Hotel Hot Tubbychilleywilley©
This is complete fiction, describing the relationship between two flawed, but basically good characters. If you liked my story the Elevator Ride, you'll probably like this one.
I've been married twice; the first time for three years to a woman who it turned out had no interest in sex. Not in me, not herself, the guy or the girl next door, none! There were other things wrong with the marriage too, but no sex drive was such a big one that the rest don't matter so much. The two of us should never have married. I don't know why it took us so long to realize that. We parted friends, no money changed hands, so other than wasted years, and I did all right.
For the next couple of years I made up for lost time. I was newly single, sex was easy, life was good. I was a slut! I screwed everything I could, house wives, singles, divorced women. I went to some swap parties as a stud, and participated in MMF, FFM, group sex, the whole bag. Eventually I came to my senses, and realized I was lonely and bored. There's only three holes to stick it into, after all.
I wanted what I didn't have: the settled life. Wife glad to see me, children's hugs and kisses, warm meals and wet swim suits, and a two car garage in a good school district.
The dating scene just wasn't working for me. I realized I was being too particular in my stated likes and dislikes in woman, and it occurred to me that the longer the list of must haves I wanted in a spouse, the less likely I would be to find anyone acceptable. So I settled on three characteristics, really smart, well read, and of
Normal physical proportion, well four things, no cosmetic surgery. And I stopped actively hunting for both sex and a wife.
I threw myself into work. I have a small, growing consulting engineering firm, and was surprised when a nice looking woman came into my office, and demanded ten minutes of my time to talk about insurance. I don't know how she talked her way past my sectary/ bookkeeper, but there she was there in my office, and I had to be polite to her as I tried to get rid of her.
I didn't get very far on the last bit, it was quickly apparent she knew my business's insurance needs better than I did, and could bundle the package together so as to give me better coverage, for a little less money. Plus her agency was a local one, only a block away. The promised ten minutes became an hour. About lunch time we were done with business, but I didn't want her to leave, so I asked her to lunch at the tavern around the corner.
We fit together like paper cups... read many of the same books, Laughed at each other's witticisms. By the time the check came she had touched my hand, arm and shoulder.
We argued good naturedly over the check, and as a compromise I agreed to let her pay if she would let me take her to dinner Saturday.
Two weeks later we were "a couple." We discussed our sexual past, I confessed to my slut period and that was now over. She said she had a similar very wild period that she thought wonderful at the time, but in retrospect she was profoundly sorry for, but that she had gotten straight, had no diseases or addictions, and was going to stay that way.
I told her that whatever she did before we got together was the past and no reflection on me or us; that if it ever reared its ugly head, she was to tell me, and we would face it together. She cried a little, and I told her the one rule I had was no fucking around. She was free to do as she pleased, go where she wanted to, but as long as we were sleeping together, it would be exclusive for both of us, for our protection, and because I frankly found sharing a partner I cared about... awful.
She agreed it was what she wanted too.
In the next weeks I gave myself over to love. She was very accomplished in bed, and inspired me to rise to her level. It was great. On the phone, we talked for hours; she was fascinating, and a gifted raconteur. After six months, she took me to her company holiday party. This is a big thing in business, because thereafter, if we split, she would have to explain 'what happened to that guy you were dating?' Now, you know I wasn't particularly looking forward to it. Who would! I mean before I walked in the door at least half of the attendees were insurance salespeople! But duty is duty. And it really wasn't so bad.
She took me around the room doing a dozen introductions. We had some superb cocktail snacks that justified the name Hors D'Oeuvres. She had a glass or two of wine, me diet soda in a beer cup. She wasn't drunk, tipsy or even a little high. Her career was too important, she was on! Full alert! People here could make her career. When I was comfortable and she knew I would be all right on my own, she left me so she could go work the management crowd, and I chatted about mostly with those who weren't insurance people.
About an hour later, I noticed she was talking to a guy a little older than her...well maybe 20 years older, and I got the impression she was checking, looking every few minutes maybe keeping a eye on me??? What's with that? I thought.
