One Night (at a Time) Stand

He had been flirting, and I knew he was aware I was married.  I decided to flirt back, but I wasn't going to let it go anywhere.  We chatted, toying with one another, testing the waters, and then he asked directly if my husband lets me play.  "What he doesn't know," I said with a naughty grin.

"So you're a wild child?" he asked.

"When the cat's away," I replied playfully.

"I think I hear purring," he said.

"Well, if you put out some catnip," I said, "you may get me to purr."

"You mean if I get you drunk enough?"

"That's not a good strategy," I said.  "You have to convince me I'll have a good time," I added.  "The pussy only plays if she's sure that he'll make it worth it to take the chance."  I liked the playful banter and I was beginning to get interested. He smiled and held his drink up.  He was handsome and wore a very expensive suit.

"So your wife lets you play with other kittens?" I asked, noticing his wedding ring.

"My wife is very open minded," he said.  "She is a bit of an ally cat herself.  I think she is entertaining a mongrel or two right now herself."   I lifted my glass and saluted his good luck.

"My husband isn't so libertarian as that," I said.  "He just shoots all potential suitors he sees.  He is a really good shot," I said with a grin.

"I will have to keep moving," he said.  "You know, not be an easy target.   Can I show you my etchings?" he asked.

"I love etchings," I said.  I was enjoying the repartee, I smiled and moved closer to him.  He handed me another drink and I took it, sipped and nodded.  "You have your etchings with you?" I asked.  He put his hand on my elbow and moved me toward the door.

"It is just a short ride from here.  I have a room."

"How convenient," I said and followed him to his car.  I had never been with another man other than my husband, and I had not expected to let things go this far, but I was getting more and more interested and I thought 'why not', life was not getting any more appealing just sitting at home waiting for the grass to get longer.

My husband was always spouting out about sex being just sex, and he supposedly felt he could be above possessiveness or the green monster of jealousy.  Maybe it was time to challenge his resolve.  Maybe it was time for me to actually live a little and enjoy some sex with a handsome man who knew how to hold a pleasant dialogue about fucking a desperate housewife with a chest full of sexual smothering.

When I got into his car I let my skirt ride up high on my thighs, just enough for him to see my panties.  He responded with a smile and by putting his hand on my knee.  When I didn't protest, he moved it slightly up my thigh.  When his fingers reached my underwear I opened my legs until they were sending a clear signal and he received the signal and put his hand around my pussy.

I didn't know if what I was doing was for spite, or if it was because I was so horny from waiting for my husband to get romantic and attend to my sexual needs.  I wasn't sure if what I said about his shooting my lovers was true or just wishful thinking, but I knew it was what I really wanted at the moment.  I wanted to be fucked, not be made love to, but wildly and passionately fucked like a whore in San Pedro next to the loading docks in a shabby motel just off the freeway.

I was outrageously horny to have a strange man's cock in me and be eaten on dirty sheets in bad lighting.  I was eager to be screwed and eaten and rimmed by someone I didn't know and wouldn't see again.  I wanted to be entered hard and fast and made to come with a shout, and I wanted to suck him until he came in my mouth and expected me to swallow, which I would, and I would love it.

When we got to his hotel I let him escort me to the elevator and feel my ass as we ascended to the twentieth floor.  He lifted my dress and slipped a hand under my panties as we moved up the floors, reaching with his fingers under my underpants and between my puffy, excited pussy lips.  I felt him search for my clit and let one finger slip deep into my vagina and move rapidly back and forth until my head began to spin.

I let him lead me to the hotel room door and leaned on him as he opened it.  He closed the door and started on my blouse in one motion.  I helped him with my skirt and with one hand moved my panties over my bottom, letting them slip to my ankles.  I kicked them away, and then we moved toward the bed as we finished undressing one another, while kissing as we moved backwards.

I didn't have to worry about what he would think of me next week, because there would be no next week.  I fell back on the bed and pulled him to me, opening my thighs and reaching for his hardness.  As I settled on the bed I pulled his cock to my pussy and almost crammed it in without even giving it a chance to get wet.

