tagLoving WivesHotel Window Ch. 01

Hotel Window Ch. 01


It was relatively early on a Tuesday morning -- about 7:50 according to the digital clock in the room, although the accuracy of those was always questionable. Patrick had just settled in to his room service breakfast of an omelette and toast at the desk/table that faced the small balcony of his hotel room. The sun was streaming in brightly and the air was noticeably warmer on this early spring day in Houston than it would have been back home in Cleveland, so the sliding door was opened widely.

It was his fifth week on the project. A management consultant, he was on a six month engagement with a mid-sized regional petrochemical firm that was troubled with an out-of-control supply chain. Patrick had the typical consultant's workweek: on site Monday morning through late afternoon Thursday. So far he was reasonably satisfied with the accommodations at the Hyatt that had become home three nights a week.

A movement in one of the windows across the courtyard caught his eye. The hotel consisted of a trio of mid-rise buildings situated around a more or less triangular courtyard overlooking the outside pool. It wasn't a particularly large space – downtown real estate is expensive everywhere – and although the angles provided a bit more privacy than parallel buildings facing one another, there was a pretty clear view between windows on the same floors.

In this case what had attracted Patrick's eye was a brief glimpse of skin, along with a flash of blonde hair. Like any normal red-blooded male, he found his attention lingering on the window to see what could be seen. It wasn't long before his patience was rewarded.

A woman returned to the living room carrying a blouse in her hand. He noted immediately that she was very attractive, with light blonde hair that hung fairly straight, just below her shoulders. She was wearing business slacks – gray with a light pinstripe – and a peach colored bra. She set the blouse on an ironing board he could see standing just inside the balcony doors.

Patrick had always been something of a boob-man, so he noted approvingly that based on her proportions and a moderate amount of visible jiggle she was all natural, about a 36C or so. She was both tall, probably in the 5'8" range, and fit, with a relatively flat stomach. All in all, a very nice view to enjoy over breakfast. Although there was nothing particularly sexy about her bra, which was a simple full cup cotton garment, it was nonetheless extremely erotic for him to observe her going through her morning preparations. He also noticed in passing the occasional glint of light flashing from her left hand that suggested she was either engaged or married, and got a fleeting sense of excitement realizing that he was seeing "someone else's woman" in a partially undressed state, even if less was revealed than by a typical bikini.

He watched her for a couple of minutes as she came in and out of view, apparently applying makeup in an out-of-sight bathroom, retrieving something from the living room, brushing her hair while seated on the edge of the bed, and so on. Inevitably there came a moment when she looked out her own window and noticed him sitting in his own window across the way. And inevitably following that discovery and the meeting of their eyes, came the moment where she looked down at her scantly clad chest, and then looked back up at him.

Patrick briefly considered a cheesy, quick aversion of the eyes. The cowardly escape that, when caught checking out a woman, tries to communicate, "I wasn't looking at you. Sure, I happened to glance, but I didn't really see anything. I'm not a pervert or anything." But in a split second he told himself, "Fuck it. You're caught. Might as well own up to it."

As it was, she made it easy for him. As their eyes met again she smiled brightly at him and started ironing. Although she didn't make direct eye contact again, neither did she close her drapes or put on any other clothing.

Patrick spent the next five minutes in utter bliss, no longer constrained by any need to hide his observation, as he watched the beautiful blonde casually iron her blouse while her ripe breasts swayed seductively. Unfortunately when she finished and picked up the top, sliding it around her arms and buttoning it slowly, she turned away and vanished from sight, not to return. Another glance at the dubious reading of the clock warned him that it was time to do his own disappearing act.


That day he had a hard time getting her out of his mind. Although he traveled frequently, he had really never had a similar encounter. Of course a few times he had heard people having sex in neighboring rooms – and more frequently the sound of pay-per-view porn on the televisions – but never had he seen someone nude or in a compromising position through their window. Although business travel is different, he conceded mentally, and rather unlike the more free-spirited environments of resorts and vacation hotels.

