Best Served Warm free porn video

  ~ Best Served Cold, The Night After ~

"Now, about that little fantasy of yours. Let me tell you what a bad girl I've been."

She stripped off her nightshirt, crossed her leg over me, and straddled me seconds after that. It surprised me - how she seemed to know she could get me hard so soon after our talk about our time with her 'lover', Stephan. She wiggled her hips a little, letting my erection grow under her, centering it between the lips of her drenched sex. Then she was still, looking down at me expectantly as if she was waiting for me to begin.

"Well, don't you want to know?"

I was sure she was teasing. She wasn't.

She leaned forward, suspended over me on her outstretched arms. Her eyes locked on mine as though she was sifting through my thoughts. She wasn't just waiting, she was studying me. I wondered if it was to predict what I might say, or whether she was deciding what secrets to reveal. How could she have healed so quickly? Was our marriage really as fragile as I still feared?

"I already asked you that," I told her. "I mean, whether you really fucked him."

She pressed her hips into me and held them there. I pushed against her instinctively, thrusting upward just once, testing, unsure of what she wanted. More silence, frozen there together, straining against each other, crotch to crotch.

"Have you thought about it? Imagined what it might have been like? I mean, if you could have watched us there, in the room?"

"I can't stop thinking about it," I admitted, "after all the things he said, and how you told me yourself he 'owned you'. It's just that I keep trying to believe none of it happened, but I can't. It was too real, watching his hands on you, watching you kiss him. I do imagine his hotel room, the bed, him undressing you, and you wanting him to fuck you. I can even see you together fucking, in my more desperate moments. After that, just before you come, it all goes black. I just can't go there."

"Have you really forgotten I've come with other men? Before we were married?"

"But that's not the same, and you know it. It's the thought of your face when it happens, the sounds and look I know so well, all while I'm rejected and afraid I've destroyed our marriage. How can you even compare the two?"

She sat up again and placed a finger against my lips.

"Shhh... shhh... shhh..."

I stopped ruminating out loud, regretting it had let my erection fade. Her body towered over me, so naked and beautiful, now so willing and forgiving, but still ripe with answers I might not want to hear. When she felt my cock shrink, she reached between her legs and ran her fingertips lightly over the head until she brought it back to life. I ached to put it inside her and chase all the unresolved chaos away.

"Think back, to the night you wanted to hear about the men I was with before you. I told you about having sex with them, most of them I guess, and all the things about them you wanted to hear. Remember the hot guy in college who almost made me come just looking at his gorgeous, naked body? And how effortlessly I orgasmed two or three times with him every time we did it? And just after I started my first job, the older man at my office who seduced me? How he tied me to the bed and played with me for such a long time? How I had to beg him over and over to fuck me? When I told you that night, you were so hard, and went a little crazy when we fucked. I'd never seen you like that before. I never told you, but that night stayed with me. I loved you like that - letting your fantasies take you over, fucking me like someone I didn't know. It was the best sex I've had - with anyone, ever."

I was stunned.

"But, you said so much last night, about how you did things with him we never did, that you'd do anything for him. You said you wouldn't be my wife while you were with him upstairs, that you were his and he could do anything he wanted to you. I didn't imagine all that. It was real. I was there."

"You hurt me, David. I had too much to drink. I wanted to hurt you back. They were just words to do that. I'm not even sure where some of them came from."

"So, you did fuck him. I - I just can't believe you'd do it."

"I didn't say I fucked him. I said I wanted to hurt you."

"So you didn't?"

"What's important now is that I think you know how it hurts to be betrayed. Just like the men from my past, the strangers we've fucked are incidental, as long as they're strangers. Joanna is history, gone from her job and your life from what you've told me, just like my old lovers. I'd rather not know more about her. I just want her to stay a stranger."

"Like Stephan?"

Linda paused, again finally smiling down at me.

"Imagine a dream, David:

Imagine I meet a handsome stranger I can't resist. Think of him as faceless, with a perfect body, and, the thing you men always obsess about, a huge cock. It's lunch time, and we go to that same bar to have a drink. One drink becomes two, he invites me upstairs to fuck, and I can't say no. It's dirty and quick and he fucks me like an animal. We get dressed and leave after an hour, and I never see him again.

"In your dream, do I come?" she asked.

"Um, sure. I can see that - or at least imagine it."

