I'll say what needs to be said

Traveling to conferences and training events gives me opportunities to play outside my marriage. I adore my husband and cannot fathom spending my life with anyone else, and I still crave sex with other men. Trips like this one give me a chance to indulge the cravings. This story is an account of one indulgence. 

As I settle into my hotel room, I set up a profile on an app in hopes of finding someone willing to come to my hotel room. I am 6’0” and weigh 170 pounds. Presenting as white, I have brown hair and eyes, and my build is average now that I am in my early 50s but was athletic when I was younger. I included a headless torso and a couple of private pix. To my delight, I did not have to wait long for a message.  

It came from someone who, like me, was staying downtown for the next few days. His profile indicated he was 47 years old, stood 6’2”, weighed 190 pounds, and wielded a 7” cock that was thick. The profile had no photos, and all of the other fields just said “ask me.” I decided to chat and see if he would share more information. He said he was mostly a top, into mutual sucking, and enjoyed role play. 

I replied that I am very oral, really enjoy sucking cock, licking balls, deep throating, and swallowing cum. If we decided to fuck, I would definitely want to bottom. I let him know that I am on the sub side, so I like a man who takes charge, and I also enjoy role play. 

We chatted more about scenarios that we like and could enjoy together. I like to be pinned down. Consensual non-consent scenes also fire my blood. Hearing a top trash-talk me for being married but letting him fuck me is another big turn-on for me. His responses to my preferences and likes let me know he would be an enthusiastic playmate. Ready to meet, I let him know which hotel I was in. The app showed that he was close, but the distance could mean that he was in the hotel across the street. Uncharacteristically, he took a while to respond. 

Finally, he replied, “What field do you work in?” He went on to explain that he wanted to be sure we were not attending the same workshop. This reply let me know that we were in the same hotel. I knew this hotel well enough to know it was small enough that it was unlikely we were here for different workshops. Possible, yes; but unlikely. I thought carefully and then answered him. 

“We might be here for the same event, Sir. I guess that means we must be extra discrete.” 

“What do you think about anon?” 

I smiled. “Hot! I could leave my door ajar, so you could let yourself in. Lights out. Curtains closed. The room would be completely dark.” 

I could see that he read the message, but he took a long time to answer. I had traveled all day to get here, and I was fading for the night. If we did this tonight, I would not be as into him as I wanted to be, so I sent one more message. “No rush, Sir. I respect that You need to take time to consider it. We can adjust or refine as needed to protect your anonymity. If you decide that You want to play tomorrow night, that works for me.” 

His response was quick and somewhat promising, “Yes. Possibly. Thanks. Have a good night.” 

The next day, I focused on the workshops throughout the day. I took useful notes to help me remember the material later. I asked good questions to show that I was making connections within the material and to gain insight where I noticed a gap or inconsistency in what was taught. During the breaks, though, I wondered about my chat buddy. Roughly a dozen men here were taller than me. I am 6’0” tall, so spotting someone 6’2” should be relatively easy. A couple of them were thinner than me, so I could rule them out. I weigh 160 pounds, and if they are thinner than me, they are not 190. That left 10 men. However fun and exciting conjecture can be, it does not help build trust or rapport. No, my chat buddy had implicitly let me know that he needed to trust me. Trying to guess who he was would undermine that trust. He needed to know that I would respect his privacy, so I did not conjecture any further. 

The workshops ended for the day, and I grabbed some dinner. After returning to my room, I opened the app to see if he had messaged me. He had not. 

I chatted with a few other men, but none of them held my interest. I like men who are verbal during sex. If they cannot chat, that’s a good sign that they will not be verbal during sex either. If they cannot chat dirty, they cannot talk dirty. A long thick dick on an athletic, dominant top definitely catches my attention, but if he cannot talk about what he likes and wants and what he expects of his play mates, I move on. 

I tossed my phone to the side and hopped in the shower. When I returned to slip into bed, I saw a message notification. It was him. 

“How long are you here?” 

“I’m here through Saturday, Sir.” I knew that this hotel was hosting a related workshop after this one, so I assumed he was wondering if I was sticking around for that one. I was not. My company funded me for the introductory workshop only, so I was leaving the morning after it finished. 

“Okay. Maybe we can figure something out before then.” 

Honestly, I rolled my eyes at this point. This sentence was one I had seen before when someone was stringing me along. He was chatting with someone else and was going to hook up with them tonight. The idea of him fucking someone else tonight and me later was hot, though, so I sent a quick reply, “Me too. Any ideas for our scene? Or other ways to make it more anon?” 

Almost immediately, the chat window showed bubbles from him. “Maybe you’re in bed so my being there surprises you?” 

“YES! And because I’m surprised, I try to resist.” 

The chat window showed more bubbles and then went blank. I waited for a few minutes, but no message came. I turned off the light and settled under the covers to sleep. My phone sounded an alert from the app. I looked and saw a message from him: “Tonight?” 

“Up to you, Sir.” 

“Get ready.”

“Aye, Sir. I am ready when You are.” 

“Safe word?” 

“Toaster.” 

“HA! Ok, got it.” 

“And as you breed my cheating married ass, Sir, I might plead for you to stop because my ass belongs to my husband. Will you say something like ‘not anymore’ or ‘it’s mine tonight’? Please sir.” 

After a moment of silence, he replied, “I’ll say what needs to be said. What room?” 

I sent it to him, opened the door, and swung the latch open so the door could not fully close. I turned off all the lights and made sure the room was dark enough that it would be very hard to see one another’s faces. I slipped back under the covers as I heard the elevator bell down the hall. My pulse quickened as I heard footsteps approaching my door. They continued past, and I heard the soft chirp of the proximity card reader when they keyed into another room, maybe two doors down. The hallway sounds suddenly grew louder, and the room grew brighter. I heard someone enter my room. As the light dimmed, I heard the latch swing away and the door closed. I heard the deadbolt lock into place. 

