Two Married Guys Ch. 01-02

Chapter 1

It had been a long flight and hellish Uber into the city, and Tom just wanted a beer and a burger. Room service was done for the night, so he headed down to the bar, where he figured he could at least get the beer. There was a game on -and one guy at the bar. This place wasn't exactly hopping at 11:45 on a Wednesday night.

The bartender was a cute little thing. Probably a student, maybe 23 at most. Blonde, nice tits, a bouncy little ass. At least there's some eye candy, he thought. Settling in at the bar, he left a seat between himself and the other guy. Tom wasn't sure he wanted conversation or not, but he wasn't going to be an ass and make the girl serve him at a table.

Mark had been at the bar for about an hour. He'd taken 5 o'clock flight so he could get in a full day of work before having to hop on a plane. Mark was a hustler and always had been. He'd changed careers in his late 20's and was doing anything and everything to get ahead. He was probably one of the few guys who enjoyed going to these classes, learning good technical skills, but soft skills as well. He'd never been all that great at management or even talking with people. He saw these trips as the chance to evolve into a different role.

Mark had finished his burger and was on his third beer. He still felt weird being away from his wife, not really knowing what to do with himself besides prepare for the seminar. He wasn't all that into sports, but he also didn't feel like sitting in a hotel room at the moment. He had really noticed that the bar was all but empty. He, too, had noticed the cute bartender, and his eyes were drawn to her ass. Tight and firm, just the way I like them, he thought.

It was then he noticed that another guy had sat down.

"Hey," Mark said. "Kinda cleared out...."

Tom tipped his beer and smiled, knowing just what the other guy was looking at.

"May have cleared out, but the scenery is still nice," he said and nodded toward the girl.

She whirled around, hands on her hips and then gave a mock scolding. "The view isn't free, mister. I'll be expecting a nice tip."

The banter improved Tom's mood, and he decided it couldn't hurt to make conversation with his barmate.

"I'm Tom," he said. "How's it going?"

Mark introduced himself and extended a hand. He was a little amazed at how forward his new acquaintance was with the bartender. Maybe old guys can get away with that, he mused, but I'd have come off as a creep if I'd tried it.

"It's going ok" Mark said. "I had a long day of work. A flight. And class in the morning, so..." He trailed off a little. "How about you?"

"Aah, we must be here for the same conference," Tom replied. "Except I'm teaching the course."

His phone buzzed and he glanced down to see it was from his wife, Joan. He sighed and punched answer.

"Hey, babe. Yep, got in fine, just really needed a beer. Hotel bar. Yep, good night, call you in the morning, love you, too."

He put the phone back on the bar and looked at Mark.

"Mother Hen checking in," he laughed.

Mark overheard the quick call and it was very obvious who it was.

"I hear ya. I had to call mine before heading down here," he said softly. "So. First time teaching? Or is this old hat for you?"

Tom feigned being offended.

"Who you calling old, kid," he said. "Been at it a couple of years now. Got out of the full time rat race and just doing some consulting on the side now."

He nodded and the bartender set another beer down.

"Your wife isn't here? And here I thought the two of you were a couple," he laughed, pointing at the bartender. She giggled and tossed a towel at him.

Mark laughed a little nervously.

"The wife, umm, Ashley. Married six years now. How long for you?" he asked, nursing his fourth beer and beginning to worry a bit about the time and beer consumed.

"Double that figure, then double it again," Tom laughed. "And to the same woman that whole time!"

"Hey I applaud you. That's fantastic," Mark replied, reaching over and offering a congratulatory handshake. He found himself leaning over awkwardly and when the handshake was over, it was easier just to slide down one stool and sit directly next to Tom. The beer was getting to him a bit, and he leaned over, dropping his voice.

"Now be honest...just the one woman the whole time?"

Tom leaned back and gave the Boy Scout sign.

"On my honor," he said, then glanced at the bartender. "But it hasn't been easy." He took another swig of beer.

"Tell me about his Ashley woman," he said amiably. "Any kids? How long have you been with the company?"

"Ashley is...." Mark started, not sure where to begin. "...amazing. She's actually a personal trainer, slash yoga instructor, slash fitness model all in one. She's a hustler. Stays busy. Keeps me on my toes."