"So, what do you see?"

"I see your legs around his back, your body stiffen for an instant like it always does, then your eyes close and you moan, very loudly, while you come."

"And in your dream, if my sex with him was wonderful, and I think about it all day until I come home to you, and it makes me devour you like a rabid whore that night, would you want to fuck me right after you wake up from that dream?"

"I guess I would...yeah."

"Your cock is definitely telling me you would. And I'd really like it inside me now..."

I'm not sure we fucked like the memory of her best fuck ever, but she rode me like a demon on a mission to fix us.

Brief flashes of the night before returned to me as I looked up along her smooth belly and full, quivering breasts.

                                     [Stephan]
"She went to her knees the first time I asked. I can still see her small fingers unzipping me, fumbling with my belt. And later, again, in the park, how her diamond sparkled in the afternoon sun."

                                       [Linda]
"Something happens to me when I take him in my hands. I could play with his cock for hours. God, David, if you only knew how wet I am just thinking about it."                             

                                     [Stephan]
"A wife's sexual emancipation can be very arousing. Linda's a beautiful woman, a seething reservoir of untapped potential. Witnessing the results when the floodgates are pried open can be exhilarating, even life-changing, if you'll allow it."

                                       [Linda]
"I want you to know that another man touched me in ways that made me dripping wet - a man so beautiful, so skillful at what a woman needs, that I'd do anything for him."

                                      [Stephan]
"Just imagine your own lovely wife satisfied again and again by another man - so willing to submit, to crave the taste of him, so eager to surrender herself to the indulgent bliss of his cock burrowing its way deep into her belly. I'd bet your pulse jumps a little at the very idea. Tell me I'm wrong, if you honestly can."

Suddenly, she leaned over me again and lay on my chest, still thrusting furiously up and down on my cock. I felt her mouth against my ear, her breath hitting me in ragged gusts. She delivered the halting words with as much effort as she could summon.
 
"It doesn't matter - who I've fucked - or when - or where. I'm yours - all yours."

I lost control and emptied myself into her.

                        ~ The Past - Dark Confessions ~

Sex had never been a problem for us in our past. At first, it was usually vanilla, sometimes with whipped cream and a cherry on top. Linda had never been shy about what she needed, but was more comfortable showing me than telling me. I wasn't much different - until that night years ago when we had returned from our anniversary dinner at a new upscale restaurant. We went to bed early after just a little too much wine, and for the very first time, I had asked for her fantasies.

"Um, I really don't have any. Well not many," she had answered, with little apparent interest.

"That's OK. Just tell me one of yours, and I'll tell you one of mine," I had offered.

She turned toward me and rose up on one elbow, peering over at me with suspicion.

"What brought this on? Is there something you need to tell me?"

I had hoped it would go a different way.

"It's nothing like that - like a confession or anything. We've never done this, and I'm in the mood to hear something sexy about you. C'mon, just one of your deep, dark, dirty secrets? Something I'd never guess."

She frowned a little. I wondered if she was thinking of something too dark and dirty to tell me, or whether she was merely annoyed by the idea.

"Um - why don't you go first? Then maybe I'll know what this is all about."

She was still there, still looking at me with raised eyebrows, somewhat amused, as though she thought I might back down if she batted the request back at me.

"Well, you know how curious I've always been about you and your past boyfriends. You never give me much of an answer."

She rolled her eyes and sighed.

"And I keep insisting there's nothing to tell. Nothing 'dark and dirty' at least. Yes, I had sex with four or five old boyfriends. Some of it was just OK, and some was great. Is my history with old boyfriends part of your fantasy? Because it isn't that dark or dirty, no matter what you might think."

"It's not that. Not exactly. My fantasy is watching you have sex with someone else, now, when we're married. I hinted at this before. I guess you didn't take me seriously."

Her expression had grown more sober. She squinted at me before she spoke.

"So, who would this be, exactly? I mean, would you really want to do this?"

I shook my head and smiled.

"Absolutely not. It's a fantasy. I love your body - I'm absolutely addicted to it. I can't see you naked without getting at least a little hard, like when you get dressed in the morning, or undressed at night, or when you're in the tub, all wet and soapy, and call me in to tell me something. Don't you notice how I stare? Or when I try to steal a peek when you may not suspect it?"