I raised up and mustered a startled voice, “Who’s there?” I heard someone walk to the foot of the bed and stop. In the dim light from the smoke detector, I could see an outline of a frame. “Who are you?” 

The figure moved to the side of the bed nearest me and stood right beside my face. Suddenly, hands grabbed my head and pressed my face into his crotch. Struggling to push him away, I could feel a semi-hard cock through the pants, and with my face, I could feel it hardening. 

“That’s right, boy. Get my dick hard. You can feel it through my trousers, can’t you?”

I grunted an affirmative, and then, still struggling to pull away, I managed one more time to speak, “What do you want?”

“Your ass, boy.” 

I think I gasped a little and then moaned low. His actions were so perfect. 

“No, Man! I’m married.” I blurted while trying to get my head free from his grip. 

“Open my belt.” He held my face against his hardening cock, but I managed to raise my hands and find the buckle to open it. 

“And now, my pants.” My fingers fumbled to slide the button back through the eyelet, but I did it. He released my head and spoke one word, “Zipper.” 

I slid the zipper open, and he shucked his pants and underwear. I opened my mouth to speak, “Who are you, and whahhhhh…” 

His cock cut me off mid-sentence. He shoved the head into my mouth. The tip was slippery with precum. I had told him in chat that the taste of precum drives me wild. I slobbered all over the head of his cock and then, still muttering “no, please don’t make me do this…”, I licked the shaft until it was slippery wet too. I took his cock deep into my throat and held it there. 

I could feel his balls under my chin. I could feel my throat fighting the reflex to gag. I could feel his hand cupping the back of my head, holding me in place, refusing to let me pull back. I could hear a deeply pleasured moan escape his lips, “That’s right, boy. Take it deep. Get it wet for your ass.” 

I shook my head and tried to grunt a negative, but his cock was deep in my throat. I tried to pull back, but his hand held me there. I heard him dispute me, “Yes, boy. This cock is going to breed your cheating ass. I’m going to turn you into a whore tonight.” 

I whimpered and tried one last time to pull away. He held me firm and just muttered, “Oh yes, I am, boy.” 

Something in his words and the way he said them flicked a switch in my brain. I started sucking his cock eagerly. I could not get enough. I wanted it to be slobbery slick and wet. He released his grip on the back of my head and used both hands to steady me as I bobbed up back and forth on his cock. 

I was aware that he was slipping off his shirt, but I did not let up. His voice broke through the revelry, “On your stomach, ass up, bitch.” 

As I flipped onto my stomach, I was aware that he was stepping out of his pants, so I begged once more for him to stop, “Please Sir. I don’t know how you are doing this, but I can’t. I”m married. I cannot let you fuck me. Please stop.” 

I slipped a pillow under my mid-section and heard him chuckle. Then, I felt him climb onto the bed behind me, feel my ass, open the cheeks, and grow very still. 

I blurted out, “Please Sir. Don’t fuck me.” 

I felt a large drop of spit land on the hole, and then another. The head of his cock pressed against my hole, and I heard his voice command me, “Open your pussy for this dick.” 

I obeyed, or I tried. It was thick, so as soon as the head was through, my hole tried to clamp down. “Please stop, Sir. I can’t. I shouldn’t.” 

He slapped the side of my ass, “Open the pussy, boy.” 

I felt more spit land on my ass, and I felt his cock back up and push forward repeatedly in this small space. Then, his body covered my back and I felt his mouth by my ear. “Open deep; I’m going to breed you.” 

“But sir, I’m married. I cannot do this. I’ve changed my mind.”

“Is my bare dick in your ass, boy?” 

“Yes Sir.” 

“Then it doesn’t come out until I say, so. Right, boy? 

“Yes Sir.”

“Then it doesn’t matter that you’re married. This fuckhole belongs to me now. Understood, boy?”

“Yes Sir.” 

“Good boy. That married ass wants my thick dick deeper inside it, doesn’t it, boy?”

“Yes Sir.” 

“Good boy.” 

Hearing him calling me a good boy flicked another switch in me. I felt my ass open up like never before. Suddenly, he drove in balls deep. I could feel his body against my glutes, and then, I felt my own body push back against him. My body, acting on its own, pushed back so his cock would drive even deeper. The reflex surprised me, “Oh shit!” 

“Yeah, that’s right. This ass wants my big dick.” 

He fucked me deeply with no resistance. I began begging for him to fuck me deeper, panting about how amazing it felt for him to fuck me, and I begged for his load. He fucked me hard and deep while pinning me to the mattress. I was gasping, moaning, groaning, and panting. Then, I felt him pile drive hard and deep into my hungry hole and hold there. I could feel his cock pulsating inside me, and I felt a warm pressure growing. I realized he was cumming inside me, and I felt immensely joyful. 

As he relaxed and began to withdraw, I tried to squeeze his retreating cock to ensure that every drop of his seed was inside me. My ass, though, was too wrecked. I could not muster much strength to grip his cock. It was enough though. He noticed, ‘Yeah boy. Every last drop.” 

He pulled out and stood beside the bed. As he dressed, he told me that my ass was his for as long as we were there. Then, he leaned down to me and whispered, “I’ll be sending others by soon. They’re going to fuck you too.” 

He owned my ass now. I felt that deeply, and I wanted to please him in any way he would allow. “Thank you, Sir. It is a privilege to serve You.” 

He left. As he did, I heard the door close and latch. I grabbed my phone and messaged him, “Thank you, Sir. As you left, the door closed behind you. Will the others knock? Or do I need to leave it ajar for them?” 

He replied, “you will have to wait for them. In the meantime, get some sleep, boy.”