That First, Tentative Step

Author's Comment;

This is my first submission to Literotica; A story I wrote several years before. All characters and situations depicted are purely fictional.

I never realised how quiet a hotel room could be. Sure, there's the occasional muted thump, or perhaps the flush of a nearby toilet, but in the main, it's very quiet; the sort of quiet where you can hear your thoughts clearly in your head, maybe a little too clearly. Perhaps it's just the atmosphere of a hotel room. Warm and impersonal, causing you to think a little deeper, become more introspective than you would in a more familiar surrounding. There's no welcome distractions, no way to escape yourself. The television is merely an annoyance, the mini-bar too expensive. Maybe it's just because I'm alone with nothing but my thoughts and the red glow of the alarm clock for company.

It had started as a game, conceived several months earlier, a way for us to brighten our flagging libidos and renew our passion for one another; dipping a toe into the waters of fantasy whilst remaining firmly behind the black line of fidelity. The game was simple enough, and innocent in its naivety; we merely played make believe.

We placed an advertisement on a contact site, and every week, we'd spend a couple of evenings reading aloud to each other the replies from prospective suitors, turning ourselves on whilst pretending to seriously consider which to invite to our bed.

Sorting the wheat from the chaff was remarkably easy. Many of the replies reeked with desperation, and some were so enamoured with their genitalia that they simply replied with a photograph without any accompanying message. Some, the message was graphic, others merely colourful.

It was in the second week of our game that John's message arrived. Literate, polite, charming, in stark contrast to many of the others we received. It was an instant winner. We each read through his words several times, and that night, we had the best sex we'd had in years.

We began to compile a top ten list, made all the more exciting because these people, like ourselves, were all real; close enough to touch, each only an email away.

John of course was at the top of the list. His message became the yardstick by which we measured the others. The more we discussed him, the more real he became, and the worse we both felt for not sending a reply.

Over the next couple of days, we formulated our response, spending long hours trying to work out what to say. In the end, we decided to be honest, explaining that when we placed the ad, we never had any intention of meeting anyone. That the whole thing was just for kicks. We thanked him for his reply, and hoped that he'd not think too harshly of us.

As the days passed without a reply, our enthusiasm for checking the email diminished. I thought that was the end of that, that our reply had disappointed our admirer, that he had cut his losses and moved on to try his luck elsewhere.

Over a week had passed since I'd hit the send button. I'd been unlucky enough to be handed the late shift at work; early afternoon till ten at night, with little to occupy me but my thoughts during the long hours of darkness, collapsing into bed within half an hour of returning home, filled with the fatigue that only idleness can bring.

It was somewhere in the middle of the week that I remember being awoken, the bedroom light, bright behind my eyelids, the gentle but insistent shaking. My eyes opened. Sue's face was, inches from my own; her eyes alight with excitement.

"David, we've got an email."

I closed my eyes again and the shaking renewed.

"It's John, he replied."

I climbed out of the bed; the night air was cold against my skin. Sue was already at the bedroom door as I reached for some clothes, clumsily pulling them over my exposed limbs as she waited.

She led me down the stairs and into the living room, leaping onto her chair and spinning to face the bright monitor.

"Look."

It took a moment for my eyes to adjust, letters swam across my vision, slowly falling into their proper place as I read the message one word at a time. When I'd finished, I scrolled back up and started again, the words flowing better this time.

Beneath the eloquence of his words, the message was simple; he'd thanked us for our honesty, and offered to join the game, to swap stories and advice over email, exploring our boundaries through fiction.

"Well?" Sue perched on the edge of her chair, her hand hovering over the mouse.

"Sounds good to me." I grinned.

Her fingers moved over the keyboard in a staccato of strokes, hurriedly typing a reply. I scanned through her words, and nodded as she hit send. Within five minutes, I was back in the warmth of the bed, not complaining as I was gently awoken a short time later by a warm pair of lips around my growing erection.

I suppose as couples go, we're pretty average; we don't bicker or fight, but we don't really talk that much either. Our conversations stay firmly in the green zone of safe topics, such as kids, politics, books, films and other such things, only venturing into the more intimate topics when enough alcoholic lubrication is consumed.

Our new arrangement didn't really change this; our spoken conversations were still safe, but a new avenue for expression was now open. Email was now the medium of choice for intimate discussion.