Still, when the day ended and it was time for him to think about dinner, there was no question of his decision. Tonight would definitely be an eating-in evening. He returned to the hotel around 7:30 PM. To his disappointment, the window across the courtyard was not lit, and he settled in to a room service over email at his computer. Perhaps she checked out this morning, he considered, resigning himself to the probability that the brief encounter was a one-time event. He sighed out loud, deciding that tonight it might be his room from which the sounds of the rented adult movie emanated, probably followed by a quick masturbation fantasizing about the woman.

About an hour later, he looked up from the laptop's screen to see that the room was now brightly lit. A shadow on the floor preceded her appearance, and the she was on the balcony, wearing the same gray slacks and a matching blazer. She smiled again when she saw him framed in his own window, and then he saw her making a poking gesture with her right hand and saw her lips moving. After a moment he realized that she was counting windows from right to left along his building.

She disappeared from view into her room as a note of panic started creeping in to his heart. Was she calling the police? Hotel management? Maybe she was going to report him for spying on her or something – although the rational part of his brain told him that those who dress in front of open windows don't have much basis to complain if someone gets an eyeful.

A few moments later, she returned to the balcony with a slight frown on her face. She repeated the counting and then disappeared once again. Moments later he was startled by the ring of his telephone. The hotel room telephone, that was, not his cell phone. Aside from wake-up calls, his phone had never rung.

He answered it with a typical "Hello?". For a moment there was no response, and so he repeated the greeting. Then he saw the blonde step into view holding the base of her telephone in one hand, and with the receiver pressed to her ear. She glanced over to confirm that he had his own phone in hand, and then spoke.

"So," she began, in a pleasant, confident tone that was marked by a gentle Southern accent, "Did you enjoy watching me get dressed this morning?"

Patrick was stunned. At most he had hoped for another glimpse of this sexy creature in her lingerie, or perhaps if he was extremely lucky, completely topless. Clearly things had escalated already to a level he had not anticipated. But the lady was waiting for a response.

"Very much," he replied honestly. "I wasn't trying to spy on you or anything, but once you caught my eye...well, I just didn't want to look away."

"So you liked my tits then?" she pressed teasingly.

Patrick nodded at first, then realized verbal communication was required. "Well, I have to say they looked wonderful from here, although it's not quite like I saw you nude or anything." At that, her bemused smile reappeared.

"Meet me in the lounge in ten minutes," she breathed, and broke the connection.


She hadn't phrased it as a question, but neither had it felt like an order. More like an invitation whose acceptance was in no doubt, he decided. And it wasn't, really. Although in his early thirties, he had been around the block enough times not to automatically assume that it meant anything in particular – like getting laid tonight, which hope he forced himself to repeatedly slap down – he was very intrigued by her intentions. This was certainly no shy, demure Southern belle he was dealing with.

Surprisingly, although he only took a few minutes to brush his teeth and run a hand through his relatively thick, dark hair a couple of times, she was already sitting in a curved booth facing the entrance when he arrived. She was smoking a cigarette and had one eye on the door, waving discreetly as he entered. He made his way through the sparsely populated room and slid in to the seat more or less across from her. Moments later a waitress appeared bearing two glasses on a tray.

"I ordered dirty vodka martinis," she explained as the waitress placed the glasses. "I hope that's all right."

He assured her that it was just fine, fighting to avoid becoming orally fixated as she drew on the white filter of her cigarette and exhaled slowly, then popped an olive in between her dark red lips and chewed slowly. For a moment there was silence between them.

"So does my admirer have a name," she finally inquired, "Or do you prefer to remain anonymous?"

Patrick introduced himself with a grin, shaking her hand. He noted that she had quite a good handshake, firm and confident. It just supported the impression he had already been developing of her.

"I'm Katherine," she said. "What do you do for work that brings you to Houston?"

"I'm a consultant, based out of Cleveland."

She nodded. "Big Four?"

"Yep," he replied. "On a project here for the next few months. How about you – you don't sound like you're as far from home as me?"

"Atlanta, born and raised. I'm a lawyer. My company is working on some real estate acquisitions here and I'm part of the advance team."

"Well, I'm sure glad I spotted you this morning," he noted playfully. The pink elephant wasn't going to wait all night to be acknowledged.

