He seemed to spend an age searching the darkened interior of the bar, seeking out every face seated round every table, wedged into every booth, and propping up every inch of the bar to see whether he was simply overlooking her.
His skin felt suddenly clammy, perspiration breaking out across the upper reaches of his forehead, and he seemed to be finding it difficult to get any kind of oxygen out of the air he breathed.
She was gone. Her suitor had returned, and she had gone with him.
“Jack Daniels, straight up,” he asked the smartly-dressed barman. “Room 2728.”
“Everything okay, sir?” the barman asked, and Hugo guessed that he looked a little more shell-shocked than he thought he did.
“Uh… yeah, thanks. I… uh… I have a slight cold.”
The first drink didn’t even touch the sides as it went down. The second he carried over to a small table in the middle of the room, to wait for her.
Perhaps she’d gone to the restroom. Perhaps she was teasing him.
Five minutes, 10 minutes, 15 minutes ticked by.
Then, his cell phone buzzed in his pants pocket. He struggled to pull it out, his suit pants fitting closely to his frame.
And his heart performed a small somersault.
> You out of the shower yet, honey? My client came back—I’m in a taxi with him, he’s taking me to dinner. Everything still okay?
Hugo felt his hardness pressing at his restrictive pants, his loins tingling at the thought of his pretty wife accompanying someone to a restaurant on the pretext of having sex with him afterward.
He felt the urgent panic rising inside his stomach again, pressing him to call her, text her—anything to stop her from going through with this. But it was such a thrill. Madeleine was going to have a really powerful experience.
The Fantasy was back on.
How incredibly beautiful she would look having dinner with her stranger, her suitor, no doubt finding it hard to keep from blushing profusely at the knowledge of what would come at the end of the evening.
How could he call a halt to all this? Madeleine had the choice to go as far as she wanted to, and if his jealousy became too much to handle, he could order her to come back.
Even if it didn’t all go well, there would be some resolution to this whole fantasy of theirs—either it would be confirmed as something fun to do, or they could move on, no longer think about any of it again.
Hugo texted back:
> Just stepped out, sweetie. Have fun with your client—remember you can stop whenever you want to.
A few moments later, another text.
> Are you sure you’re okay with this?
> I’m sure. I’m so hard thinking about you enjoying yourself, honey. Only wish I could watch.
> If this goes well, we’ll have to find a way to arrange that.
> That would be seriously hot.
Hugo smiled as he texted her back.
> Taxi is stopping. Order some room service! Text me if you want me to come home. Love you.
Hugo sent a missive back telling her to have fun, he’d be okay. Then he headed back upstairs for what seemed like the longest wait he had ever faced in his life.
He put a pay-per-view movie on the television while he waited, but couldn’t focus on the flick for a second. Initially, he kept telling himself she was having dinner. Whoever she was with, they weren’t doing anything yet.
He’d been through this before—the belief that she was with someone else. Madeleine had managed to fool him into thinking it was all real, too, and he’d reacted accordingly.
How was this so different?
After half an hour, Hugo did begin to worry. Was Madeleine safe? What if she wanted to come back to him, and her client didn’t let her? God, they were so stupid to do it like this.
At turns he was so excited, and terrified. He tried to dwell on the former. Madeleine was out enjoying herself. Experiencing life. Indulging in her carnal urges without the restrictions of a boring husband.
He couldn’t lie down and just watch TV, and even switching over to one of the 10-minute teasers of the adult movies, he wasn’t able to pass any time without thinking about what might be happening, checking his phone for messages and monitoring the time.
He kept looking over to the door, that same immobile door handle. When was she coming back?
Nine o’clock came and went, and he did break himself out of the whirl of conflicting thoughts and feelings to order a cheeseburger from room service. When it came, he managed all of two bites before the nausea in his belly took away his appetite.
Still, no messages.
He didn’t hear her come in.
He’d actually fallen asleep, somehow. He had no idea how late it was when he was stirred from slumber by the movement as she sat on the edge of the mattress, removing her shoes.
The instant he realized she was back, he was startled awake by a burst of intense heat inside his chest.
What had happened?
“Hey, sleepyhead,” she said as he hauled himself up in the bed, and before he really had time to open his eyes, she was leaning over to kiss him.
