We were out of town staying at a nice hotel. I'm on business but my wife is along for the trip.
I was supposed to be done with my meeting by 4 or so and had agreed to
meet my wife in the bar at 5 and then to proceed to a nice dinner.
But things ran a bit late and add to that the traffic and I didn't
arrive until almost 5:30.
And there she is at the bar, sitting on a high chair, looking nicely
dressed in a white blouse and a nice grey checked skirt and black stockings.
But the next thing I notice is that there's a man standing there with
his arm on the back of her chair clearly chatting her up.
He's perhaps in his late 30's or early 40's. Tall and a bit chunky with
a close cropped haircut.
It's hard to say what the tone of this conversation was but she seems to
be trying to almost ignore him and face the bar but her chair is turned
slightly outward and as I said his arm is on the back of it as he talks.
As I walk up she notices me and says "hi" almost in surprise.
"Sorry I'm late", I say as I lean in and kiss her.
The guy steps ever so slightly out of the way and then says "Oh, sorry"
and then walks away to the other end of the bar.
I ask her who that was and she says "no one, just some guy who was
talking about the hotel".
She seems sincere as though it's really no big deal.
"Looked like he was trying to pick you up" I say with as much of a laugh
as I can manage.
She really DOES laugh out loud. "Well probably! But that's what you get
for being late."
It's all rather light and easy and nothing threatening or even seeming
all that real.
Just nothing.
So I order a drink and we talk for a few minutes.
And then I excuse myself and go to the loo.
Well, it's a small one person Men's room near the bar and so I have to
wait for a few minutes and it's perhaps 10 minutes or so by the time I
get back.
And when I do round the corner back towards the bar, there he is again
with his arm around her chair.
This time I have a better look and she seems much more engaged now. Kind
of smiling and then looking concerned in turns.
I take this in for a minute but think it's best not to take too long.
So I walk back and sit down again next to her, to her left.
He looks at me.
"Hi!" she says again, this time seeming a bit startled or uncomfortable.
He reaches out his hand "Hey, I'm Mark."
I shake his hand.
"So how do you know Barbara?" he asks! Using her first name, which is a
surprise.
"She's my WIFE" I say trying not to sound too strained.
"REALLY!" he says as though he has to think it over or be convinced.
She's looking very uncomfortable and actually squirming a bit trying to
move closer toward me but he's standing almost in the way leaning over.
And his arm is still on the back of that chair.
"So we were just having a nice little chat, right Barbara?"
At this she sort of grimaces as though she wished he'd just go away and
it's then that I notice, as she tries to shift away, that his hand is
actually inside the back of her chair, on her lower back!
I feel like I should say something but I'm dumbstruck. Is she
encouraging this? Does she want this? Do I?
What IS going on? Probably nothing, I still tell myself.
And then he's chattering away making small talk, as she said about the
hotel.
Do I like the area? Have I been to the spa? Have we eaten at the Italian
restaurant? Aren't the beds nice? and on and on.
It's small talk nonsense. But all the while I am aware of that hand on
her back and how she shifts in her chair form time to time.
Another drink or two each has been consumed when I say something about
having to head off to dinner soon.
At that point he looks right at her.
Staring at her face.
She turns away looking uncomfortable.
"Well, I'll tell you what, Barbara and I were talking before you got
back, right Barbara?" again she glares, "and I think maybe you guys
should come up to my room for a minute and talk."
At this point she turns toward him quickly and says "No, I don't
think..."
He cuts her off, and as he does so he tightens his grasp so his arm is
CLEARLY around her waist with his hand on his her hip. Almost like a
hug. He takes his other hand and puts in on top of her leg at mid-thigh.
Her eyes look BIG.
"No, I think we should just talk for a minute or two huh?"
"What's going on?" I say.
He's already calling for the check and barking out a room number at the
bartender.
He takes her hand and stands her up as he starts to walk off and I find
myself trailing after as fast as I can.
And weird as the whole thing seems, a minute later we're walking into
the front room of his suite.
"Have a seat!" he says being all friendly and relaxed as he motions to
the armchair.
I go to sit in one thinking she'll just sit in the other, but of course
he takes her hand again and sits down on the love-seat. And that forces
her to sit next to him.
"so, really..." I start to stammer out an objection to not knowing what
this is all about but he again cuts off any discussion.
So, ______, does Barbara have a hairy pussy?"
What!!? I can't believe he's just said that, and by the look of contempt
from her, neither can she.
"I had a good feel of her ass but I'm really imagining that lovely pussy
now."
She tries to push him away and move away from him, but he tightens his
grasp around her waist.
