Saving my Marriage

I wish to thank my editor Ken for a doing a rush editing job, but without sacrificing any of his quality. I am lucky to have him as my editor.

**

I hate conventions. I'm always reminded of the Woody Allen movie Love and Death that features a Russian convention of village idiots. As I looked at the big "Welcome Authors" sign in the lobby, it immediately became in my mind "Welcome Idiots." Yet here I am, hoping to sell some of my sexy stories. I'm nervous of course because I'm in Grand City, the epicenter of crime and corruption.

Right after the reception I went straight back to my room at the Grand City Hotel. I needed to unwind. Thank goodness I brought some edibles with me. The one thing I like about convention hotels is the relative anonymity. I knew nobody in the Grand City area, which after all is quite different than it is back home in Indiana.

I think I may have popped too many edibles into my mouth. I enjoy the flavors. I really need to get myself some Haribo gummies: ordinary gummies, with no special ingredients in them. I wonder if the pathetic hotel store sells them. Of course, I could always dazzle a bell boy, by exposing a little boob flesh, into going out to buy me some, but I'm off that kind of behavior. It's too fucking dangerous.

Grand City Hotel is U-shaped. I could see rooms across the courtyard from mine. That means they could see mine. My drapes were open, but the light differential in the bright afternoon meant the people well placed across from me could not see into my room. Well, not until evening anyway, if I turned my lights on which of course I would. I enjoy a little impersonal exhibitionism, as long as the voyeurs are unknown and far away.

The edibles weren't kicking in yet. I put on dark glasses. With my face and body, I knew I'd get noticed by all the lotharios and lounge lizards that haunt conventions. They love skinny women like me, with my long auburn hair, vaguely green eyes, high cheekbones, big tits, and shapely legs. It's what nature bestowed upon me; nothing to be done. So, I went down to the Meet and Greet, in the vain hope there would be some free booze. There wasn't, but Jack S. bought me a bourbon on the rocks.

Yes, I know I said earlier I knew nobody, and I thought that was true. Jack S. blindsided me by showing up. He's an author too, and a bad one at that. "Buying me a drink won't get you into my panties, Jack," I said. This was a clear reference to a few years ago when I was a naïve college student and Jack got me so drunk, the ER tested me for alcohol poisoning. Hence the shift to edibles. What really sucked was that Jack wrote a story about his "seduction" of me. He didn't mention my trip to the ER after he had thoroughly fucked me silly. By the time he was done with me, I was naked and full of his cum and -- oh yes -- also unconscious. Hence the delightful trip to the ER to have my stomach pumped. As you might surmise, I have not forgiven him. I accepted the bourbon and ice anyway, especially because it was 12-year Knob Creek, an above average bourbon.

"Drink got me into your panties a few years ago, Isabel."

"I was young, naïve, and stupid back then. And you were a bastard."

"A bastard who gave you four orgasms."

"And a pumped stomach. I could have died. I don't remember any of the orgasms, I'm afraid. Anyway, that was then. This is now. Go find some other bimbo to fuck, Jack. Hit the road Jack, and don't you come back no more, no more, no more, no more."

Accepting the drink was a mistake. Jack S. followed me around like a puppy on a leash. At this point I would even welcome a lothario just to escape from Jack. I began to wonder, once again, why I even came to this convention. Oh yes, I remember. I was scheduled to meet Mike and Sarah Godunov, two big time editors at Milk Chocolate Press. Those two could jump start my writing career if I made a good impression. I was determined to do so.

Jack S. was blathering on while I was lost in my thoughts. I ignored him and returned to the bar. Jack had seen a young blonde with her tits practically hanging out. He was trying not to drool as he excused himself and turned on his smile. It was the one that seduced me in my naïve college days. He's good at seduction, he is. I mentally sent over a good luck wish to the blonde object of Jack's desire.

I recalled he had a small dick. I do like small dicks, though. Jack had that going for him, if basically nothing else. Except his smile, of course.

I've matured since my college days. I'm now a grown woman of 23 years of age. I've also developed a fetish. I like small cocks. The smaller the better. Go figure, right? I'm of Scottish ancestry, not that that explains my fetish. My Dad claims I'm related to Isabel Gowdie, one of the few witches who confessed without the benefit of torture. She even described being fucked by the devil himself, not that I believe that, of course. I think she was nuts. I, however, am most assuredly sane. I do have her name, however: my family name is Gowdie, and my parents Christened me Isabel Susan. God knows why. To my friends, I go by Susie.

One of the many nice things about men with small cocks is that they're usually not proud of their members. They don't whip them out at the first, often tenuous, opportunity. The bizarre thing I've found, at least in my limited experience, is that while they themselves are private, they enjoy showing off their women: their conquests, if you will. It's one of the things I love about such men. It'd be fun to find one at this convention. I'm really horny, even to the point of being needy.

I was restless, so I went back down to the Meet & Greet. It was already over. Shit. I decided to get a nightcap at the Grand Hotel Bar. I discovered that the Grand Hotel Bar (GHB, to the cognoscenti) was not grand. It's an ordinary hotel bar. No matter: the booze they serve is the same as everywhere else. To my surprise, the GHB had original cocktails. I mean, they had the customary stand-by drinks, such as Sex on the Beach, Margaritas, Daiquiris, etc., but they had some original ones, too. I ordered a Sex in the Hotel. "Make it Grand," I said, joking with the barkeep.

I had to show an ID. I look younger than I am. I'm clearly over 18, but it's not obvious to a stranger that I'm over 21. I'm 23, so I know the score. I flashed my driver's license, and the barkeep smiled. "Be careful with this drink. It packs a punch. Many a young woman has ended up living up to its name, after having a few of them," he said.

"Is that a bad thing?" I asked, still joking.

"Well, obviously you don't weigh much, so it's doubtless easy to get drunk for someone like you."

"Maybe that's what I'm looking for. I do like the name of the drink. The beds in your hotel are doubtless more comfortable than a beach," I said, winking at the barkeep.

It was a fun conversation, but so far nobody had hit on me, other than Jack S. earlier, and he doesn't count. I went back to my room and watched something on Netflix to distract myself, surprised when it was good. The next day were the seminars, followed by a dance. The dance would be my big chance!

