TITLE    : Out of Town
STORYID  : out-of-town-2
SUMMARY  : She takes a wife &shares her with a stranger.
AUTHOR   : blueboar@lit
DATE     : 2001-09-26
CATEGORY : loving-wives
FLAGS    : 
TAGS     : |none|


I caught them by accident, glancing to my right to watch the cute waitress as she walked to a table. They were walking in, and immediately I knew what they were looking for. Friday night. Conservative hotel, with plenty of professionals. Pleasant couple, though--mid, maybe late thirties. 



His wondering eyes told the story. They shifted side to side rapidly, trying to adjust to the dark wood bar and low, gold light as they took a seat. 



Why? I wanted to shout. Go home and get naked. That'll take care of any problems you have. Take your wife and get the fuck out of here. Go fuck yourselves silly. But, no, those eyes, side to side, trying to assess the situation, hoping to leave quickly now that the realization of what they'd talked to about was becoming concrete. I wanted nothing to do with them. It had happened before and . . . I was too old now.



I turned from them and asked the barkeep for another drink. Great city, Chicago, so different from the East. More robust, less affected. And what a little treasure the Ambassador had turned out to be. Good thing, Fran, my secretary was typically lazy and booked the reservations for the Four Season's too late.



I smiled, thinking about the Hitchcock movie, where Grant and, shit, what was her name? That one, the one with James Mason. Couldn't remember. Fuck it.



I turned again to see the couple and saw that they'd gotten up and taken a seat in a booth in the corner. The table had been too much in the open. This was probably a better position for two half-hearted swingers.



They exchanged a couple of words and the guy got up and walked to the bar. Gary Grant, he was not. She, on the other hand, did, she did look a little like . . . shit. What was her name. Leggy, icy blond. Something St. Something. Fuck. Great movie. Right. North by Northwest. The crop-duster coming down on top of you, the dramatic finale and the hanging on by Lincoln's ear. Nothing like good old Hitchcock.



"Two vodkas and tonics," he ordered, his voice too loud, unnatural, rushed by adrenaline.



I smiled at him and returned, looking down, to my drink. I could tell he was studying me, trying to be subtle, but . . . why bother?



"Fifteen dollars," the barkeep announced, reaching down to put away the bottle of Absolut.



"On me," I said, without thinking about it. Why not? Tease 'em a little. Why not?



His hand was stuck in his jacket-pocket.



"Pardon," he quivered.



"I'm celebrating," I smiled. "Big deal closed today. On me."



He stared at me for a moment and then made up his mind it was okay and reached for the drinks.



"Thanks."



I nodded, winking at the barkeep who smiled back.



The man started walking away, but stopped.



"Heh, do you want to join us for a cocktail . . . unless, you know, you're with someone?"



"With no one," I said, and felt myself dragging off the high chair. "Sure. One drink'll be fine." 



* * *



She was a doctor's assistant. He was low middle-management at some drug company in Chicago's northern suburbs. That's what they were, with two kids under ten, which came out as an after-thought. With the grandmother so the two of them could get out. Been a while since they'd been out. Should've gone dancing, I volunteered, but they wanted something quiet, instead.



It was sad, watching them fidget, faking their laughter, trying to act normal. Their connection, whatever, had gone away long ago. Now they were seeing if anything would help. They didn't know what they were doing. I knew how it was.



We were silent for a bit. Up close, they looked older, more tired than I'd thought. A long week for each of them, taking shit from their bosses, going through the dismal routine, only to start another, more awful routine at home, where they couldn't pretend to be happy like they had the eight earlier hours at work.



"How do we get like this?" I asked.



They were confused, of course.



"Like this," I said, motioning to the three of us.



They sat, dumb.



"You know, God, think about college. How exciting it was. The possibilities. Everything open. Now . . ."



"Isn't making a living, raising a family enough?" she asked, doubt in her voice, not looking at me.



"I don't know."



We were silent, again.



"Do you want another drink?" he asked pointing to my empty glass.