"Oh, I notice all right. It's nice that you never stop wanting me. I guess I should tell you that more often, especially when you're perving around the house hoping to catch me naked!"

She grinned at me and softened a bit. I could see her nipples stiffen through her nightshirt and tried not to stare.

"But it's not just that. I want to watch your body while you have sex. I want to see what I can't see when I'm in the same bed fucking you. And I'm fascinated about how you might respond, what you might do with another man. I doubt I could bear really watching you and him together, but it's still a fantasy. That's it. That's all. I just imagine it."

Linda thought for a long time. She looked down over the sheet to see if I was hard, then back at me again after I knew she saw I was. "So, if you never want to actually go through with any of it, what will you do about it? Will you always just think about it and never tell me again?" she asked.

"I think what we should do is hear your fantasy now. It's your turn, remember?"

She had flopped down on her back beside me and let out an exasperated sigh. The bedside light was still on, and I studied her profile as she stared at the ceiling. There was always something about her face in profile that stopped my breath for a second, especially when she lifted her chin just a little with lips slightly parted. It was both elegant in its fine features and high cheekbones, and childlike in her expression of wonder and innocence. It hadn't changed at all from her college years, up through that very night.

"It was my very first job after college. Yes, I know. We were engaged. But there was this slightly older man who hit on me relentlessly. I told you a little about him before. Remember? He was slim and athletic, very good looking, and so charismatic. He never asked if I had a boyfriend, and I don't think he cared. From the instant Jordan and I met, I was mesmerized by him, in a way that made me warm between my legs. I tried to ignore all of it, both his advances and the feelings I had for him.

"Eventually, we went to lunch together, and then it was almost every day. He invited me to go with him to a party one Friday night. You were away on business. I was lonely, so I went with him. The more time I spent with him away from work, the harder it was to resist him. By the end of the night, I was in love - or thought I was. He took me home, and we fucked. But not just that once. We did it every Friday night you were away, although there was never another party as an excuse.

"He broke my heart in a way. It was never anything other than sex for him. But I was so drawn to him, so obsessed. I was terrified you'd call off our engagement if you find out, but you never knew."

Linda had gone silent, still staring at the ceiling. Minutes passed as I tried to think back for any clue that she had been with him. It had been too many years, and all my Friday nights from that time were hazy or forgotten. There was nothing I could remember that would have given her affair away, even in light of the obsession she claimed had overwhelmed her.

"So, is that the kind of fantasy you wanted?"

Her voice was fragile and weak. Did she regret confessing to me, or had the obsession returned to haunt her?

"It's not exactly a fantasy though, is it?" I asked quietly. "Is there more?"

"He tied me to the bed, David. He played with me until I thought I might pass out from exhaustion and the need to come. He made me beg him to fuck me, and when I did he told me it wasn't enough. Other nights, he'd make me crawl across the room with my wrists and ankles tied, then suck him. He'd masturbate while he watched me squirm and inch my way across the carpet, then complain how I'd disappointed him when I struggled to get his cock in my mouth with my hands tied. He always used a condom when we fucked - I was terrified I'd have his child instead of yours and you'd never know. Oh God...the times I sucked him, there was so much semen I'd choke on it and he'd punish me and I wouldn't get to come at all that night. I don't know how much of it I swallowed by the time we stopped - gallons? It sounds so disgusting, doesn't it? But David, I wanted it. I craved it - all of it. At times, I would have given up our life together just to know it would never stop. But it did.

"The obsession never left me, David. But I found the obsession wasn't for him at all. It was to be played with, controlled and used by a powerful, charismatic man, to have those same crushing orgasms as when I struggled against the ropes and knew I pleased him. All this time, I've chased it away, found solace in the wonderful sex we have together, but never told you. So that's it, David. That's my fantasy. Is it deep and dark enough for you?"

She turned away from me and turned off the light. I could hear her sobbing. I spooned against her and wiped the tears from her cheek, but there were so many. They had been my words back then, the same words she'd use with me much later.

"It doesn't matter - none of it matters - you're mine, all mine."

                              ~The Past II - Diving Deeper~

Linda had been fine the next day. But I wanted to make sure she knew I didn't think less of her because of one fantasy, or any of her past that had brought it to the surface.

