Saturday night hotel room

I said a while ago that I’d try to write my blog more often, which means keeping it short, and only going in depth on the unusual or the especially exciting.

I hope this will be one of the short ones, though it kind of followed on from Friday night, because I got home all worked up but without the fuck that could have helped me relax.

So when I went out last night, I already knew what I wanted. An arrogant bastard who’d fuck me like Friday night’s estate agent would have done if he’d had the balls. I knew that even if he’d had the opportunity it would have been an unsatisfactory encounter, although rude because he was just a random stranger, which always makes me wet and makes me cum.

The estate agent had only talked the talk. Now I wanted a man who would walk the walk, and with any luck treat me like a complete whore. As you probably know, I normally hate the type, and get shot of them asap. But tonight, it was just what I wanted. A good hard shag from a guy who thought I was nothing.

It took a while, but I persevered. I knew I’d be looking for someone a little older than I normally go for, so different bars were called for, and I must confess I had fun looking. I felt a few cocks along the way, some big as well as hard, but the owners were too nice. Any other night, I’d have been very tempted by 2 or 3 of them, and with a bit more baccardi on board I’d have fucked any of them. But tonight I was on a mission and had to turn them down, and thats even with their hands in my pants, so you know I was serious.

If you’re one of those who likes keeping score, as my hubby always does, Roger says that if I felt all the cocks I danced with closely which I did (and I usually do, of course) that was a total of seven, but a couple of them didn’t try to touch me back, so only five had explored my pussy. Anyway, it meant I was raging hot and soaking wet by midnight, when I eventually found what I wanted.

He said he was 29 but I bet he wasn’t a day under 35.

He said he was an account manager in an advertising agency, and if his clothes and his attitude were any guide I’d go along with that. White T-shirt and thin,almost see-through white jeans, showing off his tan, his pecs and a particularly impressive trouser-bulge in equal quantities. If it’s possible to walk and stick your package out to be admired, this guy managed it. He said he was single, but the white mark where his wedding ring would normally be is such an easy giveaway? I mean why would I care?

Anyway, he was a rude and arrogant bastard with a big cock, and so naturally I asked if he’d like to dance, and immediately rubbed my pussy all over his thighs and groin, and then made him the eighth cock I’d checked out this evening by running my hand across the front of his jeans and stroking it with my fingertips. He reacted by getting a bit bigger and harder, which was nice, and whispering can’t wait for it, can you in my ear and sticking his hand up my skirt and then saying horny bitch! when he found how wet I was, and I knew then that he’d treat me badly.

So when he asked the usual about who i was with and why I was there, I told him hubby had a tiny little cock and couldnt do the deed properly, so I’d made him trail along and make sure I was safe while I finally got what had been missing from my sad marriage for the past ten years. He loved that. I could see his cock getting bigger while I was talking, and when he said no wonder you’re desperate and thrust his fingers into me as if he was trying to reach up and grab me by the tonsils, it almost made me cum. He saw how much it was affecting me and I could see his thought process, flickering away behind his eyes: she hasn’t had it properly for 10 years. If my fingers do this to the bitch, my cock’s going to drive her CRAZY!

Meanwhile, I knew he was going to treat me like a woman desperate for cock (not entirely untrue, I have to admit) in the certain knowledge that whatever he did would be a million times better than what I was used to. So he’d think he didn’t have to try too hard, and he could do anything he liked to me and be sure of my gratitude.

Even with that kind of buildup, he still asked the usual questions about won’t hubby mind? I said he had two choices. Either I get a nice big cock and relieve the pressure, or I’ll be on my way. Anyway, I whispered, massaging his cock some more through the front of his trousers and really appreciating what a long, thick handful it was, who cares as long as I get what I want? To be honest, I wasn’t really faking that bit, and my pussy ached for it. He laughed, a nasty, sneering laugh, and I knew he didn’t think much of Roger. Or me.

And because he was the type of person he was, I knew he’d try and make Roger feel as inadequate as possible, which meant he’d treat me even more like his whore than he would have done anyway because I’d come out with my knickers on fire looking to get fucked. Then I saw the thought process kick in again. What made you pick me, then, he asked, out of all these men? and I gave him the answer he was expecting. This, I said as throaty and horny as I could, gripping his shaft tightly. His smile was so smug I could have slapped him. Instead I lifted my right leg and curled it round his, opening my pussy so his fingers could push harder and deeper and said, I want you to fuck me silly with it.

Which by now was no word of a lie. He asked where we lived and I said too far, which apparently was the same for him… I could have gone outside, but I wanted longer than a car-bonnet quickie. Hotel, then, he said. I’ll tell hubby to sort that out for us, I said. Let’s both go, he replied, partly bursting with smug arrogance at the chance to sneer at hubby and partly, I’m sure, because he was afraid I might just disappear. It wasn’t far; Rog had been nearby, watching carefully as always, and smiled a welcome as I approached with John the nasty bastard keeping his arm round my waist to demonstrate ownership. Is this the little man then, he asked when I introduced them, and Roger didn’t even blink, just kept smiling. He doesn’t miss a trick, my hubby.

We need a hotel room, I said, trying to talk down to him as if I was the kind of woman who’d make their hubby watch them fuck just so he could see how much bigger and better other men are. Never been into that humiliation thing, so I don’t think I was very convincing.

I can fix that, said Rog, and reached for his phone while nasty John squeezed my bum as openly as he could. Rog knew what he was doing even though he couldn’t see, but only because he’s so finely-tuned to that sort of thing. He had to go outside to make the phone call and so we all went together, John again clutching me round the waist so I couldn’t get away and Rog knew who owned me.

