Thanks to Jen for the title.

Him.

She emerges from the hotel bathroom pin perfect, dressed like she owns the place, minus heels. Damp dusky hair drapes the collar of the pastel short-sleeve blouse tucked into a stretch charcoal skirt that shows more leg than it conceals.

The sheets tighten above my prone, naked form as she perches on the bed edge and crooks up a knee to rest it on the mattress, her feminine profile achingly alluring.

She smiles across at me. “You’re awake early.”

“I approve when someone climbs over and kisses me on their way to the shower. Plus, y’know.” I nod down at the tenting sheets. “It’s morning.”

She follows my gaze. Says nothing.

“Got time for a reprise of last night’s concerto?”

Glancing at the digital readout below the TV, she shakes her head.

“Half hour before I need to be in the office.” She eyes my prominent stalk again. “You could just play me the clarinet part.”

Grinning, I peel back the covers to reveal my engorged staff that I’ve been stroking and hold it vertically for her gaze.

She bites her lip. “Oh. That’s pretty.”

I glide my hand from base to circumcised tip, squeezing gently on the upstroke. Her eyes flick momentarily to mine, then return to my cock. A bead of pre-come forms. Her lips part, tongue peeking from one corner.

Scooping the droplet to rest on the pad of my index finger, I hold it out for her.

She leans in and closes shaky lips over my digit, eyes drifting closed as she rakes her teeth back. “Again,” she breathes.

I return the wet finger to my cockhead and smear her saliva over the flared tip then jack my shaft some more. My hips roll against the sheets as I watch her watching me. Another droplet forms that I collect on the tip of my thumb and offer.

Her eyes are glued to my pole, clearly a whole new level of torture ratcheted by the short time we have before needing to return to family life. I know our affair’s deeply wrong. We both do. But years of flirting at parties and events finally meshed with the unfulfilled gaps in our marriages that neither of us knew existed. The result: meteoric passion. Unbridled sex. Incredible magnetism, too strong to repel.

Right now, we both know she craves me in her mouth, my thumb offering an indirect taste that she devours. She uses the act to demonstrate exactly what she wants to do with my cock.

I love the way she savours my sweetness, tongue swirling, my thumb glistening in the morning sunlight streaming past the ill-fitting curtain. From the gleam in her eyes, I expect her pristine panties won’t stay that way long.

“Rub it over the tip.”

At her request I swirl my cockhead, making it surge at the slippery touches for our mutual pleasure. When the next, larger bead bubbles to the slit atop the smooth skin of my hard dick, I collect and smear it with the ring finger of my left hand, letting her suck the liquid from around my wedding band while I wank with the right. The want in her expression, my finger encased in her whirling warmth, thrills me.

Snapping open the top button of her blouse, she leans forward, offering considerable visual enhancement. The pure white lace of her bra peeks out, chest rising and falling with her uneven breathing. I feast my gaze on the exposed swell that she highlights by tracing a finger down its slope. I gasp, the stimulus transferred to the stiffness, rock hard in my fist.

Withdrawing my fingertip I bring my left hand to cup my balls, the outer edge of my palm pressing that spot beneath. The one that makes my hips arch off the bed. I swear she’s jealous of the touches.

I tug at my cock, stroking firmly. The wet clicking beneath my encircled fingers fills the quiet, punctuated only by birdsong and our laboured breathing. Little flashes of pleasure lick at the corners of my mouth. Tiny now; exaggerated later when I come.

Her voice drips with lust. “I want to lick the spunk from your stomach. Have the taste of you on my tongue at work.”

Excitement surges and floods me. Opening my left hand, I drift a finger into the crack of my arse and ease over the knot with the remnants of her saliva. So good. I bite my lip. Her jaw drops as she watches me tease myself.

Splaying my thighs, I press more firmly, the first few millimetres of my finger sneaking inside my dark hole. I rock my hips to meet the intrusion, stroking my shaft faster.

As I drift my gaze to her across the bed, fascination wars arousal behind her eyes. Seems the urge to dig into her panties is intense, but she resists. Watches.

Massaging my arsehole while I stroke my cock is electric. Moreso because she’s entranced, such intimate moments usually confined to self-discovery. I tip my head back into the pillow and arch my body, finger gently probing, hand rubbing faster over my engorged prick, wet and drizzling pre-come into my fist.