I had come home early and had made a huge pan of paella with fresh seafood. Linda was home before it was ready, and she went to the bedroom to change. Back then she still wore blouses and suits that warned other men she was all business. If she had had a hard day at work, she would slip into her usual nightshirt before dinner and be ready for bed by 9:00. I watched her close her lips around the extra-large shrimp and take bites from their firm, white bodies, savoring the buttery flavor of the rice and spices. Granted, I had been preoccupied with her story from the night before, but watching her there across the table, obviously naked under her shirt, had filled me with images of her helplessly but eagerly submitting to her former lover.

"I loved your fantasy last night. We should share things like that more often. I wish I had known sooner. I thought about it all day."

She looked surprised for a second, then tried her best to hide it.

"I shouldn't have been so upset. I just didn't know how you'd react. It's the only fantasy I've had that's lasted for years, I guess, and I've always thought about telling you. The time was just never right. I'm glad you don't think I'm a freak."

"You know me better than that. At least you should. Maybe I should remind you how beautiful and sexy you are more often. Anyway, why would you ever think that?"

She stopped eating for a few seconds and looked down into her lap. She had never been embarrassed by sex. This was so unusual for her. I couldn't imagine what else she could be hiding.

"Sometimes, I think about what I must have looked like - crawling around on the floor, begging to be fucked to the point of exhaustion, and God, there was just so much semen on so many nights. If someone had seen me... And then, just when I cringe and want to curl up in a ball and hide from all of it, I want it again. It's like something in my blood. It builds and builds until I masturbate to thoughts of those times with him, and then it all goes away for a while. Do you think that's horrible?"

"I don't think it's good that you've hidden it from me for so long. And I think you should let go of the idea that it's something to be ashamed of. You may not understand why, but I think all of your stories about him are very, very exciting. Seeing you like that would have had me hard in an instant - not only because I always love seeing you naked, but because seeing you let go, abandoning all the things that might keep you from being completely open and satisfied when you have sex, well, I can't think of anything I'd love more."

"You're not just saying that? Even though my fantasy is so slutty? Ugghh, I can't believe I still want all that, even now and then."

"I'd like to help if I can. Instead of living with so much frustration, maybe you'd feel better if we could play with it a little. I think I know enough to get started, but you'll have to tell me what you want. Can you do that?"

She could.

I had tied her wrists to the headboard that night and teased her for an hour. I remember her eyes when I brought out a large dildo we had bought months before but had rarely used. I told her to close her eyes and imagine it was him, and that she'd have to beg for every inch if she ever wanted to come. I gave her less than that, a half an inch at a time until she thrashed and pleaded for more. When the dildo filled her, he told her to raise her hips off the bed to capture even more of it. She eagerly complied, and I worked her clit gently between my fingers until she came. I watched her tremble and gasp, praised her all the while, and assured her she had pleased him.

She was limp and sweaty when I untied her. She smiled at me, and wanted me to fuck her. "After all that?" I asked.

"Especially after all that," she told me. "I want you inside me. Now I want to watch you come."

She simply relaxed under me and watched as I buried myself in her, over and over. I closed my eyes as she urged me on.

"He felt so good inside me, David. Did you like watching us? Did you like watching me come for him? Did you? Did you? I want you to watch him fuck me, David. I want you to watch me.  Watch me suck him. Watch me come for him..."

Her stark submissiveness shocked me a little. I had never heard those words from her, or the same tone of her voice. She had made herself intentionally meek and docile, a willing receptacle to service me just as she had serviced him.

I felt her fingers circle the base of my cock as I came in her. It was electric - and I pounded her furiously until it passed. Time always stops when I come, but it held me that time, body rigid, unable to breathe, longer than I could ever remember. It could have been hours. If only it had been.

We had both collapsed and slept, but talked the next day. Had I given her what she needed? Was it enough? At least until her fantasy beckoned again?

"It was wonderful, David. I don't know why I was afraid to tell you. I won't hide my fantasies from you again - I promise."

"So, it was everything you wanted - everything you need?"

I remember the slight pause as if she was trying to find the right words.

"David, I loved what you did. I love that you're my husband and that you keep surprising me each time I worry what you might think of me."

She paused again, eyeing me cautiously.