John's first story arrived within a couple of days; written in his usual eloquent style, it was apparent from the first paragraph that his writing talent eclipsed my own. Together we sat, sipping occasionally at a glass of wine whilst scrolling through his words in silence, our hands sometimes meeting as we read, side by side at the same monitor, mesmerised by his words.

The story itself was quite tame, testing waters between us as it described our fictional first meet at an anonymous hotel; his description of the inevitable hotel room scene was emotional rather than graphic or clinical, and yet so detailed that you could picture everything clearly within your mind. We reached the end of the story; Sue shut down the computer and wordlessly we climbed the stairs. No sooner than we were through the bedroom door, we were tearing at each other's bodies. The sex we had that night was incredible.

That weekend, we looked over our own story for the last time, performing our final edit before hitting the send button. At that point, our online ménage a trios began in earnest.

By the time three months had passed, there were twenty such stories in our intimate archive. John's descriptions of us were becoming more accurate with every tale, lifting our personalities from our own words, lending our fictional alter egos the realism that blurs the line between reality and make believe.

The stories continued along the same theme; that of a first meet, but there the similarities ended. Each seemed to push the boundaries of the others. As the three of us became more confident in expressing our desires, our inhibitions lessened. John's fictional character always seemed to mould itself seamlessly to the story, in one; he would be the gentle teacher, guiding us together through act of sharing ourselves. In another, he would be the dominant male, taking Sue before my eyes, as I'd watch helplessly from across the room. Each scenario was different; it could be plain, kinky, or something else, but each time, it never failed to turn us on. We hoped that our stories were having the same effect on him.

When the time came to exchange photographs, Sue, normally reticent about such things, didn't bat an eyelid. I can still remember the way my hands shook as I held the camera, taking picture after picture as she performed a slow striptease before me; the thought that within the hour, a man I'd never met could be masturbating to these very images was insanely arousing.

The next day John's picture arrived. We were both in equal measures, apprehensive and curious to see what he looked like; my worst nightmare would be some butch, muscular, sweaty alpha bull of a male with tattoos and a skinhead, along with all the stereotypes that that entailed.

Sue's finger hovered above the button, hesitating. This was the real life image of the man that we'd been fantasising about for months, we'd pictured him in our bed countless times already, shared our most intimate thoughts with him.

She clicked the button, and the image filled the monitor. Sue gave a whoop of joy.

"Jackpot, it's Beanie." She leaped of the chair, a grin splitting her face. It wasn't Sean Bean, but they could've been brothers. They shared the same mousy blonde hair, a similar angular face, green eyes and wolfish grin. I could tell that she wasn't disappointed.

I suppose that meeting in real life was inevitable at this point. It no longer became a matter of if, but of when we'd get together. Things took on a life of their own; arrangements were made, the calendar was scrutinised, and a date was chosen.

In the week approaching the date, there was a heady air of sexual tension around the house. Sex was frequent and spontaneous, instigated by as little as a flash of a bra or a grope of the bottom. We couldn't keep our hands off each other.

It took Sue three separate visits to the lingerie shop to choose her attire for the event, taking great pleasure in teasing me, keeping her final choice secret. As the day grew close, we were in constant communication with John, checking the hotel reservations, making sure that everything was still on track. The excitement was palpable.

The drive was leisurely; we had arranged to meet in the hotel bar at seven in the evening, so there was plenty of time. Sue took charge of the music, flicking through tracks on her MP3 player, humming along to favourites whilst I negotiated our way through the congested roads.

The hotel was surprisingly easy to find, located just outside the city at the edge of the motorway. Nothing fancy, merely an anonymous chain hotel with all the basic amenities and little else.

We checked into the room with over an hour to spare. Sue headed immediately for the shower, ordering me to have a drink at the bar downstairs as she got herself ready. I had little choice but to go.

The bar was almost deserted. Two business types sat in the far corner, sharing their woes from the working day. I ordered myself a beer and retreated to the far side of the room. My heart pounded painfully in my chest as I thought on the night ahead, my hands shook as I lifted my glass to my lips. Outside, a smoker stood, huddled beneath a glass canopy. Both Sue and I had quit a couple of months before, but at that moment, I needed a cigarette like I have needed nothing else in my life. Leaving my glass on the table, I ducked through the door, offering a camaraderie nod at the smoker, and asked if he could spare me a cigarette.