I wandered out the front door onto a lovely wraparound porch, followed smoke and laughter, joining a group of chilly, banished smoking sinners banished to the side porch. I joined in the chat, standing where I could see her through the window, but due to the lighting, she couldn't see me. About three anecdotes later, she glanced around, said something to her friend, and went up the stairs. He wandered around a bit, and followed a minute or so later, how obvious was that!
I waited a few more minutes, and went up the stairs to see what's what. I didn't really think she'd fuck the guy as he was clearly no prize, especially with the crowd in the house. It was a posh old house, in the upstairs hall the party going on downstairs was just a quiet murmur. Most or the rooms off of the hall had their doors wide open, so I didn't bother to even look in there. Two had the doors shut. The first was locked, so I felt along the top of the casing, and sure enough there was the key. I quietly opened it, saw three guys enjoying each other, smiled, gave a thumbs up to the one who saw me, hoping my gesture didn't have an erotic connotation to gays, and shut and locked the door.
At the end of the hall was the other closed door. I gently lifted and turned the handle and silently eased it open, it wasn't even locked! Two people were fucking on the bed. I was sure the one on top was my Janice, and the pile of clothes by the door was confirmation of that. I assume the man was the geezer from down stairs. At a house party, fucking naked behind an unlocked door! How stupid is that? Jesus. He must have just stuck it right in her because they hadn't been here for more than five minutes! Even she needs some foreplay; at least she does with me!
Him on the bottom, her sitting on his prick. Neither could see me. I shivered with disappointment...paused just a moment, deciding what to do. Had we been married or something, I would have busted it up in a public way but we weren't, so I looked to revenge.
I was hurt and disgusted. I had thought she was a keeper. Big mistake. I stepped inside, and quietly collected all of their clothing and shoes. They had thoughtfully left them in two piles for me. Out of kindness, I left her purse, but took her cell phone. I slipped outside, and pulled the door to the casing, but not latched. No one was about, not that it mattered much. I walked across the hall into the bedroom, knotted his pants legs, and stuffed everything into them. I remembered to shut off the cell phones. Didn't want to make it too easy to find the Ho(bo) bag. I cinched the top with his belt, opened the window looked out...lots of thick shrubbery coming right up to the house. Perfect! I leaned out, extending my arm holding just the tip of the belt to minimize the noise when it hit and let go. It landed with a quiet swish and disappeared.
I don't think you could have seen it from this window with a flashlight! I shut and locked the window, walked down stairs, and told a group of four guys and a couple of girls a fabulous sight was awaiting them if they were to go up quietly and look in the bedroom at the end of the hall, suggesting they might want to have their phone cameras out while they urged the revelers on! You'd think I'd said there were two wealthy guys looking to buy whole life insurance up there. They were gone like a shot. I thought about waiting around, but it wasn't worth it, so I walked out, got in my car, and drove the forty miles to my house.
I was sad. Crushed really. I had had hopes, but now...not so much. I kept my cell on, but it didn't ring. I wondered what that meant until it occurred to me it didn't mean anything. Her cell was with their cloths, so she probably didn't even know my number to call me even if she wanted to. I fell asleep and slept soundly.
At six o'clock the next evening she barged in to my house unannounced, carrying a six pack and a pizza. "Son of a bitch! Thanks to you, I had the most embarrassing evening of my fucking life! And what's worse, I disserved every moment of it! That geezer Howard talked me into a quick fuck for old time's sake, and like the idiot I am, I agreed."
"You were out of sight, I went up first, had to pee and while I was sitting there...well, we'll skip that part. So when I went in the bedroom figuring to give him a hand job, or a really quick blowjob, or at very very worst a quickie, he was naked on the bed. The door was shut and I assumed locked, and was about to start a hand job, when he told me to strip down and hop on. I knew it was dumb to get naked in a place like that, but my brain was out to lunch. Had to have been, or I wouldn't have been there in the first place."
"I was too dry to enjoy it, and it was too late to protest, 'cause I realized Harold could give a shit, plus to make matters worse, he had whiskey dick and couldn't cum quickly if he wanted to...I just wanted to just get it over with. Just as the fuck turned from outright discomfort to something between disgust and indifference, all these people burst in the door carrying on, hooting and hollering."