"But in spite of what we'd like to believe, no one person can be everything to anyone. A husband can be loving and caring; he can protect his wife and provide for her, and be such a wonderful, reliable lover. But there are very attractive men who aren't at all like that, especially to someone with fantasies like mine. The very things that make you a perfect, loving husband set you part from them. You're safe and kind, and they're aloof and dangerous. Jordan was that kind of man after I got to know him. I knew he'd never love me, but I went back again and again for the unknown, the suspense, and the freedom to be with a dangerous stranger who wouldn't judge me for my obsessions. Men like Jordan aren't afraid to take what they want, even if it's someone's girlfriend, fiance, or wife."

"So it's the 'bad boy' thing then. The dangerous stranger who's good for your pussy, but bad for your life? I guess I get that. It's not the first time I've heard it, but it's a surprise coming from you. But I'm fine with it. I know I'm not that guy. In fact, I wouldn't want to be."

"So it doesn't scare you? That it amps up my fantasy? I'm not looking - I promise. But I said I'd be honest from now on."

"It doesn't scare me at all. It's kind of a hot fantasy, actually - my innocent little wife putting herself in the hands of some big, strong, scary guy with a huge cock."

"I'm serious, David. It doesn't have to be a scary guy with a huge cock, just not someone I know, or my husband - I mean, in my fantasy. You must recognize that when you come, you have all kinds of orgasms, right? Some are shorter, some are longer, some are deeply moving, and some are insanely intense and wild. All of those are good. Most are probably a little of each, all mixed together. What I'm saying is that sometimes it's the presence of an aggressive, forbidden stranger that makes the difference between 'insanely intense' and 'off the scale'."

"You mean the man and the fantasy together, right?"

"Exactly. I love what you did for me last night. It was insanely intense."

"But not off the scale," I conceded. "I'm not your bad boy fantasy. That's fine. I can live with that."

"I wish you wouldn't put it like that, David. You're the fantasy husband I never thought I'd have. You don't have to be anything more for me. I hope you believe that."

She had pulled the nightshirt up over her head and dropped it on the floor. It was a conversation stopper she had used time and time again. I stared as she walked slowly to my chair, wriggled her firm little ass into my lap, and nuzzled my ear.

"Come on, 'fantasy boy' - are you going to fuck me or not?"

                                     ~ Awakenings -

We fucked a lot in the weeks and months that followed our harrowing night with Stephan. Some nights were cautious, but still loving. Others were frantic, hours-long orgies of every act and position we could think of. We were competing to repair the painful wreckage of our marriage, the result of my infidelity, but also of her planned revenge. It was a new awakening for us, but one still tainted with betrayal.

At times, I wondered if I could be tempted again, whether a woman with her sights set on dragging me into that pit of deceit could eventually take me there again and pull me under. But Linda had become my life. Every second of every day, I was reminded of the pain I had caused her, and how fortunate I was to still be with her.

Linda's effort was just as concerted, if not more, even though she had much more to forgive. She wasn't only more passionately wanton in the bedroom; she became a mouthwatering siren for me everywhere we went. She orphaned her old jeans for stylish slacks made of the most supple materials that molded her legs and ass into a delicious, living sculpture. Her closet became a high-priced boutique of fitted tops and silky blouses, always with an option to show a little cleavage when she knew it would make me crazy. Even her work clothes were a bit less modest. When I teased her about who might notice at her office, she grinned and told me, "In your dreams, fantasy boy." If her plan was to keep me lusting after her twenty-four hours a day, she had succeeded. It wasn't lost on me that other men began to look as well. She never flirted, but there was something in her stride that told me she was always aware, and always a little giddy from the extra attention.

                                      ~ Revelations ~

"David, I'm not fucking him. I'm not lying to you. I'm really not."

We were sitting outside in our screened lanai on a hot, summer, Sunday afternoon. Linda lay in the lounge chair beside me nursing her second iced tea. I pretended to be immersed in a new paperback, but couldn't take my eyes off her. Her pale skin didn't tan well, but on weekends around the house she poured herself into these tiny little shorts, I was sure just to keep me horny.

Sex on Sunday afternoons had become a ritual for us - for her, really. I'd watch while she pranced around in front of me for half the day, then wait for her to slither next to me and slide her hand up the leg of my shorts. It hadn't come to that yet, but it was only a little after noon.

A small tuft of hair escaped the inner leg of her shorts along with a portion of plump labia. She rarely shaved down there, and I wondered how many others were blessed with the same view before summer's end.