It hurt a bit, not being properly lubricated, but I pushed myself forward and ignored the pain of being fucked dry.  In a short time my fluids flowed enough to moisten my pussy and allow a smooth in and out.  He began fucking me frantically and in a few minutes I started to come and it was with a shout.

He came nearly at the same time and emptied his balls in me and I didn't care, I just accepted each spurt and, almost spitefully, thought I didn't care if I got pregnant, that it would serve my oblivious husband right to have to raise another man's baby for its entire life.

I imagined I could feel it splash into me, and I savored the feel of another man coming in me, his sperm mixing with my eggs, fertilizing their little hearts out.  When he had finished coming in me I had a desire for something I had never wanted before.  I desperately wanted him to eat me now that he had filled it with semen.  I didn't want to have to ask him to, I just wanted him to do it on his own.   Wallah, he moved to between my legs and began doing exactly what I wanted.

I opened my legs wider and put my hand on top of his head, as if I could direct him to slurp up my juices and swallow his own come.   I pushed down on his head, mashing his face into my wet pussy and urging him to swallow it all, every sloppy ounce of what he had put there and drink. I wanted the most wanton fuck ever thought of in the sleaziest porn flick of all time.  I wanted him to give a razz berry to my cunt and slurp up his come with a long and slutty slurp.

I turned my back to him and offered, without preamble, my wet and horny ass to his limp and sloppy cock that had just shriveled as he ate his own come out of my pussy.  He put his flaccid cock against my behind and rubbed it up and down my slick bottom.  I felt him grow as he moved it between my buns and I lifted up my head and groaned, urging him to hurry up and fuck my anus, which I had never allowed my husband to do.

In just a matter of seconds he was ready and I was impressed.  He had fucked me and come, then within a few seconds he had managed to get his hard on back and was pushing it against my asshole like a marine on a mission.  I arched my back, opening my cheeks, allowing him better access to my puckered back door, and let his cock work its way into my bottom, slowly pushing my anus open and moving into my rectum.

Surprisingly, it felt incredible.  I moaned as he worked it deeper in me, then drew it slowly out most of the way.  Then with one shove, he thrust it hard back into me and I yelled, but I loved it.  I hollered "harder" then relaxed my legs to help him slid back into me with a force that rocked my body a dozen times in a minute.

When he came again my head went down and I came myself once again and clenched my cheeks tight, holding him in me with the force of a closed fist. He came as well, filling me once again with his semen, although I was sure it was a diminished load of cum since he had come already and men are not supposed to be able to come that many times so quickly.

I collapsed on my stomach and I felt him drape over my body.  Then I was out and did not stir until the knock on the door woke us up with a start.  "Maid service," a voice said.  As if she would burst through the door and accost us naked on the sheets, we stood quickly and picked up our clothes.

"Later," he said, composing himself faster than I could even think.  When it was quiet for a few seconds, we both got back in bed and laughed at ourselves.  We stretched out together and then, slowly, we made love.  Softly, gently, without the frantic-one night stand frenzy that had just overwhelmed us.  We simply had sex and enjoyed one another's warmth.

"I was going to tell you this would be our last night together," I said quietly.

"What changed your mind?" he asked.

"That last ten minutes," I said, actually cuddling up to him.  "At first I wanted to just fuck," I said, "but then we made love and I adored it.  "I wanted to be fucked, and you did that.  Then I wanted to be made love to, and you did that, and you did it really, really well."

"I am glad I was able to please you both times," he said.

"Oh you really did, both times," I said calmly and with a quiet laugh.

We usually meet once a month at the same hotel.  They have gotten to know us and reserve the same room, on the same day.  The woman who works the desk gives me a we-frustrated-wives-need-to-watch-out-for-one-another smile, and I smile back as if we belong to the same club.

My husband still thinks he is God's gift to womanhood, and I still let him think that.  We still have our monthly sex on Sunday night ritual and I pretend to be having an orgasm, which he delivers generously and rolls over and is asleep in less than a minute, giving me the time to masturbate myself and think of what I will be getting at 'our hotel' at the end of the month with James. It was not a one-night-stand, as I had intended, but it is a once a month stand which keeps me sane until the night comes when I don't have to fake an orgasm, not even once.