She watches me becoming lost in pleasure. Sharing the moment with her somehow fuels a stronger connection than when we fucked and explored each other the night before. Most of the night. It’s exhilarating being watched. Revered. And knowing it’s making her wet propels me right to the edge.

Her whisper fills my mind. “Come for me. Let me watch you lose it. Let me hear, then taste your pleasure.”

That’s all I can take. A long breath escapes as I part my lips. The head of my cock swells, balls tightening against the edge of my thumb as my finger forges into my arse to the first knuckle. A breathy, “Fuck,” and my body stiffens, cock pointing at my chest, everything closing in.

I hold for a second, maybe two, pressure building as I grip my cock tight, delaying the inevitable. My eyes widen and I erupt, a long stripe of pearly come splattering from belly to nipple. I meet her gaze as a second spurt joins the first at an acute angle, a crude vee on my chest.

With jerking hips and open mouth, I pump the remaining spunk, dribbling to pool above my belly button.

She mouths, “Holy. Fuck,” trembling at the display.

Slumping to the bed, I pluck out my finger and roll my gaze to her, smiling, cock still twitching and firm in my grasp.

Holding her hair away, she carefully leans in to lick my nipple and stomach, scooping some of the creamy load onto her tongue, moaning in pleasure. Collecting more, she leans up to kiss me, sharing my taste.

The kiss is somehow languid yet frenzied, tongues swirling, lips crushing, promise growing.

Then she’s gone. Slithers off the bed. Steps to the wardrobe into her heeled boots. Turning to face me, she offers a coquettish smile. “You’ll be here when I get back? I’m a fucking mess under these clothes.”

I nod fast. “I’m here on business, remember?”

Grabbing her shoulder bag, she grins and strides to the door. “Business has never been better.”

The latch clicks behind her, leaving the air conditioning and me alone. I pull the sheets up over my erection that refuses to flag, anticipating her return with every fibre of my being.

 

~o0o~

Her.

The ache was incessant. His taste on my tongue lingered while I should have been working. Should have been concentrating on something less dangerous. The budgeting spreadsheet. Dinner at home later. My husband.

But no. Distracted all day. Flashes of him masturbating in the hotel this morning. Fucking him last night. Wondering how I’m still alive after so little sleep.

I shake my head for the fiftieth time. Work’s a write-off so I make my excuses. Flexitime’s such a perk.

The hotel elevator pings and I step out, the gaudy carpet in the corridor muffling my boots. Who’s behind the rooms I pass? Lawyers. Engineers. Lecturers. Regular folk. Decent people with morals. Did they hear me last night acting like a… well, a depraved slut, I guess.

My cheeks flush and I try to walk more quietly.

The keycard sears my palm. I slow. Should stop. Someone’ll get hurt. But…

I shakily reach out, breathe in and swipe the lock. Push past the 817 on the door, and the sight of him lazing on the bed takes my breath away. Quells the disquiet.

His phone’s alongside his nakedness, my message likely still on-screen. Twenty minutes. Be ready. He’s been busy, his shaft hard in his palm. The tip glistens, just like this morning, and I salivate.

I ditch the shoulder bag and unbutton my blouse, leaving it open as I clamber onto the bed and crawl towards him. I widen my stance to straddle his knees as the door latches, shutting out the corridor.

My eyes rove his body, from those cute dimples down. Firm chest, taut stomach, incredible cock. I grin. “Miss me much?”

He nods. “More than you know.”

“Fucking missed you. Wanna see?”

He interlocks his fingers behind his head and settles back against the pillow.

Grazing the sides of my body beneath the gaping blouse, I roll fingertips to the hem of my skirt and inch it up, raising off him briefly as my panties ease into view. His eyes widen and a smile spreads. There’s no mistaking my arousal. The material’s practically transparent where it clings to the pussy lips he shaved last night.

“See what you do to me?”

I run a finger up my slit. Carry on to the waistband, then dig behind the material. Wetness greets my fingertips and I retrieve them. Lift them to his nose and await his deep inhalation. Watch his shaft swell and bob as I trail my digits to his mouth and let him suck me. His tongue’s warm. Hungry.