“Hey, honey,” he said in between kisses.
Her lips were still waxy from her heavy lipstick. She tasted of alcohol and cigarettes—the latter particularly giving her breath a sharp edge he’d never experienced before since she had always been a nonsmoker.
She’d been with someone else. Hugo’s cock sprang up.
How far had they gone?
Completely awake now, he put his arm around her shoulders and just kissed her. God she was so beautiful. She was still in her little purple cocktail dress, but in the low light of the single lamp she’d turned on, her hair seemed mussed up, tied back loosely in a ponytail now.
“What time is it?” he asked.
“Three, I think.”
Hugo felt another sharp burst of shock and jealousy strike him hard inside his chest. Three? There was no way that dinner alone could have gone on so long. Even if she’d gone dancing afterwards, it was too late for her to be getting in, wasn’t it?
“You have a good time?” he murmured, trying to hide the outward signs of the intense energy rocking his system.
She hugged him, her hands grabbing his head as she kissed his cheek, his forehead, his lips.
“It was amazing,” she beamed.
With every breath, he was inhaling her strong cocktail of scent—her perfume, of course, and the cigarette smoke from wherever she’d been hanging out. There was also a hint of male cologne lingering around her—her client’s scent?
And underneath it all, there was the dark smell of female arousal.
She’d had sex with someone else.
“Great. That’s fantastic,” he smiled, feeling genuinely pleased she was happy, though he was a little confused at his own response.
“Was it terrible waiting for me?” she giggled, kissing him again, filling his vision with her smile.
“It’s always terrible waiting for you,” he said, feeling the need to play down the absolutely age he had spent on his own that night, pacing, sighing, peering at the clock, doing his best to suppress the anguish and paranoia that could otherwise have had him beset by fears of losing his beautiful wife.
She turned into him, and reached for another long, slow, sweet kiss.
“What happened?” he asked, dreading the question but needing its answer. “What did you get up to?”
She stood up, went to the mirrored wall behind the TV, checking her makeup. Suddenly nervous.
She said, “You didn’t stop me.”
He heard her take a deep breath. She said, “We had dinner at this Italian place across town. I… I didn’t really enjoy it, I was so nervous.”
He could hear the tremor in her voice. She was scared. Was she scared of how he’d react to her being with another man, or was she scared about something darker?
He found himself wanting to console her, somehow, to reassure her, to calm her down. At no point did he want her frightened, or anxious, or in pain.
“You stayed out late afterwards,” he said, trying to sound calm, reassuring, stretching out on the bed to get closer to her, show her he wasn’t angry. “He take you back to his room?”
She turned around, and in the light of the bedside table, he could see now the way her lipstick was smeared across her face. God, had she really used her mouth on another man? She had stretched her lips around another man’s big swollen cock—loved every minute of it.
Hugo felt his heart quivering.
She leaned down and planted an upside down kiss on his mouth, one hand gently pressing at the side of his head. Her ponytail trailed over his chest as he sucked on her lips, slid his tongue into her mouth. She tasted so different from the booze and the cigarettes. It was almost as though he was kissing a different woman entirely.
Perhaps he was. Perhaps she had now forever changed.
“Are you mad at me?” she asked in a little voice.
“Going home with him. Spending most of the night with him.”
“Of course not. Can you see how hard you make me, Madeleine? I just want to know all the details.”
She actually giggled again, a very comforting sound. Kissed him again, rubbed his nose with hers playfully. “Is this what you dreamed it would be like?”
“I think you’re very brave, Madeleine,” he said seriously, reaching up to place his hand on the back of her head, fingers sprawling out over the top of her neck as he pulled her in for a long tender kiss, indulging in her strange flavor, breathing in her wicked scent. “I wanted you to try this, you know that.”
“So did you have a good time?”
“Yes,” she whispered, and continued planting little kisses on him, running her delicate tongue along his lips, smiling broadly.
“You enjoyed being with another man?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“He was good in the sack?”
Hugo felt his heartbeat thudding against the wall of his chest, hard.
Madeleine said: “He was fine. A little rough, but I guess I needed it like that.”
