Jocelyn swiped her key card and opened the hotel room door. As expected, no one was inside. She walked over to the bed, noting the rumpled bedclothes. She sniffed the air. It was very faint, but it was there.
Sex.
Someone had had sex in this room, in this bed. She got out her phone, took several pictures of the rumpled sheets from different angles, for evidence.
Her husband had been here, she was sure, probably with that girl from Accounting, Michaela. She walked to the other side of the bed, saw something lying on the floor, and picked it up. An undershirt. It was her husband's size and style. She held the collar to her face and sniffed. His cologne. No doubt now.
She pulled the top sheet down, and saw a hotel towel in the middle of the bed. She reached out her hand and felt it. It was damp.
Jocelyn's nipples hardened. She picked up the towel and sniffed the damp spot. Unmistakeable. The musky scent was different from hers, but there was no question. The towel smelled like pussy.
Fascinated, she carefully sniffed different parts of the towel, especially the damp areas. And there it was. Along with the aroma of pussy, there was the definite scent of semen. He had cum. Proof that they had fucked in this very room, on this very bed, on this towel.
She could visualize it now. They had fucked, some of her sexual juices getting onto the towel, and he had come inside the girl's pussy, and afterward, some of his semen had seeped out onto the fabric.
She felt her clit throb and was aware of the growing moisture between her legs.
She put down the towel and began to unbutton her blouse, slipping it off her shoulders. She cupped her tits in her hands and lightly pinched the nipples through the bra, then unclasped it and shook it off. In her forties, her tits were still firm, and she admired the way her nipples poked slightly upward. She pulled one breast toward her mouth, leaned down and licked the nipple. Omigod, that felt good. She felt her pussy getting wetter.
She kicked off her shoes, took off her skirt, folded it, and laid it across a chair. Just in panties now, the first spot of moisture beginning to show. She rubbed her pussy over her panties, and then rolled them down and kicked them off, naked now.
She crawled into the bed, between the sheets. They had been here, not long ago, their bodies writhing together under these sheets. Jocelyn squirmed, rolling to her side, onto her back, onto her other side, then onto her tummy, feeling the sensation of the sheets against her skin. While she did this, she imagined them doing the same, rolling together, skin to skin, her tits against his chest, his hard cock between them, rubbing against her legs, her belly. Rob was very sensual, and liked the skin-to-skin contact as part of his foreplay. She imagined the sounds of their bodies brushing against the sheets, their breathing getting more intense.
Then he would be sucking her nipples, making her moan, while his hand stroked her pussy. His hands were very skilled, and he was never in a hurry, something she loved about him. He would stroke her so softly and gently, moving slowly. Like this. Her hands stroked her mound as she imagined Rob doing to that Accounting girl. Slowly moving over the lips as they parted, eventually dipping into that now slippery channel, moving slowly, almost agonizingly, toward the pearl of a clit that would be erect and waiting.
She was willing to bet a million dollars that Rob would have made that girl come before he fucked her. So considerate. Make her come on his fingers, the way he had done for Jocelyn countless times. Magic fingers.
Stroking her own clitoris, she shivered at the memory.
Jocelyn rolled over onto her stomach, making sure the damp towel was underneath her pussy, and worked her body back and forth. Rubbing herself against the juices of their lovemaking. No, not lovemaking. Fucking. The juices of their fucking, his cock in her cunt. She pictured them, Rob on top, thrusting into the girl, her tits jiggling with each thrust, the bed creaking.
Jocelyn stopped, pushed back the sheet, and sat up. She got two pillows from the head of the bed, fluffed them, and placed one on top of the other in the middle of the bed, then draped the towel over them. Yes, she thought, that would work.
She straddled the pillows, positioning herself carefully so that they were between her spread legs, and started riding the pillows. Unnhh, unnhh, that was good.
Now she visualized the girl on top of Rob, riding his cock, fucking him. Sometimes back and forth, sometimes up and down, sitting up so he could see her tits moving as she rose up, and then sinking down, impaling herself on his hard cock. Her chest would get rosy pink, and start to shine with sweat. They would both be moaning and grunting. She would come on his cock, Jocelyn was sure, because she knew Rob had great control, would want the girl to come first. Would she have announced it? Would she have screamed, "I'm coming!"? Or would she have signaled her impending climax with a series of "Oh, oh, oh"'s and then silence, or maybe a wail? Or would she suddenly gasp at the pinnacle of pleasure, that moment when her pussy convulsed in orgasmic contractions?
Only when she had climaxed, when his cock would feel her spasms, would Rob let go, and spurt his cum deep into her tight pussy. Shooting his load into her. They would roll over, he would pull his glistening cock out and roll off her, and as their heartbeats and breathing slowed, his cum would slowly seep out of her onto the towel, where Jocelyn would smell it later.
Humping the pillows, and now also rubbing her clit, Jocelyn visualized the trickle of semen from Michaela's slit, white against the pinkness of her pussy, and she came hard, thinking about the fact that some of her juice would mingle with theirs on the towel.
It was a nice climax, for sure, and she had a couple of nice aftershocks. She rolled onto her back, picked up her phone, and texted her husband. "Ready now."
