Behind His Back Ch. 1

WARNING:

The following story is for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY, and contains 
descriptions of explicit sex.  If you are not an adult, or reading sex stories 
upset you, or you are offended by subjects of a sexual nature - do not read any 
further! 

This story is for entertainment only.  It contains adult oriented material. This 
is a work of fiction.  The acts and characters contained within are figments of my 
imagination and have no basis in fact.  I do not practice, advocate, condone or 
encourage acts portrayed here.  The characters in the story are entirely 
fictional.  You need to believe that all of the characters are over the age of 
eighteen.

This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without the written 
permission of the author.  This story may be freely distributed with this notice 
attached.

* * * * * * * * * * 

Many of the situations I find myself in are funny and/or accidental, always with 
sexual context.  This tale is all of those things, plus ironic.  Boy, isn't that 
ironic!

The story could have been called "FOX RECRUITED TO GUARD HEN HOUSE" but then my 
readers, devoted or potential, would have ignored the category and believed that I 
was writing about sex with animals.  And believe me, I would never have sex with 
an animal.   Unless you count that marathon session with a coed named Wren back in 
college.  Ah, but that is yet another story.

Read on, and don't worry about allergies to feathers.  Or eggs.

* * * * * * * * * 

Why do all of these things always start with a phone call?  Because no one would 
believe that I'd accidentally run into these folks while walking along the street, 
or shopping in the local mall.  No, these folks want something from me, and so 
they call.  And call.  And call.

This time, the voice was not the least bit familiar.  A guy named Gary, probably 
selling siding or wanting me to donate money to a perfectly good cause from my 
perfectly empty wallet.  I was about to hang up.

"Gary, Gary Bigger!  You remember me, from the Technical Interface Standards Task 
Force?  Two years ago?"  It sounded like Gary was in a freezer in his underwear.

The memories came lurching back.  My roommate Gary, who I was paired with by 
lottery and shared a hotel room.  Kept expenses down for both of our companies, 
and at least one of us out of trouble.  Everyone at the conference had a silent or 
public chuckle at Gary's expense, because at five feet, six inches, he was the 
shortest guy there.  "Sure I remember.  Gee, I haven't talked to you since that 
meeting."

"Yeah, not since Vegas.  What a time, right?"  Gary's voice didn't stop quivering. 

"Yeah."  We all promised to leave those stories at McCarran International.  They'd 
be unwelcome baggage back home.   "What's up?"

"We did such good work, they didn't need to reconvene the team," he said.  "Did 
you hear, the standard made it to the International body?  I'm attending the vote 
in Copenhagen next week, to represent us."

No, don't send good old Harvey Marcus to one of the sexy Scandinavian countries.  
He'll increase the birth rate by 25% in just a week. "Have a nice trip."  Gary 
hadn't volunteered the reason for the call.  To gloat about how his forthcoming 
trip made him a bigger man?  I tried again.  "Is there something I can do?  Review 
something with you, before you go?"

"No, nothing like that.  Oh man, this is so difficult."

I pictured him pacing.  "What is?"  Flying? It's a hassle, but Gary wouldn't be 
the pilot, merely a passenger, probably feeling up a flight attendant or two.  The 
thought of all of those Scandinavian women.  Gary, the horny son-of-a-bitch, was 
going to be in heaven.

"It's kind of personal.  Shit, I should just say it."  Gary took an audibly deep 
breath.  "It's my wife.  She's having an affair.  I just know it."

Gary had bragged about his new wife back then, and how it was tough to leave her 
home.  The implication was that she was dynamite in the sack; Gary wanted us all 
to believe that he was tending to all of her needs, and that he'd miss the hot 
nightly nookie.  "You're probably mistaken."  Which is what I hoped someone would 
tell Harriett if she suspected me of fooling around behind her back.  Over and 
over.