He stifled a gasp at the brutal confirmation that his wife had slept with someone else, tried to distract from it by reaching up to cup one of her breasts through her little purple dress.
Then she said, “What really turned me on was the thought of you waiting for me, going crazy about me being out with someone else.”
“That right?” Hugo smiled, breathing deeply, trying to dampen down the strong feelings of jealousy he felt, although those feelings also seemed to inspire powerful arousal in him. He added, “You always did like driving me crazy.”
Her laughter made him feel all warm inside, and he actually relaxed a little.
“You always drove me crazy,” she said, and then let out a little shriek as he grabbed her ass, pulled her onto the bed and over his head. “Talking about your fantasy. Fair’s fair.”
She lifted her knee up and climbed off him, looking down at him with admonishment in her eyes.
“I need a shower,” she said, peering sternly down at him. God she looked hot in that dress. He shivered just to look at her. She must have dazzled her client.
Hugo shook his head, gave her a serious look of his own. “Come here,” he said softly. “Give me what I want.”
She looked confused, but he reached for her knee, made as though to lift it, and she allowed him to guide it back over his head, so that she was straddling his face, her little black panties just a whisper away from his mouth.
“What was he like?” Hugo asked her, and pushed up her dress to reveal the tops of her hold-up stockings, and then her soaking underwear.
“A little older,” she said, still looking confused at her husband as he touched his nose to her panties, drew in a deep breath full of her strong fragrance. “Late forties, I guess.”
She seemed to take the decision to just go with it, whatever it was he wanted, and now sank down on his face, her satin-covered pussy touching down on his lips.
Hugo felt almost overwhelmed by the powerful aroma of her arousal as he opened his mouth to taste her tangy, salty flavor.
“Attractive?” he asked, hands reaching up to hold her hips as she sat on his face.
“I guess so. Distinguished, sophisticated,” she said, and now pulled her panties to the side to slide her glistening pussy over his lips.
“You’re so wet, honey,” he said, nuzzling into her, slipping his tongue in between her lips.
And he tried not to freak out about the distinct smell of latex that was lacing his wife’s arousal. The slight sharpness added to her flavor from the presence of her client’s protection.
Had she really taken someone else’s cock inside her beautifully wet pussy?
Madeleine gasped as he sucked on her folds, penetrated her with his tongue. She leaned back for a moment or two, enjoying the sensations rippling through her body from his attention, and then when she leaned down again to check he was all right, she had the biggest smile on her face.
She was so stunning when she smiled. He would do anything he could to inspire that.
“God he must have thought you were so sexy,” Hugo said between mouthfuls.
She gasped as he gently covered her clit with the heat of his mouth, and now felt her pressing down a little more, encouraging him. And she was reaching back, scoping out the hardness between his legs, which perhaps reassured her he was genuinely turned on by her.
“Tell me what happened,” he pleaded, reaching up now to cup her breasts, his wife leaning back to squeeze his erection while pressing her crotch down over his face.
She grinned. “You’re such a freak, Hugo Finnell,” she joked. He flashed his eyes at her, cheeks pushed out in a smile as he lapped furiously at her pussy.
“We had a really long dinner,” she said, pulling back a little, trying to regain a little control from him, show him she needed it a little more slowly if she was going to tell him anything about her earlier encounter.
Hugo smiled, allowing her some space, toying with her damp panties a little as she now spoke, pulling the material tight into her slit, kissing and licking around it.
“He told me all about his business, his upbringing in Georgia—I guess he was proud of how far he’d come,” she said. “He told me about his divorce, how his wife had run off with her boss.
“He had a big steak—I had the carbonara. It was a pretty fancy restaurant, and we both had a fair amount of wine. We just talked and talked, seemed like forever.”
As she spoke, she leaned forward again, pulling her underwear aside again, pressing herself down on his mouth.
“I guess I forgot to text you to keep you updated.”
“Never mind,” he said.
“Must’ve been close to midnight when we got back to the hotel. Nothing happened at all until we were inside his room.”
Gently, she grazed her pussy over his mouth and his nose, controlling her pleasure and guiding her husband’s pace as he continued to lick her, slipping his tongue out to slide through her slippery folds, flick over her sensitive clit.