I shook my head. "Got to get to sleep. Early flight tomorrow."



They nodded, in unison, sad.



"Nice meeting you," I said, standing up, groaning a little as I stretched my legs.



"Yeah," they said.



I turned and started walking away when I heard his "hey" calling me. I turned back and smiled.



They were staring at me, waiting for me to return.



I smiled. Don't do it. Give it a rest, but felt myself move ahead, anyway.



"Did I forget something?"



"No," he breathed.



I waited.



"We were wondering if you, you know. . ."



I nodded, waiting.



"If you wanted to get a drink somewhere else."



I shook my head. "Thanks. I appreciate that. Really. But it's a little late."



They looked at each other and I sensed relief in his face. She would have one last go.



"We could have a drink in your room," she said, asking more than proposing.



I stood over them, thinking back to the first time something like this had happened to me. Three weeks after I started waiting tables in a downtown hotel in Manhattan. Twenty-one. Fuck. Twenty-one years old. A couple, like this one. After that it was almost regular. Sometimes once a month in the busy hotel, other times nothing for half a year or more. I tried to count how many times. In college. At work. Lots. Too many. And it always blew my mind and I'd always ask why after. It couldn't be a flippant decision, could it? An overly aggressive imagination getting the best of them. Something must have triggered it. What?



There were only so many perverts out there, really. Most of the couples, almost all, were normal, frightened, trying it for the first time. Were they trying to kill the patient with this crap? The women split fifty-fifty, whether they liked it. They pretended not to, but about half did, simply because it was new, the environment controlled. The guys were all for it in the beginning, but when it was over, few would look at you or their lady on her back in the bed. Fuck. Two kids, these two.



They were waiting.



And then I felt that feeling growing inside. Triumph. Victory in the primal competition to mate. The sympathy and doubts were seeping away. I would fuck her. What a joke. Play along. Fuck it. Lay it down.



I smiled. "Are you two looking for a little adventure?"



She smiled, for an instant and then, blushing deeply, turned away. He paled, of course, looking down at his feet.



"I'm sorry--I hope I'm not making a fool of myself. I simply want to make sure we're on the same page here."



They looked at each other again and she nodded.



* * *



"Have you done this before?" she swallowed.



I smiled.



She turned away, taking a deep breath and the elevator door opened. I took her hand and softly squeezed it. It was trembling, cold. We stepped out, together. He was downstairs. 



* * *



Her eyes glistened in the darkness, her lipstick was smudged, a blond strand of hair tugged down to her nose, and she was trying to cover her stomach with one hand, trying to hide her cesarean scar, as I knelt over her, holding my erect, saliva soaked cock between her spread gartered thighs.



I shook my head, smiling down at her and took her shaking hand away, pulling it with her other hand, both now over her head.



She looked away, when she felt me enter her and then she gasped loudly lifting her soft ass up as I pushed down hard and in, into her wet softness. I could feel her juices against my thighs and balls, her tight heated grip surrounding me. She was wonderful, a little out of shape, but quite nice.



I rocked in and out, slowly, bringing gasps and moans from her, opening her up. I could tell as my tip pushed tightly against the burning rigid lips of her cervix and from her moans each time it happened that her husband never quite got in that deeply.



I lay fully on top of her, putting all my weight on. "Harder?" I whispered.



"Yes," she gasped. "Yes. God. Yes."



I reached underneath with one hand and lifted her up, using her body for leverage. She groaned now, almost screaming, as slammed into her, grinding against her, holding her tightly against me.



Our fucking continued and when it was over we held each other, trying to catch our breaths.



She reached forward, lifting her small sweat stained red face and kissed me for the first time.



* * *



"I should get going," she finally said, as she pulled her hand off me chest. Her head rested on my shoulder. I nodded. She sighed and got off the bed.



I smiled as she quickly gathered her clothes off the ground and sort of scurried into the bathroom like a frightened little kitten.



