I slept much more soundly than I did the night before. My first night here, I was only able to soothe myself by masturbating to a fantasy of sex with John. In less than 24 hours, the reality turned out to be even better than the fantasy. How often in a lifetime does your fantasy pale before your reality?
John’s warm body curled around me in the spoon position was exactly what the doctor ordered. I did wake up briefly once or twice, but as soon as I realized he was still with me, I totally relaxed into another round of blissful sleep.
Before last night, I believed that having sex with another man would leave me consumed with guilt and shame. Especially an encounter that might qualify as a ‘one-night stand’ with a total stranger I had just met on an out-of-town trip. But right now, I felt none of that. Instead, I felt satisfied, fulfilled, validated and at peace with my actions.
I had not been seduced into a random sexual encounter by some manipulative predator while I was in a vulnerable state. I met a thoughtful and considerate person with shared interests who found me as captivating as I found him. It certainly didn’t hurt my ego that he couldn’t wait to have sex with me before my clothes were off. And from what his friends and colleagues revealed in our conversations last night, it appears he has had little or no serious relationships in years. But in the two days we’ve known each other, he was totally smitten with me, for whatever combination of reasons.
And yes, I’ll be honest enough to admit that some of my motivation was driven by self-doubt and insecurities on a number of fronts. My age, being a grandmother and early symptoms of periomenopause rearing its ugly head before this trip certainly played a part. Being admired, complimented and sought after by a desirable man would boost any woman’s confidence and belief in her own sexuality. Especially when I know I’m on the verge of losing many of those qualities that define me as a woman and a sexual being.
For years, my husband has used the phrase “effortless sexuality” in describing me. When I asked him what he meant, he said that even in casual, non-sexy clothes, I exude a confident and sexy attitude that always draws the attention of other men, especially in social occasions like large parties. And he admits it turns him on to see other men admiring my body, even at this late stage in life. Maybe he was exaggerating, but sometimes men would openly flirt with me in public, even knowing my husband was present. And it would often excite us both. It would always trigger some great sex between us the moment we got home. On the ride home, we’d share our favorite moments that turned us each on during the evening, and that got us even more excited by the time we got home.
Instead of being jealous or interrupting an interaction between me and another man at a party, he would remark later how much it turned him on when he saw some guy lean in to whisper something in my ear, put an arm around my waist, put a hand on my ass or thigh for a moment. We would even make a game out of it sometimes. I would go out of my way to encourage attention at a party, not just wait for someone to start it. I would initiate some fleeting touches, appear to be amused or enthralled by even the most banal conversations, for David’s benefit as he watched. Our play acting escalated to the point that we would sometimes choreograph the evening in advance: a specific man I might target, what I should wear, and each step in what I should do or say to draw him into our personal entertainment. I know this all sounds a little weird but it totally bound us even tighter together as sex partners.
And I noticed it several times on this trip, from the overly attentive Uber and taxi drivers to John’s surprised look as I entered the restaurant. Each little encounter on the first day had raised my response level. It was a spontaneous version of what my husband and I had been practicing for fun for several years. And it worked.
But I can’t escape the realization that I’m on the verge of losing those qualities that attract that attention, completely and rapidly.
On a lighter note, John proved he was a ‘keeper’ simply by sleeping on the massive wet spot we had created in the middle of the bed, without a word of complaint! Even my husband gripes about that occasionally.
If anything, my sex life with my husband is likely to be reinvigorated by these recent events. I have every reason and intention of bringing my renewed confidence in myself back to my most important intimate relationship, as long as my mind and body are still in this condition. I don’t want to waste a day that I still have left.
And, boy, did I have to pee now. I tried not to wake John up, getting out of bed as stealthily as possible. I pulled my dress off over my head, held it up and examined it in the morning sunlight coming in through the curtains. Poor thing, it was quite wrinkled from a night in bed and getting all scrunched up while John ate me and fucked me senseless last night. I should have removed it completely and just slept naked all night.
“Wow, you look amazing! What are you doing?”
John was staring at me through squinting eyes. I realized I was completely naked in front of him for the very first time. I didn’t have any urge to cover myself at the realization I was totally exposed in front of him. What’s to hide from a man you just had wild sex with? And that spontaneous comment was another welcome boost for my attitude.