"I wish.  She goes out at night.  Says she's working late, or taking some kind of 
class or something.  Anyway, I did that pencil-rubbing trick. You know, bringing 
the impressions of handwriting up from the sheet below.  There's a pad on her 
desk, next to the phone.  The impressions said 'Bar at The Biltwell, Michigan 
Avenue, Friday, 7 PM.' I leave on Friday.  Go there and watch.  See if she meets 
someone.  I have to know.  I'm not getting any younger.  She's so hot, she could 
have her pick of anybody.  Please?"

Gary had told us about the age disparity, mostly to brag that he could keep up 
with her, sexually.  Now, that confidence was gone.  He sounded like he was in 
genuine pain.  "Listen, I don't have detective skills.  There are professionals 
who do this kind of stuff."  And in the paperback books I'd read, lots of times 
the detective hooked up with the spouse.  This was a very bad idea.  "Can't you 
ask somebody else?"  Gary and I weren't that good friends.

"She knows all of my buddies but not you.  Besides, you owe me, Marcus."

He was referring to the hooker incident. Gary got drunk. Stinking drunk.  And he'd 
just gotten back from his honeymoon when our meeting got convened.  All we heard 
was how insatiable his wife was and how frequently they had sex.  And where. In 
bed.  In the outdoor patio.  On the beach. In a public Jacuzzi. Everyplace. So 
what happened when he's away from his hot honey?  He got horny.  On the second 
night. I'm in our shared room and he staggers in with a young woman with short 
black hair in a very tight dress. So tight I could see she'd skipped underwear.

"What are you doing, bringing her to our room?" I'd asked him.  Not that his taste 
was awful.  She had a young face, but she was a pro and looked a bit weary of the 
street life despite her girlish demeanor.

"I couldn't help myself. She reminded me of my wife."

I'd seen one wedding photo, the one he passed around at dinner. The black haired 
hooker with modest breasts looked nothing like his busty blonde bride.  "Your 
wife-"

Gary passed out on the bed.

"He paid me in advance."  She stood, dress high on her thighs, legs spread.  
"Fifty bucks. You interested?" 

In getting a communicable disease?  "No thanks."

She brushed her long bangs from her eyes.  Too much mascara.  "How about a tension 
reliever?"  She pulled the dress down. Her tits popped out. Nice, just a little 
loose. I expected the same of her pussy.  "Hand or mouth?"

"Hand." I didn't want her bright red lipstick on my cock. Then I'd have to scrub 
it off and that would only get me erect again, and she'd offer to take care of 
that, but it would cost me, in cash and reputation.  Harvey Marcus doesn't pay for 
it.

She pounded my penis, occasionally spitting on it for lubrication. When I felt the 
rush I didn't announce it. I just splurmed onto her face and neck.  She lifted 
strands of goo from her cheek.  "Can I clean up in the bathroom?"

"Sure."

After she left, Gary was short an electric shaver and I'd lost an expensive nail 
clipper.  So how did I owe him?  I guess I never paid him back the fifty bucks.  
"All right.  I'll stop by the bar Friday night, have a drink, look around a bit.  
If I see something, I'll let you know."

"Great!  Thank you so much."  He sounded relieved, and I hadn't done anything yet.  
I thought about skipping the bar and telling him she met a girlfriend.  But I 
don't like lying.  "I'll email you a recent picture, from our trip to Cancun, so 
you can identify her."  

The message came through almost immediately.  Thank Rudy for the Interwebs.  
[author:  see Bill Cosby routine for Rudy reference]  Patricia was gorgeous, with 
a body that would stop any man's heart.  The bikini she wore held no secrets, and 
barely held her tits and ass.  If the swimsuit was any smaller, or she was any 
bigger - shit, she was a Bigger.  At least I'd get some nominal pleasure looking 
at her from afar.

"Got it.  So tell me, what if she leaves the bar with a guy?  Should I stop her?  
Follow her?  What?"

"No, don't do anything. Just let me know if she meets someone."

"Okay, but only because you insist."

***

On Friday after work, I walked across downtown to the Biltwell Hotel on Michigan 
Avenue.  There was one bar called Bottoms Up adjacent to the far end of the lobby.  
The bar was separated from the rest of the lobby by two half-circle walls. From 
where I stood, it looked like somebody's ass cheeks, the crack where the two walls 
came together.  Maybe it was intentional, or just the irony of the design and the 
name.