I shook my head, rubbing my hand on the large sticky wet spot on the bed where she'd been next to me. She lets me fuck her, but doesn't want me to see her naked, getting dressed. Fuck it. I sat up. Get dressed. Be a gentleman. Escort her back to her waiting, patient and oh-so forgiving husband. Forgiving? Fuckhead probably thought up the idea.



What a joke.



I was dressed when she came out. She looked at me, surprised.



"I'll escort you down."



"You don't have to," she said almost pleading.



"No, don't worry. I'm not going to meet him or anything like that. I understand I'm the last person he'll want to see right now. I simply want to make sure you get to the lobby okay."



She smiled, nodding, relieved.



We stepped to the door and she stopped me, trying to pin me against the wall and then, on her straining toes, kissed me.



"Thank you," she whispered as her warm almost damp body quivered next to mine.



I laughed. "Are you crazy? I'm the grateful one, here."



"Did you like me?" she continued.



"Very much," I replied and kissed her again. 



* * *



The elevator door opened and I was about to motion her to enter when a couple stumbled out, laughing. They were each holding a glass of champagne and it spilled a little on the floor and on us.



"I'm so sorry," the guy burbled, trying to brush clean her blouse. She recoiled, instinctively, and took a step back, looking at me, a little frightened.



"No problem," I grinned and took her hand. I tried to maneuver us around them, but the elevator door closed.



"Missed the last train leaving the station," the woman laughed.



I nodded and pressed the down button. They were in their late thirties, maybe, a little too loud and big-haired but attractive enough.



I smiled at her as she stood rigidly next to me and she tried shrugging.



"Where are you two heading for?" the drunk man asked.



"Stepping out," I replied.



"Why?" his companion giggled.



"Hey, you guys ain't criminals or anything, are you?" the drunk man joined in.



I will be shortly if you don't shut up. I shook my head.



"Come on, we're about to get drunk. Join us," he continued.



I studied them and heard the door to the elevator open again and felt her warm wet small hand trying to drag me away.



"You two want to party?" I teased and saw her eyes pleading with me that she had to get back down to her husband.



"We always want to party," brunette big-hair giggled.



I heard the door close again and the two drunks smiled at me. I looked at her, trying to assess what she was thinking. She wanted to leave. The evening was through for her. She'd gotten what she came for. But I had just fucked her, right? Her husband was waiting downstairs to hear the gory details. Expand the story. Why not? The two drunks looked perfectly fine. In fact, better than fine.



"My name's Darryl Thompson," I lied, "and this is my wife . . ." What the fuck was her name? I hadn't . . .



Brunette big-hair laughed, "You forgot her name?"



"Laura," I smiled.



The two laughed, enjoying my obvious lies.



"Well," he began, "I'm, let's see, Byron, um, Johnson and this is my wife--what do you want your name to be, honey?"



She smiled. "I always wanted to be Cindy."



"Great," he laughed. "Cindy, that's my wife's name."



My "Laura" wanted to cut it short.



"Honey," she tried to smile, "I'd really like to step out, okay?"



"Oh, don't be a party-pooper," Byron scolded, putting his arm around her waist and then pulled her tightly to him. She stood rigid, horrified. "Come on, we're all adults. Little good, clean fun never hurt nobody."



This was wonderful. My Laura was a good person, I could tell, easily. A good mother, a good, hard-working employee, a good wife. She didn't deserve to be treated so lightly. But then, again, she had no business being spread eagle in my hotel room half an hour ago to begin with. But she had. Whether it was her idea or schmucks downstairs didn't matter. If she was out looking for an adventure, why should it end with a simple little fuck? I possessed her now. My thick, drooling cock had taken her, dumped itself inside her. Lord and master and all that. And, to my mind, it would be wonderful to hang out with the Johnsons. Good, wholesome folk, from the look of it. Why not?



"One drink can't hurt," I winked at Laura and I saw her pale. For a moment I thought she would faint, but saw her compose herself, trying to clear her head.



"That's right," Cindy joined, hooking her arm with mine. "One little drink."



