Layover

He lingered a while longer than other places at my slit, where his tongue slid up along my length, then in to rest next to my inner lips, then along me again to the front, where he found my sensitive clitoris, massaged it for a moment, then returned back down along the other side. Then, suddenly; Arthur's tongue was a stiff intruder into my sex, and he plunged himself deep into me, simulating fucking me ... no he WAS fucking me with his talented tongue. At that moment, I thought with love of my husband, Frank, and how much I cared for him, and how I would never leave him, and how good of a lover he was to me, but Frank, honey, you've NEVER made me feel like THIS!"

Eventually, after what seemed like an hour, Arthur left me breathless when he withdrew his tongue from within me. He climbed on top of me, his whole weight in contact with mine, the entire length of our bodies touching from face to toes. I felt my breasts crushed below his chest, my nipples hard, folded over under him. I felt his cock poking insistently at my mons, not aimed right to enter me, but Arthur making no effort to insert it. Yet.

I felt my shaven legs against his hairy legs, the inner surface of my arms against the inner surface of his, our pulses pounding together at our wrists, our fingers intertwined. I could feel him breathe. I could feel his cock twitch below me.

Again, Arthur opened his mouth against mine, but when I tried to move my tongue into his mouth, he trapped it gently between his teeth and held it there while he caressed the tip of it with his own tongue, lavishing saliva on it until I could feel my mouth filling with him and had to swallow. If you had described this to me before, I would have thought it disgusting, but then and there, it was so sensuous and sexual that I nearly had an orgasm from that "kiss" alone.

Finally, Arthur rolled over, clasping me tightly to himself so we rolled together, and I was suddenly on top. He released me, and let his own head fall back on the pile of pillows, putting me in charge now.

I would like to say that I returned the favor and explored every inch of Arthur's body with my eyes and tongue. But Arthur had wound me up so tight, had me so aroused and ready to explode, that I simply didn't have the patience.

I straddled his hips with mine and felt around between us until I found his stiff, throbbing, oddly angled member. I aimed it to where I wanted it, where I wanted it so badly right then, and simply sat down on it, allowing it to penetrate easily up into my liquid center. I felt that odd bend in the middle slide through me, making the moment even more exciting if possible.

Again, my thoughts flashed to Frank, and how different this felt with Arthur. Partly, maybe a great deal, because of Arthur's size and shape, but mostly, I think because of the delicious sense that Arthur and I were NOT married, that we were stealing this time, these few illicit hours, to do this thing with each other, this powerful, personal, private, intimate thing, just for ourselves. This was without question the most selfish thing I'd ever done, the most wanton submission to my cravings I'd ever allowed myself. And I LOVED it!

As Arthur massaged my breasts and tweaked my erect nipples, the incredibly good feelings of sexual stimulation together with the intoxicating passion brought about by the idea of cheating on my marriage here in a hotel with a stranger, pushed me into a frenzy of effort as I pounded myself up and down on Arthur's cock, my head flailing, my hair whipping my back, hearing myself grunting or speaking or shouting or something, I don't know what.

Below me, Arthur was shoving his hips up at me, his rhythm perfectly synchronized with my own, our pubic hair entangled, our bones smashing together again and again. But mostly, our sex ... his cock and my vagina, sliding back and forth along one another over and over and over, until at last, Arthur forced himself up into me with an especially powerful thrust, his long cock stabbing into some place I'd never felt before, spurting his hot semen into me there.

He dropped down, then shoved himself up at me again. I stopped trying to control our mating and simply let him move himself as best suited his orgasm. Three or four more times, Arthur jammed himself up violently into me, and after about the second such thrust, I felt my cunt clamp down onto him, my entire hip and tummy area clench in a spasm of ecstasy, and surges of pleasure shoot like electricity out into my whole body.

We collapsed into a heap of flesh and sweat and semen and vaginal fluids, and just lay there panting for what must have been five minutes.

Suddenly, I was cold, and I realized that we were both covered with perspiration in the cool air of the hotel room. I pulled the pile of fine sheets and fluffy blankets up over us, and hugged Arthur tightly. I could feel the wetness of our mating seeping out of each of us, running across the bare skin of our legs, and pooling below us on the bedding. I totally didn't care – my mind was nestled in that excellent warm place it goes after a good fuck.

Seven and a half hours is a long time. We had to leave in time to return me to the airport to catch my flight to Portland, and I insisted on getting a shower before going ... I wouldn't dare meet my husband at the airport smelling like I knew we both smelled there in the Salt Lake City Marriott.

But in seven and a half hours, an inspired couple has time to push, slide, suck, lick, twist, rub, and massage one another's sex organs in a lot of ways. And inspiration in the form of a one-time rendezvous between two married people, not married to one another, ready and willing to do practically anything for that seven and one-half hours, can be very powerful, indeed.

One time, Arthur mounted me from behind, in what is called "doggie style," I'm told. Frank had never done that.

Another time, we sat in the bed and twisted ourselves so that our legs intertwined, one of his in front of me, one behind, one of mine in front of him, one behind, and slid together until Arthur's cock could slide into me while we both watched it disappear. Our ability to thrust in that position was limited, but that was more than made up for by the thrill of seeing this man's cock penetrate me, then withdraw a little, the skin of his penis shiny, almost silvery, with the sheen of my fluids, then watch it slide back inside with that delicious feeling of fucking, fucking, fucking.

I never did find out how old Arthur was exactly. But at least on that day, his age was overcome by his excitement. I know I'm no bargain in the looks department; I'm not ugly, but I certainly no longer draw stares or whistles as I walk down the street. But I suppose it's not everyday that a sixty-plus year-old guy has all day to do what he wants with an eager woman twenty years or more younger than he is.

I sucked Arthur to orgasm once, lying languidly on the bed. He barely moved, just idly watching his cock as it slid into and out of the face of this woman he had met yesterday on the plane, until he could resist me no more, and ejaculated into my willing mouth. I swallowed every drop.

Arthur licked his own cum out of me every time after he fucked me, each time bringing me again to another climax with his mouth. He would move his face up to mine afterward, his little moustache soaked with our combined fluids, and I would lick and suck it dry.

But time does pass.

Over an hour before my flight, we showered (separately, or I would have missed my plane, I imagine), got dressed, and Arthur drove me to the airport. He said he wanted to come in with me and wait in the lounge until boarding, but I insisted that he drop off me off at the "Departures" entrance.

Arthur kissed me goodbye when he dropped me off. I asked him if we would ever get back together, and he answered me by asking if I really wanted a "love affair?" When I was silent, he said, "I thought not. Go to your husband, and thanks for a wonderful day!"