The hotel had a room, and was only just round the corner. It’s not cheap, so that’s probably why. Rog went and checked in and while John and I waited in the bar, but I’d had enough to drink, so we all got straight in the lift. At least his wallet’s up to the job, sneered John, pushed me against the lift wall and proceeded to kiss me hard and deep. That always makes me hot, and it wasn’t as if I really needed to be any wetter than I was.

When we got in, John just handed Rog his jacket and said hang this up, and then kissed me again. He didn’t know the effect it had and I don’t think he particularly wanted to kiss me. But he wanted Roger to know I’d let him.

When he was sure Rog was watching us again he said undress me, and I slowly removed his shoes, socks, shirt and trousers and socks, until he stood there, lean and fit in his tight boxers, with his cock all but bursting out of them. He saw my greedy look. Not yet, he said. Take off your dress. I pulled it over my head and handed it to Rog, feeling very rude in heels, holdups and knickers, but very, very impatient.

Suck it, he gestured at his cock with a catch in his voice, sounding less commanding and more than a bit greedy himself now. I don’t need asking twice, and I put both hands down the front of his pants and scooped him out, balls and all, his cock springing up proud, bouncing and swaying but rigid and straight. I bent and took it in my mouth, and he filled it with cum, one long, jerking spray and then two or three more shorter ones. I swallowed it all, not needing his hands on my head to hold me on it, but he’d grabbed my hair anyway.

I love to suck them dry and I did just that, and as I worked on it he was flexing his hips, rocking my head with his hands and I got the message, and just kept the head in my mouth, slithering my lips across it, feeling him grow. When it was almost ready he pushed me back, and I sat down hard on the edge of the bed. Touch yourself, he growled, and he watched me as I pulled my knickers aside and played with my pussy. He was stroking too, and as it grew thicker and longer and harder I was getting wetter and wetter and finally screaming as I came. He fell on me while I was still twitching, pinned me to the bed and fucked my brains out.

No style, no finesse, forgot all about Roger and showing off, just fucked and fucked and fucked until I was worn out from cumming but my pussy was still hot and wet and full up with his enormous cock. You’d expect that after half an hour or more your pussy would expand around it and it would just feel normal to have all that flesh in you, but after a long hard fuck they can seem bigger than ever, as if it’s grown while you were fucking, and they can feel just as shockingly huge as when it first goes in and takes your breath away as it just goes on and on sliding in until you feel bone against bone and know that you’ve got it all.

Somewhere round about my fifth or sixth screaming orgasm he realised he was doing what I’d asked, and remembered about Rog, and he went back to showing off, making me say how great it was, and how I’d waited ten years to feel a real man’s cock in me (I’d quite forgotten about that, but remembered just in time).

He made me take my own knickers off, turned me over and fucked me doggy for quite a long time, and made sure Rog could see everything he was doing to me, which is great because Rog loves the view and I love the feeling, and so Roger got to watch his cock going in and out and making me cum some more (twice, according to Roger’s mental score-card), and then he got on his back and let me ride, which is also good to watch according to Rog, and lets me have as much or as little of him in me as I want, and to go as fast or slow as I want.

Cumming quickly in my mouth at the start seemed to have made him numb, because he just let me slide up and down as much as I liked, and make myself cum twice more without worrying about getting near the edge himself, but when I got up and leaned over the built-in dressing-table and watched us both as he fucked me from behind, I could tell he was having to think about holding back. It’s an erotic position, but I think that being in control and fucking a woman was a lot hornier for him than letting her have fun on his cock at her own pace.

I could have stood there all night (and in fact I have done in the past!) but after a few minutes he needed to change, and spread me on my face so he could fuck me from behind. Which I love. It’s my favourite position for a man to cum, and maybe he guessed that from my reaction, and me saying don’t stop, don’t stop, just fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me till you cum…

Anyway, he made me say it again, and then louder, and louder so he can hear you, meaning Rog, so I was almost shouting cum now, cum now, cum in me now. I know Rog likes that bit, but so do I. It’s very erotic and rude asking a man to cum in you while you’re hubby is watching and listening. In fact I can’t think of very many things that deliver a bigger charge of excitement, except when he does it. Hubby watching a stranger cum in me, and me loving it – that’s a very special moment.

And that’s the secret. I do love it when a stranger cums in me. The ultimate taboo.

So when John told me to ask for his cum, I wasn’t pretending. I wanted him 2 cum in me, and I wanted hubby to know I wanted it.

So after I’d asked, and after he’d kept on fucking me but not cumming, he rolled me on my back and climbed on top, holding his cock above me until I’d begged (very convincingly) to put it in and cum in me. Eventually he slid it in, just before I ripped his skin off his back with my fingernails, and then concentrated on making himself cum, fucking me with the tip of his cock, spreading me open and pulling out, spreading me and pulling out. I love this bit. Not only do I like to watch a man make himself cum, but I love having my pussy teased like this, and I often just tickle my clitty while I watch and wait for the moment. I love feeling them thicken up, and then the guy loses his co-ordination and his movements get all clumsy. Then his cock just stiffens and swells up and it comes spurting out. John plunged himself deep inside as he sprayed, filling me with three or four hot bursts that sent me off screaming again, and when I calmed down it was all over.

He dressed himself, quite quickly, probably thinking about what he was going to say to wifey about where he’d been till four-thirty am, but still remembered to ask for my phone number. He seemed quite surprised when I refused, but more concerned about getting home and explaining the smell of pussy to his wife.

My husband made me put my soaking knickers back on and then put his cock inside me, in all the hot ooze that was part John and part Lucy, and fucked me as slowly and as long as he could. I couldn’t blame him for that not being very long at all, but he did it again in the morning for a lot longer, and in the taxi on the way home I could feel a hot dribble oozing into my poor knickers, a warm fluid that was part me, part two men, one I love, the other I disliked intensely. Good Saturday!

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