I sat along the inside of one of the curved buttock walls, on a stool at a small 
round table, as far from the modern brushed aluminum bar as I could get and still 
have a view.  From the photo Gary showed me, Patricia hadn't arrived yet. I was 
curious if she'd arrive on the arm of her paramour or alone.

I nursed my drink and checked my watch too often. It was seven fifteen.  Finally, 
she sashayed in and took a seat at the bar.  I watched her in profile, from head 
to waist.  Her face was beautiful, and the promise of her body was evident even 
under a suit coat.  I kept an eye on her, except when she turned around. Then I 
examined my hands.  She was approached a few times, had brief conversations with 
men, and sent them on their way.  Good for her.  Maybe she was meeting a 
girlfriend.  The one female who approached got the same polite heave-ho.    
Finally, after about half an hour, she got up to leave, choosing a path to the far 
side of the curved walls that led right past my table.  I studied the lifeline 
creases of my palms as she passed within smelling range.  I held my breath.  After 
she passed, I exhaled slowly and lifted my glass to finish my drink.  The glass 
was still aloft, tipped towards my mouth when I felt a hand on my shoulder.  I 
prayed it was the waiter, asking if I wanted a refill.  I swallowed and turned.  

It was her.  "You couldn't keep your eyes off me, could you?"

"No."  I couldn't keep my eyes from elevatoring her body, now fully in view.  "I 
mean, I didn't-"

"I saw you."  She pointed back at the bar.  "In the mirror."

Sure enough, the backsplash behind the bar was all mirror.  She'd watched me 
watching her the whole time. I needed a slick exit line.  "There's no law against 
looking."  Sure it was lame, intentionally.

She reacted badly, which is to say, she took the bait.  "Come with me and I'll 
give you a close-up view from the best seat in the house."  She grabbed my hand 
and practically dragged me from my chair.  The best seat in the house was hers, 
round and wiggling.

She acted like she was eager to shack up.  This wasn't a good sign, from Gary's 
perspective.  I wanted to break off, but a part of me was curious how far she'd 
take it.  I mean, she could just be a prick tease, get me up to her room, and dump 
a bucket of ice down my pants as punishment for my crime of staring.  I let myself 
be coaxed.  As we passed the front desk on the way to the elevators, she waved at 
a desk clerk.  In one smooth motion, Patricia lifted a plastic room key from the 
clerk's hand at the end of an outstretched arm and kept walking.  Wow, they were 
prepared for her!  She must have done this before.  Poor Gary, he was right.  Was 
she hustling Johns at the bar?  But she'd turned away so many prospects, guys who 
were younger and better looking than me.  In the elevator, she stood too close for 
comfort.  Fine if we were headed for a sexual encounter, but this was Gary's wife, 
for cripe's sake.  I was here to observe, not participate.

The room wasn't just any plain room, it was a suite.  The living room had a big TV 
and a huge overstuffed round chair.  As I walked past the chair, she pushed me 
into it.  The chair absorbed me.  It was so large and over padded, my feet didn't 
touch the carpeted floor.  I couldn't even adjust my position, because every time 
I pushed for leverage, my arm sunk deep into the foam.

"So, did you like what you saw?"  She stood blocking the TV, which was off.  Why 
did Patricia have ready access to a suite in the hotel?  I couldn't tell Gary his 
wife was a hooker.  Maybe his comment about the Vegas street walker being like his 
wife was true.  Ironic!  "I'll show you a little more, and then I'll teach you a 
lesson."

"I was never very good at school."  Did she mean sexual lessons, or a punishment?  
Was she into bondage?  Gary never mentioned whips or any other kinky stuff.  

She threw her suit jacket on a nearby sofa and unbuttoned her blouse one 
tantalizing button at a time.  "Do you like my tits?"  She spread the blouse open.

