Forgiveness

That shut hubby up for all of about 2 point 5 seconds.

"Well, isn't that up to them?" he tried to illogically strategically retreat. If he was really listening he might have noticed, as I did during the silence, that I had just allowed for the possibility of my cunt being filled by cock, and not just hubby's cock. Time to make my own retreat.

"Or their wives, since on your theory, it ain't nasty if you have permission," I suggested, smiling. "But tell me more about your adventure."

This distracted him.

"When the door opened, she grabbed my cock like a handle and tugged me into the room," he explained. "I don't recall doing it, but i must have closed the door. It wasn't open later. But I know I was so horny I would have fucked with the entire hotel watching, and I think she felt the same way."

"Good thing you closed it. A maid or room service fantasy is divine, but you wouldn't want a family of four paddling along the hall on their way to the pool to investigate the groaning."

"Too right. Unless the youngest daughter was eighteen- then that would be hot," hubby chuckled, loosening up even more.

But that digression could wait for another day's sex play. I wanted to hear about hubby's real life indiscretion. That was what had made my nipples ache and my clit throb. Now I needed to hear the rest while I did something about my wet pussy.

"She just tumbled onto the bed, landing on her back, with her legs wide open, knees off the edge of the mattress. Her skirt, what there was of it, was caught up under her ass, so her cunt was fully displayed. I wasn't really staring at it though, because it was hard not to look at her tits -- her shirt had fallen open, and those mounds were magnificent, honey. Stood straight up, capped by nipples so hard even you would have wanted to suck them."

I had already been licking my lips picturing her, though until hubby mentioned the nipples, I had been dreaming of tasting my first pussy, wondering whether I wanted it plain, or after hubby filled it with cream. As I pondered that, I was frigging my clit desperately. My ass was bouncing up and down as my entire body quivered with excitement.

"Did you eat her pu... cu..." I stumbled over words.

"Cunt...say the word..." hubby urged.

"Cunt!" I spit the word out like a bad seed, but once my tongue clicked off my bottom teeth and my lips relaxed, it was just another word. "Did you eat her cunt?"

Because I knew as I pictured her sprawled out like that, feet on or near the floor, knees wide, that if I were a man, I would be staring at her cunt, and thinking how tasty it looked. Heck, I'm not a man, and I could still almost taste her. But perhaps if I were a man, I'd be thinking with my cock, not my mouth, and I'd just want to savagely ram home my weapon, to use the bitch for my own pleasure. Pump her full of semen, mark her as mine like a dog pissing on a tree. Men are funny creatures. I shouldn't try to think like them.

Suddenly, it occurred to me. "I hope the bitch had condoms."

"Huh?" hubby replied. "Where did that come from. You were asking about me eating her, and..."

"Then I remembered how you prefer eating my pu...cunt after you fill it with cream." I almost said out loud what I was thinking at the end of the sentence: "Asshole."

The thought of hubby engaged in high risk unprotected sex filled me with rage. Maybe I wasn't as forgiving as I thought. But I still refrained from swearing at him.

"So, did you?"

"Yes, like I said, she was out to get laid. If it hadn't been me, she would have seduced any random tractor salesman or architect who wandered into the bar. She came prepared."

I exhaled loudly.

"I was a newbie at fucking on the road, but she wasn't," hubby affirmed.

"So tell me about the fucking."

"She pulled me down on top of her, using my cock as a handle. It was the hardest I'd been in years." Hubby paused. "Sorry- does that upset you?"

I laughed. "No, it makes me wet. Of course the prospect of new pussy excited your hormones. It just proves how virile you still are. I find that very sexy."

"We kissed a while while she tugged on my cock. She's a moaner. When we separated to breath, she told me how much she loved the silkiness of the outer layer of skin, and also, how every cock is just a bit different. She explained that this was a big part of why she had become such a slut, trying to experience all the variety of cocks out there. So far, she hadn't found two that were just the same- not even twins."

My fingers lingered against my wetness as I pictured the bitch sucking twins, alternating between the two cocks, on her knees, finally giving up control. I wanted desperately to ask if she did them both at once but hubby had digressed enough.

"Tell me about fucking her." I demanded.