Moments later, warm smoke filled my lungs and my apprehension began to ease; the sudden nicotine rush made my head swim, but at last I began to relax a little.

I was debating whether to order a third drink when Sue walked into the bar. She was hot. In fact, she looked stunning. The business types at the other end of the bar stopped their discourse to watch as she negotiated the small round tables on her way to me; the black satin of her dress clung to her body as she moved, twirling about her stocking clad legs.

"Hi Babes," She smiled as she sat down, placing her small handbag on the bench beside her.

"Wow," I shook my head, "You look...Wow."

She smiled at the complement, pausing to brush away an imaginary speck of dust from above her breast. I was on my feet in a moment, rushing to the bar to get her a drink, glancing back at her every couple of seconds as I waited for the bartender.

Back at the table, I couldn't keep my eyes off her dress, nor my thoughts off what lay beneath it. I kept hoping to catch a glimpse of the fabric, or the telltale swell of a seam beneath the satin that could give me a clue.

"Hello."

Both Sue and I turned in unison.

"I'm John, you must be Sue and David." I noticed his eyes lingering over Sue as I took his proffered hand.

"Nice to finally meet," I offered awkwardly. The nerves had returned with full force; I wished I had another cigarette. Sue was grinning, She stood to greet him, offering her cheek for a kiss. He sat down, beside her, one hand resting lightly upon her knee, the other on the table. I felt a slight pang of jealousy; it must've looked to anyone that I was the guest and he, the husband.

"So, John," I began, searching for something to say, "How was your journey?"

He shrugged, and linked arms with Sue, "uneventful."

That was pretty much how the next half hour went. They had clicked immediately; Sue was listening raptly to another of his innumerable anecdotes, his hand between hers as she faced him, giving him all her attention. The breadth of the table that separated us felt like a chasm. I tried to listen to the story but my attention kept moving to the easy way they sat together, the way they constantly touched. His story finished, and I smiled politely, belatedly realising that I had missed the punch line.

Sue stood, offering us both a quick smile, and excusing herself, disappeared in the direction of the ladies.

"David?"

I turned back to face John.

"We need to talk."

I nodded, and took another sip of my drink; unsure of what to say, I waited for him to continue.

"These past months, it's become clear to me that you both want this to happen, and I'm honoured that you've chosen me. You're a great couple."

"Thanks"

"Don't thank me yet." His smile faded, he looked at me gravely. "Tonight, you will be sleeping alone. I want this night to be special for her, If you're there, she wont relax, she'll hold back, she'll be more concerned with your feelings than with her own. There'll be other times for the three of us."

I nodded. I was disappointed, but I understood. His smile returned, and he waved as he saw Sue reappear behind me. He stood to greet her, placing his hands gently upon the ridge of her hips, and lowered his lips to hers. After her initial surprise, she threaded her arms through his, wrapping them about his back, pulling him closer into the kiss.

I watched open mouthed as a strange rush of emotions surged through me; it was like being disconnected from my body, that I was watching myself kiss her, but it wasn't me, it was someone else. I think in that moment, I experienced the full spectrum of human emotion in less than a second, and when their lips parted, I was shaking.

"Well then, we've got a long night ahead of us, shall we retire?" At that moment, John wore the same wolfish grin as his photograph. Sue blushed and nodded, throwing a quick glance at me as she retrieved her handbag.

I stood and kissed her on the cheek as she said goodnight, watched as she walked arm in arm with John to the doorway, wondering if she would turn and wave before she disappeared. She didn't.

I uncomfortably finished my drink and headed to the room, feeling both powerless, and strangely aroused. All I could think about was what John was doing with my wife. I threw myself to the bed and masturbated furiously to the scenes that played out within the confines of my imagination. My release came within minutes of starting, but the images stayed with me.

Sleep took a long time coming. I was still alone when I awoke in the early hours before dawn, the sheets in disarray from my troubled sleep. My chest burned with jealous arousal. I wanted, needed to know what was happening; were they doing it now? Was he gentle, domineering, aggressive? Was he pounding into her this very minute? Was he calling her a slut, or were they slowly making love, staring into one another's eyes, bodies entwined in a slow dance of passion?

There's no way to know. I am alone with nothing but my thoughts and the red glow of the alarm clock for company. And so I wait for morning, my hand drifting down to my growing arousal, my thoughts wandering...