"Jesus H! We were buck naked, with my tits hanging out and all. Me riding a cock horse and they're cheering me on, laughing and offering fucking advice on fucking! Phones recording in video and whatnot. Christ! I jumped off, not even a sheet or blanket to cover myself, Howard, the son of a bitch, is lying on them. He looked like turtle that lost his shell, covering his shrinking dick with both hands. And where the fuck's my clothing? They had been right there on the floor! I ran around the room providing the rabble with more entertainment while I looked for the clothing. Nothing! Desperate, I whip open a closet, but our hostess is a size 2 and I'm a size 12! On me, her bathrobe didn't even meet in the middle.
Finally Howard is off the bed with a dangling limp shiny dick, shooing them out, I'm putting on Earl's cloths. He's short and fat. Howard and I are 10-12 inches taller than him. We look ridiculous! We were a sight to behold. Disheveled, barefoot, goofy cloths! We tried to sneak out, but he had lost his keys, and I didn't have my car. Now it was like running a gauntlet of people laughing and applauding. I hope they thought we were playing a game or a prank. One of the older women laughed so hard she peed herself! Pandemonium! I frantically looking for you, and not seeing you, I ran outside.
Your car was gone! Something died in my soul right then. I just sat down and cried my little black heart out. You did this to me, I know it was you. You saw me riding a different horse than the one I came in on, and left me to him. It served me right.
Eventually one of the women who works in record keeping rescued me, shivering and barefoot wearing a scarecrow costume and offered to drive me home.
The good news is, I was so thankful, that I promised her my first born child. The bad news is she said it would be enough to for me to give my first born male the name of the place she's from. What do you think of Austin? That's where she's from."
"Good thing she wasn't from Hoboken."
"So what a debacle! Howard figures we have a 50/50 chance of getting fired Monday. I have an 80/20 likely hood of quitting my job before Monday morning. It was all I could do get up my courage to face you. Monday seems..."
"Did you do drugs last night? I saw a few people high on some shit."
"No! Absolutely not! Nothing! I didn't fuck up that much. Word to god! I was clean. All those bosses around? At least...I just don't know why I did what I did! What is wrong with me?"
She started to snivel, and with effort regained control and said:
"So how was your time at the party?"
"Well up to the point where your story begins, I was OK. I doubt anyone will remember my face or me theirs. The food was very good especially the pizzas. What kind of pizza did you get?"
"Oh, Rustica, roasted peppers, ricotta, and sopressata on a really thin crust. So how badly did I screw up? You're the one I care about."
"One big concern is Howard. He didn't have a condom on."
"No no no! You're wrong about that. In fact I tried to put him off because I haven't needed condoms since we got together, I don't carry them. Howard the perv had one and I put it on him."
I was skeptical: "Damned if I saw it."
"No no no you're wrong! Besides me putting it on him. When those idiots barged in, I was still dry down there like I told you, and when I jumped off, the damn thing slid off him, stuck in me. They were laughing at it dangling down there. When I finely saw it, I grabbed it and pissed at them, threw at that little shit Edgar. He claimed it as a trophy, and showed everybody downstairs! Believe me, it was there, But getting back to...about us..." "Well the light wasn't so good, was it!. Yah, us! Ahh... how many other Howards are out there that you'll fuck on request? Fuck whether you want to or not?"
"Just one, Howard's no more. The one remaining is you."
"I hate to be mentioned with him in the same breath. You put a hell of a dent in our relationship, I can't trust you. I have no patience with stupid people, at least not as partners. I thought we had a future, you and I. Bluntly you've relegated yourself downward to a friend with benefits for as far out as I can see."
"Shit that's better than I hoped for."
"We talked about needs, yours and mine? Remember? I'm wondering if they are incompatible. You're evidently...what? A nymphomaniac...no that's an insult to nymphos, you were a slut, as was I. The question is: are you still a slut? Like I said, I'm fine with you having lots of sex, as long as it's with me. But I'm a straight arrow. I can't abide you screwing with anyone else. I'm really doubtful about us, and I told you, I'm not looking for a fuck friend! If you can't meet my needs, then we're both wasting our time. What can I say? Counseling? Maybe that would help? What do you think?"
"I'll give you a get out of jail free card."