* * *



Their room was identical to mine, except for the different color of the curtains and the wall-paper. Poor Laura sat stiffly in a chair in a corner, as Byron brought out a bottle of Champagne from the bathroom. Must be chilling a couple in the tub, I thought. Good work, Byron.



Pop!! the cork went and Byron was pouring, playing the good squire host.



"God," Cindy sighed, plopping herself on the bed, "I'm beat."



"We'll fix that right up, won't we Darryl?" he winked at me.



"You bet your ass," I laughed, sipping the champagne, surprised it was reasonably good. "You should try some," I said, turning to miserable Laura in the corner. "It's rather good."



"You bet your ass," Byron grinned. "Very, very good. Oh, come on, sweetheart. Have a drink."



Laura shook her head politely, her legs crossed tightly. Was my spunk dripping out of her, I wondered? Was it itchy? Her panties must be drenched. Could she feel it oozing out?



"Oh," Cindy moaned, and I noticed she was pulling down her hose, reproaching myself for not looking over earlier to get a glimpse of her thighs. She then threw them to the floor. "That's so much better."



"You need a little-bitty massage?" Byron cooed.



She nodded, pouting.



"Maybe you could help the little lady there, Darryl. What do you say?" he leered at me.



"Love to," I smiled and walked to her.



Cindy grinned, trying to look seductive and leaned back, offering her dangling feet to me. I knelt and took one in my hand, gently rubbing her soles.



She moaned, "Ummmm, that's nice. Oh, you got strong hands."



I continued rubbing, bringing more soft moans and sighs from her. Nice thin ankles.



Music was on now, a cheesy little adult, love ballad garbage station. I wanted to laugh, but instead reached down and kissed her kneecap.



I saw her raise her head and smile at me. "Go on," she mouthed. I nodded, rubbing up her legs and then to her warm thighs. I felt her shudder as I gently pinched the flabby inside of her left thigh.



"Let's dance, Laura," I heard Byron ask.



Silence. I reached lower.



"Oh, come on," he continued.



"Look," he said, " those two seem to be getting along just fine. Hell, he's got his hands . . . " he started and laughed in our direction.



I turned from by rubbing and he toasted me, grinning. I caught Laura behind him, staring at me, a deep red on her cheeks. She was jealous? Absolutely wonderful. I reached higher and Cindy groaned.



"Ha, how does it feel, honey?" he called out.



"He's got wonderful hands, Bo, um, Byron," she groaned as I palmed her cunt-mound. "Oh God, he's touching me!" she screached.



She was wet, hot between her sweaty thighs, her dainty panties sort of dissolving into her. I rubbed firmly, feeling the overlapping soft flesh and course hair rolling underneath my hand, rubbing against itself.



Laura stood up, defiant.



"There you go," Byron cheered, as he took her in his arms and they started swaying together. "Can't let them have all the fun, can we?"



I turned away from them, as I pushed Cindy's panties aside and touched her naked.



"Oh God," she groaned, "he's got his finger in me!!! It's in me!!! Ohhh!!! He's touching my itsy, bitsy clitty!!!"



"Get naked," I grunted to her, suddenly disgusted with her babble. "I want to fuck you now."



She sat up, breathing hard and started pulling off her dress. I fell on her and she yelled, as I started tearing off buttons and then grabbed her between her legs again. She started screaming joyfully and I kissed her hard, muffling her sounds.



"You go there, cowboy," I heard Byron yell.



I pulled her bra off, revealing two droopy little tits and mouthed her very erect brown nipples. She unbuckled my pants and reached underneath and grabbed me.



"Hell," I heard Byron call out. "You two've been doing the nasty already tonight, haven't you?"



I turned and saw him with his hand between Laura's legs. She was standing still, trembling, letting him touch her.



I threw Cindy's dress to the ground and pulled down her panties. She struggled with my pants and pulled them down with shaking hands.



"Oh," she moaned, when my hard cock sprung up to greet her. "Fuck. He's got a beautiful cock, Bob, so beautiful. Almost big as Alex back home."



She tried to bring her mouth to it, but I threw her on her back and scooted between her thighs.