I had to wake myself to go to the dance. Yes, the seminars were that boring. It's not easy to bore me when the subject is sex, but this was about erotic writing. What I took away from it was to avoid comma faults. There was also a little about describing a penis in its non-erect state. Usually when I see a penis, it's erect and hard; but then I thought what about after it does its thing. You know, after it squirts. Then it's typically a little slimy, but it's in its flaccid state.

Luckily, the band at the dance was good. I went to my room and dressed for the dance. I had just the outfit: a light cotton jump suit that hugged my curves. It zipped down the front, from my neck down to my belly button. I knew, from reading other people's stories, that men like it when a woman, especially their wife, wears no underwear. That meant no bra, and no panties for me. I compromised a little, wearing holdup stockings, and of course dancing shoes.

My jump suit was completely zipped. Arriving at the dance, and confirming the music had a good beat, I unzipped my jump suit to reveal a little cleavage. I have great cleavage, if I do say so myself. I was there three minutes (I timed it on my iWatch) before a man asked me to dance. It was fast music, so I knew my boobs would bounce to the music, as would I. I unzipped a little more, to nice smiles from the guy. While we danced, I watched his face, and he watched my cleavage and the independent suspension of my bouncing boobs. Had he looked at my face, he might have noticed my beguiling smile.

The song ended and I began to walk away, but he quickly grabbed my arm. The next song was a slow song, and he pulled me up against him. This was what I wanted, as I hoped to feel his hard cock against me and thereby to judge its size. His cock wasn't hard, so with a sexy appeal to give me back an arm, I unzipped my jumpsuit a little more. He had told me his pen name: The Gutted Pig. (Mine is Slutty Sioban.) The Gutted Pig, or GP as he is known to his friends, decided to do me one better. He unzipped my jumpsuit all the way down, exposing a river of my female flesh from my neck to my belly button. This was not my plan, but in a snap decision I let it be, giving him a cryptic smile. I blame the edibles, which had kicked in, in spades.

He once again pulled me flush against him, this time slipping his right hand inside my jumpsuit. GP got a great feel of my left boob, paying special attention to my left nipple, which was now hard and erect. GP was now hard, and I could feel his erection pressing against my tummy. It felt good. I opened his pants, just a little because we were still on the dance floor. I stuck my hand inside his pants to check out his cock. To my delight and partial surprise, his cock was small. I do mean small. It's hard to tell just by a quick feel in public, but I'd guess three inches, tops. GP was my man!

I was pleasantly surprised. I got a small cock on my first try. Lady Luck was on my side. GP kissed me. Right there on the dance floor, in front of all the erotica authors at the convention. I had never read an author who celebrated small cocks. A small cock will fit in your mouth -- no need to try to deep throat and fail. A small cock is more pleasant in your ass, if you swing that way. Men with small cocks are more likely to want to please you with oral sex, too. And fucking? They're good at that, too, at least in my (limited) experience.

The song ended, and I zipped my jumpsuit back up. I smiled at him as I did so. He tried to unzip it again, but I slapped his hand away. "The next slap will be to your face," I said, trying to affect a menacing tone. He got the message.

"May I kiss you?" he asked.

We were still on the dance floor surrounded by my fellow authors. He seemed aggressive. I guess he wanted to claim me as his own. How submissive was I? I was not submissive, no more than other girls. I mean, the nature of sex makes women have submissive tendencies. We get naked, lie on our backs, spread our legs, and welcome the man's hard cock. That must be what nature intended, but that entire act is submissive. It's like when dogs, or most mammals, fuck. The girl animal just stands there, holding still, while the boy animal mounts her and fucks her. He controls the show. It's how we evolved.

I giggled. It was just too ridiculous. "You just groped me in public on the dance floor, and only now you ask if you can kiss me?"

"Well, may I?"

"Yes, I'd like that."

He pulled me towards himself, and he gave me a sweet, delicate, closed mouth kiss. He had read me right. I mumbled "mmm" as we kissed. I was into him. I confess, I enjoy being publicly claimed, and he was quite insistent on doing that.

"I have some really good booze in my room," he said.

Too much, too soon. I didn't even know his real name yet, and he wanted me to come to his hotel room? I knew what that meant, and I wasn't ready for anything like that.

"I'm hungry," I said, not answering his implication.

"May I take you to dinner?" GP asked.

"If it's to a nice place." I didn't want to be a cheap pushover. Let him pay for his sleaze.

"Do you know Grand City? You can choose."

I didn't know Grand City from Wichita, but the Grand City Hotel had pretensions, so I zipped my jump suit down a little way, and I asked the concierge. I said, in a hushed voice, "A guy I just met wants to impress me. Can you recommend one of the best restaurants in the city?"

"What cuisine? French? Italian? Chinese? Mexican?"

"Is the Mexican one expensive? I want to soak this guy."

The concierge smiled. I love hotel concierges. "We have one like that. It's top of the line, too." He told me its name and how to get there, even while trying to look down my jump suit. I liked him, so I leaned forward. "It's hard to get a table there, though. The big shots in town like the place."

"Maybe you can use your influence?" I said, slipping him a Ben Franklin.

"What's your room number?"

"615, but I'll wait right here. We want to go to eat as soon as possible," I said, again leaning forward to offer him a nice down look. Men are so easy.

A few minutes later he told me we had a reservation. I texted GP to get his ass to the lobby. We were leaving for dinner.

Taxis lined up at the front of the hotel, so GP didn't have to order an Uber. The cabbie knew the restaurant, of course. The doorman took a quick look down my jumpsuit and ushered us in. Suffice it to say, the place was amazing, and so too was the food, especially the guacamole. I had two margaritas (they were good!) and GP had three Negro Modelo beers.

Over dinner we talked about the erotic stories we liked to read, and the ones we liked to write. GP liked MFM stories, which made me wonder. I liked exhibitionist stories, or stories about voyeurs. I suspected that made him wonder. I felt the need finally to speak up.

"You realize stories such as we've discussed are fantasies, right? I mean, it's not something I necessarily would like to do. I'm a somewhat shy person," I said.

