Any fictitious sex in this fictitious story is between fictitious consenting adults.
"This is a court of law young man, not a court of justice." Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr.
My associate and I had been working on this project for just over a month and we were now ready to conclude our business. Everything in place, no detail left unattended, we were ready to pull the proverbial trigger.
As we walked into the hotel bar for a nightcap, we perused the setting. There were a handful of business travelers at a variety of levels of inebriation. Nothing unusual in that. I was looking for conversation, my compatriot chose solitude as we seated ourselves at different ends of the bar. He chose a seat closer to the door, and I went to the corner at the far end, dropping down on a stool next to a 30ish looking guy.
He was well dressed, tall and had good looking features. I've always been an excellent judge of character even when casually sizing someone up. This guy was full of himself and confident he was the smartest guy in the room.
After receiving my glass of Michter's 10 Year Single Barrel Straight Rye, I stuck up a conversation. "In town for business?"
"Yeah, two-day quick turnaround sales meeting... you?"
"Yep, just one day for me though. Headed home in the morning."
"Where you in from?"
"Miami... you?"
"Dallas. I don't mind coming to Minneapolis this time of year. It's so fucking hot in Texas in July. My name's Nick." He held out his hand.
"Nice to meet you Nick, I'm Brody."
"Interesting name. Don't think I know any Brody's."
"Jaws came out the summer of 75, my dad was a huge fan. I was born that fall and he named me for the Roy Scheider character, Sheriff Brody."
This led to several minutes on favorite movies, sports, drinks etc. It was clear after a few minutes that my original observation was correct. Young Mr. Nick was mostly enamored with himself. Whatever movie I mentioned he had a better one. Great Scotch? Nope, his was better. Being a curious guy by nature I just let him talk and brag about himself for the better part of an hour. When it was clear his tongue was loose, and his brain was still telling him he was on top I switched subjects.
"So, Nick, how about women? I don't see a ring, so I assume you're not tied down. You a one girl kind of guy or do you just go with the flow?"
"Fuck man, let me tell you about the greatest gig in the world Brody."
I leaned in letting him know I was genuinely interested.
"Married women. That's where the action is. Single gals are either so uptight they won't even look at you, or so full of themselves they wouldn't know a good fuck if it was standing right in front of them."
"Really? But how are married women different? I assumed if somebody was married, they'd at least try to be faithful."
"Ha! Are you kidding me? This isn't the 1950's and you're not on 'Leave it to Beaver' pal. Most of the married women I've met when traveling for business or back at home in Dallas, love the thrill of the mystery man. The idea of getting some dick behind loving hubby's back is such a turn on, even the sweetest soccer mom's I've met have screwed my brains out."
"What about the husbands?"
"What about them? Hell, if they can't keep the wife satisfied, she's going to find someone who can. Maybe they're a good lover but she just wants to spice up her life. The older ones, in their 40's just want to know they're not over the hill. As long as you know what line to feed them and which way is up when fucking them, they just melt in your hands. As for the husband's why should I give a fuck?"
"This is intriguing, let me buy you a drink, I want to hear more."
"Sure Brody, you drink a fine whiskey which tells me you're a man of the world and can appreciate what I'm saying."
I motioned the bartender over and he refilled Nick's glass. I was enjoying sipping my Michter's slowly. Nick was hitting it a little harder. Instead of savoring my $50 a shot whiskey he was gulping it down. "Young punk" I thought as I continued my inquiry.
"So do any of these conquests of yours end up in divorce court?"
"I'm not keeping score, but I'm sure some of them do. I've only been caught a couple of times and I don't stick around for the outcome. I'm in it for the pussy, not looking to steal a guy's wife. My only interest is fucking some hot, ready to trot slut and getting my rocks off. If she gets kicked to the curb, what the fuck to I care?"
"Even if there are kids who get caught in the middle?"
"What the fuck, Brody, are you my priest or my drinking buddy for the night? I'm not out to hurt any kids, but if some mommy wants to jump my bones and roll around for a couple hours, I'm in. Like I said, these married whores are some of the wildest bitches on the planet."
"OK man, I'm not judging. Have any recent examples of ones that turned out shaky?"
He grinned from ear to ear.
"Yeah, about four months ago, I'm back home in Dallas at a local watering hole. Several women come in together. Looks like one of those girls' nights out. Everyone is wearing a wedding ring and at first, they hung together, just drinking and laughing. But I can spot the horny ones a mile away. If you know what to look for, it's easy."
"Anyway, I'm checking them all out, but I keep coming back to a brunette who has beautiful auburn hair and these big brown eyes. She looks to be one of the older ones in the group. Turns out she was 42 and, as I said before, beginning to wonder if she was still sexy. She was hot as fuck, tall with long gorgeous legs that stopped at one of the sweetest asses I've ever seen. Nice tits to boot. I mean she was the whole package, and I was getting some flirtatious smiles back when we made eye contact."
"So, I wait until one or two of the other women were asked to dance before I made my move. You don't ask first. You want a woman who may not be desperate, but one that is looking for someone to tell her she's beautiful. You want the one who is nervous that she hasn't been picked yet. They are the easiest to fuck."
"Anyway, she says yes to a drink and then a dance. Before too long, she's in my arms, grinding on my cock and panting in my ear. I take it slow, lowering my hands, but not going too far too quick. But after a song or two she's moaning as I squeeze and caress her ass. Now I know she's mine."
"We leave quickly and head to a hotel across the street where I proceed to give her the fucking of her life. I mean she's wild for it. Blow job and me eating her, the missionary, followed by her on top riding me. Then in the shower, before me bending her over the desk pounding her from behind while spanking that unbelievable ass. All the while she's groaning, or talking dirty to me, 'fuck yes, fuck me harder, fuck my married pussy you big cocked bastard.' If you like vocal, and I do, you are in heaven."
At this point, Nick takes a breath and collects himself, perhaps realizing he's getting a bit too worked up. He pushes up from the bar stool, "Let me take a leak and then I'll finish the story. You're not going to believe what happened next."
While Nick is gone, I order us two more shots. My associate approaches looking bored. "Anything exciting or unusual?" he asks nonchalantly.
