"Rendezvous"  (M/F, adultery)

Rendezvous 

So, there I was.  I couldn't believe that it was me.  Where had my morals gone?
 I had always been a very upstanding citizen.  I never did drugs, never got
into trouble, was a model student, had a promising career, and I even voted in
every election.  After all, if you don't vote, what right do you have to
complain?  Geeze, I had even waited until I was 18 and a college freshman to
lose my virginity.  (It wasn't very good, by the way, but I guess first times
usually aren't.)

Anyway, back to "The Incident".  There I was, sitting at a hotel bar.  Dressed
in a rather clingy black knit minidress that accentuated my large breasts, and
was short enough to show the men sitting next to me that I definitely had a
garter belt and stockings on.  In fact, I caught the old guy next to me
checking out the lacy tops of them when my skirt rode up a little too high. 
Hair curled and one lock falling over my shoulder into my deep decolletage. 
Deep pink lipstick, and matching fingernails.  Borderline trashy, but not
enough for an observer to be certain.  What could I say?  I was mesmerized and
fascinated by the man who asked me to meet him there.  He was intelligent,
witty, clever, handsome, and oh.. yes... married.  I was "the other woman".

It had been a typical day at work.  I actually had gotten quite a bit
accomplished, and I was feeling pretty proud of myself.  I was happy, because
it was my weekend off, and if I was lucky, HE would come over to see me.  And
we could laugh, and joke, and tickle, and fuck for hours.  Being the other
woman isn't ALL bad.  You get all of the excitement of a relationship, but
don't really have to be concerned for the mundane details like who is going to
vacuum, walk the dog, and honey, could you PLEASE turn the TV down so I can
sleep.  Oh, you wouldn't know that I was a "ho" just to look at me.  (Well, I
didn't think of myself that way, but I am pretty sure that his wife would!)  I
look just like the girl next door.  You know, I dress conservatively, not much
makeup, golden hair, fair skin, huge brown eyes, a pouty lower lip.  Oh... my
body?  Well, zaftig is a nice way to describe it.  Abundant.  Larger than
average breasts.   A larger than average waist.  And rounded hips.  Long legs. 
And a shapely yet tight ass.  Yep...if you liked somewhat larger women, you
would probably like me.  A throwback to the "real" women of the 40's and 50's. 


Wow, I keep getting sidetracked.  Anyway.... he called me at work and told me
that he couldn't see me that night, because he and the wife had to attend some
bigwig formal-type dinner for some political guy in from another city.  It was
black-tie, of course, and he wanted me to know that he would be wearing the
cuff-links that I gave him.  And no underwear, of course.  He just said it to
tease me.  Make me daydream of his curling blond hair over the collar of the
black tux that he owned.  He is someone semi-important in our small city. 
Although he assured me that his opponent in the last election wouldn't ever
reveal my existence, because he had a mistress on the side too.  (Sigh...
politicians are all the same, aren't they?)    I was disappointed, but what is
a girl to do?  So I took a long luxurious bubble bath scented with raspberries,
shaved every inch of my body from the neck down, and put on one of my lacy
negligees.  To sit at home and watch TV.  (Its not all fun being the other
woman too, you know!)  Around 8:00 the phone rang.  I answered and it was him.

The dinner was boring as hell, he told me.  She was driving him nuts, and he
hated having to smile and be nice to all of the people who really just wanted
to kick him in the nuts and watch him squirm.  What was I doing?  So, I told
him about the bath and the candles I had lit, and the satin sheets on the bed. 
He laughed his throaty laugh and then made the proposition.  Meet him at the
hotel bar.  Just for a drink or two.  We could pretend to be strangers.  And
flirt.  His wife?  Oh, well, she would be in the banquet room, doing the pretty
and schmoozing.  She loved that sort of thing.  She wouldn't miss him for a
half- hour or so.