"And yet, earlier you let me unzip you and grope your luscious boobs on the dance floor,"

Just then the waiter appeared to ask about desert. After he left GP spoke up.

"We can do whatever you want, Sioban."

"Sioban is not my name. I use it as a pen name. Like you and The Gutted Pig, or GP."

"What is your name, then? I'm Philip."

"Enchantée," I said in my best French accent, as we shook hands. "You can call me Susie."

"How old are you Susie, if I may ask?"

"Old enough."

"And you?" I figured he was in his early thirties.

"28."

"If you say so," I replied. I knew he was lying.

After dessert, the Gutted Pig, or Philip as he had now revealed, asked what I would like to do now? He was obviously hoping for some sex. I was going to disappoint him, or at least that was my intention.

"I'll have another margarita," I said. I was close to being drunk, and I figured to give Philip a sporting chance I should be drunk. Philip ordered another margarita.

"You know, we haven't yet discussed Loving Wives stories," I said, breaking the ice.

"You have a gold band on, I noticed."

"Yes, it's called a wedding ring. I'm married. You are too, right?" I remarked, looking straight at his own wedding ring.

"It's kinky to be out with a married woman."

"All we're doing is dancing and dining. It's perfectly acceptable behavior for friends, married or not."

"I'm glad you think of me as a friend. Do you want to be friendly and unzip your jumpsuit a bit more?"

"Not seeing enough of my tits, poor guy?"

"I find it erotic to expose you a little in public. All the more so because you're someone else's wife. What's your husband like?"

"My husband? He's a good man. He's not as kinky, as you put it, as I am though."

"Does that frustrate you?"

"Sometimes, yes." When I said this, Philip reached across the table and lowered the zipper quite a bit. One false move and a boob would be on public display, nipple and all.

"That's too much, Philip." I did not, however, zip my jumpsuit back up. The third margarita was having its effect. "Do you do that with your wife?"

"She's my wife, not a friend. Of course I don't."

I looked at him, questioning with my face.

"Wives are different. Mine has some prudish tendencies. Although once, years ago and upon my urging, she went topless on a beach in the French Riviera."

"Did that turn you on?"

"Totally. We ended up fucking in the changing rooms of the beach. It was amazingly hot. So out of character for my conservative wife."

"A few margaritas will do that to a girl," I said, as I teasingly played with my zipper. I brought him back from memory lane to the here and now and (hopefully) sexy woman dining with him.

I gave him my cell phone. "Would you be a doll and take a picture of me, please?"

He smiled. He snapped a couple. "Now one with a wardrobe mishap," I said, and I popped a boob out. After a few snaps I quickly put my boob back into my jump suit and hiding. Philip was impressed. I wondered is Søren would be when I emailed the pictures to him later, when I was alone. It was clear they weren't selfies.

"I could use another beer. Want another margarita?"

"They're quite delicious but they pack a punch. Another one and I'm afraid I'll turn into my alter ego."

"Your alter ego?"

"Yes."

"Describe your alter ego, please."

"It's simple. I become a submissive slut -- inappropriate for a loving wife at a convention. I haven't been a submissive slut since well before I married."

"Have you ever cheated on your husband?" Philip asked, as he ordered another margarita and another beer.

"Are you gathering material for one of your stories?"

"I'm just curious by nature. Have you cheated?"

"Would it be a loving wife story?"

"Maybe. You're not answering my question. Have you cheated? Do you cheat?"

"Your question is too personal; it's inappropriate for a first date. We barely know each other."

"I know that you're the most desirable girl at this convention."

"I'm sure you say that to all the girls. Philip, are you trying to seduce me? To answer your question, I'm faithful to my husband. Mostly."

"Mostly?"

"Sorry, that's the fourth margarita talking, not me."

"A talking margarita? Well, there's a first time for everything. I'll pay the bill and call a cab for us."

"Not yet, please. I want to know your most compelling fantasy," I said.

"It's group sex: two men and one woman."

"Do they spit-roast the woman?"

"Of course, among other things."

"Kinky. Do you write about this in your stories?"

"All my stories are MFM. I'm afraid they're all similar. But they get high scores. Now tell me your biggest fantasy."

"Winning the lottery."

"I meant your biggest sexual fantasy, and you know it."

There was a long pause, gradually evolving into a pregnant silence. Philip wagged his eyebrows, and I finally caved.

"Revenge sex to punish my husband," I finally confessed.

"What are you revenging? Is your husband here, in town?"

"My loving husband is back home in Indiana, probably fucking his mistress as we speak."

"I see. How long have you been married?"

"One year, five months, and ten days."

"And he's already cheating on you?"

"Are you always this smart? What was your first clue he's cheating on me?"

"Have you ever cheated on him?"

"No, never."

"But you want to?"

"Not at all. It's only a fantasy. I do, however, think our marriage longevity is doomed, unless Søren changes his behavior. I know I'm good in bed, judging by the reactions of men before I fell in love with and married Søren; so that's not why he's cheating on me."

"Why is he, then?"

"I don't know. Maybe he has too strong a sex drive. Maybe he wants to accumulate conquests, as if women are charms for a charm bracelet. Maybe he's insecure and must prove himself by seducing women, lots of women. Maybe he likes variety. I just don't know."

"Maybe I can help you," Philip said suggestively, staring at my partially exposed boobs.

"How? Are you a divorce attorney in real life?" I knew what he really meant, however. It was the way he said it.

Philip got the bill, paid for both of us (thereby charming me) with a black card, and he treated to a taxi back to our hotel. He walked me to my room. At the door to my room he asked if he could kiss me again. I smiled, and we kissed. During the kiss his hands entered my jump suit and played with my breasts. I loved it when he tweaked my nipples.

"Are you going to ask me in?" Philip asked, when the kiss ended. I was so aroused by the passion in Philip's kiss that I felt temptation, to my shame.

"No, I'm going to go inside and Zoom call my husband."

"Are you checking up on him? Making sure he's not in bed with his mistress?"

"Something like that. The asshole."

"Say hello to him for me. Thanks for the great kiss. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Philip. Sweet dreams. Thank you for dinner," I said, as I closed the door to my room.

