The Cheater

The waiter turned me around again so that I was facing the bartender. I could feel his hard cock pressing against my ass. He started pulling up the hem of my dress, showing may panties to the bartended. I watched his black hand slide into my white panties in the mirrors on the bar. One of his hands were still pinching my nipples and his lips were nibbling on my earlobe. The waiter worked two fingers into my pussy, then pushing those wet fingers into my mouth and I eagerly sucked my juices off those fingers.

In the mirrors, I was watching the show I was putting on for the bartender, and loving it, maybe more than him. It was then that I noticed that a couple other members of the hotel staff had taken a seat at one of the tables in the bar. If I had a brain in my head, I would have left. But I didn't. I didn't leave when the waiter pulled my dress over my head. I didn't leave when the waiter pushed me to my knees and pushed his cock into my mouth. I didn't leave when the bartender's cock was also in my face. And I didn't leave when more people joined the audience and watched the married white slut suck off two black men.

I cannot describe how hot it made me, knowing they were watching. After sucking them off for a few minutes, the two men pushed me onto a table on my back, slid my panties off and spread my legs apart. My freshly shaved pussy was on display.

The bartender started slapping my pussy and asking me what I wanted.

"I want you to fuck me" I said.

"And what about my friends" he asked.

"They can fuck me too!"

And they did! The bartender draped my knees over his shoulders while he worked his cock into my cunt. The waiter worked his cock into my mouth and started fucking my face. I came twice before they flipped me over and traded places. The bartender was the first to come, he grabbed a handful of my hair, pulled his cock out and stated shooting come into my mouth. I noticed someone was recording this on their phone. The thought of someone watching this and masturbating made me come again.

As soon the bartender was done, someone else took his place. At one point I was licking another man's come out of a black woman's pussy. Someone with a very large cock began working it into my ass causing me to come again. I was in heaven, so many people fucking me, so many people watching, and so many people calling me a slut and a whore.

I don't know how many people fucked me that evening and I don't know how many times I came when I told them I had to stop. My cunt, ass and mouth were sore from being fucked and I knew I would have bruises on my tits and ass from people who enjoyed "slappin the slut" as they called it. Someone helped me put my dress back on, but my panties had disappeared. Come was dripping out of my ass and cunt as I made my way back to my hotel room.

The sight in the elevator mirror was horrifying. The dress was trashed with footprints and stains all over it. There was a ton of come in my hair. Someone had taken a marker and written "Insert black cocks here" across my forehead with an arrow pointing to my mouth. Fortunately, no one saw me on my way back to my room.

The view in the hotel bathroom was more horrifying. "Married white slut in love with black cock" was written across my chest. Twelve hash marks were written across my ass cheeks, I think tracking how many men had fucked me. My tits were full of bite marks and other bruises. My ass cheeks looked the same. It took hours in the shower to get the marker off me.

I slept for about two hours before I had to get up for my flight to St. Paul and I was not going to the hotel bar at all while I was there. Several people had sent me videos or pictures of my slutty behavior the night before. There was a video of me telling the bartender that his friends could fuck me too as he worked is cock into my cunt. It had become clear to me that I had allowed things to go too far.

The familiar scene greeted me when I got home. My husband was watching some game on TV as I walked in and among the normal pleasantries, he told me there was a roast in the oven.

I announced I was going to shower and turned to leave the room when he said, "I really liked that dress you had on in Chicago, too bad it was ruined."

I stood there in shock as my phone pinged signaling a message from my husband. I opened the message and there was a picture of me walking into the bar with a bit of ass cheek visible below the hem of the skirt. There was also a picture of the waiter, holding the front of the dress up with his hand down my panties.

"How long have you known," I asked?

"I've known since Mike" he said, "by the way, I have his contact information if you're interested."

Other questions were flashing through my head, but he told me to go take a shower and we could discuss it over dinner. I was stunned as I let the hot water flow over me. Several bruises were still visible on my tits and ass. How could I face my husband after all that I have done. As I showered, there were repeated pings from my phone.

While drying off, I picked up my phone and stated scanning the pictures my husband had sent me. There was a picture of Mike with his hand up the legs of my shorts, my nipples were on display. There were pictures of men I did not remember being with, but they had their hands on inappropriate places on my body. Most of the pictures were from hotel bars but there were several where I was having sex with multiple men. There was even a picture of me sucking on some woman's clit. The room service guy who fucked me at the Drake had recorded it and sent it to my husband.

