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My heart raced as I stood in the lobby waiting for him. It always raced when he was involved. It was the whole reason I was there, standing alone in the public lobby of the fancy hotel downtown wearing nothing but a negligee and high heels. I figured it passed as a dress. It extended all the way down to the floor and yes, it was backless and there was a slit all the way up both legs all the way to my hips, but you had to look at me to know I was wearing pajamas.

Most people didn’t look, or if they did, hid their eyes or made do with passing glances.

Some did look though. There was one man in particular, older, heavyset, in a worn and wrinkled gray suit who did little to cover his interest. He was staring. At first, I had turned my back to him but I couldn’t see the door that way. When there was no option but to just make the most of it I turned, arched my back, thrust my chest forward stressing the cleavage revealed by the deeply plunging front of the gown and allowing him to take in the way my nipples pressed out at the thin satin.

Tom was late. He had hinted to me that he might be. I was irritated for a minute until I realized it was part of the game. His plan all along was to leave me there on display.

A man walked up and tried to make conversation. He was young. I would guess in his late twenties. He was pretty. He was too pretty for me. I was pleasant enough but dismissive. I was waiting for someone, I told him. He said I was gorgeous. I thanked him. I moved away. My feet were beginning to hurt. I took a seat in an oversized chair.

“What? You didn’t think Matt was cute?” read the text.

“Where are you?” I asked him. I didn’t want to give up and leave. I was getting close though.

“Look over your shoulder,” he sent. I did. I chose the wrong shoulder. He texted me to look over the other one. Craning and twisting my tit slipped out the side of the dress. I growled, stuffed it back in and looked again. He was in a black suit sitting at the bar. He had a lowball glass filled with dark liquid. He made a short toasting gesture.

“Asshole,” I teased him. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Not as much as the fat guy across from you.”

“Asshole,” I teased him again. I put a little smiley face after it so that he knew I was playing. I was relieved, excited, and ready.

It was three months to the day since the lunch. We were casual friends at best. His wife was my friend and we had forced the husbands on each other. They turned out to get along well and had taken to playing golf and meeting up to watch football games. The day it all started, the four of us were supposed to meet for lunch but his wife was held up and my husband, never the brightest bulb in the string, had gone to the wrong restaurant. Sitting over burgers and beers we fought through the tension.

I wasn’t unhappy. Really it was kind of the opposite. I was perfectly contented with my life and my husband. I think it was that perfect contentedness that caused it. It left me vulnerable to surprise. I told him I hoped no one we knew saw us together. There would be talk.

He said as long as we never had intercourse it didn’t matter. The specificity of his comment intrigued me.

It felt like a dare. I told him how dangerous it was. I told him he didn’t know me. He didn’t know I had absolutely no limits. I told him I would do anything he asked me to. Double dare.

He asked me to go into the bathroom. He wanted my bra and panties. I laughed at him. He laughed back at me. He said I was all talk. He left lunch with my underwear in his pocket and I had a long tortured afternoon back in my office. The game was on.

For the next month, it was pretty tame. We would all meet for drinks and he would instruct me to blow my husband in the parking lot. He sent an outfit to my office, one of those tiny party dresses that teenagers wear to prom and met for casino oyna drinks and flirted and pawed each other. He had me meet him in a park — naked. We began to kiss. By the end of the second month, oral sex had been incorporated. At first, he just ordered me to spread my legs and sit still but finally, after a good deal of begging, he let me go down on him.

I couldn’t help it. We were too far along now. I wanted the rest of it. I wanted his cock. I told him exactly what I wanted. I wanted to meet him in the afternoon. I wanted him to dress me. I wanted to be taken upstairs. I wanted to be fucked long and hard until I was sore for a week.

He told me it was against the rules.

I told him I didn’t care.

He insisted all this only worked if we followed the rules but that he would think about it.

Waiting for him in the hotel, it was time. God, I wanted it. I watched him watch me. Everyone else in the hotel slipped away like in a portrait where the background is all out of focus.

“Are you going to fuck me now?” I texted him.

“No,” he replied.

I looked at him with a raised eyebrow and then went back to my phone.

“Against the rules,” he had sent.

“I was promised a good lay. You don’t want to see me pissed off.”

“No. I want to see you fuck,” he said.

He snuck up on me while I read his last message and thumbed in a confused response.

“Maddie, I’d like you to meet Matt. Matt, Maddie. Shall we?”