Now alone, I decided not to call Søren. Why reassure him I'm behaving myself at a convention full of sex story authors? He's probably enjoying my absence by fucking the shit out of his mistress Melody, in any event.

I needed a warm bath to purge my thoughts. I had noticed the Grand City Hotel had provided me with a small bottle of bubble bath. I could pretend I was Marilyn Monroe and hide my body under the bubbles. After all, I have blonde hair and an hourglass figure, even if I'm a bit top heavy.

Oh, this felt good. Just when the bath began to relax me completely, helped along by my fingers caressing my sex under the bubbles, the room phone rang. Søren would have called my cell, so this had to be someone at the hotel calling my room. God, I hoped it wasn't Jack S. The hotel impressed me by having a phone extension in the bathroom.

"Hello?" I said, staying in the bath, but failing to hide my anxiety.

"Hi Susie. This is Philip." I should have guessed.

"Yes?" I asked, my tone of voice softening a bit.

"I hope you've finished your call to your husband. I'd love to come over and share a nightcap with you."

"I'm in the bath. The hotel has bubble bath!" I gushed. My mind was whirring, Philip was certainly pursuing me. I felt flattered, but given how outrageous I had behaved, flashing my boobs and letting him feel me up in public, he must think I'm ripe for the taking. Am I? Might I really have revenge sex, right here in the Grand City Hotel? Could I cheat on Søren? If he found out about it, would he forgive me? It would be adultery. What about the old saying what's good for the goose is good for the gander. Am I a goose or a gander? Who knows? And who cares? Why can men cheat but women can't? Does it stem from the old, totally out-of-date idea that wives are the property of their husbands? And what did Søren mean when he wished me a good time at the convention? He had said it just a bit too lasciviously. Does he want me to cheat? Am I seeing things that aren't there? I could imagine him wanting me to cheat to even the score a bit, so to speak, but I could also imagine him vomiting at the idea and divorcing me. I just didn't know.

It's disturbing that I don't know.

Do I even want to have sex with Philip? Well yes, I guess I do. He's just the type of guy I looked for but never found during my college years. So... I'm attracted to Philip, horny, and mad as hell with my lying, cheating husband. Maybe sex with Philip will salve my bruised or even broken ego. I can go home confident and happy, and Søren never needs to know what happened in Grand City. Then there's Philip's own wife. Can I do this to her, a woman I've never met? Does anyone else worry about such things?

All those thoughts raced through my troubled mind in seconds. I spoke into the phone, my hand dripping soap bubbles as I spoke.

"I'll have a White Russian." I knew what I was doing.

"You got it. Sorry to get you out of the bath."

"No need, Philip. The hotel has a remote in the bathroom to unlock the room door. Come on over and I'll buzz you in from my bath." Impressive hotel, right? "If you got bubble bath liquid in your room too, could you bring that over as well? My bubbles are getting thin."

"Fancy hotel!"

"Yes, it is. Hurry over before the water gets cold. Bring some condoms, too. I like the ribbed ones."

I knew Philip would have to go down to the GHB to get a White Russian, so it would take him a few minutes. Maybe he'd pick up a condom or three in the little hotel store, if they sold them. They should; after all the hotel was hosting a convention of erotica authors. I hoped he'd get one of those ribbed condoms. I love those.

My fingers became more active under the bubbles. I couldn't believe what I had just implicitly agreed to. A girl can say no at any time, right? Waiting for Philip, I thought about my love life before I found Søren. I did in fact say no many times with men on our first dates. But if I agreed to a second date, I became a submissive little sex kitten, giving the man whatever he wanted. Typically, the men wanted a lot. They got a lot.

My fingers were inside me. My other hand was playing with my boobs. My breathing was getting heavy. My water was getting cold. I added more hot water. I couldn't believe I was going to open the door to a man, not my husband, to come into my room and visit me, naked in the bath.

How was I going to do this? Maybe I could channel the long buried submissive sex kitten I used to be before I met Søren? Yes, that's what I needed to do. Let Philip run the show and just comply. I did that all the time during my BS years (Before Søren).

The room doorbell rang. OMG, it's showtime. Get into this. Get into showing off my body to this handsome man who wants it. "Come in!" I called out as I buzzed the door open. You gotta love this hotel. Philip came in, handed me the extra bubble bath and a generous white Russian, and he sat on the toilet with his beer. He was staring at my now visible boobs, since many of the bubbles had run their course and disappeared. I told myself I can do this. Just follow Philip's lead. Cut the anxiety and enjoy it!

We talked for a while, mostly about nothing at all. Philip said, "I read some of your stories, Slutty Sioban. They're good. I like them. You'd get more stars if they weren't in the Loving Wives rubric."

"I'm sure that's true. I just love fantasizing about cheating wives. I've never been one; it's only in my fantasies."

"I'm here to change that," Philip said.

"I know," I replied in such a soft voice only a dog could have heard it.

"Drink your white Russian, you little sex kitten."

"You just want me drunk so you can have your way with me. News flash, Gutted Pig: I'm already drunk. I'm stoned, too."

I couldn't believe Philip called me a sex kitten! How did he know? Oh, right. I used the term sex kitten in a few of my stories. "I'm glad you like my stories. I read a few of yours, too, but not recently. You really like group sex, I guess."

"I've never done it. It's just a fantasy."

"You too, eh?"

Philip rose and began to undress. "May I join you in the bath?"

"It would be cramped. Why don't I dry off and we can adjourn to the room," I replied, carefully not mentioning the king size bed, which dominated the room.

Philip smiled and finished undressing, His cock was erect, small, and perfect for my taste. How did I get so lucky? He held out his hand. I stood, revealing my naked body to him, and he helped me out of the bath. He drew me close and hugged me. "I'm getting you wet and soapy," I said.

"You feel great in my arms," Philip said, and he kissed me. We continued to kiss, both standing naked in the spacious bathroom. Philip played with my boobs as we kissed. I opened my mouth and we progressed to Franch kissing. I loved kissing him, as he caressed my naked ass. A moan slipped out. I was into this!

