I awake to the sound of my wife Susan stepping out of the shower and opening the door of the bathroom a crack to allow the steam to escape and the mirror to clear. I lie in bed as the dim morning light filters through the blinds, and from the bed, I can just glimpse her in front of the bright lights and mirror where she is getting ready for work. Her blonde, shoulder length hair is dark and damp, clinging to her back. At 37, she is still very sexy, but also very much a woman, with full hips, a very rounded, high, but heavy ass, and surprisingly shapely legs. I can see her reflection in the mirror, as she is leaning forward and putting on lipstick and mascara, and then I almost fall back to sleep as she is blowdrying her hair. I don't fully wake up until she comes into the room and turns on the lights, saying "Come on James, get up. Just because you work at home doesn't mean you get to sleep in."
"Just a few more minutes," I protest, turning over and pulling the blankets around me.
She opens the closet, and drops her towel, and in the full light, she stands before the mirror that hangs on the closet door. She reaches into a drawer for a bra, putting out what looks like a serious piece of engineering, with thick straps and heavy underwire to support her gorgeous, heavy breasts. They are large, rounded globes that still seem to float before her as she moves, with pale pink aureole and nipples that show though almost anything she wears. She has always been both proud and embarrassed of her breasts, and her choice of bra reflects this, supporting them with all that wire and those straps so they will not sag, but also concealing their shape and movement from the eyes of clerks, waiters, and co-workers who are always mesmerized by them. After fastening her bra strap, she chooses simple, white satin panties, and slips into a modest blue wrap dress that falls to just past her knees. She puts on pumps that just barely suggest a heel. She comes over to the bed, gives me a peck on the cheek, and says, "Have a good day honey. I'll be home around 5:30 unless the closing on the Dewer house goes through." As she walks out of the room, her surprisingly high, girlish voice calls out, "Don't sleep too late!"
I lay there as I hear the sounds of the front door closing and then her car backing out of the drive, and my cock is throbbing, but not because my wife was naked and getting dressed in front of me. Had I asked her to stay for a few minutes and have sex with me, she probably would have, but after eleven years of marriage, the stresses of work and life, Susan and I rarely have sex anymore, and sexual intensity of the early years of our marriage has almost entirely faded. Somehow the intimacy of our marriage, our role of help and support in every situation, the awful grind of life, doesn't leave room for us to see each other as sexual objects arousing passion and fulfilling desires. We live a deeply caring friends more than passionate lovers, now, but two weeks ago, my wife became an instantly arousing presence for me, but only when I began to imagine her with another man. Watching my wife get ready for work, I wasn't watching her at all. I was imagining watching another man watch her.
I lay back under the covers, and begin to stroke my cock, letting my hand slide from the base all the way up to the tip, and then back down. I close my eyes, and remember how two weeks ago, driving back from Christmas with my family, we stopped late at night at a motel in the Midwest.
* * *
We had been driving for hours, and the weather was turning bad, with snow flying and visibility becoming bad, and we took the first thing we could find, a little place that looked like it was built during the Kennedy administration on the outskirts of a very small town. In the cold and snow, its neon lights advertising free cable and a pool seemed like paradise, even if the place looked more than a little dilapidated. "Come on honey," I said. "Just grab your purse, it's too cold to mess with all the bags. We'll get them in the morning." We bundled into our coats and went into the desk.
The whole place seemed deserted, and Susan spotted a bell on the desk and rang it. Soon enough, an old and very polite Pakistani man came through a door behind the desk, obviously we had woken him from a deep sleep. "Good evening," he said. "Very good to get off the road in this weather." As I worked out the details of the room, Susan wandered around the lobby, still quite cold. He gave me an old fashioned key with the number 120 on it, and directed me to a glass door leading to a hallway. Susan and I gratefully opened it, tired with driving, and instantly we were surprised by the smell of chlorine. We were in a very very dimly lit, small, indoor pool, with a hot tub next to it. All the light came from the underwater lights, creating a deep blue glow. Our room was accessed by sliding glass door. There were four rooms that opened onto the little pool, but they all seemed to be vacant, and we opened ours and went into to find a big double bed and a bathroom. Susan took off her shoes and went into the bathroom to freshen up, and I gratefully took off my heavy boots, and turned on the heat, and propped myself up on the bed, flipping through the channels. I had a bit of the road daze on me, and I could barely see, but I was wired and not ready to fall asleep.
Susan came out of the bathroom. "This place is so weird" she said. "Its like a time warp. Feels like the 1960s or something." She opened the curtains just enough to look out into the pool. "There doesn't seem to be anybody here but us," she remarked. She walked over to the bed, sat down on the edge, and took off her heavy sweater, and then a turtleneck, and she sat on the edge of the bed, peeling off her socks and then her jeans. Wearing only high-cut white cotton panties and a flimsy, unlined cotton bra, she stretched out on the bed.
"You tired?" I asked her.
"No, just so tense from the long drive and the road. What time is it, anyway?"