They were still mostly hidden behind a red bra.  It was difficult to discern 
nipples behind the lace cups.  "What I can see of them."  And then I realized she 
might interpret that as asking her to remove the bra.  I didn't want that.  "Very 
nice."  Actually, I did.

The blouse sailed across the room.  With an unbutton and an unzip, her skirt fell.  
Her panties matched her bra, in color and material.  She put her hands on her 
hips.  "So, what do you think?"

"You're really sexy."  Which was the truth.

"Let's see how you really feel."  She unbuckled my belt, unhooked my pants and 
unzipped my fly.  My jockey shorts stuck out from an obvious erection.  "Wow, you 
weren't kidding!"

"Any man would get excited, looking at you."  I stressed looking.   This had gone 
further than I expected.  We shouldn't have been in that room, taking off clothes.  
I certainly didn't want to touch her.  Actually, I did, but she was Gary's wife.

"Excited enough to do something?"  She didn't wait for an answer.  Her sexy come-
on face melted into a scowl.  "Well, tough shit.  I'm not doing anything with you, 
because you're not just some guy in bar, are you?"  Her face got red, matching the 
lacy undies.  "Gary thought I wouldn't recognize you.  It took a while, but I did, 
from that group photo from Vegas a couple of years ago."

I was flattered that she'd remember my face from just one photo, and not a recent 
one at that.  Was it memorable, or just sufficiently odd?  "Yeah, we were there 
together.  But tonight I was just sitting alone, having a drink-"

"I'm not stupid.  You've been busted, you sneaky little creep."  She was the one 
who was full busted.  Why did she need to strip?  "Gary sent you to spy on me, 
didn't he?"

I stuttered.  "No."

She took that as a challenge.  "Bullshit!  Gary doesn't trust me."

She was standing there in bra and panties, lecturing me about trust.  She could 
have walked out of the bar and had this argument with Gary when he got back from 
fucking Danes or Swedes or both.  She didn't have to take me upstairs, and she 
certainly didn't need to take her clothes off, or open my fly.  Why didn't she 
call me out in the bar?  "Does he have just cause?  What's with you and this 
suite?"

"Her hands dropped to her sides.  "If you must know, I'm planning a surprise 
birthday party for Gary.  It's a big one, ends in zero, and I'm holding it here. 
Mr. Caldwell, the facility manager, gave me access to this suite as part of the 
room rental."

"Oh."  Not guilty.  I tried to keep Gary off the hook.  "The only reason Gary 
asked me to do this is he loves you so much and doesn't want to lose you."

"Oh, he's not losing me."  She smiled.  "I can see you liked the free show.  Come 
on, let's get you up and out-"

"I'm really stuck in here."  

She extended her arms, leaning over to pull me free.  "It kind of swallows you, 
doesn't it?"

My cock throbbed at the thought of Patricia's mouth.  No, that wasn't going to 
happen.  She'd help me out of this padded pit, and we'd go our separate ways.

Her tits hung in a lacy hammock.  I wished that her bra would burst, and they'd 
hang there bare for my inspection.  Not that I'd do anything.  After all, this was 
Gary's wife.  Gary's well-built and horny wife.  Despite how we were partially 
undressed, there was a line, and I wasn't going to cross it.  Gary wasn't a good 
friend, but he trusted me.

I was deep enough into the chair that she had to lean way over, not a balanced 
position.  She grabbed my hands.  When she tried to pull me up and out, she flew 
forward, landing on top of me, her tits in my face.  I was close enough to see the 
nipples pushing against the fabric.  Damn if I didn't want to suck them through 
the lace, but I controlled myself.  "Don't slide to the side, or you'll get stuck 
too."

