What She Deserves

"He moved his jacket out of the way so I could see what I was doing. Looking in the mirror, I watched him grow in my hand. And it encouraged him to start feeling me up. Before I knew it, we were kissing again, and this time I wasn't able to stop it.

His floor was the one beneath mine, and when the doors opened, he just held out his arm to invite me out of the elevator. I know I probably shouldn't have followed him to his room, but his eyes looked so hopeful. And I had been rubbing his cock through his pants already. I figured I could maybe finish him off with my hands or something. It felt like the right thing to do."

The right thing to do? Since when was it the right thing for a married woman to follow some guy to his hotel room to give him a hand job? And what did that "or something" entail?

"We barely made it inside his room before my blouse was on the floor, and the bra followed straight after. I must say that it was pretty damn exciting to be topless in a stranger's hotel room. He took a moment to look at my naked tits before his hands were all over them. And he was greedy. He made me sit on the bed, and kneeling before me, he started kissing them. It was so intense! I thought I was going to come just by having my tits sucked.

But that wasn't why I had joined him. So I pulled him up beside me, and as we kissed, I pulled his pants open and set his cock free. It felt strange having a cock other than yours in my hand. But also super exciting! He panted into my mouth, so I knew he liked what I was doing. It looked so hot in my hand.

And I guess I got a bit carried away. After a while I slipped to the floor and pulled his pants and underwear all the way off. He grinned down at me as he removed his shirt. So now I found myself kneeling topless on the floor beneath a naked man. I knew what was expected, so I just kind of dove in. It felt odd to have his cock in my mouth, but really good in a slutty kind of way."

David was breathless. It wasn't so much the fact that she said she had sucked off another man. If he was honest with himself, he desired her to live out her slutty side very much like she was describing. But shouldn't she at least have talked about it before? Could she really have done this? A part of him doubted that she had it in her to be such a slut. And another, very hard part of him hoped that she did. It was difficult to think straight with all the confusing emotions running through him. He had never thought something like this could be anything more than fantasies in his mind, and even then he had envisaged that he would be there to witness it. Maybe even join in... His trail of thoughts was broken when his phone buzzed again.

"I think I was doing a pretty good job even though it was my first time giving head to him, and I know I could have made him come straight away if I wanted to. But then I remembered what you said — that I deserved to enjoy myself too — so released him from my mouth. After giving him a few extra licks, I pushed him back on the bed. I was so turned on that I merely pulled my panties down and yanked my skirt up before straddling him. He slid deep inside me straight away as I pushed back against his cock. I was so turned on that I just rode him straight to climax. Oh my god, honey, it was amazing! I came so hard!

David read the words over and over again, his wife describing fucking a stranger on the other side of the continent. And she described it like it was the most natural thing in the world. He knew he had to reply something, but the turmoil inside him made it hard to think clear. There was a sense of deceit under that thick layer of sexual deviance, and even anger. He had to get his mind straight before talking to her. He did his best to compose a reply that would do for the moment.

"Hey, honey, that was a lot to take in. We need to talk about this properly when you get back tomorrow. I don't know how I feel about it. But at least I'm glad you told me."

He read it over a few times before sending it, making sure it didn't make obvious the fact that he was also incredibly turned on by what she had described.

His phone rang seconds after sending it. Damn it, he wasn't ready to talk to his wife. At first he just let it ring until it went to his recorded message. But as it rang again, he knew he had to pick up.

"Honey..." Fiona began, an inquisitive tone in her voice. "You didn't think that whole thing was for real, did you?"

David was stunned, unable to construct a sentence. "Uhm. I don't know — I just..."

"Hang on — you thought I actually fucked a stranger in his hotel room just now? Did you really think I would do something like that?"

She burst out laughing when he didn't reply.

"Sorry, sorry," she said as she collected herself. "I shouldn't laugh. It's just... Could it be that you're so turned on that you couldn't think straight?"