He definitely loved bragging about her and impulsively pulled out this phone, scanning photos. He found a couple of her that he probably shouldn't be showing a total stranger, but somehow he felt the need to - what - preen in front of this guy.

"She's always posting on Instagram," he said, leaning over to show Tom the photo. "Loves working out. Kinda got me back into it to be honest."

Tom was definitely impressed.

"Jesus, man, why the hell are you in a hotel bar in suburban Atlanta ogling a bartender," he teased.

He was amused at how the guy was gushing about his wife. But he sensed a hint of something there -- almost as if Mark was trying to convince himself he was worthy of such a hottie. Still he kind of liked the kid.

"So," he said, leaning back to his side of the bar. "Where's home?"

The bartender wandered over and smiled sweetly, asking if they needed anything else.

"Grab us both one more beer," Tom answered. "This man is about to tell me about his wife."

"Minneapolis," Mark said back. "And thanks. You didn't have to do that."

He took a sip of what was now his fifth beer of the night before continuing.

"I know. It's a long way to come for a class. But I did the same one last year and I really found it inspiring. I changed my career a little later in life, always trying to find an edge."

Another sip of beer.

"What about you? What's your life story? Where are you from," he asked Tom.

"I'm from Charleston, actually. Not that far away - geographically anyway," Tom replied. "Been in this business since I was 30ish. I got lucky and cashed out when the merger came along two years ago. I just do this to get out of the house."

He paused and added: "I'm sure you'll like the class. Sucking up to the teacher is always a good idea."

He grinned and clinked his bottle against the one Mark was holding.

"I'll remember that," Mark said, not really sure if the guy was joking or not. Tom had that sort of personality. Almost mysterious. Fun to talk to, that was for sure.

He caught a glimpse of the bartender and motioned with his eyes to Tom to take a look. She was kneeling down to the lowest shelf, jeans low around her waist and a white thong peeking out.

"Ashley's got a pair just like that," he blurted without thinking.

Tom ignored that and leaned over conspiratorially.

"If I wasn't sure she'd call security, I'd invite her up to my room with us," he whispered and winked, then shifted back to a normal tone of voice.

"Ashley sounds fantastic," he offered. "And, honestly, I'd be afraid to leave a woman that gorgeous alone for a week. Never know what she might get up to during that time. Or you, for that matter."

His eyes locked on Mark's as he said the last line, and something sparked in the back of his mind. He took a big gulp of beer. Mark laughed, but he wondered if Tom shared his fantasy of tag-teaming a woman with a friend. It was a pretty common fantasy he supposed. But his fantasy went a little further - it was Ashley he fantasized about sharing. But he definitely was not admitting that to a total stranger.

"I took care of her pretty good before I left," he said, smiling. "But you're right. Never know. Especially with me."

He purposely locked eyes with Tom again. His heart was pounding What the hell am I doing, he thought. Why am I trying to sound like a badass?

They sat there in silence for a couple of seconds, and as the silence stretched out, Mark was afraid he'd given off a vibe he wasn't sure he intended to. Suddenly he grabbed his phone again.

"You know, that's not the only picture I have of her," he said, leaning over. "Maybe if my grades are bad I'll have to show you a couple more to bring them up."

All of a sudden, Tom felt something unexpected in the air - and a tingle in the pit of his stomach he only got when he let his mind wander to its deepest, darkest corner. He reached for his own phone.

"Well, if we're comparing notes, here's Joan. I expect you've had a MILF fantasy or two," he quipped.

It was Mark's turn to be impressed.

"Goodness..." he said, taking Tom's phone and staring at the picture. "Joan is gorgeous."

He took another sip, unsure what to say next, and not wanting to say anything too over the line. He also found he didn't want to say too little either.

"The whole one woman thing is certainly starting to make a little more sense now," he said, with a big laugh that might have come off a little false.

He glanced at his watch. It was late. Beyond late. And he knew they both had to be up early. Plus, the whole thing was making him a little nervous.

"To be continued?" he asked and pointed at his watch. He had a brief moment of panic because he didn't want it to come off like he was running out. "And believe me - I think we have plenty to continue."