"I'll just scoot down."  She wiggled against me, tits rubbing my chest.  Her legs 
were slightly spread, searching for leverage and finding none.  She made good 
progress until her crotch collided with my erection.  Good thing we both had 
underwear on.  Still, the pressure of her pussy against the base of my dick made 
it even harder, and she didn't seem to be able to raise herself up and get over 
it.  Given the circumstance, there was no way my erection was going to fade any 
time soon.  "Do you have any idea how horny I am?"  She ground her crotch against 
the obstacle.  "God, this feels good."  She clamped her legs together and humped 
my cock.  "Oh, God!  Mmmmm."  My prick was rubbing her the right way.  I was 
afraid to touch her, lest I distract her from her determined erotic movements.  
She screeched and pressed firmly.  "Oh God, oh God."  Then she collapsed against 
me, dead weight.

"Patricia?"

"Huhhh?"  She slid to the side, her legs scraping the floor.  She melted off the 
chair in slow motion.  I remained stuck, cock erect, in a padded prison.  "That's 
never happened before."

"What?" Getting stuck in an oversized over padded chair?

"I've never been able to achieve an orgasm except with penetration.  You know, 
fucking?  That was amazing!"

She tottered to her feet.  "God, my panties are soaked."   She slid them off.  
Shit, now her cunt was exposed, shaved bare.  This was torture.  "Can't you get 
out?  I did."

I wiggled and pushed with my elbows.  I even bent my feet and tried to lift my ass 
out but the foam seemed to extend to the depths of the planet.  How was this thing 
designed, anyway?  "Nope.  I guess I'll have to live out the rest of my life, 
ordering room service and hiring servants to feed and bathe me."  Humor sometimes 
relieves the tension, although Patricia's orgasm had reduced hers.

"Well, the position of sex partner is taken."  She pulled my jockeys down.  "God, 
that's one fine prick."

"Thanks."  Too bad this was Gary's wife.  "So do you have any suggestions?"

"Uh huh."  She reached out her hands.  "Let's try again."

The definition of crazy is doing something a second time and expecting different 
results.  "You don't have any leverage, and I weigh too much."

"Don't argue.  I'll brace myself and you lift yourself up."  She took a stance 
that put one foot forward, one back.  That separation exposed her even more.  My 
cock throbbed.  

I held her hands tight.  My head and back came out of the enveloping foam.  It was 
working, I was sitting up.  "Great!"

Then she tugged, breaking the smooth motion that had been working.  My body came 
up and then momentum carried me back down, taking her with me.  She was back on 
top.  "I can slide off, just like last time."  She smiled.

Last time, she got hung up when our privates met.  This time, she reached behind 
and aimed my cock so that when she slid down, my bare cock met her naked pussy 
head on.  "Ooh, this feels even better."  

This was the line I promised myself I wouldn't cross, the crease between her 
labia.  "Can't you get off, like last time?" I meant, off the chair.

"I sure can, with your help."  With a bit of a slide, she moved low enough for my 
cock to slip into her.  "If we work together, we can both wiggle out.  Hold onto 
me."

Her cunt was squeezing my dick.  I hesitantly wrapped my arms around her.  Her 
body was warm and smooth.  I rubbed her back and copped a feel of her ass.  She 
lurched and I drove deeper.  "Oh God, you're so big.  It feels really good.  Hang 
on!"

I held her tight against me, tits against my chest.  She undulated her hips, and 
we were fucking.  But, we were also moving gradually down the chair.  Our legs 
were still flailing in the air.  "Is it working?"

"Yes.  Oh yes.  Keep it up!"

No chance I was going soft with her pelvic action.  With her hip motions and my 
buttock squeezes, we were winning against the chair prison.  Not to mention, I was 
simultaneously fucking Gary's wife.  See, just like in the detective stories.

"You know."  She panted for breath.  "It's kind of ironic.  Gary sent you here to 
see if I was cheating on him, and I end up cheating on him with you."

"Yeah, ironic."  My knees reached the edge of the chair.  My feet hit the floor.  
Carpet never felt so good.  I sat up, Patricia in my lap, legs spread.  I was 
buried deep in her pussy.  