“Seeing if I can still wear this dress at all for the rest of the week. A bit wrinkled, but amazingly not a single cum stain. Hard to believe after what you let loose last night, twice!”
“Sorry. When I haven’t had sex in a while, the first time back can be a bit… excessive”.
Tell me about it. That was what I enjoyed about ‘return sex’ with David when he came back from a business trip of a week or more. There was definitely a noticeably larger and more forceful outpouring when we fucked the first time after even a short absence. If I didn’t feel that extra surge after an absence, I would accuse him of jerking off too much or having an affair behind my back. But I have little doubt it was the former, rather than the latter, for any reduced output on his part.
I always hid provocative photos of myself in his luggage before a trip so he could find them at various times throughout his travels and keep him occupied and focused on me, not some other woman. I wonder how many of my pics have ended up in the hands of horny airport security screeners? And we would occasionally engage in phone sex on our nightly check-in calls. That probably made me more than susceptible to John screwing me while I was actually talking to my husband last night.
Sometimes, after we had been out in public, at a party or a restaurant, and I had worn something particularly attractive that turned a few heads, or had encouraged some flirtatious attention, David would later speculate about how many men had been inspired to jerk off later, imagining they were screwing me. He even claimed that it could be a daily occurrence. According to my husband, if such responses could be recorded somehow, I would deserve an entry in the Guinness Book of World Records for inspiring the most gallons of semen produced by men jerking off while fantasizing about me. The imagery seemed kind of gross, but also a bit validating to think about, if true. And I had certainly masturbated that first night here, to the mental image of John fucking me within hours of our first meeting. So it’s no stretch to think that any number of men (and maybe even some women?) get off while imagining having sex with me.
“Do you have any idea how many guys must jerk off after seeing you in the course of a day?”
He was still staring at my naked body standing in the middle of the room. He was already reading my thoughts. Pretty soon, we’d be finishing each other’s sentences.
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous!” I declared in a tone of mock self-deprecation.
“No. I’m serious. That first night, when you first walked in, and all during dinner and drinks, and after the elevator and we went back to our separate rooms. It was all I could do to keep from jerking off after seeing you and holding you for those few moments in the elevator.”
“What? You DIDN’T jerk off at all after meeting me for the very first time? I’m sooo disappointed!”
“I would have, but I wanted to save up for the moment when I could actually have sex with you. I didn’t want to waste a drop anywhere else!”
“Mmm. Much better answer, darling.” I was slightly shocked that I was using a term of endearment normally reserved for my husband, but he had earned it after last night. “But whatever made you think you were going to have a chance to use that stored energy with me?”
“I didn’t. I just hoped I’d get a chance after a few more days and some more time together with you. I was sure it would be worth the wait. Even if it had to be the last night here.” Holy shit. Somehow, this man manages to say exactly the right thing to get laid.
“I think that’s the sweetest, sexiest thing a man has ever said to me! Don’t move an inch from that bed.”
I got a hanger from the closet and hung the dress in the bathroom. A few steamy showers would help get the wrinkles out and make it presentable. I answered my pressing call of nature, took a quick shower, removed and cleaned the diaphragm (and myself, inside and out) since it had been in for the required six hours after our session last night. I had to leave it out to air dry before putting it in again. Then I sauntered over to the bed, straddling John and positioning my already warm, wet pussy over John’s face. I wasn’t 100% sure he was even into this sort of thing, but I wasn’t in an asking mood right at the moment as I lowered myself toward his waiting lips and tongue.
True confession: I’ve never sat on my husband’s face either. I just couldn’t think of any other appropriate course of action at this moment. I guess I was now primed for every possible new sexual experience I could think of. Yes, I do look at online porn occasionally and marvel at some of the things other couples do that I hadn’t even considered before.