"Looks like just about midnight, I said." She got up, and walked around the room, and then she went back to the window, peering out into the dim gloom.
"That hot tub looks great,"she said. "I wish I would have brought my suit."
"Doesn't matter anyway," I replied, "The pool hours probably end at ten or something."
"I think we're the only ones here," she said. "I doubt that old guy would care as long as we were quiet. I'm going to check it out." She wrapped a towel around herself, stepped outside the room, and closed the door. A few minutes later, she reappeared. "It's great," she said. The water so hot I could barely stick my toe in it, and there is nobody around. Come on." I stripped down to my briefs, grabbed a towel, and followed her out.
We slipped into the hot tub, which felt amazing after the road, and began to relax, chatting about our day, Christmas, about wanting to get home. Every so often, it got so hot, one of us would sit up on the edge and cool off for a moment. In the dim light, Susan's bra and panties were completely translucent, and clung to her body, but once she was back under the gently bubbling water, it was hard to tell she wasn't wearing a bikini. We thought we were entirely alone, until we heard the door open, and from one of the rooms we thought was vacant, a man carrying a towel, a small bag, and dressed in black trunks came walking over to the pool. Susan and I looked at each other, but then she shrugged, and slid deeper into the water.
"Hello fellow travelers," he said in a smooth voice. "Do you mind if I join you?"
"Please," I said, motioning with my hand, "the water is warm." He set down the paper bag, and slowly eased himself into the water.
"Oh, that does feel nice after a brutal drive" he said. He was in his mid forties, with dark hair and a bit of belly and a drinker's nose. "Would you care to join me?" he asked, producing from the bag a bottle of vodka. "I'm sorry," I should have some glasses. Before we could even answer, he got up from the hot tub, and padded back to his room. I immediately looked over at Susan.
"Are you ok? Maybe we should go. He can see, well, everything, honey." I gestured to her. She looked down at the water.
"Oh, he seems harmless, and that drink does sound good," she said. "So what if we pay for it by giving him a little thrill. He was wearing a wedding ring, so I don't think he'll try anything Anyway, who says its me he is interested in," she laughed, "maybe its you!" I was surprised by her answer, but not shocked. Susan doesn't regularly drink, but when she does she really enjoys it, but it hits her hard. As a young woman, she wasn't particularly modest, and she was always quite frank about sex, but our sex life cooled off, and she became much more reserved in her professional life as a realtor, always worrying about what other people would think, about any hint of gossip that might affect her business reputation in our close knit community. Our new friend came back carrying classes and an ice bucket, and slipped back into the water.
"My name is Ray," he said, offering me his hand to shake.
"I'm James, and this is my wife Susan," I said, as his warm hand grasped mine tightly. She brought her hand up from under the water and gave a little wave.
"Thanks so much for allowing me to join you," he said. "Let me repay that kindness." I'm sorry I don't have anything to mix this with, but perhaps the ice will take the sting out of it." He made up a glasses for each, handed them out, and then said, "A toast, to shelter in the storm." As we clinked glasses, Susan sat up a bit straighter now, with her breasts just floating just above the water, her bra completely translucent, and as we tipped back our glasses, I could see Ray stealing a glance at her exposed body. What most surprised me, though, was how this made me feel. Instead of feeling angry, or threatened, I suddenly felt a tingle of excitement. I was confused by this, and it look me a minute to even be sure what I was feeling, but then it hit me. This man is looking at my wife. He must have heard us come out, and was probably even watching us for awhile before he decided to try to join us. He must want her, must be turned on at how naked she is, must have seen her sitting on the edge to cool off, and he was so excited by this, he has come out to join us. Just the sight of her body has driven him out of his room tonight. And suddenly, I see my wife of eleven years with different eyes, and everything begins to tingle, and I can feel my cock begin to pulse.
Susan turned to set her drink on the deck, as she said, "Thanks so much, Ray, I really needed that drink. The drive was so scary and stressful today."
"Your welcome," he said, smiling at her. "So where are you two from, and what do you do?"
"I'm a realtor," Susan tells him, taking another drink, "and James works as a freelance writer for a number of non-profit groups."
"What she means," I joke, "Is that she brings home the bacon, and I'm trying to save the world." We all laugh, and Ray takes the bottle and pours us each another drink, telling us that his work keeps him on the road, and that he spends entirely too much time in hotels. As we are drinking and chatting, the hot tub is growing almost unbearable, and Susan finishes her drink, and then slowly pulls herself up onto the edge of the deck. The water streams off her body, her nipples are as visible as if she wasn't wearing a bra, and the wet fabric clinging to her makes he look even sexier. Her wet panties reveal her neatly trimmed pubic hair. Ray doesn't steal a glance this time, but openly stares at her, his eyes roving up and down her body. Susan meets his gaze, and hands him her empty glass, leaning towards him, "fill me up," she says. Ray takes the bottle, and makes her another drink, and while his attention is on the glass, she winks at me, before she slips back under the gently bubbling water.