I was silent in the elevator. The men stood on either side of me talking about nonsense. I think they talked about football. When we finally slipped into a small but luxuriously appointed hotel room, Matt dismissed himself to the bathroom and I had Tom alone.

“I see what you have planned but it’s not what I wanted. I wanted you,” I said in a pouty voice. I kissed him. I pressed my body against him. I felt him respond, twitching, half hard, against my leg.

“We made a deal. I can’t sleep with you.”

“Well, whats the deal with little Matty boy in there?” I gripped his cock. I still believed we would make love, any minute now.

“You said you would do anything.”

“Mmmm. I will.”

“Well, your challenge today… is Matty Boy.”

“While you watch?”

“Yes.”

“Just watch.”

“Yes,” he said again. Then, as we kissed, he tugged the spaghetti straps of my gown off my shoulders and it fell to the floor.

Matt emerged from the bathroom. He had stripped down to black boxer briefs.

I looked back to Tom, smiled, kissed him again, and then moved to the bed.

Matt was, I would learn, 14 years younger than me. That made him only six years older than my son. Women, always hypercritical of themselves, know every pound and crease that we develop over the years while at the same time ignoring the aging of the men around us. As the young man moved over me I ran my hands over his shoulders and forearms. The word that came to mind was taught. Everything, from his skin to his muscles to his ass and his cock was tight and hard. I breathed deeply, slowly coming to accept what was happening.

He kissed me. It was a good kiss, with tongue, the right amount. I mewed gently. I felt him hard against my thigh.

Then, as I looked to my left, seeing Tom seated, fully clothed, cocktail in hand, Matt entered me. He slipped easily inside of me, more easily than I imagined. He was impossibly long, impossibly hard, and the sensation, each stroke seeming to go on for an eternity was entirely different than having my husband, his thick, if not very long, cock splitting me open.

I watched Tom watch me, my knees raised, my feet still in their heels raised over the young man’s haunches.

I came, gently. It was good. My feet moved back to the mattress. I moved my arms around the man’s shoulders.

I smiled at Tom. He smiled back. I had pleased him.

And canlı casino then the boy began in earnest.

“Jesus!” I squealed. Then “Jes — Us — Jes — Us!” I repeated in a chant.

He was like a machine.

He was like a glorious fuck machine. Like a vibrator. He didn’t stop. “Awwwww…. FUUCK!” I couldn’t hold back. I came. I came again. My legs wrapped around him. Tom was there, I think, I don’t know, I didn’t care. “Fuuuuuck!” he went at me. I opened for him.

“Oh shit,” the boy said.

“What?” I asked. I looked for him. He had leaped off of me.

“Good?” came the familiar voice. I looked over at him. he sat there still. His smile was worse. It was broad and hideous, filled with pride.

“Fuck,” I muttered.

“Roll over,” he said quietly.

“What?”

“Roll over,” he said again. “No, this way,” he corrected when he wasn’t happy with my ass in the air towards him. He had me move crossways. My ass was directed back at the bathroom door.

“Like this.”

“Sure.”

“Sorry about that,” said young Matt.

There was too much talking. Too much moving. It ended quickly enough though. The boy was back.

“Where’d you go?” I asked him.

“I needed a… Um… I needed a new condom.”

“Oh Jesus,” I sighed. He needed a new condom, meaning he wasn’t done. It meant I wasn’t done. “Oh fuck!” I squealed. I was closed tighter now, in this position, his cock was just as long though. I gasped as he took his time slipping into me from behind.

At first, I buried my head in my arms. I listened to the slapping. I felt the cock. It was, and this is weird I admit, sort of cosmic. It was as if it wasn’t me. I didn’t do this shit. I had never done this shit. Tom maybe. I wanted to do Tommy. I loved Tommy. I felt it. I had come to love him. To make love to him would only have been natural. Sure, at first, it was a game, playing, seeing how far we would go. I was happy at home – he was just a distraction. It had changed though. He had taken possession of me. I had given myself to him. But it wasn’t him doing….

“Fuck!” I yelled. He had hit a spot. My mind went blank. He hit it again and again and I came so hard it fucking hurt. “Fuuuuuck!” I screamed. “Oh fuck me right there. Fuck that pussy!” I commanded the boy. Fuck Tom for doing this to me. Fuck him for what he had made me. I looked up at him. He was still sitting there, just as before. He had a drink in his hand, just as before, what was different was his cock in his hand. I had seen it before. I had seen it in the dark of a parking lot and once in a park. I had tasted his cock. This was different though. It was light, it was long and thick and he gripped it like, fuck, I don’t know, he gripped it hard, like a tennis racquet. He stroked it as I got fucked and as I came and as the boy, fuck-machine that he was, kept fucking me.