The worst were the videos from that last night in the Drake. I almost did not recognize myself. In one clip, I was shouting that I was a married white slut in love with black cock while a blackman sprayed his come onto my face.

After an unsuccessful nap, I headed downstairs where my husband was setting the table for dinner, including a nice bottle of wine and candlelight. I had no idea where he was going. Nor did I have any idea where I wanted it to end up. My last night at the Drake had probably ruined any possibility that we could kiss and make up. And I had been enjoying myself, maybe too much, but I wasn't sure I wanted that to stop.

As he poured me a glass of wine, I asked "how did you find out?"

He looked at me, smiled and said:

"The private investigators you hired were horrible, worse than amateurs. I realized they were following me on their first day and it did not take long to find out who they were. I was not cheating on you of course; I do take our marriage vows very seriously. So, I let him follow me and I am sure he had nothing to report since there would have been nothing to report except a lonely businessman working an exceptional number of hours."

"But it made me wonder. What gave you the idea that I might be cheating, maybe it was because you were unfaithful or at least considering being unfaithful. I guess that may be considered your first mistake, not trusting me."

"The second would be your choice of hotels. The Drake for example, you know the Drake very well and I am sure that is why you stay there routinely. Do you remember how many times we stayed when we first got together and how frequently we would meet up there. We stayed there often because my company owns the hotel. I know everyone there from the desk clerks, the maids who noticed you did not sleep in your bed, the room service clerk who fucked you and of course, the staff in the hotel bar. The room service clerk was very apologetic as he did not realize he was fucking my wife until the deed was completed."

"But if you knew, why did you let it go on?"

"That night with Mike was about one year ago. At the time I had hoped it was a one-time thing, a bad decision that you would regret, and we would move on. Obviously, I was wrong."

"But you seemed so pleasant when I got home, a lasagna in the oven if I remember."

"Call me the foolish husband. The pictures of Mike sliding his hand up your shorts and the picture of you walking out of the bar holding his hand were devastating. I was in a fantasy that you were going to come home, admit your mistake and ask for my forgiveness. I wanted to make that as easy as possible. When that didn't happen, I lived in a fantasy that you would never stray again. As you know, and the pictures show, I was wrong. Once I realized it was over, I decided to take my time to figure out and plan what I did want."

"And the times you still made love to me?"

"Not the words I would choose. Watching any beautiful woman having sex would arouse me, it took a while to get past the part that you were the beautiful woman, I was watching having sex with strange men, but it still made me want to fuck you and so I did?

"Is that why you wore a condom?"

"Exactly me dear, I did not want to stick my unprotected dick where so many men have boldly gone before."

I hadn't realized that I had eaten most of my dinner. I put down my fork and stared at my husband. I was angry that he had been so deceitful, the irony was immediately apparent. As I stared at my husband, he picked up a folder that had been sitting on the chair next to him. The folder contained several legal documents.

"So, what exactly is this plan you came up with over the last year," I asked?

"Very simple, sign the house and all of our other assets over to me and you can leave immediately with your clothes, your car along with the payment book and any other personal affects you wish to take."

"That's crazy, our personal assets must be worth at least two million and most of that was acquired while we were married. I am entitled to at least half if not more."

"In some legal proceedings, you may be entitled to half. However, that would require a court case where the grounds, which includes the videos and pictures would become public. Something I believe very strongly that your parents and family should know about. I know you will blame this all on me anyway."

I sat there and stared at him as he sipped his wine. He was a ruthless businessman, but he always left that at the office and never brought it home with him. At home, he was usually loving and kind. He knew I had no choice, but I considered refusing to sign the documents. My family would disown me, and I would lose my job if any of the videos found their way to social media. I did not even know how many copies of the videos existed.

I signed the documents, got up from the table, repacked my suitcase and left. Fortunately, I always maintained my own credit cards and had accumulated thousands of points.

My sex life has stayed the same and I still stay at the Drake whenever I am in Chicago. There has not been an opportunity to repeat another night in the hotel bar, but I have spent many nights with the bartender and waiter, and frequently many others.

Do I have regrets? Probably. I walked away from a million dollars but my life with my husband then was so miserable I would do it again. I threw out the rule about not having sex with someone I knew. It turns out you can really increase your sales if you fuck the other company's buyer.