It wasn’t something she’d ever done before, and, afterward, she wasn’t sure why she’d done it at all. But it was done and she would find a way to live with her regrets, such as they were.
Marsha Edmunds had been happily married for more than 30 years. She’d married her high school sweetheart in the middle of their senior year of college. She’d just turned 21. Before marrying Larry, she’d only gone out with one other boy, and that relationship hadn’t gone farther than his hand up her sweater. Larry was the only guy she’d ever had sex with and for the past year or so she’d been aware of a restlessness building within her, a restlessness that she couldn’t shake and to which she could assign no specific cause. At 50, Marsha was still good looking. Her light blond hair had turned to a silver-gold and she still had her figure, even after two children. She worked out, watched her diet (mostly), and had inherited some pretty good genes. She’d seen men checking her out and it always gave her a thrill. She didn’t understand why some women didn’t like that – how do you not like being admired? It was, she felt, her reward for having behaved herself all these years.
She had a son who was a lawyer and a daughter in her final year of medical school. Neither of them needed her very much. Larry was busy still climbing the corporate ladder -- they both were. They had busy lives, lots of friends, an active social calendar, and, from all outward appearances, an ideal existence.
So why on this business trip (as opposed to the hundreds of previous ones) had she decided to buy a guy a drink? And, as if that hadn’t been enough, she’d compounded it by hitting on him and convincing him to take her to his room where they’d fucked like bunnies for two hours, after which she’d put on enough clothes to be decent and high tailed it back to her room, where she’d showered and gone to bed. But not to sleep.
“What the hell did you just do, Marsha,” she muttered to the empty room.
It had been a busy day of meetings, mostly the frustrating kind where nothing gets done and one or two blowhards go on and on about things that don’t matter. She’d been tired. Her call to Larry had gotten voice mail and then she remembered that this was his poker night – his phone would have been off.
She hadn’t wanted to go to dinner with her colleagues. She just wanted to have a quiet dinner alone, read a book, maybe hit the hotel fitness center, and get to bed early. She shook her head and chuckled. Well, 1 out of four wasn’t that bad.
The hotel had given her a hand full of free drink coupons when she checked in – a perk of attaining “Platinum Status” in their loyalty program. After returning to her room late that afternoon, she’d decided to take one of the drink tickets and head downstairs to the hotel bar for a quick cocktail before grabbing an equally quick dinner. So far so good.
Marsha walked into the dimly lit hotel bar, noting that it was fairly busy. She didn’t see anyone she knew. There was a seat open and she took it, sitting next to a large gray haired man (what hair he had left was gray) who though somewhat overweight, was still good looking. He was reading a book. She remembered thinking to herself, “who brings a book into a hotel bar?” He had a glass of something clear on the rocks with a twist.
“What can I get for you?” the bartender asked.
“Absolut Citron on the rocks with a twist, please,” she said, putting her coupon on the bar. She noticed the man next to her smile. It was a nice smile and showed a good awareness of the ironies of life. It also revealed the sexiest set of lips she’d ever seen on a man. He turned toward her.
“Good choice,” he said, lifting his glass.
She returned his smile and thought about what a marvelous voice he had. It was rich and seemed to have a vibe that went straight to her vitals. Her nipples were suddenly hard. All for two words? She was, frankly, stunned.
“You’re having Citron too, I take it,” Marsha said.
“My first choice in hotel bars everywhere. It’s the first drink of the evening. I savor it and take my time. I rarely order a second,” he replied, again with that mellifluous voice. And, he was good looking, though perhaps not in the best of shape. He had a nice smile and pleasant features with hazel eyes that twinkled with amusement.
The bartender placed Marsha’s glass on a napkin in front of her. She raised it to the stranger on her left.
He raised his drink and their glasses clicked.
“What are we drinking to?” he asked.
“My father used to say that there is no such thing as strangers, only friends we haven’t met yet. Let’s drink to that.”
“Works for me. To friends we haven’t met yet. I’m John, by the way. Do you think we’ll be friends?”
“Why not? I’m Marsha. Pleased to meet you,” Marsha said.
John’s face split in a big grin and he chuckled. The sound seemed to come out of the ground around him.
“What’s funny about my name?”
“Ever hear of Stan Freberg?”
“I ... think so. Wasn’t he in advertising or something?”
“That’s sort of like saying Henry Ford was in the manufacturing business. Here, let me show you why I thought that was funny,” John said, picking up his iPhone and opening Youtube. She watched as he typed in “Stan Freberg John and Marsha” and hit the search button. A list of videos popped up. He tapped one and it started.