He chuckled nervously. Damn she knew him well.

"So it did turn you on then?" she teased.

"I don't know. I guess it...". He stopped himself. "There's a lot of focus on me here. What about you? You're the one who made up that whole scenario. Pretty damn explicitly, I might add."

"Well, sure," she admitted. "But it was just an exciting fantasy. I would never do it in real life. At least not like that."

That last sentence hung in the air. Neither husband nor wife seemed able to pick up the loose end to explore its implication. Eventually they shifted to mundane topics.

Fiona stared at her phone as they hung up soon thereafter, her own words spinning in her head. "At least not like that." How then? Of course, the scenario was thrilling, even if she had exaggerated it to tease her husband. Had he really thought it was for real?

She had stripped down to her underwear before texting her husband. She looked down at her nipples, visibly excited through the sheer material of her bra.

Reaching inside her purse, she brought out a business card. Paul's contact details were printed in gold under his company logo. She flipped it over, looking at the room number he had written before giving it to her — just in case she wanted to "come over for a drink, or something."

She had a very good idea what that something would entail in his mind. She had been somewhat disappointed that he had given it to her after she had made it so clear that she wasn't interested. He seemed to have taken the hint. And yet, she had kept it. In the back of her mind, she knew she would need to relieve herself tonight, and that room number would be the perfect token as she played with different scenarios in her head.

But what if they didn't just have to be in her head?

She shook her head at her own aberration. What a stupid thing to even consider. She could never do that to her husband.

And yet, hadn't he been turned on by her story? He seemed at least partly disappointed that it hadn't actually happened. Did her husband actually want her to have sex with someone else? There had been quite a few insinuations over the years. Was it more to it than mere teasing, or was she just fooling herself because she wanted it to be? She felt a thrill run through her body.

But could she? If David actually endorsed it, would she have the nerve to go through with it? Absentmindedly, she rubbed her thighs together, sending sparks from between her legs up to her dazed mind. She ran her fingers lightly over Paul's room number. Eleventh floor — just one level below hers. Was he at that very moment waiting for her, hoping she would join him?

It wasn't something a good wife even considered. But what if her husband wanted her to be bad? And how far would he be willing to let her go? She had to ask him. Surely she could never go through with it, even if he turned out to be serious. But even the thought of asking made her breath heavy. She picked up her phone, her finger lingering over the dial button.

She stopped herself. What exactly could she ask that wasn't too crude? Too bizarre. Too embarrassing — even possibly hurtful. She wouldn't find the right words.

But it had felt oddly easy to make up that scenario over texts before. The words had flowed so naturally out of her that David had even thought it was real. Poor man, believing his wife would do such a thing. Or maybe he was more let down that she hadn't? She realized that this was probably even more confusing for him. And perhaps the written word was just the right way to clarify where they were.

It took her a long time to compose the text for her husband, weighing all her words carefully. When she was done, she nearly deleted the whole thing, thinking she was being ridiculous. And what if she hurt him? But no — their connection was strong enough to air hidden desires. And never had this one been so close to the surface. This was the right moment. Her heart skipped a beat as she pressed send.

"Honey,

I wish I had the strength to approach this in a different way than in a text message. But I don't have it in me. I am sorry that I led you on before. I just thought it would be fun to tease you a bit. But it was wrong, because I think we both know there is more to it than that. I am very confused right now, and admittedly, I am also very turned on. And I think you are too.

I don't understand why you would want your wife to do anything with a man other than yourself. And I don't think you do either. But it's there, right? And if I'm honest, I do desire it too. Right now, I desire it a lot. The thought that you might actually allow me is driving me crazy.

I don't know how far I'd be willing to go, and I don't think you do either. And there's the problem. How can I ask of you to know where to draw the line when I don't know myself? And I know you'd never try to tell me what to do. That's one reason why I love you so much.