"Look ____, it's probably obvious but I want to fuck Barbara,"
and at this she starts to look REALLY upset and starts to interrupt and
he does something quite amazing.
He simply takes his hand and places it right onto her breast.
And instead of it freaking her out further it seems to stun her into
silence almost like rubbing a crocodile's belly.
"... and she wants me to fuck her" he finishes.
Well THIS is incredible. And he can see the look on my face.
"Believe me we were talking about it at the bar when you were gone and
she's wondering right now how her pussy is going to feel getting
fucked."
Well my wife is NOT at all the type for this kind of conversation.
I should say she's 54 years old, and sexy but only in a private sort of
way. Not at all flirty or by any means a "hotwife" or swinger.
And frankly I would find it hard to believe she would have had such a
conversation, except that she's sitting there with this guy's hand on
her tit.
And she starts to protest vigorously.
"Listen, I don't know what you think you're doing, but I am NOT in the
least interested in whatever tawdry fantasy you think you're having..."
All this time he's sitting there with a hand on her breast though
through her blouse!
And he lets her finish and then he takes a finger and places it to her
lips. And then let's it trail down over her mouth, down her chin, down
her neck and slowly into her cleavage.
She looks at him in disbelief, as though she literally cannot believe
this man is just ignoring her protests.
And he's sort of tracing a little pattern in the spot between her
breasts with one finger while the other hand is around her waist.
"So_______," he turns to me again as though he remembered I was even
there!, "down in the bar, when I had my hand in the back of her skirt"
she glares again at him, " I think she was ready to find out what a good
fuck was like. And then you arrived and we kind of got off track."
I start to say SOMETHING, but I can't remember what, my mind reeling.
"Anyway," he interrupts me again, " I think I'm going to take Barbara
into the bedroom and you can wait here or if you think that's going to
be too rough you can come back in an hour or two. What do you think?"
And then they both look at me!
He's kind of smirking, and she looks like a deer in the headlights.
I feel sick to my stomach. Overwhelmed. Freaked out. Confused.
"I, I, I" I say as he smirks some more.
I look hard at her.
"I guess it's up to her, isn't it?" I say kind of timidly.
And then there is a noticeable change. Like the lighting or the
temperature in the room does a clear shift.
And she looks at me and glares HARD. Like she's angry.
What? I think to myself.
But he isn't new to this kind of thing. He FEELS the shift.
And he acts immediately.
He takes that finger that's in her cleavage and uses that hand and
unbuttons that first closed button on her blouse, and places his hand
inside the blouse and onto her right breast. All on it, cupping it in
his hand and squeezing.
She looks at him, looking annoyed. Is she annoyed at him? At me? At
everything?
He laughs and leans in and says something in a low voice right into her
ear, nuzzling her neck. Her head sort of rolls back as she listens and
I'm looking in disbelief and shock as he massages her breast under her
blouse.
At this, she looks over at me again, and again there's that glare. She
looks pissed off.
But without any other words, he stands up and so does she, and he sort
of points her at the bedroom door and she heads in with him behind her,
his hands on her hips.
I see him smirk at me as he closes the door behind him.
For the next few minutes all I can hear is him talking in a low voice,
although I can't hear what he's saying.
And then it's too quiet.
Nothing.
And the quiet is freaking me out, picturing what's going on.
And then out of the quiet a rhythmic noise.
The sound of the bed squeaking gently.
And then moans.
He's talking again in that low voice, and in between I hear her
groaning. A kind of rhythmic grunt, that I know too well.
I can picture that each grunt is caused by a body slamming into hers.
He was right, maybe I should have gone away and come back.
Or I should have said "NO! It's not okay. NO, it's not up to her. NO you
can't fuck my lovely sweet wife."
But I DIDN'T.
And now I'm sitting hear listening and imagining and going slowly crazy and feeling sick and...
And now, I can hear it getting faster.
And he's getting louder.
I can hear him saying "come".
"Come, come, come."
And then I hear her scream and it's cut off quickly. As though she
covers her mouth or buries her face in the pillow.
But it's clear that she's come.
And the noise continues.
Until I hear him groan out loud, making no attempt to stifle his
noises.
It's quiet for a while after that.
And then the door opens and he walks out in a robe.
"Listen, ______, I think it would be better if you go down and make a
dinner reservation for about 8. She'll meet you in the bar around then.
But she doesn't want to come out right now. I know what I'm going to eat," he adds with a smirk under his breath.
And I can see the logic in that in a twisted way.
I mean what do you SAY to your wife when she's just fucked a guy? What
does she say to me?
So without saying a word, I get up and go.
