For the Weekend Ch. 08

This story is a fantasy about a submissive married woman having sexual relations with someone other than her husband. If this type of story is not your thing, or somehow disturbs you, please read no further (and please don't leave messages about how you read this story and didn't like that it was about a submissive married woman having sexual relations with someone other than her husband.) I'm quite sure there are stories out there about a wife fantasizing about having sex with her husband in her marital bed under the covers in the dark so they can make babies. I encourage you to use your time to find those.

We pull out of the parking lot and I guess we are heading back to the hotel.

"Did you like your reward?" Tim asks suddenly.

"I did, sir." I reply honestly.

"I'm glad you did, but I guess Andrea clouded your judgement."

My mind races. "I'm not sure what you mean, sir?"

"I didn't give you permission to dress."

The remnants of my post-orgasmic glow embolden me and I say, "but sir, we weren't in the hotel room."

Tim thinks a moment, then says, "you broke the spirit of the law if not the letter. You do have a point, however. I will take that into account when I decide your punishment."

I am suddenly fearful that a trip back to the store will be the best of my choices. However, that punishment does not seem as bad as it did when he first suggested it...

We arrive back at the hotel and take the elevator to our floor. Once the door closes, Tim demands my dress. Already concerned about my upcoming punishment, I quickly comply, hoping fervently there is no one out and about on our floor to view my lack of clothing. My luck holds, and we make it to our door without incident. Tim takes his time opening the door however, and I can hear the sounds of locks being removed from a door down the hall. I desperately want to hurry Tim, to let him know someone is coming, but I feel this is not a good idea. Tim turns the handle just as I see the door down the hall open, and I scoot inside our room as best as I can with him in the way. It would not surprise me in the least if whoever was coming out of the other room didn't see a bare butt disappearing into our doorway.

I slip off my shoes to ensure that I cannot be considered clothed, and Tim heads to the armoir to grab a beer for himself and a glass of wine for me. I notice that while we were gone, a space has been cleared and a poker table has been brought in. He hands me my wine and notices me looking at the table.

"I'm having some friends over tonight for a game," he says. " It's a great room; I thought I'd try and make some of the money I'm paying for it back."

My mind reels at the possibilities; Tim is bringing other men here? I wonder what will be expected of me? Will I be allowed to leave until the game is over?

By now he has returned to the easy chair and is looking me over, much as one would eye over a nice meal.

"That was quite a performance you gave for James this morning," he says. "let's see if you can do the same for me."

With that, he stands and quickly strips off his shirt, followed by his pants and shorts. He sits back down, slouched against the back of the chair so his lower body is lying across the chair, his semi-erect cock lying on his left thigh.

"We're going to play this a little differently though," he says. "I'm going to tell you what pose I'd like to see, and you're going to give me the best show you can without moving from that position. So, to start, I want you bent over the table, your ass facing me."

I move myself into position and spread my legs as much as possible to give a good view of my pussy. I move my hips before his gaze, side to side and back and forth, trying to entice him to coming down from his chair and taking a closer look.

"Here it is, all for you," I purr. "My pussy is yours, would you like to use it? I'd love to have you stuffed up in me, driving your cock into me..."

"Touch yourself."

I lower my shoulders and chest to the table, and reach through my open legs to run my fingers up my slit to my hole. I draw some of the moisture starting to gather there back into my folds and rub gently, spreading my wetness up and down to make my finger's journey smoother. My cunt is awakening to the situation and my touch, and I begin to slide my finger into my opening before moving back down my lips. My palm rests on my clit and applies pressure to the bud, making me change the motion of my hips from a sway to a hump as I grind back and forth. I move my hand further into my crotch and run my index finger lightly along my anus, never penetrating, just running around the rim.

"Lie on the floor on your back. Spread your legs for me."

Once again I do as I'm told and lay down where I am, wide-open and vulnerable to his gaze. I raise my head and can finally see whether my show has had an effect on him. Although the angle from the floor to the chair prevents me from seeing everything, I can see the open robe and his hand moving over the head of his cock, which tells me he is hard. The tip glistens as he spreads his precum down his shaft. I'm growing more and more aroused as the bad girl takes charge and wishes to please him, to make him want to use my body.

"Please, come down and here and fuck my cunt. Fill me with cum..."

He growls, but does not move towards me, his hand moving a little faster, a little more pronounced.