Two fingers were thrusting deep into my cunt by this pint, while my thumb worked my clit. My other hand roamed my tits, massaging them, thumb tweaking the nipples in imitation of my clit flicking.

"She had one of those little black purses- the sort with a strap that allowed her to hang it off a shoulder while we made out in the elevator. I'm not sure that there was room in it for anything more than her key card and a rubber. She fumbled a bit finding the purse beside her on the bed, because she never stopped rubbing my cock, just switched hands. She ripped the foil with her teeth, and spit the corner across the room. After she shook the rubber out of the packet, she held it up to her mouth a blew warm air into it, helping to inflate it. She was obviously very practised, because she rolled it onto me in one smooth motion, even though my cock was trapped between our bodies,. I lifted my hips just even to allow both her hands room to work."

I pictured that, as if I was standing by the bed, to the left, a perfect angle to just see his tumescent glory in her tiny hand, her fake tits staring straight up toward the ceiling, nipples rock hard cherries. My hand worked harder in my cunt, all four fingers now in use.

"If she fondled you too long, she'd be awful disappointed when you came on her belly instead of inside her," I teased. Hubby never had trouble that way- no quick trigger for him.

"No, as soon as I was safely sheathed she rolled her hips and hitched up the bed a bit and drew my cock deep inside of her cunt with one well practised thrust."

"Thrust? I thought it's guys who do the thrusting?"

"She was as aggressive a fucker as any guy I've known, even though she was all woman."

"Fucked a lot of guys, have you?" I teased a bit more, maybe to avoid thinking about how preorgasmic tingles were running through my shoulders, loosening my spine and starting my hips rolling, almost as if Hubby was fucking me, not her. My fingers continued doing a decent job, but I love cock more.

"No guy could fuck like this. Her abdominals were amazing, and then she wrapped her ankles behind my calves, to draw me even deeper into her cunt. She grabbed handfuls of hair and forced my mouth to her tits, no matter how much that strained my back."

"What did she make you do to her tits?"

"First she buried my nose in between them. I didn't need to be told to stick out my tongue and lick, as close to keeping time with my cock thrusts as I could. Then she yanked me up one slope and down the other. Only then did she lower my lips over her left nipple and told me to suck, not bite."

"I'm surprised you didn't cum by that point."

"I guess I was too busy hanging on for my life. It was a helluva ride. When she shifted my mouth to the right nipple, she commanded me to bite it -- just the one word actually- by that time, I was too far gone not to obey."

My nipples tingled in empathy. They are so sensitive I have trained hubby not to even nibble them. Just the edge of his teeth scraping my nubs sends shivers down my spine straight to my clit.

"What did it feel like- being inside her cunt?" I could not resist asking. For so many years, mine was the only glove he had worn, and now, he had a new experience. Since he had decided to share it with me, I suddenly needed to live it.

"Well, it was very different to start with because I'm not used to wearing a rubber. That changed the sensation. I could not appreciate her wetness as much I do with you. I knew she was soaked because I could feel it on my balls, and my thighs, and below her on the bed, but the sheath kept me from feeling it against my meat. It did make everything nice and slick so that I had no trouble plunging deep inside of her, and trying to draw out in a good seesaw fucking motion. Except her muscles kept slowing me, as if they were trying to milk my cock."

"Was she tight?" thinking she must not be if she was such a slut.

"Her tight abs sure made it feel that way. Not that I had any trouble getting into her or anything. But once I was in there, yeah, it could have been an eighteen year old's cunt -- not virginal, no hint of hymen or resistance, but like I was a big cock entering a passage where few men had gone before."

"Did she talk while you fucked her?" Hubby loved dirty talk during sex. It made him even harder. I loved how his cock would pulse inside my cunt as I spoke all those nasty words.

"Yes, she told me she thought I was deeper than any other cock that had fucked her. That it felt like I was coming up through her throat. Then she started moaning about the throbbing against her walls, and how tightly her labia fit around my root. She said she was going to milk all the spunk right out of me."

"And did she?"

I imagined that by then she must have been groaning like I was while I listened to him. I was already close to climax. In spite of her sluttiness, the making out in the elevator must have had her pretty ready too. It was hard to believe that I was actually identifying with how the slut felt while she fucked my husband, but that seemed to be my natural reaction.