She told him about how they’d got the business of the evening out of the way early on—her client had pointed to an envelope on his bedside table before he’d gone in to use the restroom.
She’d opened the envelope briefly to see it stuffed with bills that all carried the face of Benjamin Franklin.
“God, it felt so dirty, so wrong,” she said, gently gyrating her hips to stroke his face with her sopping pussy. “And all that money kind of ended any thoughts I had of ducking out without doing exactly what he wanted.”
She told her husband how the man had emerged from the bathroom wearing nothing but a pair of silk boxer shorts, his figure fairly trim for someone of his age, his skin tanned and chest dusted by graying hair.
“He walked up to me and said how beautiful I was, and I found myself kinda melting,” Madeleine said. “Then we were dancing, but there was no music. Slowly stepping together, his hand slipping round to my butt, pulling me against him so I could feel how hard he was.”
Hugo moaned as he felt his wife leaning back, squeezing his own hardness once again, her voice sounding so dreamy.
“I guess we just danced for such a long time, even with no music at all. He just seemed to need to be close to somebody—he was happy just to hold me, running his hands gently over my back.
“It actually helped calm me down, made me feel comfortable with him. I think he must have been quite lonely since his divorce, I felt a little sorry for him.
“I kissed him, and I think it really took him by surprise. I guess hookers aren’t supposed to kiss their clients, huh. But he was a good kisser—slow, considerate, gentle.”
Caught up in his wife’s account, Hugo actually found himself glad that Madeleine could give some respite to a lonely sole, almost making him forget that she had been kissing another man, dancing with him in the privacy of his room, pressing against him and his erect cock.
“He unzipped my dress and I just let him slide it down my body,” she said. “Then he stepped back, and sat down on the bed, and I knelt down in front of him, helping him take off his underwear.”
Hugo groaned, picturing his wife facing the shocking sight of another man’s exposed erection, but somehow the jealousy wasn’t there any more. Only the joy of her wet pussy gliding over his lips, her narration underlined by her labored breathing and melodic sighs as he feasted on her delicious juices, inspired by the way her breath caught as when he pressed into her clit, the ferocious heat from her thighs and her slippery folds, the unusual scent and flavor of her pussy as he savored her.
He loved how confident she seemed, riding his face. How she let go of her inhibitions and any false fears about his lack of enjoyment, how she simply indulged in his implied consent that she could wedge her soaking pussy down on his lips, and he would willingly lie back and be her toy.
But now she eased off, beginning to find his intense assault on her sensitive flesh too distracting to continue her story—and she knew full well that he wanted to hear her story. She lifted, and his face was suddenly cool under a sheen of her juices, then she flopped down on the bed next to him, though with her head down next to his hip, her own hip nudging up against his shoulder.
“What happened?” he asked, and she smiled, grabbing his hard cock in her hand, squeezing him as she ducked down to kiss the base of his shaft.
“I just stroked him for a while,” she said, her palm now riding gently up and down her husband’s cock. “It felt really weird, you know? Touching someone else’s.”
Hugo lifted her nearside leg over his chest, loving the sensation of the nylon of her stocking grazing over his skin. He pushed her knee down, opening up a sweet view of her behind and her pussy just about covered by a thin band of black satin.
“Was he big?” he asked. “Bigger than me?”
Madeleine shook her head, kissed the tip of his cock gently. “No,” she said. “A little longer, perhaps, but not so full as yours.”
Hugo nodded, groaned as she slipped him inside her mouth, enveloping his sensitive helmet in her intense heat. His, the second cock she’d sucked on that night.
“Were you disappointed?” he asked her.
She shook her head again. “He could have had a tiny pecker, and it still would have been exciting—knowing what I was doing, what I was touching, while you were back here, probably tearing your hair out.”
“I only tore out a little hair,” Hugo grinned.
She smiled back, and in doing so provoked a dull throb in his cock, even while her hand was momentarily idle.
“You went down on him?” he prompted her to continue.
For an instant, she peered over at him, scrutinizing his face once more, trying to detect any possible signs that he was unhappy with any of this, that going on with her story might draw out the wrong kind of response from her consensually wronged husband.
He remained the picture of curiosity and arousal.
“He held my head as I took him in my mouth,” she said. “Showed me how he liked it.”
