Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

The incident in the alleyway seemed to flick a switch in John. Sex at home became dominated by his narrative of me being taken by other men. And the more I thought about it, the more it turned me on too. Eventually, we had a frank conversation and agreed to follow through on this the next week.We booked into a hotel in a town some distance from home, arriving late on  Wednesday afternoon. Having checked in, I had a bath with a glass of wine, and then dressed in a red sequinned mini dress, with full-length sleeves and a plunged front that opened to just above my navel; revealing enough of my full boobs to draw interest, without going too far. With the dress, I wore a matching red lace thong and suspenders with sheer black stockings and a pair of gold high-heeled shoes.Whilst I applied red lipstick, my husband came into the bathroom and stood appraising me. “You look like a high-class escort,” he smiled approvingly.“Well, let’s hope I find someone who wants to fuck me like a less classy one,” I replied, looking at him in the mirror and winking.John went ahead to the hotel bar, positioning himself in a booth in a corner; his laptop giving the impression of a man catching up on some work over a drink. Some ten minutes later, I followed. Entering the room, I saw a middle-aged man sitting on his own at the bar. He appeared to be a businessman, alone and away from home, which was perfect. And, whilst a little overweight, he wasn’t bad looking.The man glanced up and registered me with approval; his eyes following me as, taking small steps and walking with a slight wiggle of my hips, I made my way slowly across the room. Sliding myself sikiş izle onto a bar stool a little distance down the bar from him, I put my clutch bag down in front of me. With his full attention now, I slowly crossed my legs, my sequin dress riding up slightly to reveal my stocking-clad thighs and shapely calves.Ordering a white wine, I played on my phone, shooting him occasional glances and rather obviously re-crossing my legs. After a while, with much of my glass of wine drunk, the waiter placed a fresh glass in front of me and, indicating to the man, told me it was with his compliments. Smiling my thanks, I motioned for him to join me. Needing no second invitation, he moved around the bar, positioning a stool so as to sit close beside me. Introducing himself, Alan explained he was staying in the hotel on business. Indeed, his job was such that he was routinely away from home.Alan was doing his best to chat me up. I responded with flirtatious laughter, touches of his arm, and leaning forward to give him a better view of my cleavage. Shifting forward on the bar stool caused my dress to be pulled further up my thighs, which I parted slowly to give him a clear view of my thong and suspenders. His jaw dropped as he stared at them.Smiling knowingly, I reached forward and traced a slender finger up his inner thigh and over his crotch, which twitched in response. Drawn to the glint of the diamonds on my engagement ring, he muttered, “you’re married, then?”My eyes fixed on his, and my finger caressing his growing hardness, I leaned forward and whispered, “do you know what a Hotwife is, Alan?”“You are joking,” he exclaimed brazzers in a voice that was both dubious and hopeful; his face lighting up with sexually-charged anticipation, “surely that’s only something that happens in, well, a certain sort of films…”“Oh, this is for real,” I reassured him, taking his hand and placing it between my legs, whilst continuing to run a finger over his length as it tented against the material of his trousers.“My husband, John, is sitting in a booth over there, hoping you will take me upstairs to our room and fuck me in front of him.”“No strings, no tricks, no filming, just your husband getting off whilst watching?” he asked, casting me a quizzical look.Holding his gaze, I nodded, feeling him slip a hand inside my thong and run a finger across my labia. “Mmmm, you’re wet,” he muttered approvingly, as I stifled a moan, “being felt up in a bar turns you on, then?”“The fact that we are sitting here, and no one can see what you are doing with your finger really turns me on,” I whispered huskily, pushing myself forward against his finger. “But knowing I am going to be fucked by a stranger has me climbing the walls in anticipation.”“Is that my cue to take you upstairs,” he asked, with a smirk.“Thought you’d never ask,” I pouted, sliding from the stool, smoothing down my dress, and looking knowingly over his shoulder at my husband.We walked together out into the lobby and then took the lift up to the fourth floor. Unlocking the room with the electric key, I led him to the bed, before sliding the dress from my shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. Stepping from it, fake taxi porno I stood facing him, dressed only in a thong, suspenders, and high heels.“My God, you’re gorgeous,” he stammered.In silence, I took off his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt, as he kicked off his shoes. Then, whilst moving my mouth to his, I peeled off his shirt, before unbuckling his belt and unzipping his flies. Between us, kissing passionately now, we removed his trousers and pants.Reaching down, I wrapped a hand around his shaft in a reverse grip. As we explored each others’ mouths with our tongues, I began to slowly stroke him; moaning in response, his fingers dug into the fleshy cheeks of my arse. Pulling away from the kiss, he looked at me with lust, as I continued to gently massage his cock. “Get on the bed,” he demanded.Releasing his manhood and lying back on the sheets, I peeled off my thong and made to remove my high heels. “No, leave them on,” Alan corrected me, pulling off his socks, and then moving forward to join me on the bed; parting my legs, so that he could position himself between them.Slowly kissing his way up my inner thigh, his fingers eased apart the lips of my labia; his tongue lapping urgently at the soft pink flesh of my mound. My sighs turned to loud moans when his tongue found my clit and flicked at it repeatedly; my thighs tensed and my hands went to his head, tugging at his hair, whilst he alternated between burying his tongue deep inside me and circling my sensitive clit.As I moaned and writhed on the bed, the electric lock on the hotel room door sounded, to be followed by the door closing behind my husband. Having entered the room, and taken in the sight of a stranger eating out his clearly highly aroused wife, John crossed the room and settled himself into the armchair in the corner. Alan lifted his head and glanced questioningly at him, sitting observing us.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32