Philip broke the kiss and sat on the toilet. "How about a lap dance, my little sex kitten?" I guess he had read my story about how I sometimes would give lap dances to horny guys when I was in college. I had done it for real a few times, too. I had some talent in that direction. He pulled his phone out of his crumpled pants on the floor. He chose some sexy music by AC/DC and sat on the toilet, his hard cock standing straight up.

"Whatever you want, Philip. I'm yours for the night." Boy, was I channeling my sex kitten alter ego from yesteryear!

Philip got a huge smile and motioned me over. "Lap dances are $50, and there's no fucking allowed," I said automatically.

"What will $100 get me?"

"Two lap dances."

"How much for a fuck, then?" Philip was taking a risk, naming the elephant in the room.

"If I give you a fuck, it's free. I'm not a whore. Anyway, I'm joking. Everything is free. Enjoy yourself, you Gutted Pig." I slowly sat down on his lap, facing him, and carefully avoiding his erect cock. I started to move around to the music, making sure my nipples brushed against his chest. My vagina brushed against his cock, but I was careful not to let it enter me. He pulled me in for a kiss as I continued to gyrate on his lap. His penis kept trying to slip into me. I made a "mistake," and he won. It was exactly the kind of "mistake" I had made several times during my college years. I quickly stood up, his cock popping out. "Let's take this to the bed," I said, in a husky voice.

His cock had been inside me only seconds. He hadn't pumped. But I knew. In those few seconds I had committed adultery. I had cheated on Søren. I had revenge. Now I was going to enjoy it. As my British friend Pippa would say, now I was going to have a proper shag. A proper revenge shag.

I lay on the bed. On my back, legs spread, boobs spilling off to my side, nipples pointing up to the ceiling. "Come to your kitten, stud. She needs a good shag."

"A good what?"

"A good fuck. I need one bad."

Philip was practically drooling, but he took the time to set his phone to video. He propped it up on the top of the chest of drawers, to get a nice view of my naked body. "It would be better if we had another guy here to video us."

"Why do you want a video? I'm not sure that's a good idea. Sex is personal; it's private."

"You may want to save it to show your husband when you want to sock it to him. It's just too bad we don't have another guy here to video us properly."

"You haven't even given me a proper revenge fuck yet, and already you're pushing for your own fantasy? Two guys, with me in the middle?"

"You did say whatever I wanted, you know."

"I didn't mean that!"

"Why not do both our fantasies at once? You get a revenge fuck or two or three, and I get the whole spit-roast experience."

I was silent. Finally, I caved.

"Okay," I said. I guess I was up for anything just then. "Who are you going to call? Fuck me first, just you and me," I said, "before I chicken out." I was squirming around on the bed. I raised my arms over my head to make my boobs pop. "Come here, stud."

Philip checked his phone and then jumped on the bed, kissing me madly. I groaned in pleasure. I loved how his cock felt inside me as he pumped. I was happily moaning to this lovely fuck on the hotel's comfortable bed. It was a grand bed. I wondered if Philip would leave his wife for me. We could have a double divorce -- two for the price of one? As I had these wicked thoughts, my orgasm surprised me. I usually don't climax while fucking; a man needs to eat me out for that to happen, so this orgasm was a genuine surprise. I screamed a scream worthy of a banshee to accompany my climax. Yes, it was that good. It was also quite a welcome surprise.

Why did I climax like that, during a fuck no less? Was it the erotic thrill of adultery? Philip was equally guilty of adultery. Maybe it was the erotic thrill of combined adultery? Maybe it was the thrill of finally getting revenge on my cheating husband. I was getting my revenge in spades. I was becoming a big fan of revenge sex. Wow.

Suddenly I realized we were having unprotected sex. Philip was still happily pumping away as my thoughts raced around all over the place. I was on birth control, so the only issue was disease, and that ship had clearly sailed away on the early morning tide. I don't know why my mind races around in circles during adulterous sex, but it does.

OMG, I'm going to climax a second time. Climaxing one time was a revelation, but twice? It's building, it's building, and oh God yes! I screamed it out again. I guess the neighboring rooms must know I was getting a good seeing to. I love orgasms. Maybe Philip and I can fuck this entire weekend. I could use another dose or ten of this. My vaginal muscles contracted as my orgasm hit, and I guess that triggered Philip as he unloaded a bucket of his cum into my vagina. Those birth control pills had fucking better work.

Philip became comatose laying on top of me. He felt good. I think he liked squashing my boobs as he lay there. Søren often falls asleep after he shoots his load in me. I typically give him a little push and he rolls off, his cock exiting as he does. Sometimes I watch it gently deflate. It's fascinating to watch. When I tried to push Philip off me, however, he was dead weight.

"Philip? Are you there? Answer me, Philip." No response. Did he pass out? Is he still alive? Did his first adulterous climax provoke a heart attack? He's breathing, so he's not dead. I tried again: "Earth to Philip. Earth to Philip. Come in, please." I was beginning to panic when the door to my room rang. To say I was in a compromised position is to put it mildly. Philip's cock was still inside me. It was taking its sweet time to deflate. Was it a maid, with the evening turn-down service? She would have a key and just enter if there were no response. More panic.

I was still trying to push Philip off me, when the doorbell rang again. And again. And a fourth time. "Susie are you there?" called a loud voice from the hallway side of my room door. I recognized the voice, or at least I thought I did. The remote was within my arm's reach -- just barely. I got it, and clicked open the room door. So, someone would see me naked and freshly fucked. The room probably reeked of sex. It reeked of adulterous sex. Does adulterous sex smell different from normal sex?

I couldn't twist around enough to see who entered. Philip need not be dead; I kept telling myself. Maybe he had a vasovagal syncope. That had happened to my college roommate's boyfriend one time, which is how I knew about it. Put simply, he fainted. I saw who had entered my room. "Hello, Jack. I think Philip fainted. Could you roll him off me, please?" Jack complied while smiling a lascivious smile.

"He looks dead. Only you could fuck a man to death. We should call 911. I mean, after Philip and I spit roast you, of course. We'll wait until he wakes up; it shouldn't be long. It looks like you gave him quite some fuck. You always were a tiger in bed. I forgot how gorgeous you are when you're naked and full of cum."

I called the hotel concierge and told him a doctor was needed right away in room 615.