Tom was surprised to find himself disappointed that Mark wanted to call it a night already.

I like this kid, he thought to himself, and that's weird because I rarely like anybody these days.

"Sure," he answered. "Early wake up call and all that. What say we meet for breakfast before things get started tomorrow? My session isn't until the afternoon, but I'll be in there bullshitting with the suits all morning, and I'll need plenty of coffee to get through that."

He couldn't really believe what he was proposing. He usually slept in as late as possible at these fucking things and here he was making a "date" with a 30-something junior manager. Maybe he reminds me of myself when I started out? Maybe it was...something else.

He slid his card across the bar to Mark.

"Here, give me your mobile number," he said.

Mark told him the numbers, and Tom punched into his phone. On a whim, he pulled up a photo album he'd named "goofing off" and attached a picture of Joan to a message and hit send.

"There you go," he smirked. "Chew on that a while before bed."

Mark's jaw dropped. Here was Tom's wife in her MILFish glory, obviously just fooling around for the camera, but sexy as hell nonetheless. She had her back to the camera, looking over her shoulder, her blonde hair swept back, peering at the photographer through black-rimmed glasses. Her short, but professional, skirt rode high up the backs of her thighs as she pushed her ass out provocatively. Black "fuck-me" pumps completed the vision.

Tom's voice broke him out of his reverie.

"Gotta hit the head," he said. "See you in the morning."

Tom went into the men's room without waiting for an answer. As he took a leak, his cock started to stiffen. He couldn't deny what he was thinking about now.

Mark was gone, and the bar was deserted when he came back out. He waved at the bartender and made his way to the elevator. By the time he got to his room, he had a full-blown hardon. He quickly stripped, leaving clothes strewn across the room. Plopping onto the bed, he grabbed the phone and typed out a quick message to Joan, then pulled up a porn site. He found a couple of clips that reminded him of Mark's wife. But as he stroked his shaft, his mind found its familiar forbidden corner, and it was a vision of her on her knees sucking Mark's cock that excited him most.

Chapter 2

"Chew on that a while before bed."

Those words and that picture of Tom's wife kept running through Mark's mind as he made his way to his room. Did it mean what he thought it did? Did Tom want him to "enjoy' that picture of his wife the way he was thinking?

As he rode the elevator up, he kept looking at the photo and felt his pants get tight. He was definitely a fan of older women, and this one was a perfect example of why.

In his room, he quickly laid down on the bed, shimmying out of his jeans and throwing them on the floor along with his boxers. Staring at the photo, he began stroking his cock slowly. Looking at every inch of her body.

This wasn't wrong, was it, he thought. I mean, he told me to look at it. And for some reason, deep down, he felt the need to do what Tom said. Almost a need to please Tom.

He wanted to let you Tom know he'd taken the suggestion, but wasn't sure how do it without being too obvious in case he'd misread the signals. He looked at Tom's message and typed out a reply.

"Thanks for the photo. Appreciate it..." Send.

His mind was racing. Was that too obvious? Not obvious enough? He had no idea. They were both men, right. Why was it weird, anyway? Why did he feel the need to return the favor?

He scrolled through his own photos of Ashley. There were literally hundreds of her, mostly due to her part-time modeling jobs. There were plenty of her in workout clothes, bikini photos, lingerie photos from boudoir shoots, dress clothes, tight jeans.

Then there were the topless and nudes he had taken himself. H even had videos of her sucking his cock, riding him, him plowing her from behind. He couldn't send those, could he?

He chose a safe photo - Ashley in workout clothes, leaning against a weight bench, arms on her knees, her killer abs on full display. He sent it to Tom.

"Returning the favor...one for you too."

He wanted to tell Tom to enjoy himself, but thought he should probably keep things halfway professional. That didn't stop him from pulling up the picture of Joan and jerking himself more. Eying her ass. Imagining pulling the skirt up and sliding into her. Imagining Tom there, urging him on.

Tom's phone dinged, and there was another shot of Ashley, sexy as could be. His cock twitched as he licked my hand for more lube, fondled his heavy balls and returned to his shaft.