He gave me 25 minutes.  Whew, did I run around the apartment!  Plugging in the
curling iron, putting on my makeup, smoothing on my stockings.  Trying to
figure out which panties to wear.  Not that he would see them, but I wanted to
feel sexy.  And dangerous.  I drove the ten minute drive to the hotel in about
six minutes.  I went into the lounge, and plunked myself down and ordered a
whisky sour.  With a cherry.  I looked around at the other people sitting at
the bar.  I caught more than one man staring at me.  I smiled at a couple, but
kindly refused the drinks that they offered me.  I wondered what they thought
of me.  Did they think I was a hooker, looking for a trick?  No, I didn't look
THAT trashy.  Maybe a call girl.  Yeah, THAT was it.  I kind of liked that
idea.  An attractive man in jeans and a sweater came over and sat down next to
me.  He smiled and handed me a couple of lines.  It had been a long time since
I had heard "what's a beautiful girl like you doing in a place like this?" or
that insanely stupid one about "if I told you that you had a beautiful body,
would you hold it against me?"  But I smiled and laughed.  This was fun.  But
he eventually went away when it was obvious that I wasn't biting.  I asked the
man to my right the time.  He looked me up and down, VERY thoroughly, lingering
on my tits.  But he told me.  Hmmm....my stranger in the night was late.

I grew absorbed in the hockey game on the large tv off to the side of the bar,
and was slightly startled when a hand touched my shoulder and a slightly
accented voice asked if the seat to my left was taken.  I smiled, and asked him
to please, sit down.  His blue eyes sparkled down at me, full of mischief, and
he seated himself, pulling the cuffs of his white shirt down, drawing my
attention to the cufflinks.  

"My goodness, sir, what interesting cufflinks you have on?  May I look a little
closer?" I asked with a coquettish toss of my hair.

"I could never refuse a beautiful woman," was the response I got as he lifted
his long-fingered hand and placed it upon my forearm.

I picked his hand up, surreptitiously tickling his palm with my forefinger, and
commented upon the unusual workmanship of the small oval holding his
shirt-cuffs together.

He shivered once, and his eyes darkened slightly.  "Ah, well, someone special
gave them to me once, so that I would remember her forever."

"And will you, sir?" I asked, batting my eyelashes.

He laughed.  "Oh yes.  I will never forget the look in her eyes when she...."
and he stopped.

"When she?"  I prompted, really enjoying this little role play.

"Well, I am a bit embarrassed to explain to a stranger, but she had a unique
look in her eyes when she wanted me to touch her.  It was very flattering and
exciting, and if she had been able to give the secret of that look to others,
we men would be constantly aroused."

I could feel my panties moisten slightly at the thought of him aroused, and I
shifted slightly in my seat, pretending that my stockings needed to be pulled
up, so I could show my garters to him.

He didn't miss the signal, and he commented about how women who wear stockings
rather than pantyhose were the most erotic and exotic creatures he had ever
met.

I shot him a playful look out of the corners of my eyes, and asked, "And do you
think I am erotic and exotic, sir?"

He threw his head back and laughed loudly, so that those seated at the bar that
hadn't noticed our little by-play already looked over.  "My dear, although I
don't know you very well at all, I would hazard a guess that you are one of the
most erotic and exotic females that I have ever had the pleasure of meeting." 
And with that comment, his right hand touched my left knee and slid slightly
up, caressing my inner thigh.

I felt myself blush as his fingers slid just underneath the lacy top of the
stocking and rested against the soft skin there.  About three more inches and
he would feel how wet I was just from this teasing badinage that we were
engaged in.

He told me that he was a stranger visiting our country from Argentina, where he
was a wealthy landowner.  He raised bulls on the pampas, and as he told me that
he raised one of his eyebrows suggestively at me.  I giggled, enjoying the
little game, and told him that I was a poor working girl who had been stood up
for my date this evening.  As I finished my drink, I ostentatiously looked at
my watch.  

I looked around, and making sure that there wasn't anyone new in the lounge, I
leaned a little closer to him, and asked if he would like to walk me to my car,
since it was getting late, and I really should get some beauty sleep.