She paused and took a drag. "Yes, you did seem to get a rather nice view. How long were you watching me before I noticed you there?"

"Only a couple of minutes," he answered honestly. "I must have missed the good part."

Katherine swatted at his arm playfully. "Good part!" she retorted. "You got to look at me in my bra for ten minutes, what good part do you think you missed?"

"The part before you put the bra on, of course."

That remark was just witty and crisp enough to elicit a full laugh from Katherine and make her take a moment to light a new cigarette before responding. It was unusual for a man to give it back to her on equal footing, and she was enjoying it in a sort of competitive, verbal fencing way. Typically the combination of her looks, body, and intellect was enough to impair most men's ability to communicate effectively.

"So Patrick, are you married?" she inquired. She didn't see a ring on his finger, but some men didn't wear them at all, and others only wore them when their wives were around...

"No, not so far," he said. "Just haven't met the right one yet. But I see you are," he said with a nod toward her left hand.

She smiled. "Does that bother you?"

"It depends, I guess. So far all I've done is have drinks with you and happened to see the bra you're wearing – and that from a distance. I don't suppose that's anything that should get you in too much trouble at home."

"You haven't seen it," she disagreed, as she finished her martini and signalled the waitress.

"What do you mean?" he asked, confused.

"I changed bras before I called you. You haven't seen this one yet."

Patrick liked the sound of "yet". It had all sorts of possibilities. But then again, he admonished his stirring loins, she was married and maybe she was just fucking with his mind. Not that he wanted to stereotype lawyers, but they did have a certain knack for that sort of thing.

"My husband and I have an agreement," she continued.

"And what sort of agreement is that?"

The waitress interrupted by dropping off another pair of drinks, then scurried away.

"He likes having me fuck other men when I'm off on business trips, as long as I tell him about it afterwards."

Now it was Patrick's turn to need a moment. He had been assuming that perhaps she just liked to cheat on her husband occasionally, but this put an entirely different spin on things. He was intrigued. "He likes it you say? You mean you do this on a regular basis and he doesn't mind sharing you?"

She laughed richly. "Far from it. It really turns him on when I get home, knowing his cock isn't the last one I've had inside me." She slid a high-heeled foot up underneath the table to graze his crotch. "Poor Patrick, have I done that to you?" She inhaled deeply from her cigarette and arched her chest so that her tits stood out prominently.

He worked to retain his composure. "So I take it you do this a lot?"

She nodded. "Sometimes..."

"And am I your target for this evening?" he inquired bluntly. "The guy to give your husband something to get excited over?"

"Don't put it like that," she pouted. "I fuck men that turn me on. Sure, he convinced me to start, but I love every second of it. But unfortunately for you, tonight I have other arrangements."

Now he was confused, and it must have showed on his face. She had been giving him all the right signs, but had he screwed it up? She saw the look on his face and had mercy on him. Rising from the booth, she leaned in before him and gave him a soft, wet kiss, slipping her smoky tongue into his mouth a few times. "Keep your curtains open in a half hour or so," she murmured before gliding out, saying over her shoulder as she went, "You don't mind picking up the drinks, do you?"


Patrick nursed his martini for a short time after Katherine clicked away in her medium length heels. It had been a very strange encounter, and he wasn't quite sure if she was a tease, a nymphomaniac-slut-overachiever, or something else entirely. All he knew is that her perfume still lingered where she had leaned in to kiss him and he could still taste her lips on his tongue. And that something interesting was likely to happen in a few minutes upstairs if his luck held.

He tossed back the remainder of the vodka and signaled the waitress. A quick swipe of his credit card later he was on his way back to the elevator and his room. He paused thoughtfully at the entrance and decided to turn off the lights, just on a hunch. With the room darkened, he opened his curtains widely and watched across to Katherine's balcony.