As I'm walking out the door I see him pull the belt to untie his robe as he walks away...
I was supposed to be done with my meeting by 4 or so and had agreed to
meet my wife in the bar at 5 and then to proceed to a nice dinner.
But things ran a bit late and add to that the traffic and I didn't
arrive until almost 5:30.
And there she is at the bar, sitting on a high chair, looking nicely
dressed in a white blouse and a nice grey checked skirt and black stockings.
But the next thing I notice is that there's a man standing there with
his arm on the back of her chair clearly chatting her up.
He's perhaps in his late 30's or early 40's. Tall and a bit chunky with
a close cropped haircut.
It's hard to say what the tone of this conversation was but she seems to
be trying to almost ignore him and face the bar but her chair is turned
slightly outward and as I said his arm is on the back of it as he talks.
As I walk up she notices me and says "hi" almost in surprise.
"Sorry I'm late", I say as I lean in and kiss her.
The guy steps ever so slightly out of the way and then says "Oh, sorry"
and then walks away to the other end of the bar.
I ask her who that was and she says "no one, just some guy who was
talking about the hotel".
She seems sincere as though it's really no big deal.
"Looked like he was trying to pick you up" I say with as much of a laugh
as I can manage.
She really DOES laugh out loud. "Well probably! But that's what you get
for being late."
It's all rather light and easy and nothing threatening or even seeming
all that real.
Just nothing.
So I order a drink and we talk for a few minutes.
And then I excuse myself and go to the loo.
Well, it's a small one person Men's room near the bar and so I have to
wait for a few minutes and it's perhaps 10 minutes or so by the time I
get back.
And when I do round the corner back towards the bar, there he is again
with his arm around her chair.
This time I have a better look and she seems much more engaged now. Kind
of smiling and then looking concerned in turns.
I take this in for a minute but think it's best not to take too long.
So I walk back and sit down again next to her, to her left.
He looks at me.
"Hi!" she says again, this time seeming a bit startled or uncomfortable.
He reaches out his hand "Hey, I'm Mark."
I shake his hand.
"So how do you know Barbara?" he asks! Using her first name, which is a
surprise.
"She's my WIFE" I say trying not to sound too strained.
"REALLY!" he says as though he has to think it over or be convinced.
She's looking very uncomfortable and actually squirming a bit trying to
move closer toward me but he's standing almost in the way leaning over.
And his arm is still on the back of that chair.
"So we were just having a nice little chat, right Barbara?"
At this she sort of grimaces as though she wished he'd just go away and
it's then that I notice, as she tries to shift away, that his hand is
actually inside the back of her chair, on her lower back!
I feel like I should say something but I'm dumbstruck. Is she
encouraging this? Does she want this? Do I?
What IS going on? Probably nothing, I still tell myself.
And then he's chattering away making small talk, as she said about the
hotel.
Do I like the area? Have I been to the spa? Have we eaten at the Italian
restaurant? Aren't the beds nice? and on and on.
It's small talk nonsense. But all the while I am aware of that hand on
her back and how she shifts in her chair form time to time.
Another drink or two each has been consumed when I say something about
having to head off to dinner soon.
At that point he looks right at her.
Staring at her face.
She turns away looking uncomfortable.
"Well, I'll tell you what, Barbara and I were talking before you got
back, right Barbara?" again she glares, "and I think maybe you guys
should come up to my room for a minute and talk."
At this point she turns toward him quickly and says "No, I don't
think..."
He cuts her off, and as he does so he tightens his grasp so his arm is
CLEARLY around her waist with his hand on his her hip. Almost like a
hug. He takes his other hand and puts in on top of her leg at mid-thigh.
Her eyes look BIG.
"No, I think we should just talk for a minute or two huh?"
"What's going on?" I say.
He's already calling for the check and barking out a room number at the
bartender.
He takes her hand and stands her up as he starts to walk off and I find
myself trailing after as fast as I can.
And weird as the whole thing seems, a minute later we're walking into
the front room of his suite.
"Have a seat!" he says being all friendly and relaxed as he motions to
the armchair.
I go to sit in one thinking she'll just sit in the other, but of course
he takes her hand again and sits down on the love-seat. And that forces
her to sit next to him.
"so, really..." I start to stammer out an objection to not knowing what
this is all about but he again cuts off any discussion.
So, ______, does Barbara have a hairy pussy?"
What!!? I can't believe he's just said that, and by the look of contempt
from her, neither can she.
"I had a good feel of her ass but I'm really imagining that lovely pussy
now."
She tries to push him away and move away from him, but he tightens his
grasp around her waist.