She stopped humping and stared.  "We are going to finish, aren't we?"  Perhaps as 
an enticement, she reached behind and unclipped her bra.  When her tits came into 
view, she held them up for inspection.  The nipples were inflated and red, high on 
the fleshy mounds, begging for my lips.  And I was already deep inside her.  The 
only question was, "To cum or not to cum."  My mouth flew to her breasts, kissing 
the flesh, flicking her nipples with my tongue, sucking each one.  Her hips 
regained their wave motion.  "Oh God.  Yes, yes, oh, so good!"

I caressed her tits, then her sides, then her ass.  When my hands reached her 
buttocks, she pressed down hard, groaning.  She took a cleansing breath and 
repeated the pressure.  She'd climaxed for a second time.  She leaned away from 
me, her body glistening with sweat, even sexier.  I was still erect, and hadn't 
cum.  She stood up, wobbled a bit from fucking exertion, and leaned on my 
shoulder.  "What's with that?"  My cock was at attention, coated with her cunt 
juices.  "Don't you ever go down?"  

She couldn't have meant eating my intimate female companions.  "Sure, when I've 
achieved an orgasm.  By my count, you're up, two to none.  But that's okay.  We've 
really done much more than we should, and you seem to be satisfied, so I'll just 
go."

"The hell you will!"  She pulled me to my feet.  My trousers hit the floor, but my 
jockeys hung out at knee level.  She grabbed my dick and tugged, in a rather 
unerotic fashion.  

Maybe she wanted to rip my prick off and keep it for her own solo pleasure.  "That 
hurts.  Stop it.  Really, I never meant for us, I mean, for me to end up, well, 
you know."

"What about how I feel?"  She let go and wandered towards the bedroom.  Her ass 
was perfectly round.  She plopped down on the edge of the bed.  "I'm a failure.  
Sure, you're pretty talented, but me?  I took advantage of you.  Just because I'm 
so horny.  Gary never gets me off twice in a night, and you did it without going 
limp.  Shit, is that fucked up or what?"

I'd lost the thread of her lament.  She took advantage of me?  Maybe, but then I 
got a free ride with Gary's sexy wife.  I wandered into the bedroom and stood in 
front of her.  I'd violated both Gary's trust and his wife.  Enough for one night.  
"I'm going to go."

"No, wait."  She grabbed my hips and pivoted my body.  My cock slapped her cheek.  
"Naughty boy."  She slapped her hand against my prick.  

If it had been deflating, the impact increased the blood flow.  ''Ouch.  That 
hurt."

"Let me kiss it and make it better."  Her lips grazed the tip.  "I don't do this 
with Gary."  She opened her mouth and took the head inside, tongue swirling.  
"Mmmm."  My hips jerked.  She coughed and let it loose.  "Hold on.  You're too 
big."

I wasn't about to give Gary's wife a lesson in deep throating or cock sucking.  
Her fingers tickling my balls held me in place.  "You don't owe me anything."

She stood up and put her hands around my waist.  "I know.  But I never said thank 
you."  For the first time that evening, our lips met.  My arms circled her waist.  
My cock rubbed her belly.  "God, you're insatiable.  And, God help me, I want 
more."

Her hand slid down and took hold, this time, with a caress instead of a jerk. I 
was the jerk, staying and tempting both us for more sex.  "Patricia, I really have 
to-"

"It's Patty, and you can't tell me you're not interested."  She slid my foreskin 
back.  My prick strained forward.  "What's your favorite position?"

I'd already fucked her, and she'd masturbated on my prick once herself.  There was 
only my orgasm, and the evening would be complete.  "Doggie.  On all fours, you on 
the bottom."  Best to be explicit.

She hopped upon the bed and presented a rear view to me.  With her thighs apart, 
her labia were distinct, puffed up and gleaming.  I climbed up behind her.  She 
was still a tight fit, but I took my time, bottoming out.  All the while, she was 
moaning and humming.  When I started humping against her ass, her hums turned to 
panting and yipping.  I leaned over and palmed her tits.  She lurched back, and if 
there had been any of my cock not in her, we were pubes to pubes.  I massaged her 
tits, plucking her nipples.  She became more vigorous, but I wanted control.  It 
was her on top previously that had prevented my orgasm. This was my position, and 
my fuck.  Well, she was there too, I guess.