But I really need your boundaries here. The one thing I do know is that I wouldn't want to do anything that you're not OK with. So instead of telling me what to do, maybe you can say stop when you feel I've gone far enough? It would be too much to ask of you — my husband — to approve of what I might do. So say nothing as long as you can bare that I go further.

So here is what I'm suggesting, and I can barely believe that I am. I can keep you updated about what I'm doing using my phone. As long as you don't say anything, I will consider going further. And when you say stop, I will do so straight away and I won't hold it against you.

I love you deeply, and if you say no, I understand completely. What do you say, honey? Do you want me to find out where our limits are?

With love and lust,

Fiona."

She felt a knot developing in her stomach as she waited for his reply. Had she misread him? Was she making an ass of herself, suggesting that her getting sexually involved with another man could be anything other than a fantasy between them?

Sexually involved — what did that mean, exactly? Thinking about going up to Paul's room tightened the knot. What if she chickened out straight away, leading her husband on once again? But the thought of actually going through with it also prompted another sensation in her stomach. Like butterflies flapping their wings, it creating a tingling sensation that spread through her body.

It took just a few minutes before David replied, but it felt like an eternity.

"OK."

OK? Was that all he had to say? She was just about to call him and demand a more elaborate response. But she stopped herself. That was exactly the point. It must be a very confusing thing, being turned on by the prospect of his wife in the hands of another man. How awkward mustn't it be for him to express what he felt? All she could ask of him was to not say no as long as he could allow her to go further.

She remained seated, staring at his short response. Paul had given her an invite, and David had given her the go-ahead. It was now only her own nerves preventing her from acting on her desires. Could she really just put her clothes back on and go up to Paul's room?

She decided to at least have a shower first. On the one hand it was a way of stalling. The other, sultrier interpretation was that she had to look her best when seeing her potential lover. That notion was thrilling, and it grew inside her. Feeling increasingly erotic, she brought out her shaving kit. Normally she would only trim herself, but before she knew it, she had completely removed her pubes.

The touch of her hand against her now smooth lips made her whole body tremble with desire. God she felt naughty! Was she really doing this, getting herself ready to go meet a stranger in his hotel room? If only David were there, she would have jumped him and ridden this desire out of her body.

But David wasn't there. And Paul was.

Her mind was still in a jumble as she got dressed. One minute she was thinking that this was of course just a fantasy that she would abandon any moment now. The next she was overcome with excitement that this was actually happening.

She looked herself over in the mirror. In lack of other options, she had put the same skirt back on, but exchanged the blouse for a simple red singlet. It was cut low, and with the lift of her bra, it gave her a very eye-catching cleavage. She lifted her skirt to make sure her stockings were in place. She realized her husband had bought this pair for her not long ago. A rush of excitement came over her.

She applied her makeup, finishing off with a rich red lipstick. Was it too much?

No. How could anything be too much for what she was about to do. She felt panicked. She couldn't be that kind of wife, could she — one that joins a strange man his hotel room for god knows what?

Unless her husband wanted her to be just that.

That was enough to let a hidden autopilot take over, forcing her to step out of her room. Before she knew it, she was in the elevator. The butterflies in her stomach were going wild as she pressed the button to go down a level. It was just enough time to send a simple text to her husband.

"In the elevator."

It would have been pointless information to send to her husband under most other circumstances. This time, the implications were huge. A moment later, she was walking through the corridors on Paul's floor, her phone in one hand and his room number in the other. She felt her heart beat faster with each door number she read, counting up to her target.

She found herself staring at Paul's door for a long time. She felt a strong urge to just turn around — maybe even call her husband and say that the whole thing was another joke. But something made her stay. She could at least give her husband a chance to call it off. Or not. She snapped a photo of the door and sent it to him.

A minute passed before she snapped another photo, this time of her hand knocking on the door. She was still busy sending it off when Paul opened the door. Her heart pounded in her chest.

"Hi Fiona, what a pleasure to see you," he said, greeting her with a warm smile.