Plucking them from him I brush my breast with his saliva. Nails cross one shivery nipple, a wet trail forming in the valley. I graze down beyond bunched skirt to slide beneath my underwear again. Watch his attention focus when I slip against my folds. Tuck in, knuckles tenting the fabric as I gasp. Fuck, how can I be this close already?

Teasing myself, I dip fingers in and out of the wetness. The material dampens further. Keeping away from my clit, I just watch him watching me. Waiting. Until the need engulfs me and I chance brushing my jewel. God, it’s magical. Everything lights inside me at once.

I try to go slow, but visions of him lying over me last night invade my mind. Fingering me. Biting nipples that strain beneath my flimsy bra as he pushes me past my limits. Further than pinning me to the wall on my birthday. Beyond any night with my husband in years.

The danger’s a draw, and we both know it, but it’s more than that. Something primal and rejuvenating. To wield power. Have it stripped. To give. Take. Place every atom of trust in someone else and have them twist it for mutual thrill.

Our eyes lock and I return to dipping my fingers in and out. Exaggerated loops. My breathing’s ragged, fuelled by his undisguised excitement that elevates mine. An endless cyclone of hotter, harder and wetter builds.

Grazing my clit, I firmly press and grind forward to trap his cock between our bodies. I keep my fingers still, hips rocking against them and his incredible dick. Pre-come dribbles from the tip and I pause to let it stain my underwear, mixing with my arousal on the diaphanous fabric.

Fuck. That feeling. It’s insane. Flashes of him last night, driving me to the brink then stopping, his fingers buried deep. His hand gripping my ponytail, forcing my eyes to his, letting him see what he did to me. That wicked smile as he tested my wetness and smirked at how I leaked for him.

I tremble, aching to suck him. Breathe him in. Trace his arms with an exploratory fingertip. A lick. A bite as I nibble down his abdomen towards that mouth-watering flared tip and take him in. I crave him flexing against my tongue as we both groan. Filling my mouth. Forging deeper into my throat. Showing him I can be everything he demands, and more.

Arching my hips forward, I extract slippery fingers. Barely recognise my own voice, raspy with need. “Fuck, I want you.”

I rub my mound. Draw my hand away and slap the soaked material. Cry out as the sting scurries deep and pinches.

He gasps. “Jee-zus.”

I draw away again. Crash my palm against my needy cunt, and moan. It’s not even a conscious action; almost autopilot. Surrendering to its command.

Grabbing my panties, I yank them aside to show him my dripping baldness.

“All day I’ve been like this. All fucking day.”

Rolling my hips down, his steel nudges my entrance. Poised. His hands snap from the back of his head to my thighs and dig in as he inhales shakily. “I did this?”

Nodding, I raise my free hand and launch it hard against my exposed flesh. I gasp. Let gravity take my hips, and his incredible shaft take my breath. He impales me as the slap dies away and our groans fill the space.

My fingers are almost fused together; an iron gate against which I grind, rocking my hips. His dick slides. Invades. Fills me. Satisfies the burn I’ve been harbouring. My clit becomes ultra-sensitive. I push through it, the pressure of my fingers against the unfamiliar smoothness making my jaw slack.

He lifts his hands and grips my tits. Squeezes. Pinches my nipples and I throw my head back, rocking and chanting his name. His climax is seconds before mine, splashing heat deep inside as he calls me filthy names I thoroughly deserve through clenched teeth.

The force on my clit prolongs my orgasm. Like I’m suspended, the peak always just out of reach. Then our eyes meet and the rush consumes me. Drives me wild. I lose control, pussy rhythmically gripping him. My ears ring, the room, the world, forgotten.

The tremors and convulsions that batter my insides continue long after we separate and roll apart, panting on the bed, hand in hand. I get the giggles. Doesn’t stop until I check the time under the TV and haul myself up. Rebutton and unmuss.

I glance back at his nakedness, a pang of need knotting my stomach. “What time’s checkout tomorrow?”

“Eleven.”

I screw up my nose. Weigh options. “Want me for breakfast?”

He nods and I lean down to kiss him, then pace for the door.

His voice behind me changes everything. “I think you married the wrong brother.”

I freeze, clutching the handle. Swallow, heart fluttering somewhere between guilt and trepidation, then heave the door and step out.

 

 

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than Lushstories.com with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.





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