My Hotwife and Damon

"Hi, baby. How's it going at the competition?"

"Fine; I'm just bored, sitting around all day again. But I found a good spot to hang out and drink the wine I brought!"

"Good. Sorry it's so boring. We're just running out to grab dinner. Will you send me a picture of my hot little wife to enjoy?"

"Ugh; you're so predictable!"

A few minutes later, you're touching up your make up to take a nice selfie for me. You snap a couple, but aren't happy with the result.

"Excuse me, miss. Want me to take that for you?" You're startled, and look up. One of the instructors that you had seen earlier is standing there. He laughs. "Sorry, I didn't mean to surprise you. You're here with the competition, right?"

You're a little slow to respond, as you're only halfway through your second glass of wine. That, and this guy is HOT! Super handsome, really fit, tall. "Oh, yeah. I was just bored, and my husband asked me to send him a photo. How did you know I'm here for the competition?"

"Oh, I noticed you earlier, with your daughter. You're a little hard not to notice." He smiles.

Wow, you think. He has a great smile. You talk with him some more, flirting a bit, joking about how you're not a typical minivan dance mom and other nonsense. He mentions that he lives in New York, so you talk about your time living there. It's a fun, flirty, mostly harmless conversation.

"Well, I have to get back to the competition. But it's fun meeting you, Lisa. Can I join you for a glass of wine when my I'm free in 20 minutes?"

Is he just being nice? Or he is like, "asking me" to have a drink with him? "I don't know if I'll have any left by then, Damon." You both laugh. "All right; I see how it is. But don't go anywhere; I'll see you soon."

Oh my god, you think. He was definitely flirting with me. Oh shit; are any of the dance mom's around? You look around, before remembering that they had all left to go to a nearby restaurant. So what if they were? Fuck those bitches; I'm not doing anything wrong!

As you sit there, you start thinking about your conversations with me. About what I, your husband, encourage you to do. You're not going to actually do anything, you know that. but it's fun to think about...

A little while later, you finish your third and final glass of wine right as Damon walks up to you. "Hey there; did you save me some?"

"Nope! You're too slow, mister. Sorry!"

"Well, I kind of figured that, Lisa. It's a good thing that I have a couple of bottles in the fridge in my room. I love this vineyard in Paso Robles; you have to try some."

Your mind starts racing; so does your heart rate. You're slow to respond. Is he really asking me to go to his room? No way. Vic would kill me! You laugh, to buy some time, and comment about how you love Paso Robles. "Well, you better go get that bottle, Damon!"

He sits down in the chair next to you; scoots it closer. MUCH closer than people normally sit. Your heart races faster. He leans in towards your ear. You can almost feel his deep voice along with his breath on your neck. "Look, Melissa. I know you're married, so I don't mean to be disrespectful of that. You are a gorgeous woman; by far the sexiest dance mom I've seen here." You both laugh; it helps to break the tension, but wow, you're still flustered. He leans back in. "I know you can't be seen drinking wine with some strange man; there are other mom's here from your group. I also know we only have a short window of time. But, I'd like to have a quiet glass of wine with you. in my room. It can be just that; two fun, smart, attractive people enjoying each other's company. Or, it can be more."

He pauses. Looks intently at your eyes to gauge your reaction. Confidently, he says, "I'm in room 431. I'm headed there now. I have about 90 minutes until I have to be back at the competition. I hope we can spend that time together." He smiles, stands, and walks away. You're watching him, too stunned to really think anything other than "He has a nice ass..." He turns his head, looks back and sees you watching him. He turns all the way around, facing you as he walks backwards. He makes a "come on" motion with his hands and smiles. Holy shit; you can see that he's packing. The outline in his jeans looks too big to be real...

As he disappears around the corner, you finally start to pull yourself together. "No way!" You tell yourself. No way. Vic would kill me. What the fuck am I even thinking? But, all those conversations, all the bedroom play, start to race through your mind. This is insane. It's intoxicating. Maybe that's just the wine? No, it's more than just the wine. You grab your phone and text me.

"Hey baby. Can you talk?" You send.

"Sure. What's up?"

"So, all that hotwife stuff we talk about? You exaggerate right?"

"WHAT?! Ha. No. I want all of that for you and more baby. Tell me! Is something happening?!"

You tell me about Damon; about the fun conversation, etc. And about his closing lines to you. As you retell it, you can feel yourself getting excited again. I tell you that I need to leave the restaurant where I am so I can go home and focus on this, but my hard on is raging and I can't stand up.

"But baby; you always said you want to be there, to watch."

"And I do. But shit! I don't want you to miss out. You're overdue for an amazing hotwife experience baby. This sounds like it's too good to miss out on!"

We go back and forth some more. You realize we've been texting for 10 minutes. You're still flustered, a little shaky.

"Listen, baby." I text. "I love you more than anything. If you want to do this, do it. SHIT. You have to! Even if it's just a glass of wine in his room, it's exciting. God, it will be agony for me wondering what's happening. But it will be fun for you. Just go have a drink. Nothing more. BUT! If you want to do more, you have my complete permission baby. But please, take photos!! 😊"

"You're crazy. it's some strange guy; I'm not going to his room to get murdered!"

"Look; I want you to be safe. Of course. But, he's with the competition. He's not just some random guy...Here, do this: Take a photo of yourself in front of his door so I can see the room number. Then, when you get in the room, take a selfie with him and send that to me, too. Tell him you're sending it to me so he knows that we know who he is."

You pause. I write again: "Well? are you gonna go????"

"I kinda want to, but what about us?? Are you sure you're ok with your wife going to someone's hotel room..."

"Baby, tell you what. You know that small zippered pocket in your purse? Open it."

Confused, you open your purse, find the pocket. Reach in. "Are you fucking kidding me? When did you put magnums in my purse!"

"😊 this morning. I've been fantasizing about something like this ever since your night of flirting at the Cleveland hotel. I wanted you to be prepared, just in case. But remember-you can leave after a glass of wine. Or you can take lots more photos and videos for me!

A few minutes later, you're walking into the elevator. "It's just a drink, that's all" you tell yourself. You have about an hour until you have to be back downstairs. You set an alarm on your phone, just to be sure, then press the 4 button. Before you know it, the elevator dings and the doors slide open. You can't believe how badly your legs are shaking as you walk down the hallway. You look over your shoulder, worried about anyone seeing you. You approach his door, are about to knock, but then remember the photo. God, you can barely breathe, let alone smile for a selfie. But, you take it, send it to me. I immediately reply "Fuck baby. I'm so excited for you. I can't even think. Have fun; you're in control. Don't forget to take one of him!"

You knock. Damon answers the door a few seconds later, with a big smile and quietly says your name. "Lisa. I'm so glad you came. Come on in." Faintly, you hear some R&B music playing in the background.

He laughs when you tell him about the photo with him for your husband. But he gives you a knowing smile. "Actually, Lisa, I'm kind of familiar with this sort of thing." As you pose next to him in the mirror, he puts his arm around you and pulls you close. His large hand is resting on your hip. You take the photo. He tells you to take one more. This time, though, he pulls you into him, facing him, and wraps his arms around your body. He grins at you, then firmly grabs your ass. "Send him this one, too."

You take the photo, and send it, but you're so in the moment, so quickly, that you don't even wait to see my reply before your hands are all over each other and he pulls you towards the bed.