True to form, John knew exactly what to do, holding my ass firmly with both hands and working his tongue and lips around my clit and labia as I gently rocked up and down in tandem with the rhythm of his tongue. I put my hands on the headboard to steady myself for the orgasm I knew was about to overtake me. When it did, my whole body shivered and I had to lean backwards, resting my hands on his knees, my legs spread as far apart as my (aging) hips allowed, giving him unlimited access to my gaping pussy. He took full advantage, and a second orgasm swept over me. I was spent. I simply put my feet up on the headboard and lay back on his legs, my head at his ankles, completely open to him. I can guarantee you I have never placed my body in this position with a man in my life. I wish I had a picture of it. As I lay back on him, I fought to get my breath back. His tongue drew lazy circles around and in my pussy, not trying to stimulate me, just simply cleaning up every drop of my juices. Even that action felt amazing.
His cock was hard as a rock and I knew he wanted to fuck again. Of course, so did I. Oral sex for me is always a preamble to intercourse.
“Sorry, I had to take out my diaphragm. But don’t worry, I’ve got a box of condoms in the bottom dresser drawer.”
Judging by the slightly shocked expression on his face, I think I might have thrown him for a loop. What kind of married woman brings her diaphragm AND condoms on a trip without her husband? His relief that I was so well prepared seemed to override any concerns that I was an absolute whore who apparently prepared in advance to fuck anywhere, anytime, with anyone.
I got off the bed, practically ran to the dresser naked, breasts swaying, got the box, tore it open, shook out several of the wrapped condoms onto the dresser as I slammed the drawer shut with my foot, tore off the foil wrapper of one, and jumped back onto the bed next to him. All in record time. He was amused by my rather frantic display. I carefully started unrolling it down his stiff erection. I got totally turned on doing this–admiring this beautiful piece of his anatomy as I slowly rolled it down. I just love the throbbing veins, the heat and the bulging head of a firm cock. And of course, he was equally turned on by my careful handling of his cock with both hands.
As I suspected, these regular-sized condoms were definitely not quite ideal for someone of John’s size, even if they were always 100% suitable for my husband. It made it most of the way down his cock and fit extra tight, but it would have to do. I made a mental note to go to the CVS store nearby to get some larger condoms for the rest of the week.
For my part, I just wanted to spend some time riding on top of him for a slower, relaxed session, instead of the rapid, frantic fucking of last night, good as it was. I loved the feeling of straddling him and slowly lowering myself onto his large cock. Slowly filling me, and gradually taking him a little deeper each time until I could comfortably fit his girth inside me.
We must have spent a good ten minutes with me on top of him, my breasts and nipples right where they belonged for him to tease and play with using his lips, tongue and hands. Intercourse completely naked has a quality all its own. The human skin really is the largest sex organ of the human body. I came first, I always do on top since I can control the depth, the angle, the pace and intensity of the action. He came shortly after me. He even said that watching me cum was so erotically stimulating he couldn’t help cumming immediately after me. Is there nothing this man can’t say to get me to fuck him over and over? I rolled over onto my back next to him to savor the post orgasmic glow.
I looked at the clock. It was after 9 o’clock already. “John, you need to call down to the front desk. The check-out time here is 11”.
He seemed confused by my statement. “What? You want me to leave the hotel altogether? And go where exactly?”
“No. I mean, you need to check out of your room so you can move all your stuff in here for the rest of the week. It doesn’t make any sense to be in separate rooms on separate floors when we’re going to be sleeping in the same bed for the next 5 nights.”
“Oh, yeah, sure.” He was obviously shocked at this prospect. And of course, I couldn’t totally blame him. The guy hadn’t shared space with a woman on a daily basis for years, and that might be a bit of a culture shock, even for just 5 nights. He was probably imagining sharing the bathroom with my make-up, hair dryer, various articles of lingerie hanging up, along with my shampoo, conditioner, skin care products, etc. A perfect nightmare for a man who likely only carries a razor, shaving cream, toothbrush and toothpaste, and uses whatever shampoo, conditioner and soap might be available from the hotel. And probably has half the clothes to move that I do.
I took hold of his cock and gently stroked it, looked into his eyes with my best doe-eyed innocence and said, “I knew you’d understand, darling.”
As he left to pack his things to move into my room, I got dressed and went to the CVS store and bought 2 boxes of Trojan Maxim XL condoms, just in case I didn’t feel like fumbling with my diaphragm anymore this week. And a couple of different kinds of lubricant. I didn’t think I would really need the latter, but the nagging signs of periomenopause were making me paranoid. I felt more relaxed about the rest of my week than I had since I’d left the house.