“This was a big hit back in the 50’s. My mom and dad used to just howl when it came on the radio. That’s how I know it.”
She watched and listened. Then she was laughing too, and the ice, if there ever had been any, was completely broken.
“John,” Marsha said impulsively, “do you have dinner plans?”
“As a matter of fact, no. I did have some, but they fell through at the last minute, so I’m here by myself with an old paperback for company (he held up a battered copy of Arthur Hailey’s “Hotel”) and nothing to look forward to but a pizza delivery and a stack of paperwork.”
“Well, I didn’t have any plans either. Would you mind joining me for dinner, John? Is that too forward?”
“Well, let’s see, this IS 2017, and not 1817, so no, it isn’t too forward and since I can count the number of dinner invitations from beautiful women I’ve turned down on the fingers of one hand, I’d be delighted to join you for dinner. Where shall we go?”
“This hotel has a fairly good reputation for simple dishes. Let’s just eat here. I don’t know about you, but I hate driving in this city, and it’s too cold to walk very far.”
“Beauty and perspicacity – what a wonderful combination,” John said, chuckling again. He always seemed to be chuckling or laughing at some joke that no one else got. It aroused Marsha’s curiosity just as his voice was arousing other things. John signaled the bartender and asked him to get them a table in the hotel dining room next door. He also ordered them a second drink – Bacardi Limon and Diet Coke for him, and another Citron on the rocks for her – which they took with them to the dining room moments later.
And ninety minutes after that she found herself not wanting the evening to end. She sensed that he felt the same. She’d noticed his wedding band just as she knew he must have noticed hers. He had been a gentleman the entire evening but she knew he found her attractive. He wasn’t her physical type, but his sense of humor (she’d laughed all through dinner), his charm and attentiveness, and those lips -- she couldn’t take her eyes off of his lips. She wanted to kiss them, just to see if they felt as good as they looked. In 30 years of marriage she’d never cheated on Larry, nor to her knowledge had he ever cheated on her. She’d never even been tempted. So why now?
“Marsha, you were bold with me before, so now it’s my turn, and believe me, this isn’t my usual thing. You are a very attractive woman and I think you find something, god knows what, attractive about me. I have the sense that you’d like to kiss me and see what it felt like to kiss someone other than your husband for the first time in a long time. If I’m wrong, just say so, I’ll pay the check, and we’ll go our separate ways, with no harm done. If I’m right, I’ll pick up the check and we’ll go back to my room and see what happens.”
Well, there it was. Out in the open. He’d read her like a book. Somehow in their 90-minute conversation, he’d gotten her to spill her secrets somehow, only she didn’t remember telling him anything all that personal. Acting on impulse, she signaled the waiter.
“Check please,” she said, holding up her credit card. “You were half right, John, and that is that I do want to find out what it would be like to kiss those sexy lips. But, I’m paying the check.”
John laughed. It was a full on laugh full of pleasure and it came from his toes welling up and spilling forth like a mountain stream. “I’ll get the tip,” he said, “it’s only fair.”
She laughed and they were soon in the elevator headed for the 9th floor. John wasted no time, taking Marsha in his arms and kissing her passionately. A thrill of fear went through her as she wondered what would happen if anyone saw them kissing in the elevator. At the same time, that thrill of fear seemed to ground itself in her clit which responded favorably. The kiss itself was magic. Perhaps it was the novelty of being passionately kissed by someone other than Larry for the first time in, well, forever. And those lips. They were everything she’d imagined. Marsha knew her panties were soaked.
Their kiss broke as the bell sounded announcing the opening of the elevator doors. John had his key out and seconds later they were in his room. He bolted the door and then they were kissing again. Whatever else he may have been, John was a good kisser. He kissed as if he liked kissing and could never get enough. But he didn’t just try to stick his tongue down Marsha’s throat. He teased her, he coaxed her own tongue out to play with his, he kissed her lips, her chin, the line of her jaw, her nose, her forehead, her neck to the line of her bra strap (what had happened to her shirt?) and back to her lips. Her mouth opened under his and she welcomed his thrusting tongue, meeting it with her own, sucking his tongue now as if it were a cock, “what would his cock feel like in my mouth,” Marsha thought.