He had his shirt off, and her eyes were immediately drawn to his bare torso. Damn he was in good shape.

"Uhm. Well, I..." she stuttered. "I thought I'd take you up on that offer for a drink. Can I come in?"

"Of course."

And just like that she found herself in this stranger's hotel room. It looked exactly like her own, but facing a different direction. She stared out over the city as Paul searched through the minibar.

"I have beer, wine or whiskey," he said. "What do you feel like?"

"A whiskey, please," she replied. The situation called for something strong.

"Nice view," he said a moment later as he joined her, one glass in each hand.

"Yes," she said as she accepted the glass, realizing afterwards that maybe he meant the view of her. "Thanks."

She wasn't sure herself it was for the potential compliment or the whiskey. And she heard how forced her voice sounded. Maybe this whole thing was a mistake. She could just put the glass down and leave straight away. But she should at least finish the drink. She reasoned that anything else would be rude.

"Can you take a picture of me?" she asked, handing her phone to Paul. "It's for my husband."

Paul chuckled, and as he snapped her picture, she held out her glass to salute the camera.

"I guess that confirms my hunch," he said, handing the phone back to her.

"What?" she asked, distracted as she looked at the photo of herself. She didn't look half as nervous in the picture as she felt. The woman in the picture actually looked quite confident. And she looked hot, tarted up much like she thought a wife who hooks up with a stranger should look.

"Well..." Paul said. "I guessed that your husband probably knows exactly where you are right now."

"Good guess," she replied. Encouraged by the confident appearance of herself in the photo, her voice sounded steady. Yet, she took a big sip from her glass for support before pressing send. It was obvious from the photo that it was taken by someone else. Now he knew she was with Paul.

"I'm very glad that you came," Paul said.

"Aha."

She sounded reserved — even cold — but Paul didn't seem deterred.

"I had a good time dancing earlier," he said.

"So did I."

Paul was fiddling with his computer, and a moment later he had managed to put on some music. "You'll have to excuse the poor sound quality. I wasn't expecting to have company."

"But you got lucky," she said, just barely suppressing a nervous giggle.

"I guess I did. And do you think..." He interrupted himself by taking a sip from his glass before putting it down. "Do you think I might be lucky enough for another dance?"

A dance? Fiona reasoned that it wouldn't be so bad. She put down her glass. They had already danced a lot tonight, so another one didn't seem to make much difference.

She realized how wrong she was a moment later when she was pressed against Paul's body, slowly swaying to the mellow music. They had slow danced earlier too, but the implications were very different this time. Without his shirt on, she found herself leaning against his bare shoulder. Even when she closed her eyes, the smell of his bare skin reminded her of what she was doing. And the mere fact that they were alone made this something far less innocent than when they swayed on the dance floor earlier that night.

By the third song, her breath was unmistakably heavy. Her hands moved over his strong back, familiarizing herself with his chiseled structures.

"You know, I'm feeling a bit short changed here," Paul said.

She looked up at him with inquiring eyes. "How so?"

"Well, it seems I'm the only one missing a shirt."

She stopped moving, her entire body consumed with the implications of those words. Could she really take that step? If she removed her top, what else would he ask her to take off? But she couldn't really argue with his observation, and that was all the justification she needed. She took a step back, her breath trembling as she pulled her top over her head. Standing in her bra in his hotel room, it first took some willpower to look at Paul. But his enthralled expression as he drank her in made her smile.

She snapped a photo of her top on the floor and sent it to her husband before returning to Paul's arms. As skin pressed against skin, she knew she no longer could write off what they were doing as something innocent. And that was a good thing; she hadn't come there to be innocent.

Paul's hands now roamed freely over her naked back, caressing her skin. They wandered down to trace the curves of her hips, occasionally moving onto her skirt covered ass. It wouldn't be long before he'd suggest she'd remove that too. Could she rationalize taking that step too?