"He's going to stick it in me, Bob. That big fat cock is aiming right at . . . " and she groaned and then gasped as I shoved it to her. All of it.



"Oh my God!!!" she screamed. "God, he's so hard, so big and hot."



I began humping her hard, her legs closing and opening wildly about my hips with each thrust and retreat.



"He's fucking me, Bob!!! Fuck!!! Fuck!!!! Ohhh, God!!!!"



"You ride her cowboy," Byron or Bob, whatever, groaned. They were watching.



I turned my head to them. "Bring Laura here and fuck her next to Cindy," I hissed.



"Fuck her," Cindy cried. "Fuck her, Bob, like he's fucking me. Fuck her."



"Shhh," I whispered down to Cindy, slowing down and then holding myself inside her. "Shhhh, give them a little privacy," I smiled. She smiled back up and began to softly press herself against me.



I heard them taking their clothes off behind me and watched as Laura got on the bed next to me, covering once more her birth scar, looking like she would cry. I reached forward to grab her left tit and she tried to push my hand off, but I pinched her nipple and she screamed, tears in her eyes.



I felt the bed move again and Bob was kneeling between her legs. She looked down, fearful, trying to shimmy away, but he grabbed her waist and held her firm.



"There, there," he breathed, his veins bulging on his skinny neck. "It's going to be alright, baby. You just enjoy," he moaned as he lowered himself on and then into her.



She gasped and closed her eyes as he thrust it all in.



"Ohh," he groaned. "That's a nice cunt. Even for one that's been fucked already. Real nice. Fuck."



I felt no sadness as Bob's wet, red, stubby cock, pushed in and out of Laura. This was the point, wasn't it? Her husband and she had wanted this, didn't they. I became angry, thinking about the piece of shit downstairs, letting this happen to his wife.





I quickly pulled out of Cindy and looked down at her. She'd been also watching the action next to her. She grinned up at me, unsure why I'd pulled out.



"God, that's hot," she began.



I nodded and slammed myself back into the balls. She screamed and I heard Bob chuckle.

<hr pg="2" />Bob didn't last long. The sight of his Cindy, getting rammed over and over, hearing her screaming and then coming incoherently pushed him over and in about two minutes he was straining into Laura, dumping his load into her. Dear, sweet Laura murmured, closing her eyes, wondering how this had happened. Bob lay on top of her, smothering, heaving for air.



My own cock felt like it was in a flood of hot juices. I could feel the opening and walls of Cindy's wide open, well reamed quivering cunt after her last orgasm but it was too flabby, certainly nothing like Laura had been. 



I reached underneath Cindy and pressed a finger into her ass. She squirmed trying to free herself, but I held her tight.



I whispered into her ear, "I'm going to fuck your ass, Cindy."



"Nooo," she moaned, "Please. Too big."



"What is it, honey," Bob asked, still on top of Laura.



"He," she began and I lifted her higher, putting a second finger into her ass.



"Wants," she babbled, as I pulled my cock out of her dripping cunt.



"To fuck," she moaned, as I pulled my fingers out of her ass and pressed my cock-head there.



"Noooooooo!!!!!!!!" she screamed as my cock-head entered the tight ring of her asshole.



"Hot damn," Bob yelled. "He's fucking you in the ass. Not even Alex fucked you in the ass."



I continued pushing myself in and she continued moaning, babbling trying to twist away, and then I was fully seated inside her, holding myself, letting her adjust, feeling the delightful constrictions of her sphincter trying to strangle the base of my cock.



I slowly pulled out and then slammed back in and then I quickly felt my second come of the night begin. I stiffened into her as she gripped my ass with her fingernails and emptied myself.



* * *



"Why did you fuck her in the ass?" Laura asked, as the elevator took us down into the lobby we'd left almost two hours ago. It was almost midnight. We hadn't said a word since leaving their room.



"I didn't want you to feel cheap," I shrugged.



She nodded and walked out, without saying anything, going back to her husband. The elevator door closed again and I went up to sleep.