They were breathing heavily as they staggered from the vestibule into the main room of his suite and fell onto the king sized bed. She had wanted to “fluff up” a bit before things had gotten to this point, but it was way too late for that now. Somehow he had made her bra disappear and was lip nibbling down her chest to her breasts. He kissed his way up one mound and down the other avoiding her sensitive nipples, exploring the soft flesh with lips and hands. He was gentle but insistent. She let her hands go to his shoulders, which she noted were bare – when had he gotten rid of his shirt? – and she closed her eyes surrendering to the feeling of a stranger’s lips and tongue teasing her nipples to hardened points of desire.
And then John was on his knees with his fingers in the waistband of Marsha’s pantyhose. She lifted her hips allowing him to pull her hose and panties off in one movement. And she was naked. Seconds later, so was he. The room was dark and they were two dim shapes in that darkness. John’s mouth went back to Marsha’s breasts for a moment before nibbling a trail down across her belly. She knew where he was going and held her breath. Larry didn’t like licking her pussy – never had – although he didn’t mind a blowjob and didn’t see any linkage between those two facts. Was John going to eat her pussy? Yes!
Marsha gasped as she felt John’s lips kiss their way through the patch of pubic hair at the top of her mound. She was trimmed and had a bikini wax so it wasn’t like he had to go through a wild patch of dense fur to get to her treasure, but she wasn’t porn-starlet-bare either. She heard him inhale and knew he was sampling the scent of her arousal and the accumulated sweat of a day spent sitting in panty hose. She felt a stab of fear – what if her odor offended in some way? What if she didn’t taste good? And then his tongue parted her labia and all her fears disappeared in the white hot wash of lust that surged through her loins and blotted out all reason, all hesitation, and all potential guilt.
Oh, those lips, that tongue, were magic on her pussy. He used his fingers to pry apart the gateway to her sex and then his mouth fastened on the tender inner tissues while his tongue was, seemingly, everywhere at once. But always came back to that little spot at the apex of her pussy slit, her “little man in the boat” standing up so straight and proud, and then his lips engulfed it and his tongue lashed it and ... Marsha spread her legs wide and cried out in pleasure as a powerful orgasm swept over her. John didn’t stop licking when Marsha came. She had to push his head away when the sensations became too intense.
He kissed her thighs and then he was between them. She hadn’t touched his cock or even seen it. But now she felt it against her pussy folds. He had it in his fist and was rubbing the head up and down her slit making her jump and jerk every time it slid over her already overstimulated clitoris.
And then he was in her. It was hard not to compare him to Larry. Larry’s cock was slightly longer, but John made up for that with thickness. Marsha felt her pussy spread open like it had never been before as John eased himself all the way inside. She felt his belly against hers and his balls resting between her thighs.
Once fully inside He held his cock still and kissed her again, beginning a rocking motion with his hips that only moved his cock about an inch in either direction. The kiss was like completing an electrical circuit between them. Marsha moaned into John’s mouth as he began to pick up the pace and length of his strokes. Her legs came up and wrapped themselves around his hips, pulling herself against him as he sawed his cock in and out of her. John may have been a little heavy, but he certainly seemed to be in shape. His vigorous thrusting soon brought Marsha back to the edge of another orgasm. She arched her back and pushed up at John’s thrusting cock as hard as she could, crying out in pleasure as his cock plunged again and again into her humid depths. She was thrashing beneath him now, her head whipping from side to side as a succession of pleasure waves hit her like a storm surge.
“Oh, baby, squeeze me good,” John gasped, his strokes becoming slightly irregular as he too approached his point of no return. Marsha wanted him to feel as much pleasure as she felt and she clenched her internal muscles around his cock, thankful for the kegel exercises she’d done over the years. She heard him gasp, and then he thrust his cock balls deep in her welcoming pussy and his whole body stiffened.
“Oh God!” His cock jerked inside her and she felt the flood of his copious discharge. It filled her cunt as it ran out of his dick like a river of lava. She squeezed again and again, milking him, making him gasp, smiling as she did so, and proud that she was capable of pleasing this man so well. Her hands were on his arms and she could feel them shake as the force of his orgasm and the exertion of the moment both presented their invoices at the same time. He pulled his cock out of her and she felt it drag wetly across her thigh before he rolled onto his back next to her and lay still, breathing hard.
Marsha had never been what you would call sexually adventurous. She had no idea what possessed her to do what she did next, but she did it anyway. Rolling toward John, she kissed him hard on the lips tasting her own unmistakable flavor there before kissing and licking her way down his sweaty body. So far so good. And then she did the surprising thing. She took his cum covered cock into her mouth. She had never let Larry cum in her mouth and had never in her life thought of blowing him after he’d been inside of her. But here she was with this stranger’s cock in her mouth tasting their combined fluids and loving it.