Soon enough, he saw moving shadows from just beyond the range of his vision. And then she came into sight, her blazer undone and sliding to the floor. Underneath her blouse was already half-opened. He couldn't see her face yet, just up to her neck. Then hands came up from behind to cup her full breasts through the opening in her shirt. They were large, black hands, pulling the shirt open to reveal a daring white lace demi-cup bra. It was anything but business-like, and Patrick felt his cock stirring at the sight of those hands mauling her creamy white tits. A finger snaked in and pulled the fabric loose from her right breast to reveal a large rose areola and a thick, erect nipple that immediately was the target of pulling and twisting.

She moved forward into view and he could see that her makeup was a bit in disarray, as was her hair. It was obvious that she had been kissing passionately. She led the man close to her own desk in front of the window and turned to face him. He was a well-built black man with a shaved head. She kissed him hard, clearly pushing her tongue into his mouth and taking control, while her hands groped at his belt. Patrick was impressed by the size of the tent in the man's fly, and again moments later when she released his long, thick tool. She made a dramatic showing of sizing up the big shaft before lowering her mouth onto it.

Patrick was transfixed by the sight of her blonde hair and alabaster skin against the darkness of her lover. He had never witnessed interracial sex before and found it fascinating. Katherine was clearly going to town sucking on the magnificent cock she held in her left hand, her wedding and engagement rings glinting in the light from the desk lamp as she stroked it firmly. Her cheeks were hollowed by the force of her sucking and her mouth was bobbing furiously on his dick while she used her right hand to knead his balls like pizza dough.

The sexy blonde fellated her man for about five minutes before standing up and turning to face away from him, towards the balcony and Patrick. She slipped out of her pants, revealing a matching lace thong, and bent part way over the desk. The man waste no time in tugging her panties to the side and kneeling behind her, burying his face in the taut flesh of her ass. From the movements of his head, Patrick was pretty confident that the man was alternating between spearing his tongue into her pussy and licking around her asshole. He opened his own trousers and withdrew his cock, working his hand around the shaft.

Katherine visibly climaxed once from her lover's oral ministrations, and then another time even more intensely. At the second climax her cries were even just barely audible to Patrick. She looked back over her should and said something to the black man, then yanked off her bra and leaned even farther forward. But her gaze returned to focus on exactly where Patrick sat, and he felt like their eyes were connected by a hot beam of energy. The man rose from behind her and fisted his meaty cock, rubbing it in her gash several times.

Patrick knew the second he entered her, seeing her eyes widen, her nostrils flare, and her mouth reshape into a moan. Her lover was not quite savage, but he certainly wasn't gentle either; giving her no time to adjust to the girth now penetrating her lithe body, he immediately began thrusting his full length deep within her. The force of the thrusts was evident in the way her tits jerked crazily back and forth as they hung down from her chest in her bowed position. Patrick felt his cock pulsing in his hand. He had never seen something so erotic as this married woman fucking around on her husband with a well-hung stud.

The man pounded Katherine for a few minutes and sweat began to drip from both of their bodies at the intensity. Then he took her long hair in his right hand and clenched a fistful of it, using it like reins to pull her yet harder onto his dick. Once again her cries floated through the night air across the courtyard. Patrick realized he had never in his life screwed a woman as roughly as his drinks-date was being taken. He was so attuned to their coupling that he even found himself able to read the man's lips as he snarled to Katherine, "Do you want to come, bitch?"

She gasped and nodded, eyes clenched shut in the ecstasy of his tremendous thrusts, and the man reached across her ass with his left hand, slapping it several times until the cheeks were pink, and then pushed a thick thumb up her asshole. The result was instantaneous as she bucked and screamed on his dual impalement in a third intense orgasm, which triggered the man to yell out as he emptied his balls deep into her cunt. Somewhere along the line Patrick realized he had also come, shooting a trail of sticky semen all over his fist, the desk, and the carpet.

Across the way, the two caught their breath for a moment, and then separated. Patrick could see several thick gobs of come drop out of her pussy as the black man's dick slid free. They lurched to the bed, just barely in view, and she lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. He almost thought the show was over as she lay there next to the man, smoking and talking softly, but felt his dick stir once more as the man's hand snaked down to her sloppy pussy and tracked through the fine blonde hair that covered it. This was the first good view Patrick had of her cunt, and he found it very appealing, especially red and puffy as it was after the recent savage fucking.

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