After another condom change I tried to be on top but I was tired. I was fucked out. It wasn’t working. Again I was on my back, this time with my legs folded straight up in the air between the boy and me. He held them there. I was done. He got himself off though, fucking me fast and hard. I moaned throughout the whole thing.

It was splendid.

And then he left.

For a moment I guess I was alone. I laid on the large bed. I shrunk away within the plush bedding feeling it against my skin. I closed my eyes. I wanted to sleep but I wasn’t going to. I hadn’t been drinking, it was the middle of the day, I was alert, awake, and I was at a loss to describe how I felt.

My thoughts spun about in my head.

It was good… but it wasn’t.

It was satisfying… to be sure… but left me wanting.

I loved Tom. He had done it, even if it wasn’t his cock… but it wasn’t his cock.

I hated Tom. Maybe because he had done it. Maybe because he hadn’t done it.

I’m sure I heard him or something but really, it felt kaçak casino like I sensed him behind me, moving through the room. I wasn’t sure where he had gone.

“Want a drink?” he asked.

“Yes,” I whispered. I wasn’t ready to talk about this.

“Water? Or there is Bourbon.”

“Both.”

He moved beside the bed. He had two glasses, each with ice, one with clear liquid, the other the auburn liquor. I drank the liquor first in a single swallow that made me cough and then drank down the water. I told him to refill both of them. He sat the glasses on the nightstand and then disappeared behind me. There was a quiet moment and then I felt the bed move around me as he joined me in it, or rather on it, fully clothed he laid beside me.

For whatever reason, laziness probably more than anything I allowed him to stroke me, his hand moved slowly along my arm.

The resolution sat there in my mind, the words on my tongue. His petting seemed to only make it stronger. I rolled onto my back. I needed to break up with him, to end it, to his face.

It also meant I was topless, on my back, my chest bared to him. He no longer stroked my arms but instead stroked my breasts.

“Tom… I began.”

“Yes, Love.”

“We have to talk,” I said, sure that it was the only thing I needed to say.

“Was it that bad?” he asked.

“Yes. And no.” I didn’t have a response to his question.

“Was it at least… Okay?”

He made me smile. That was just how he was. I was about to break up with him and he was making me smile.

“Oh, Tommy, of course, it was okay. For what it was. Yes. It was good. He was… athletic.”

“Oh good.”

“But it… it wasn’t what I wanted.”

“It’s what you said you wanted. You wanted to be fucked so hard you walked funny. I mean, I wish I could do that. I’m old though. You know it doesn’t work that way.”

“I didn’t mean it literally, you know.”

“The game went too far.” He said, admitting defeat. At least he didn’t fight it. I wondered what I would do if he fought it. I mean, he could have insisted. It was the game, it was the agreement. What if he just told me to do something? I laid there wondering to myself, what if he asked me to suck him off? I knew what the answer would be. I wanted the game over. But I didn’t.

“I wanted you, not him,” I sighed. I felt my throat choking up. I was going to cry and that was going to piss me off.

“So the game, the whole, I dare you to make me do it so long as we don’t screw, all that is over?”

“Yeah, I think it is.”

Why did he seem so fucking contented with himself? He rolled away from me and stood beside the bed and then, just to confound me beyond all reason he began to undress. He removed his tie and as he went to work on the buttons of his still neatly pressed shirt he picked up the receiver, pushed a button on the phone, and continued to undress as he spoke.

He wanted two cheeseburgers, one well done, one medium rare. He ordered fries with both, four beers, and a chocolate cake. He finished up his call with the phrase, “That will be fine,” and hung up the phone. I watched in silence as he removed the rest of his clothes. He was thinner than I expected, a little hairier, and the hair had a little more gray, especially in the chest, than I had thought it would. I just then realized I had never seen him undressed before.

“What are you doing?” I asked him as he moved into bed beside me. He pulled the down comforter and sheets up to our shoulders. I placed my hand on him, I think to push him away, but feeling his shoulder in my palm I simply held him as his shoulder moved ever closer to me.

“I am making love to you.”

“The game, it’s over.” I reminded him.

“Yes, I know. No rules. Now I just get to be with you.”

As my smile grew across my face, so too did his, at least until he leaned in towards me and we kissed. It was a different kiss than ever before.

“Be gentle,” I whispered, a little worried. He didn’t reply but for the rest of the night, and at every opportunity since, he has been.

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