“And did you like it?”
“It was… sexy. I don’t know… I think part of it was just because it was forbidden, you know? Because it was dangerous, because it was so unexpected—I kind of thought you didn’t think I’d actually go through with it.”
“I didn’t. Not really. Hoped you would, but didn’t expect it.”
She slid her tongue over her husband’s cock, and now nibbled her way down his shaft before licking her way back up to his tip and swirling her tongue around his swollen purple helmet, sopping up the dribbling fluid that spoke of his excitement.
He got the distinct impression that she was sampling him, comparing him to the other cock she’d tried earlier.
“I guess guys can’t all have cocks as beautiful as yours, sweetie,” she purred. “But I did like it. I was pretending to be someone else—a hotel hooker. Experiencing a life I would never have known.”
Hugo felt a burst of warmth flooding his system now, at the satisfaction that he had been able to give his pretty wife such an experience, open her up to this real thrill.
“I probably went a little overboard, but he seemed to enjoy it,” she said. “He had to stop me, though, before he came to a sticky end all over my face.”
“I’ll bet he had to cool off, after that treatment.”
She smiled. “He poured us both a glass of Champagne. We did have a little breather.”
“Then what happened?”
“He sat me down on the bed, and stood while I took him in my mouth again, getting him ready again, you know?” She was looking up at him again, checking he was still okay with what she was saying.
And then she lifted herself up, turned to straddle his hips, crouching over him so her pussy was inches from his rigid shaft.
“He fucked you? He actually fucked you?” Hugo felt himself gasping for breath, trying desperately not to freak her out, dispirit her.
In one movement, Madeleine sat down, taking his full length inside her well-lubricated pussy. He let out a long, low moan, only just managing to keep control, prevent an early explosion inside her.
“He helped me take off my panties, then he pushed me back on the bed, lifted up my legs, and he was there, touching his bare cock to my pussy,” she said, adding: “I had to remind him about protection.”
“Good girl,” he said as she started moving up and down on his shaft.
“I don’t think he meant to do me without a condom,” she said, holding his hand on her waist as she rode him, as though reassuring herself he was there, he was still hers, that nothing that had happened that night had done anything to damage their bond.
“I could hardly believe it when finally he slid his cock inside me,” she said, and saw some kind of reaction in her husband’s eyes as she bounced on his hardness that must have been elation, pure uncut elation as he throbbed inside her.
“Does it make you jealous, honey? Hearing about it?” she asked him, tucking a rogue strand of her hair behind her ear as she looked down at him.
“A little,” he conceded. “But it’s so hot, honey. Hearing how excited you were, how great it made you feel. You must have looked so sexy when he was making you moan, sliding his cock inside you.”
“You’re a strange one, Hugo Finnell.”
He flashed his eyes at her. “If you say so,” he smiled.
She pulled herself off him, and now lay down beside him, on her stomach. “Do me from behind,” she said. “That’s how he liked it best.”
Hugo felt his cock twitch at that. Leaving her lying on her front, he now lifted himself, slipping one knee over her thighs to lie over her, supported on his hands and knees, his cock gliding down between her thighs into the heat and dampness down under her round buttocks.
He kissed her shoulder and found it relatively easy to push his cock into her smoldering pussy, even though her thighs were clamped together between his knees.
Her pussy had received attention from two men that night. She was well prepared for penetration from such an angle, though they’d not really done it like this much before.
“Oh God,” she breathed as he pumped into her, now sitting up, two hands holding her waist firmly as he fucked her.
As his thrusting became faster, more urgent, he lifted her up, gave her room to reach forward and support herself on the headboard of the bed, while still presenting her rear for a more standard doggy-style entrance.
“Oh Madeleine, you’re so beautiful,” he moaned as he squeezed back inside her.
She smiled, and almost purred as he moved within her tight pussy again. She said, “Have I ever told you you’re the most amazing man I’ve ever met?”
They both came forcefully after only a little more swordplay, with Hugo feeling so strange yet so turned on to be the second man coming inside her that night, though the first had come with protection.
While Madeleine slipped away for a shower, Hugo collapsed in the bed, exhausted, falling into a deep sleep before his exquisite wife returned.