"Am I good?" she groaned.  "Is it good for you?"

I thrust, repeatedly.  "Yes.  Oh yes.  You're a great fuck."  I wasn't kidding.  
She liked sex, and so did I.  Under other circumstances, she and I could have been 
a regular item, experimenting with new and different positions and roles.  She 
hollered, announcing her third orgasm.  I could have kept on humping, but this was 
Gary's wife.  I shrunk with the thought.

She knew.  "What's wrong?"  She pulled forward and rolled over.  "Something 
happened."

"I can't do it."  I sat back on my haunches, cock moist but fading.  You're Gary's 
wife.  We've already done way too much.  I shouldn't be here. Neither should you. 
Let's call it a night."

She sat up, supported by bent arms.  "Well that might be okay for you. You got me 
off real good, more in one night than Gary does in a week.  And he cums every time 
I practically touch him.  But if you go before you cum - well, it makes me a 
failure.  My best efforts have left you hanging."  She looked at my semi erect 
shaft. "Well, not quite hanging."

My prick lurched at our conversation.  "I just need more attention than Gary 
does." Or he's a premature ejaculator.

"Could you do me one small favor?"

Not tell Gary?  "What?"

"Could you eat me?"  She fell back on the bed, her thighs spread as a physical 
confirmation of her invitation. "Gary doesn't like to, but I enjoy it.  And now 
that my engine is running I can't stop."

What harm would that be?  I'd already fucked her. "Why not?"

"Goodie."

I moved in close and fingered her labia open. I used a variety of attacks long 
strikes and short jabs with an occasional nibble. Her hips wouldn't stay still 
which made things more difficult.  I felt my cock against the sheet, hard again. I 
liked oral sex and my renewed erection was evidence.

She cried out loud.  Her stomach arched off the bed, pulling from my grasp.  "You 
bastard!"

"What is it now?"

"You got me off again."  She looked up at the rough spackled ceiling, not me.  "Do 
you like my tits?"

My hand had cupped one of her breasts subconsciously. "Yes very much."

"Get your cock up here."

A tit fuck?  Sure, why not, after everything else we'd done, this was G rated.  I 
straddled her chest and laid my cock between her breasts. She pressed them 
together.  "Okay, come on.  Enjoy yourself."

She meant to get me off, spitting between her tits, raising her head as I plowed 
her breast valley. When I pushed forward, her lips pursed to kiss my cock. A 
little further and her mouth formed an "o" to receive the head. It was like 
diddling at the entrance e to a pussy. Very erotic. She was going to get her wish 
and I was going to get my rocks off.

She dropped one hand so I took over the breast holding.  Over my shoulder, I could 
see her rubbing her pussy in a circular motion, and then jabbing two fingers 
inside, frigging herself.  Then back to the exterior stimulation, rubbing her 
clitty area vigorously.  Her body undulated beneath me as she applied her self-
pleasure techniques, which only excited me more.  

"Kiss me again," she whispered.

"What?"  I was so close to cumming, I didn't want to stop.  Not now.  

"I want to kiss you some more.  Pleeeese?"
 
She was in control.  I scooted back, dragging my cock from her breast valley 
across her stomach. My lips met hers.

She grabbed my ass and pulled me closer.  With a renewed erection and her legs 
spread, my cock bumped her pussy.  One of her hands guided me in.  She raised her 
thighs and wrapped her legs around me.  "Come on, you're almost there.  Fuck me 
one last time.  I want your cum in my cunt, not on my chest.  I want you to juice 
me up."

I pumped, long and slow, like I'd done between here tits.  My dick throbbed, 
gliding through her moist channel.  Automatically, my pace increased.  I was 
attacking, delivering relentless thrusts.  Maybe this time, I'd get my orgasm.  I 
was certainly hard enough, maybe too hard.

"Yes, yes, do it.  Do me.  Fuck me."  Her cheers excited me.  My thrusts were 
full-length insertions, over and over.  She tapped her fingertips against my 
balls.  Was she in a hurry or just attempting to assist in my success?  There was 
another scream.  Her legs fell to the mattress, leaving my cock waving so long to 
her cunt.  "Fuck!  How could you?"