"Play with yourself some more. Make me want to cum on you."

I begin again with my tits and soon work down to my pussy, running my fingers over my lips and then dipping one, two, and eventually three fingers in my hole. My palm continues to ride my clit whenever possible, and despite the draining orgasm Andrea gave me earlier, I find myself wanting to release again. My finger continues to move down to my rosebud and then back to my cunt. Before this weekend, I have never found my asshole to be an erogenous zone; now I find my motions being drawn to it, the nerve endings awakened by the attention paid to them. My motions become more urgent until Tim stands up between my legs and strokes himself forcefully. I realize he plans on covering me with his seed and I watch with fascination as he pleasures himself, waiting for that first spurt to leap from his cock.

Suddenly he stops himself and smiles down at me. "Not yet," he says. "I think I'll let this build a bit more for later. How about a late lunch or early dinner?"

I realize it is mid-afternoon and I have not had anything to eat today other than the breakfast croissant (and a beautiful woman's pussy). I look up at him and nod quickly in agreement.

"Are you sure you wouldn't like to finish first, sir?" I ask, hoping that his finishing might allow me the same.

"No, let's see what happens later," he says, and with that, offers me his hand to help me up. I take his hand with mixed feelings, really wanting to pull him on top of me and have him drive his cock deep into my cunt.

He helps me up and permits me to put my sundress back on, and five minutes later we are in the hotel's restaurant. We are installed in a darkened booth along with menus and a wine list, and soon are into our first glass of wine while we wait for our meals.

The alcohol loosens my tongue, and decide to ask a question.

"Have you ever done this before?" I ask.

"Dinner at this hotel? Not recently, no." Seeing the impatience in my eyes, he continues. "Oh, you mean this whole weekend thing? I've done parts, but never to this extent. I think the stories I've told your husband of my past adventures are what gave him the idea that I might be interested. Are you enjoying it so far?"

I look at the table, trying to frame my answer. I am most certainly enjoying this, but the conservative part of me I shouldn't be, that's it's wrong, and my answer should reflect that. The submissive slut fights back, however, and temporizes that as long as it's not my idea, it's OK.

"Yes sir, I am," I respond, slipping back into character. "As long as you are enjoying it..."

"I'm having lot's of fun," Tim replies, "how can I not be? A beautiful woman at my beck and call for a weekend, doing things that most men jack off to just thinking about? And there's so much to do yet. You know, your husband knows you quite well. He gave me the idea for most of this, and I've just embellished on the ideas. And you just reminded me—I have to check on something—excuse me for a moment."

Tim slides out of the booth and from where I am sitting see him go to the front desk to confer with the desk clerk. They speak a moment, the desk clerk nodding, and then Tim returns just as our food arrives.

While we eat, Tim reveals a bit more about himself. Single, currently unattached, and is a consultant to the company my husband works for. He and Rich have spoken several times about their sex lives over after-work drinks at various conferences, and it was at one of these that Rich first approached him about the possibilities of this weekend. Tim quickly agreed after Rich showed him some X-rated photos of me, and e-mails concerning the details followed the conference.

As we reach a comfortable level of fullness and a third glass of wine, Tim asks me, "so, would you like to know what's on the agenda tonight?"

I most certainly want to know, but am also a little nervous about what I will find out. Do I have the night off so he may play poker? Am I to be there?

I nod and look down at my plate.

"Well," he says. "I'm having three friends over tonight for Poker. You will be serving us—keeping our glasses full, bringing us food, making arrangements with Room Service should we need more of anything. I'm hoping your presence will be enough of a distraction to let me win a few hands."

"Do you think I'll be much of a distraction?" I ask softly.

"While I think you would rather not—" my eyes lift to his and he is smiling—"I'm going to have you model the things we bought for you last night. That will be quite the distraction, I believe. Think you can do that?"

My cheeks flush hotly as I look down and nod my affirmative, embarrassed by the thought of being on display for strangers like this.

I look back at him and he is still smiling, seemingly amused by my discomfort. "Don't worry," he says. "These three have been friends of mine for some time. You can trust them—what goes on between us, stays between us."

"Do they know what's going on between us?"

"Not really. They know I'll have a waitress at the game, not much more. Look at the time! We should go upstairs and select your outfit." With that, he signs the tab and we're off, back to the elevator and up to the room.