He focused in on Ashley's legs in the black leggings, and then her abs. God she was amazing - the opposite of Joan really. Joan was curvier, heavier, an impressive older woman who knew how to please a man and enjoyed it immensely. Still, these last few years, Tom had found myself yearning for something different. And if was truly honest with himself, that yearning for something different wasn't limited to younger women.

He typed out a "thanks, I'm enjoying her" and sent Mark another photo of Joan from their pretend modeling session. This one was even more risque. She sat on the desk, glasses in her mouth, legs spread, with a sheaf of papers strategically placed so you couldn't see up her short skirt. The slutty businesswoman gone wild, he laughed to himself.

Was Mark doing the same thing he was? Was he in his room, jerking off to Joan the way he was to Ashley? He thought about Mark spread out on a hotel bed a couple of floors away with his cock in his hand. He liked the thought.

Mark glanced at Tom's reply, and got a thrill when he read "enjoying her." Not "enjoying it;" not "like the pic" but "enjoying her." That unmistakably meant that the guy he'd met - what, an hour ago - was in his room, getting himself off to pictures of Mark's wife.

And then a second picture from Tom came in. "Another..." Mark said out loud to himself. H stared at it. Joan looked good. Very good. And it was obvious the two liked to have fun together.

"Nice," he sent back. Short. Probably too short. But he didn't want to call her "hot" or "sexy" just yet. It was too early. They'd just met.

"You guys do a lot of hope photo shoots? Looks fun. Ash has done some professional boudoir stuff...maybe I'll see if I can dig some up." Send.

There, that was better. Friendlier. The truth was, he didn't need to dig it up. He just wasn't sure where the limits were.

Tom's phone buzzed, and he paused stroking to look at what he knew as a message from Mark, then replied, attaching another photo. Joan at the mirror, checking her makeup, skirt riding up and black stockings and garters on display.

"Mostly just me goofing off with the camera. Nothing pro but enough to get my motor humming."

He hesitated a moment before hitting send.

"Another of Ashley?"

Mark looked at Tom's message, noticing that it was worded as a question. But there was a subtext that made it seem more of a command. Tom had that tone about him. Maybe because he was older, more established. Maybe just his demeanor. But Mark knew he wanted to do as he was "requested."

"You bet."

A photo of the blonde in a one-piece swimsuit appeared on Tom's screen. Another ding.

"From our trip to Aruba a few years back. Good time."

Another ding, and there she was in a bikini, ass on full display.

Tom felt his balls tighten.

"My friend, your wife has a lovely ass - I'm sure the thought of it keeps you up at night when you're away."

He was full-on stroking himself to these pictures of the blonde. But other images flashed through his mind as well. Mark getting hard looking at pictures of Joan. Mark stripped down on his bed, a hand wrapped around a thick cock.

My hand wrapped around Mark's cock, he thought.

That thought drove him over the edge. He pumped himself furiously, his cockhead almost purple, precum streaming and pooling onto his belly. When the explosion came, he threw his head back and moaned, hot liquid splashing over his chest and on to his neck. It was one of the most powerful orgasms he'd had in years, and his hands were sticky as he grabbed his phone.

"Great meeting you, Mark. Looking forward to the week. Hope you're evening was as enjoyable as mine. Coffee at 8?"

Mark felt a pang that the night seemed to be at an end. He tossed the phone aside and concentrated on getting himself off. Images of Ashley, of Joan, of Tom stroking his cock flashed through his mind.

He pulled up the last picture of Joan. Bent over. She was erotic to say the least. And I'd love to see her in action with you, he thought. He pictured Tom behind her. Plowing her good for quite a while, until he commanded her to turn around and get on her knees.

That was the first time he really pictured Tom's cock. Instinctively, he came up with an image. A big fat tip. Curved up and to the left. Hairy. Very hairy. Joan didn't even have to be told. She knew to open her mouth. He thought of Tom shooting every last drop of his cum into her open mouth. As he imagined Tom cumming, he did the same, all over his stomach and chest.

He stayed there for a second. Chest rising and falling. Unsure of what all that was about. He grabbed the phone.

"Really glad we met, Tom. Thanks for the conversation and the company. See you downstairs at 8 for coffee."

He jumped in the shower to wash off before bed.