"Yeah..." he drawled out, though by this point he had no good reason to be reluctant. What he said next though explained it. "...I didn't last very long. I spurted like a teenager. At least I filled her up, because it was like a virgin all right -- hair trigger, huge load. Also like a young guy, I did not lose all my erection when I came. I think that was the result of how her labia gripped my cock, right at the base, not letting the blood flow back up into my body. She held me deep inside of her womb even after my last spurt."

That mental image tipped me right over the edge. It was like instead of my fingers inside my cunt, hubby's cock was there, held tight by my muscles, and that it was me that he was filling with seed. Waves of ecstasy rolled through my whole body, flowing out from my clit, which felt like someone had attached booster cables to it. My abs started convulsing, my shoulders shaking, my hips rotating, my tits bouncing, my hair flying. Hubby was silent as he listened to my screams of joy.

Then, into the silence which followed, he chucked and said, "Yup, that sounds a lot like how it felt to me."

I had to chuckle back. No wonder I love the goof. No wonder forgiveness was beside the point.

"I guess with the rubber, she didn't lick you clean, and she didn't have a cream pie for you?"

As soon as I said the words, I worried that they might sound too bitchy, competitive, like the subtext was 'sex with me is still better' instead of 'sounds like fun, wish it had been even more fun.' or even 'so what happened next?'.

Because, despite just having had one of the biggest orgasms of my life, my fingers were still flexing inside my cunt, and my mind was dancing around the image of hubby half lying half standing, his semi hard cock still inside the bitch's twat.

Hubby understood. He chuckled again, more ruefully this time, and replied. "She pushed herself up onto her elbows , drew my face to hers, gave me a big tongue twisting kiss, but when she broke free she said that I better pull out before I got so soft that semen leaked out of the rubber. She was insistent that she didn't want any swimmers left in her cunt. Those were the words she used."

My nipples ached in response to each hard consonant. My pearl perked up, wanting more fucking, even if only from my own fingers. I no longer cared what they had done. I just wanted to hear more.

"You're such a fucking gentleman," my voice sounded like a growl.

"Yeah, I gathered up my clothes, arranged myself as decently as I could and toddled back to my own room."

Once he got to his room, he had been overcome with guilt, because he phoned and told me this story immediately after fucking her. It was a brave and stupid thing to do. At least he was man enough not to sob, nor did he quite come right out and ask for forgiveness then. Maybe my heavy breathing as my hips started lifting back up off our marriage bed were all the absolution he needed.

"Tell me more," I begged.

He paused, no doubt thinking that there was no more to tell, or wondering if he should make something up. Hubby is brilliant, but not the most creative guy in the world.

"I...I want to fuck her again," he finally confessed. "It's not that she's better than you. But she has so much experience, I just know she has a lot of tricks to show me. Plus, I didn't get to fuck her ass yet."

So many tricks -- maybe the slut could be good for my love life, teach the old dog new tricks to bring home to me. I pictured her, face buried in a pillow, hips in the arm thrusting back against hubby as he knelt behind her on the bed, fucking her ass. Admitting to myself how hot it would be to sit in the room watching that, I tugged my clit with the fingers of one hand, and a nipple with the other. My hips thrust in orgasm, making the same motion as if it was me fucking her ass with a strap on dildo.

My groans must have been loud, because, after a pause, hubby spoke into the phone. "That was quite a reaction."

"I bet her ass is stretched wide, she's such a whore."

Hubby chuckled. "I'm confident she doesn't charge for it."

"Well, if you fuck her ass, I want to hear all about it."

I thought I heard hubby gulp before he promised to comply. When he got home from the trip, he told me that the next morning, and the next after that, she had been just as professional as ever, polite, but no hint that their encounter had ever happened. Hubby confessed that he had gone to the bar after the second day's sessions hoping to see her, and she was there, surrounded by a group of guys from the local office. He had asked her if she wanted to have dinner, but she had laughed, chugged her cosmo, and said that food was for the weak- she was going out trolling strip bars with the guys. Though she had said, "you can come along if you want", hubby understood that their moment had passed. Instead, he went up to his room and we had more phone sex. He also admitted that before calling me, he had ordered room service, fantasizing about propositioning a sexy waitress, but the food had been delivered by a wrinkly elderly waiter. So hubby was left to verbalize assfucking fantasies with me.