She'd reached orgasm again and was pissed about it.  There was no winning with 
this woman.  My thighs were fatigued.  "It's never been like this for me."

"I know, me too.  This is the best sex I've ever had."

She'd misunderstood.  Just as well.

"Are you done?  You aren't, are you?"  She sat cross-legged, her pussy gaping 
open.

"No, I'm afraid not."

"But you're still hard."

She was being kind.  I was fading again.  And I was pooped from pumping.  "We 
should call it a night."  I scooted off the bed and gathered my clothes.

Her legs unwound.  "I'm sorry-"

"You're sorry?  I'm the one who should be apologizing.  I was just supposed to see 
if you hooked up with anybody, and it turned out to be me."

"So Gary did send you here to check up on me." She threw her head back and 
laughed.  Her tits shook.  "So what will you tell Gary?  The truth?"

"Close.  A version of it that keeps us both out of trouble.  Agreed?"  I was 
pulling up my slacks.  

When I stood, she came over and hugged me. I got another kiss.  "I love Gary, and 
I would never do anything to hurt him.  Really."

After she got dressed, we took the elevator to the lobby.  The names and photos of 
the hotel management team decorated the wall at Registration, where Patricia 
dropped off her key.  One of the photos in a walnut frame was Richard Caldwell.  
Nice looking guy, a little younger than Gary or me.  In charge of Event Planning 
and Facilities, just like Patricia had said.  Before we could get close to the 
revolving door, one of the desk clerks ran over.  "Ms. Bigger, there's a message 
for you."

Patricia read the note, snorted, crumpled it up and threw it in the bottom of one 
of those sand trap ashtrays that have a small waste receptacle below.

Outside, Patricia's car was waiting, and she hadn't said a word or presented a 
parking pass or anything.  Hotel staff must have called ahead.  She gave me a 
quick peck.  "I'll invite you to the birthday party.  Gary will be so surprised."

"How will you explain me being there?  After all, you said it, Gary and I aren't 
close."

The car jockey opened the door of her imported sedan.  

"I'll tell him I looked though his photo album, saw an unfamiliar face, looked you 
up from that organization you belong to, and that was that."

"Okay, if you can do it with a straight face."

"Besides, I'd like to see you again."  Her grin was broad, with just a hint of 
tongue.

I gave her a raised eyebrow.  Once was an accident, but a series of sexual 
encounters?  That would be full-fledged cheating, exactly what Gary was worried 
about.  She processed my expression.  "Not that we'd do anything.  But you're a 
nice guy."  

I got one more kiss, this one firmer.  Then she slid into her expensive sedan and 
drove off.

I reentered the lobby and strolled over to the ashtray with the trash bin below.  
I pretended to tie my shoe.  When the bellhops weren't looking, I reached in and 
pulled out a handful of waste, used tissues, gum wrappers, and one note on pink 
paper.  I found the men's room, washed my hands, and uncrumpled the note:

'Dearest Patty, Something came up and I can't make it this evening.  I look 
forward to being with you next week.  Love, Dick.'

As in, Richard.  Richard Caldwell.  Damn, Patricia was cheating on Gary with the 
guy who was renting her the room for Gary's party.  No party, maybe no cheating.  
Ironic!  Gary was right to be concerned.  So now what was I supposed to tell him?  
Did she meet someone?  That's what he'd asked.  No, since good old Dick didn't 
show up.  No need to tell Gary that my dick took Richard's place in Patty's pussy.  
And if Patricia really did send me an invitation for Gary's birthday bash, I'd beg 
off, citing a conflict.  Just like the conflict that was raging inside me as I 
waited for my car to be brought around.

###  An Original H M Tale  ###

I'm always interested in reader feedback.  Send me an email and tell me what you 
think at harveymarcus9@comcast.net.
Copyright (c) 2009, HarveyMarcus.  All Rights Reserved.