He slipped his hand out of its resting place and stood, pulling my chair back
to help me alight.  He held my sweater for me, and I slipped into it.  The hem
was about two inches shorter than my minidress, and it didn't button up the
front, instead accentuating my curves to the eyes that watched us leave.

We walked out to the parking lot, and as we got to my car, he pulled me into
his arms, and kissed me thoroughly.  His tongue darted into my mouth, rubbing
against mine, and I moaned, allowing him to push me against the side of the car
with his body.  I was grateful in that moment that I had been forced to park
almost in the corner of the huge lot, so that noone would see us.

He lifted one of my legs and wrapped it around his waist, allowing me to feel
his erection against my pussy.  "You look SO incredible," he moaned as he
licked my neck.  "Every man at that bar wanted to fuck you.  I could see it in
their eyes."  He possessively reached up and pulled the fabric of my neckline
down, exposing my full breasts encased in a black lace bra that you could
easily see my nipples through.  I moaned again.

"Touch me.  Please....touch my tits.  Feel how hard they are for you. Please,"
I panted.  

He did better than that, bending his head and latching on to the right nipple
with his teeth, right through my bra.  My hands pulled on the hair at the nape
of his neck as I knew he liked, and I loved hearing the groan he made as I did
so.

He lifted me up onto the trunk of my car, and pulled the bra cup down so that
my milky white breast shone in the faint light, tipped by a dusky peak that
ached for his touch.

"God, you are so beautiful.  Look at your nipple. Look at how hard it is," he
commanded me, and we both watched as his fingers circled it so that the areola
erected as well.  He flicked his fingertips back and forth over my engorged
nipple quickly, and we both moaned at the sensation.

I reached down and touched his hard cock through his pants.  He felt like a
steel rod, and I wanted to touch him.  I unzipped his trousers, and his prick
practically leapt through the opening, pointing at me.  It wasn't the largest
cock I had ever seen, but just the sight of it made my mouth (and parts south)
water.

I pulled him to me by wrapping my legs around his ass, never letting go of his
erection.  I reached down, to rub him up and down me, and I arched my back
slightly and he slid deep within me.

We both moaned, pretty loudly, I guess.  The pleasure and the danger was heady
stuff.  He just smiled at me and said two words, "No panties?"

"I wanted to feel dangerous.  Good thing I didn't have to bend over at the bar
for anything, eh?"  I smiled back at him as he began to thrust in and out of
me.

"You... are... the...most...erotic...woman...." he panted as he moved in and
out of me.

His hardness felt incredible, and I knew it wouldn't take long for me to come. 
I was so excited at this point that I could feel my orgasm right around the
bend.   

"Oh... please.....make me come," I begged.  "Keep fucking me.  You feel so
good."

He reached down one hand and flicked my clit back and forth in time with his
thrusts, and I was there.  I put my fist in my mouth to keep from making too
much noise  (I'm kind of screamer if its done right!) and felt the walls of my
pussy clamp around him.  God it felt incredible.  

He thrust one final time deep into me, and held it there with a groan as I felt
the semen shoot out of his cock and flood me.  Well, I didn't actually feel him
shoot, but I felt the pulsing of the underside of his cock telling me that he
was coming.  And the look on his face tipped me off too.  (Have you ever
noticed that guys get this really intense almost like they are going to die
look as they come?)

He just held himself inside me as he pulled my bra cup over my breast and
rearranged the neckline of my dress to cover my undergarments.  He leaned down
and kissed me deeply and pulled out, wiping himself on the skirt of my dress
(well, noone's perfect!), before putting his cock away and zipping up.

He helped me down off of the trunk, and we could both see the wet spot gleaming
from the lights of the parking lot.  He ran his finger over it and licked it
clean.  Wow, was that nasty, but that is one of the things that I love about
him.  He can always be counted on to make things interesting.

"I have to go babe," he told me.  "She's going to be wondering where I am, and
I am sure someone wants to shake my hand."

I smiled, got into my car and drove back to my empty apartment.  Sometimes
being the other woman stinks.