"Jack, you have a silver tongue. Thanks for the compliment," I said sarcastically. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm the guy who will help you fulfill Philip's fantasy. When I saw you two together, I asked if I could join in. Philip seemed thrilled."

"You could have asked me, you know."

"We wanted to surprise you."

At this point I was staggering off the bed, going for the terrycloth robe the Grand City Hotel had provided to each guest room, so I could cover my nudity. Knowing Jack S., the robe would soon be off me. Philip groaned and began to move a little. I was relieved. I really thought he might have died. I would have become known as the woman who can fuck a guy to death. That would have been horrible.

Jack couldn't have cared less about Philip's health. Some people can be like that, I guess. I couldn't, though. Philip had just shown me the gates to heaven, and I had developed a strong fondness for him. I wanted to play my part in giving him his fantasy, of having me be Susie-in-the-middle in a spit-roast. I was an important part of that fantasy, I imagined. First, though, I had to make sure he was okay.

To be honest, the idea of having sex with two men at once freaked me out. There was that time in high school, with two good friends. It had also almost happened years ago in college, but I just couldn't do it. On the other hand, Jack S. had reminded me of how he gave me all those orgasms some years ago, and I wondered if that were true, and if it was could it happen again. So, I took another edible and finished my white Russian, in the hope the chemicals would give me courage.

Having sex with Jack seemed not too dramatic, because he was a lover from my past. I had already cheated on Søren with Philip, so another time didn't seem like that big a deal.

"No Jack. I'm not having sex with you," I said. Especially not before we get a doctor to check out Philip. Actually though, not at all. I didn't want to have sex with Jack. Sadly, Jack was ignoring me. He had roughly removed the terrycloth bathrobe and ordered me back on the bed. He jumped on top of me. His cock found the entrance to my pussy. Jack was much stronger than I am. I had no chance to avoid being raped.

Every so often I get lucky. Jack lost his erection! His penis quickly became too soft to enter me. He became red in the face.

"I don't know what is the matter with me," he said in dismay, as his cock shrank.

"Maybe you have a moral side that's affecting you. After all, I said no. No means no. You were still about to rape me, nevertheless," I said, in the sweetest voice I could muster.

"You know, I heard rumors, long ago, that you were a witch..."

"That's ridiculoius. Witches don't exist. Magic doesn't exist. You know that," I said.

"You were mumbling something incoherent just before I lost my erection."

"Maybe I was praying to save myself from rape. Now get off me, and let's see how Philip is."

It turns out the Grand City Hotel is even classier than I could have thought. Jack was still lying on top of me hoping to recover his erection when the doctor showed up. We all three were of course still naked and the room smelled of sex. Jack's naked body was covering mine, but still I was hopelessly embarrassed and ashamed. Jack got off me and the doctor had a good look at my naked body. He focused on my bouncing breasts as I ran around the room, searching for the bathrobe.

The doctor did the usual things, looking into Philip's eyes, checking his pulse, and listening to his breathing after taking a stethoscope from his medical bag. He had even brought a machine to take his blood pressure, which he also did. When he finished all his examinations, he spoke.

"Did either of you have sex with Philip just before this happened?" he asked.

I blushed. "Yes, I did. Jack wasn't here until right after."

After my reply he addressed his questions just to me. "Has this happened to him before?"

"I don't know."

"Does he usually have high or low blood pressure?"

"I don't know."

"Does he have a cardiologist he sees normally?"

"I don't know. Look doctor, this was just a casual hook-up. I don't know anything about Philip's medical history, okay?" I said, in total embarrassment.

"I understand. So you also don't know if he suffers from heart palpitations, tremors, of chest pain?"

"Right. I don't know. Is this serious doctor?"

Jack was now dressed. He chimed in, "Did Susie here just fuck Philip almost to death?"

I slapped Jack. Hard. The doctor said, "That remark is uncalled for. My diagnosis is that he has orthostatic tachycardia syndrome. That can happen after intense sexual activity."

"Oh my God! Doctor, is that serious?" My fear was obvious.

The doctor smiled. "Don't worry, my dear. He should be just as good as new in a few hours. Just don't have sex with him again for a day or two."

My relief that Philip was not in danger overwhelmed me, so I didn't process all of what the doctor had said, at the time. I offered to pay him, but he declined, saying the hotel paid for his services. He added that there were a lot of health issues related to this convention, and they were keeping him busy. He bid us farewell, and good tidings, with a big smile on his face.

"The doctor was fantasizing fucking you," Jack said, once the doctor had left. I ignored the remark.

"You can go now, Jack," I said. "We'll take pictures some other time." Suddenly I realized the time. "Oh my God it's time for my appointment with the Godunov's. Jack, can you do me a big favor and stay with Philip until he wakes and make sure he is okay?"

"What's in it for me?"

"The satisfaction of doing a good deed."

"I want more," he said. I knew what he wanted. Well after all, he had already fucked me to smithereens five years ago, and they were good fucks, so I caved.

"Okay, Jack. You'll get your reward, but later. Now, do you see my bra anywhere?"

Jack smirked. I knew he had hidden it. I was doomed not to get it. I dressed without a bra. It was a little suggestive but so be it. I hadn't time to argue with Jack.

Through good fortune I got to the luxurious suite that Mike and Sarah Godunov had rented. It had at least three rooms and resembled an apartment. They sat me down and we began a discussion.

"Thank you for coming on time. We've read quite a few of your stories on Literotica. We like them."

"Thank you," I replied. Off to a good start.

"I see from the ring on your left ring finger that you're happily married."

"I'm married, yes."

Mike was quick to pick up on that. "Married, but not happily married?"

I realized my mistake, but when in doubt, tell the truth.

"I'm having some problems in my marriage, but they will pass." I felt this was getting too personal.

Sarah spoke next. "We've done a bit of research about you. Your husband has a mistress. He's cheating on you."

"What?"

Sarah continued, "And you want some revenge sex. If you go ahead and have some, your next story will have the ring of authenticity."

Mike was smiling. Sarah was too. I felt this was getting out of control, so I said, trying to sound pleasant, "Been there, done that."

"Good for you!" Sarah said. "Was it with the Gutted Pig?"