"Look if I really wanted to fuck someone else while I'm with you, I wouldn't, I wouldn't not because I wouldn't be caught, or because you would accept it. NO! I wouldn't because it is a matter of honor! I gave my word! And I expected the same from you!" . I did have to admire her balls to come to talk with me like that. No dissembling. Flat out 'I fucked up!' Well, I suppose he fucked up and she fucked down. Can the cunt that held Howard hold me? Ours was a rocky relationship for a very long while, but frankly, I know it sounds trite, but we really were just made for each other.
I bugged her car; put a device that would record voice. I wasn't going to be surprised like that again.
She didn't go back to work for that company, couldn't face them. It worked out well; she got a management job at another agency, making more money. We got married a year and a half after that. For a wedding present, I bought her a fully restored 1972 Firebird convertible, in catch-me-if-you-can red.
She loved it, and two months later, when it proved to be reliable, got rid of her Japanese car. She joked that she couldn't sneak around town now, everybody would notice the car. I didn't think of that when I gave it to her, but I thought to myself it was a good idea.
I transferred the listening device from her old car to the new one. About twice a week, I slipped it out and changed out the recorder. I listened to it on the way to the job site. It was sound activated, thank the lord she didn't listen to the radio while driving. After a second year of marriage, she went off of the pill and was happily pregnant in a couple of months. We joked that it took her three months for her to get pregnant because frequent sex kept my sperm count low.
About a month after we knew she was pregnant she had enlarged breasts, sensitive nipples, a slightly rounded belly, and her libido went into overdrive. We did have fun.
But trouble was waiting to happen. I rarely checked the car bug now, but one evening I listened to her half of a conversation she had on Tuesday. It about killed me:
"Howard, what's up?" ...long pause,
"Well there's the Pines Motel, I'm told they have a room with a whirlpool in it. It's pretty shabby and rundown, but sometimes illicit sex benefits from shabby, doesn't it! Dirty sex is so bad!" ... "I haven't has dirty sex in a long, long time, you bet I'd love some!" ... "And a whirlpool! It's great if you're having a lot of sex! Clean up and keep your clothes off! Come on, Howard, don't be a stick in the mud. It'll be fun!" ... "It's out on Route 9. Go past the Coolidge Bridge, it's up the road about two three miles on your left." ... "Leave work at 2 PM November 7? That's Next week Thursday?" ... "Sure. It's good for me. Send me an e mail reminding me, I can't write it down right now." ... "OK" ... "Ok" ... "By now. See you tomorrow..." ''' "Aya. By now."
So geezer Howard was still fucking her! Or at least planning to. What the fuck was she thinking of, she's two months pregnant! On the way home from work the next day, I stopped at the Pines Motel, and asked to see rooms with a whirlpool. There was only one, room 211. Odd that it was on the second floor where water on the floor would take out the ceiling of the room below.
The place was filthy. The carpeted halls had a dirt track down the middle. The room was decorated in exotic tacky. Chipped gold on white furniture, a horrible nude print on the wall. Dirty window overlooking a ravine and scrub brush across the way. The place was positively depressing. On the way out, I noticed a service room next door to 211, and checked it out.
It was unlocked, an invitation to step in. Full of dust and lint. The circuit breakers and phone junction box was on one wall and fold away beds and junk against the other. On the floor among the trash was a flimsy plastic box with a peeling label saying Atomic Roach and Vermin Control that must have been there for a decade or more.
I was thinking I could drill a hole in the wall, and film the frolic from in here. I went back into 211, and worked out where to drill so the camera could view the whirlpool and bed. It could be done. On the way out I checked the back door. It was ajar, but would lock if someone pulled it tight. No electronic lock, a key lock from the outside, panic bars from the inside, but the jam was loose and it would be easy to open with a slim Jim.
That night I laid my plans, and ordered some stuff on the internet. I decided there was no point in filming their escapades. Watching it would just have made me sick. I had a better plan!
I did my best to act normal. Her parents called Sunday. She invited them for supper that week on Wednesday. I mentioned that Thursday would be better for me, and Thursday it was. She never asked why Wednesday was bad for me. Thursday would be the last evening of our marriage, and her parents would be witnesses to the end. That weekend I pulled the recorder from her car and disposed of it in the trash at Starbucks. I wouldn't need it any more.