Game Night 36

"Why would you pick Charlie?" she asked bluntly, not even allowing the elevator doors to close before beginning her interrogation.

He could have guessed it was eminent, and possibly even deserved given his past transgression, but just as often, he much preferred to live in a world of relentless optimism.

"The question was, 'who would make the most as an amateur porn website star' and that's totally Charlene don't you think?" answering as benignly and ignorantly as he could.

"Why don't you think it's me?" she shot back.

Supper club had taken many shapes over the years. What started out as pot luck and Scattergories had eventually evolved into couples overnight out, "slut-dom" fashion, and provocative, alcohol fueled erotica conversations. One would think it would have ended when Brent fucked Annalise at the Halloween costume party, simultaneously ending 2 marriages, but instead, the incident just seemed to ignite community couples' interest.

"I don't know... Charlene is like... slutty, you know... don't call me Charlene, call me Charlie... ooh, I'm tipsy after one drink... now I'm saying something inappropriate then BAM, look at my tits."

"Is that what you want... the tipsy ditz?" she shot back, not willing to let it go.

"No babe, let's just forget it. You are, my ONLY pornstar."

Landing a kiss on her forehead felt like the emptiest platitude she had ever received.

...

The hotel room was decadent, a perk of years of hard work and elevated status. White linen contrasted perfectly with black finishes in swanky opposition, and she couldn't help but feel inspired by the unspoken metaphor.

"You know who I bet fucks like an absolute bull?" she said, removing her earrings, her words a stark contrast to the insecurities of the elevator ride and seemingly out of place among the evening wind down routine... "that guy Jameson, the accountant that does MMA".

"Where is this coming from?", he inquired, noticing the topic to be out of character.

"I'm just saying, I get the impression he brings it... like... HARD".

"Since when have you been so discerning?" he questioned, drawing nearer.

"I guess I've always been fine with 'good' that I never took the time to think about 'better'" was the quick answer she transiently regretted as possibly too far.

"BETTER?" he said, taking up position behind her. "Better like you imagine he worships her body like this?" Sliding his hands beneath her crop shirt and sleep shorts simultaneously. His fingers found it's home against her clitoris, swiping back in forth in predictable stimulation. She could feel the sensation localize.

"Better... like this" she said confidently, reaching back to push him to kneeling behind her, simultaneously lifting her knee to the counter to allow unopposed access.

His devouring was incessant but familiar, and not helping was the disinterested woman that stared back at her in the vanity mirror. She had always been intrigued by erotica, but similarly felt it proper to subdue it out of somewhat regrettably prudish discretion. Regardless, it was obvious this wasn't working.

"Forget it" she said, breaking free of the female fellatio. "I'm just all in my head right now".

"It's ok... I get it" he said supportively, "Next time you get the urge to have me 'all in' any part of you, just let me know".

The cold vodka seemed to sting less than usual, or perhaps the previous shots had already sufficiently numbed the senses, but even as she listened to his breathing slow in eventual slumber, her mind raced with souring jealousy.

-- 2:38am --

He awoke to the sound of his customized FaceTime ringtone. Buckcherry's "Crazy Bitch" was once mutually felt to be both appropriate and humorous, though his brain couldn't yet understand why it was ringing when his wife was next to him... until he answered.

Instantly recognizable was his wife's face and disheveled hair, blushed, and slightly glistening with sweat, but as the camera was positioned more securely in portrait mode, the full scope of the depravity was realized.

She was obviously on her knees and elbows, the crescent of her ass hung in mid frame like a setting sun, while a man, unrecognizable by abs and chest hair alone, was pumping furiously behind her, each collision seeming to shout it's consequential insult: THWACK, THWACK, THWACK, THWACK...

"Is this what you want?" sarcasm not quite being of adequate meaning.

"He's been going at it for a while now... you didn't pick up the first few times you fucking loser".

Her comments seemed to have a way of provoking both men, but for very different reasons.

"Ohhh YE-E-ES-S-S!" her head transiently ducking out of view before flipping back into frame.

"You should have seen me gagging on his dick...

and now...

he's fucking me with it...

so fucking deep and hard."

He couldn't help but watch. He was absolutely in shock, paralyzed by a fury of emotions swirling inside his still sleepy mind.

"Is this what you want?"

"You willing to pay for it?"

"Don't you stop! Don't you dare stop!"

He watched the figure tighten his grip on her hips.

"I'm gonna cum on his dick"

"You ready? I'm gonna cum on it!"

"I'm gonna C-UU-UU-UU-UM! OH YE-EE-ES-SS! GIVE IT TO ME-E-E-E-E."

Her face twisted in rapture, a view that was particularly foreign to him. Whatever the phone was propped against was no match for the uncoordinated locomotion induced by orgasm. Knocking it sideways, all he could see was her left hand, wedding band in focus, white-knuckling the sheet, rhythmically knocked back and forth with each pump that unapologetically continued it's audible assault on his ego.

.....

He wasn't expecting the hotel door to unlock just a brief 15 minutes later.

"We're even" she said entering. "Tell me again who's your favorite pornstar?"