens the thick beige blinds, I see his suited torso and avert my gaze. My pulse races and I hit the gas hard onto the sidestreet.
Away from the door, my phone buzzes. I read his text asking for my location.
With twitching fingers, I reply, "On my way."
I could decipher that in different ways. I am on my way to cheat and possibly ruin my life.
"Good, piggy."
Despite his disrespect, my clit pulses with affection. I crave his cock like a slut, instead of the good housewife I'd been for the past ten years.
Another message comes with a video attached of him jerking off. His cock isn't as big as my husband's but something about the unfamiliar draws me to immediately gush and dead my engine.
With a pounding heart and intense arousal, I quickly walk toward Room 101.
"You're late, slut," His face is a mask of disappointment, "Give me your keys and your phone."