He never did get to fuck that bitch's ass. They never took another trip together. Since hubby was now fully trained, he was sent out on his own. She transferred to the east coast soon after, and then quit the company. Rumours said she had married a senior executive. Or an oil tycoon. Or a movie producer. The only truth that mattered to me was that hubby had strayed. I suspected the truth that mattered most to hubby was that he never got to fuck that ass. He sure introduced it into our sexual fantasizing often enough.

We always came hard and fast when we fantasized. This was nothing new -- imagination had always played a role in our sex life, from teasing about inviting a bridesmaid along on the honeymoon to speculating which cheerleader at our son's senior year football games had fucked the quarterback on her eighteenth birthday.

Not that all our talk was about other women. Our daughter had a male second grade teacher. When hubby had joked about my wanting to schedule midnight parent teacher conferences, I had retorted that maybe the teacher was gay and would rather that hubby show up instead of me.

There was no hesitation about the absolutely ripped almost nude surfing instructor when we took our Hawaii vacation -- hubby had almost begged me to seduce him so that he could watch, I had deflected it by saying I would if hubby would lick the bronze cock and slide it inside me. That not only shut hubby up, it made him blush. His cock was incredibly hard, and I had dragged him from the beach, intending to fuck him in our room, but we ended up not being able to wait that long. We did the deed leaning against a tree trunk just off the pathway about twenty feet up from the beach, only his cock outside his pants, but my bandeau bikini top pushed up so he could ravage my tits, as well as my bottoms twisted to open my wet slit to his penetration. We kept our lips tightly together to muffle our groans. When he dropped his lips to my nipple, he stuck a palm over my mouth. Not that I cared whether anybody heard or saw us. My brain was too busy wishing it was a thick Polynesian cock in my cunt instead of hubby. Hubby's enthusiasm washed away any hint of shame.

Over time, though, the reality bed fantasies after hubby's slip took us in different directions. I continued to find the idea thrilling, and my sex talk was built around pushing the envelop further. Though we never discussed it, I hoped that hubby would get another opportunity. He on the other hand, began to increasingly become uncomfortable with the whole idea, saying that he thought I kept bringing it back up to punish him. We had to stop the talking before he was simply unable to get it up. Soon, our sex life settled back into a vanilla routine, which in turn gradually diminished into a stereotypical married couple sparsity.

When I tried talking about it, he withdrew further. Finally, I decided to act, not talk. To take matters into my own hands, so to speak. All it would take, I figured, was for my hand to slide over his thigh and grasp his idle cock. I could silently stroke it to life as I rolled over and rested my head on his shoulder, my tit pressing into his arm. Once he was hard, I figured he would just join right in. We could fuck like animals, grunting without speaking. I pictured myself riding him cowgirl style, until he rolled over and flipped me onto my hands and knees to fuck me doggy style.

It did not work out quite like I planned. His noodle stayed as limp as overcooked vermicelli. When I put my head on his shoulder, he brusquely shrugged and rolled away. He just couldn't not believe that I had accepted his transgression. The truth -- that I not only accepted it, but was excited, and hoping for more, was just impossible for him to grasp. I guess that's why he turned it around. Not because we would be equally guilty, but in hope that I could understand how he felt.

Of course, fucking around with his prior consent would never be the same. So once I realized the need to satisfy his expectations, to try to please him, I set out to have my own meaningless sex.

Since I don't travel for my job, the perfect "in and out" sex away from home was impossible. Second best would be a stranger. That would make it clear to hubby when I told him that I had not just embraced his suggestion, but that I had levelled the playing field on my own terms. Our marriage could then continue as equals, without the complications of some star struck lover wanting more.

I tried going to bars a couple of times. The sort attached to hotels or motels near the airport or the highway where businessmen stay. Not trucker joints, though fucking in a sleeper cab might be added to my bucket list now that I've pictured it. I suppose that doggy style would be best, taking care not to bounce any heads against the interior. Travelling coast to coast with a driving team, being tag teamed by them, one fucking while the other drives, might be a hoot. I wonder if I would enjoy two guys, or a husband wife team better?