"Look ____, it's probably obvious but I want to fuck Barbara,"
and at this she starts to look REALLY upset and starts to interrupt and
he does something quite amazing.
He simply takes his hand and places it right onto her breast.
And instead of it freaking her out further it seems to stun her into
silence almost like rubbing a crocodile's belly.
"... and she wants me to fuck her" he finishes.
Well THIS is incredible. And he can see the look on my face.
"Believe me we were talking about it at the bar when you were gone and
she's wondering right now how her pussy is going to feel getting
fucked."
Well my wife is NOT at all the type for this kind of conversation.
I should say she's 54 years old, and sexy but only in a private sort of
way. Not at all flirty or by any means a "hotwife" or swinger.
And frankly I would find it hard to believe she would have had such a
conversation, except that she's sitting there with this guy's hand on
her tit.
And she starts to protest vigorously.
"Listen, I don't know what you think you're doing, but I am NOT in the
least interested in whatever tawdry fantasy you think you're having..."
All this time he's sitting there with a hand on her breast though
through her blouse!
And he lets her finish and then he takes a finger and places it to her
lips. And then let's it trail down over her mouth, down her chin, down
her neck and slowly into her cleavage.
She looks at him in disbelief, as though she literally cannot believe
this man is just ignoring her protests.
And he's sort of tracing a little pattern in the spot between her
breasts with one finger while the other hand is around her waist.
"So_______," he turns to me again as though he remembered I was even
there!, "down in the bar, when I had my hand in the back of her skirt"
she glares again at him, " I think she was ready to find out what a good
fuck was like. And then you arrived and we kind of got off track."
I start to say SOMETHING, but I can't remember what, my mind reeling.
"Anyway," he interrupts me again, " I think I'm going to take Barbara
into the bedroom and you can wait here or if you think that's going to
be too rough you can come back in an hour or two. What do you think?"
And then they both look at me!
He's kind of smirking, and she looks like a deer in the headlights.
I feel sick to my stomach. Overwhelmed. Freaked out. Confused.
"I, I, I" I say as he smirks some more.
I look hard at her.
"I guess it's up to her, isn't it?" I say kind of timidly.
And then there is a noticeable change. Like the lighting or the
temperature in the room does a clear shift.
And she looks at me and glares HARD. Like she's angry.
What? I think to myself.
But he isn't new to this kind of thing. He FEELS the shift.
And he acts immediately.
He takes that finger that's in her cleavage and uses that hand and
unbuttons that first closed button on her blouse, and places his hand
inside the blouse and onto her right breast. All on it, cupping it in
his hand and squeezing.
She looks at him, looking annoyed. Is she annoyed at him? At me? At
everything?
He laughs and leans in and says something in a low voice right into her
ear, nuzzling her neck. Her head sort of rolls back as she listens and
I'm looking in disbelief and shock as he massages her breast under her
blouse.
At this, she looks over at me again, and again there's that glare. She
looks pissed off.
But without any other words, he stands up and so does she, and he sort
of points her at the bedroom door and she heads in with him behind her,
his hands on her hips.
I see him smirk at me as he closes the door behind him.
For the next few minutes all I can hear is him talking in a low voice,
although I can't hear what he's saying.
And then it's too quiet.
Nothing.
And the quiet is freaking me out, picturing what's going on.
And then out of the quiet a rhythmic noise.
The sound of the bed squeaking gently.
And then moans.
He's talking again in that low voice, and in between I hear her
groaning. A kind of rhythmic grunt, that I know too well.
I can picture that each grunt is caused by a body slamming into hers.
He was right, maybe I should have gone away and come back.
Or I should have said "NO! It's not okay. NO, it's not up to her. NO you
can't fuck my lovely sweet wife."
But I DIDN'T.
And now I'm sitting hear listening and imagining and going slowly crazy and feeling sick and...
And now, I can hear it getting faster.
And he's getting louder.
I can hear him saying "come".
"Come, come, come."
And then I hear her scream and it's cut off quickly. As though she
covers her mouth or buries her face in the pillow.
But it's clear that she's come.
And the noise continues.
Until I hear him groan out loud, making no attempt to stifle his
noises.
It's quiet for a while after that.
And then the door opens and he walks out in a robe.
"Listen, ______, I think it would be better if you go down and make a
dinner reservation for about 8. She'll meet you in the bar around then.
But she doesn't want to come out right now. I know what I'm going to eat," he adds with a smirk under his breath.
And I can see the logic in that in a twisted way.
I mean what do you SAY to your wife when she's just fucked a guy? What
does she say to me?
So without saying a word, I get up and go.
As I'm walking out the door I see him pull the belt to untie his robe as he walks away...
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