Seeing my shock, she explained, "Mike and I saw you and Philip dancing together and leaving together for that wonderful Mexican restaurant. We're friends with the hotel concierge, as well as the hotel doctor."

OMG, I thought. They know everything. I was so embarrassed.

"No need to be embarrassed. You deserve a little revenge sex," Sarah concluded, smiling broadly. I figured I had blushed.

"And you nearly fucked poor Philip to death, Jack S. told the hotel doctor," Mike added.

"You two are well informed," I said, a bit too softly. I'm sure I was still blushing. I felt like crawling under their huge king size bed, lurking in the next room of their suite.

"Yes, we are. Philip tried to make a video of the sex, too, but it's quite poor quality," Sarah said. "We have an idea to help you get proper revenge."

How did Sarah know that? I wasn't at all sure I wanted to hear their idea. Maybe at this point I should have excused myself and left. Instead, self-destructive idiot that I am, I said a meek, "How so?"

Sarah smiled. Mike did too. Mike said, "We like your work. We'd like to publish it. We'll even give you an advance of $10,000." I almost fainted in shock, but my excitement won the day. I smiled from ear to ear. "So, what I am about to say is independent of that offer. The offer holds whether you agree or not."

"Agree to what?" I felt I knew what he was about to say.

Mike continued. "Your revenge sex with Philip was perhaps not satisfying, since the video was shit and Philip passed out from the intensity of his climax. If you like, and only if you like, I propose the following. Sarah will do the video recording. We have a set-up in the bedroom, with reflective screens and lights. Sarah moves around to get the best shots. She's quite good at such things." Mike then explained the scenario with Sarah chiming in from time to time.

"Take your time to decide. However, we're only here until dinnertime. Then we have an airplane to catch," Mike added. "We also need time to sign the papers to publish some of your work. We especially want to see your revenge fantasy piece."

"I haven't finished it yet," I replied.

"You could give us what you have."

"It needs editing."

"That's okay. We're used to works that need editing. Have you decided about the sex video to punish your husband?"

My mind raced. I had already fucked Philip ("almost to death"), vaguely promised some sex to Jack S, and now here were Mike and Sarah offering me a quality solution to my revenge sex plans. Could I have sex with three men in one day, none of whom I knew before, except for the not very likeable Jack S.?

And I'm a married woman, too. Well, marriage fidelity became moot with Søren's mistress. Now I was doing my part, beginning underneath Philip's fabulously pumping body. It's a pity the video was so poor, since it was taken with a stationary cell phone camera. Th camera was unfortunately aimed just a bit too low. Mostly one saw the bouncing of a mattress and heard my moans, accompanied by Philip's occasional grunts. My moans were real, too; there was no need to fake them, as I often do to please Søren.

Well, I liked the way Mike looked. He had an intelligent and kind face. Emphasis on the kind. I'm sure he had laid many a female author; he didn't need me to add to his list of conquests. I figured though that some men can never get enough willing women under their hunky bodies.

I decided not to give my answer verbally. Instead, I simply unbuttoned my blouse. Since I hadn't worn a bra, thanks to the evil Mike S., my boobs partially sprung into sight. I'm sure I blushed at my brazen behavior, but both Mike and Sarah understood that I was on board for their revenge sex scenario, even if I suspected they had a surprise or two up their sleeves. Mike moved over to me and gave me a sweet, almost innocent kiss on my lips.

Before Mike could get passionate, Sarah came over and pushed me into the bedroom. "You're around the same size as me, except for your boobs. What are you, a D cup? I'm a B cup. Still, maybe this will fit you. It will look great in the video and your husband will wonder where you got it."

Sarah then dressed me in what she called a "French maid's outfit." I doubt any maid, anywhere, even in France, ever wore such a provocative outfit. My tits were almost bursting out of the top, my tiny waist was cinched so tight I could barely breathe, and the skirt was ridiculously short. It was so short that if I bent over, anyone behind me would get a nice view of my ass.

Sarah went ahead to film me emerging from the bedroom in my slutty outfit. Mike came over to me and gave me a closed mouth kiss. It was nice. His kiss helped to relax me. I figured I might as well enjoy myself for the next hour. I had already cheated on Søren with Philip, so I stopped worrying about that aspect of what was to come. Sarah was filming us as we kissed. She would occasionally focus on my left hand, which was resting on the back of Mike's neck. They explained later, off camera, that they both had a thing about seducing married women. I did have, after all, a pretty wedding ring. It was a diamond studded gold band from Tiffany's.

Mike and Sarah had video cameras discreetly placed all around the hotel suite. They had editing software to make all the different video feeds into one spectacular video, as they explained it to me. It was all quite professional. It made me wonder, and it scared me somewhat. I did not, however, let it deter me. When Mike opened his mouth for some French kissing, I opened mine as well. Kissing, and especially French kissing, turns me on. Mike was good at it, so I was happy to continue as long as he wanted to kiss me.

As we kissed Mike began to remove my clothes. He quickly got me topless. He began to caress my breasts. My alter ego emerged and I became the submissive slut of my teenage years. I lost all reticence, which was surprising because I had only just met Mike and Sarah. I let Mike continue to undress me. It did not take long, because the maid's outfit was designed to be easy to remove.

I felt sexy as I became naked. Mike was still fully clothed. We continued to kiss as Mike stroked my ass. I ran my fingers through his thick head of hair. Mike moved his hands around to my front. I thought he'd go for my boobs, but he went directly south. He began to stroke my pussy, tickling my bush in the process. Sarah squatted to get a good angle for her camera. I noticed she was now only half dressed, with her cute little boobs hanging out.

Sarah put down the video camera, and she undressed Mike as he fingered me. The man was talented, and it did not take long before my breathing got heavy. My legs were getting weak. Mike's cock was exposed. I was happy to see it was not too big. Mike gently guided me to the loveseat in the room. I knew I was about to learn why it was called a love seat.

I figured he'd try some oral sex. I was wrong. He went straight for the gold. He slid his cock inside me effortlessly. I was that wet and ready for him. I gasped as he entered me, realizing I was fucking my second man in one day. I had never done anything like that since that infamous time in high school, and then the two boys who fucked me back-to-back were good friends, not men I had just met. I also wasn't married then.

Sarah came over and stood close. She was getting some close-ups of Mike's cock going in and out of me. Søren would have absolutely no doubt I was getting well fucked! I hoped he would appreciate the "sacrifice" I was making to keep our marriage on an even keel, even if I was fairly sure if he ever learned about this our marriage would end in a heartbeat.

In the middle of this fuck-for-the-record books (in terms of how long Mike was lasting -- it was getting ridiculous -) the room's doorbell rang. I panicked since instead of ignoring the bell, Sarah went over and opened the door, wide! There stood the hotel doctor. I couldn't believe it. I was naked and Mike had me on all fours. He was fucking me doggy style. My boobs were rocking below me. Mike continued, simply ignoring the interruption! I dropped my head to the bed to hide my face, but I knew it was too late.

The next thing I knew the doctor too was naked. Mike had never missed a beat. If anything, he was getting rougher. I was moaning up a storm, right through my embarrassment. I was sure my face was bright red from blushing. The doctor came over to me with his huge cock hanging out and Sarah came too, gently lifting my head. I was now staring at the good doctor's hard cock while Mike was pumping away, driving me closer and closer to a climax.

Up until them I had always thought I was a rather shy girl. I knew I had a bit of the exhibitionist in me, just from my college years. After I matured, however, sex was a private thing for me to do with Søren, behind closed doors, preferably in a dark room. This hotel room was bright, even very bright, and Sarah had been observing and recording everything closely. I rationalized that she too was a girl, so it wasn't too, too outrageous. Rationalizations ceased to work with the doctor there too, with a look of unbridled lust in his eyes.

I closed my eyes, but it only marginally helped. I felt his cock brush my lips. I knew what he wanted, and I knew why he was there. It was spit-roast time. Søren would go nuts if he ever saw the video. He loved spit-roast porn, I secretly knew. I slightly opened my heretofore tightly closed lips, and the doctor's much too large cock entered my mouth.

My first spit roast! I was rocking back and forth with Mike's now fierce thrusts, trying to keep the good doctor's huge cock in my mouth. It wasn't easy, but I managed. Occasionally I would catch the expression on the doctor's face. I saw pure lust.

Sarah, now naked, slipped underneath me and began to feast on my hanging boobs. This was all a bit too much. I climaxed. Let me tell you, it was a doozy! Shortly after my orgasm Mike finally emptied his balls inside me, and all that was left to do was to continue sucking the doctor. But I couldn't. My orgasm had exhausted me, and I collapsed on top of Sarah's head and neck.

Undaunted, the doctor went to Sarah and stuck his wet cock inside her. She took the entire bloody cock without the slightest complaint or whimper. I lay on top of Sarah's head and neck as she continued to feast on my nipples, and as the doctor ploughed her body. What a scene! Later I signed the book contract.

"We have one more proposal for you, Susie," Sarah said, once the doctor had cum and left. I was dressed again. "Take a look at the video from my roving camera. The final video will come later when we weave together the various feeds."

I did. It was professional grade porn.

"We could post the final video on a pay-per-view basis. We could arrange a way for your husband to stumble upon it. Seeing you as a porn actress might surprise him," Susie continued.

"It might shock him into a heart attack," I said.

"Does he have a weak heart?"

"It's just an expression," I said. "Søren is a healthy man. He's a wonderful man too, except for his weakness for sex. Besides, if you did that, might my friends and neighbors see the video? I'd be mortified."

"Why? You'd become a celebrity and probably many men would want to date you."

"It's not appropriate behavior for a bourgeois married woman in Indianapolis."

"Neither is writing sex stories, and I'd wager many of your friends and neighbors either read them, or write them, or both."

"Do I look fat in the video? I have trouble judging myself."

"You look gorgeous, Susie," Mike said. "If I saw that video I'd want to date you for sure."

"I can't go around dating random men who see me as a porn actress. I'm a respectable married woman with a job."

"Is your boss a man?"

"Yes, but no way do I want to date him!"

"Look, Susie," Sarah said. "You're only young once. This video memorializes how fabulously sexy you are now. When you're 64 you'll get pleasure viewing it again. And again, and again. So too will Søren, even if by then you've found someone else to be your lover."

"Please don't talk like that."

"We can advance you another $10,000 if you let us publish this. It will be a real money maker," Mike said.

"Wouldn't that make me a whore?"

"Of course not. You simply made a revenge sex video, and then opportunistically profited from it. You were having sex for pleasure, not for money. I must say we enjoyed it, too. Isn't that right doctor?"

"Absolutely," the doctor said. "You're quite a girl, Susie."

"I'm a married woman," I complained.

"Married women fuck the best," Mike said. "A married women is my favorite partner."

"Mine, too," Sarah added.

"Mine, three," the doctor joined.

I left and returned to my room to find Jack S. waiting for me. Shit. Well, a promise is a promise. I tried to get away with just a blow job, but Mike wanted the whole shebang. The silver lining was he drove to me to climax after climax. He hadn't lost his touch. Philip watched, but I was too scared of what might happen to Philip if he and II again got it on, so he just jerked off as Mike fucked me cowgirl style. Philip took pictures, too, but I was too far gone to protest.

**

The flight back to Indy was uneventful, even if I was horribly nervous about what I would tell Søren. It turned out I didn't have to tell him anything. Mike and Sarah had sent him the video, along with a check for $5,000. They included a note about how lucky he was to have a wife like me.

It turned out that Søren was kinkier than I had ever imagined. He absolutely loved being married to a "porn star." He wanted to re-enact my now infamous spit-roast with some of his golfing buddies. I was reluctant at first, since good Hoosier girls just don't do things like that. Søren pointed out that such girls also don't make quality pornos. The upshot is that I got some nice jewelry out of our deal, but bottom line: I got to carnally know a significant chunk of our male friends, and I even enjoyed making their carnal acquaintances. I also developed a great appreciation for antibiotics. Hey, it's Indiana, the land of STD's.

Søren and I stayed married, but with a new lifestyle. Melody and I even became friends. Finally, I became known for my smutty stories when Søren let it be known that I was "Slutty Sioban." Funny how life turns out sometimes.