I had made her a few crop tops from some of her worn-out T-shirts. The colors had been bleached to pale grays and whites from years of wear, and many of the seams had opened into ragged holes, so she refused wear them any longer in public. Now they were cool and comfortable around the house in July and August, and she knew I loved seeing her in them. The bottom edges where I had cut a foot of material away continued to fray, making them shorter and shorter over time. I loved the way they exposed the bottom curves of her breasts, and then much more when she reached for a cup or dish from one of the kitchen cabinets.

I took a chance and asked again. "So, what about Stephan? How did you meet him, or find him, or whatever?"

It was one of her secrets I hadn't felt comfortable asking more about, but half a year had passed since that night, and seeing her there half-naked beside me had me wondering just how much of her he saw in that infamous hotel room. Had they fucked or not? She still hadn't committed to an answer that wasn't vague or misleading.

"I don't think you're fucking him. I'd just like some straight answers to a few honest questions. Finally. After all this time. I don't need to know - I want to know. It's old baggage - I can take it."

She turned her head and studied me for a while, sighed, then told me, "OK - I guess it's time."

"Stephan isn't Stephan - he's Michael, an old friend from college. And I mean 'friend'. We met at a campus campfire when I started in the fall. He was an upperclassman when I was a freshman, and he kind of took me under his wing. He was a big deal on campus - class president, wealthy family, and the ultimate catch for all the prissy sorority 'bunnies'. I'm not sure what he saw in me - we just kind of clicked. I think he majored in both English and business, but he wanted to be an actor. I heard he moved to New York and almost made it off-Broadway, for a while. Later, he moved back and opened his own publishing house here in the city. Our company does art layouts for his books and publications. I met him again two years ago at a job fair. I was working our booth when he happened by and he took me to lunch. We see each other now and then through work."

"So how does Stephan, or Michael, or whoever, go from just an old friend to fingering you in front of me in a public bar?"

"David, he and I fucked a few times in college, but mostly we were just friends. Nothing's happened since. He's still a close friend. When I found the pictures of Joanna I was devastated. I needed a friend, and Michael was there for me. One day at lunch, I told him that I was so angry it would serve you right if I did the same to you. When he asked if I was serious, I was shocked. He's still a gorgeous, sexy man, and it was tempting, but I just couldn't fuck him out of anger. He said he'd done some acting, and that he could make you believe I had fucked him out of spite if I thought it would help. I turned him down - I was afraid of what you might do. But later, when I found the pain wasn't going away, I asked him to help."

"And, how did he help? I can imagine a few ways..."

"And you'd imagine wrong, David. He wrote a script. That was his doing. We rehearsed. I wanted him to fondle me in front of you. I wanted it to be so real you'd choke on it. So we did all that together, just a few times until I remembered most of the lines. He was much better at it than I was, and he promised he'd prompt me when the time came to do it.

"I won't lie to you, David. There were times when he put his hands on me that I wished he would tear my clothes off and fuck me. I'm pretty sure he felt the same way. The second time we rehearsed I could see he was hard every minute. I tried to remember what his cock was like back then, back when I had it in my hands, and, well everything else we did with it. He was so close, unbuttoning my blouse, stroking my leg - I'd look down at his lap and think there was only a belt and zipper between me and his hard cock, and that it would be so easy to just take it out, suck it again, and have it in me one more time. But neither of us had that last bit of will to go through with it. And, I was still hurting so much.

"That night, up in the room after we left you, he offered. But only if I wanted him. He asked me if he could watch while I put my bra and panties back on, so I let him. I wanted him to see me, David. I wanted to be naked there with him, to show him all the signs that, although I couldn't fuck him while you suffered down in the bar, I was wet for him - soaking, dripping, crazy fucking wet for him.

"I told him he could touch me. I couldn't say it, but I wanted his hand between my legs. I thought cumming would make it better, that it would let me be myself again after, and I could tell you later that I didn't cheat, that he didn't fuck me. I was shaking when he put his hands on my breasts. After that, he stopped and moved back to look at me. I didn't want him to stop, David. But he just smiled and said he liked me that way, the way he remembered me right before he fucked me with those last final strokes, the ones that made me moan like the 'best little freshman piece of ass' he'd ever had. I wondered if I'd have liked hearing it as much back in school as I did there, standing in front of him. No one ever calls me 'the best piece of ass they've ever had' - not even you. But if a piece of ass is what I had to be for him, I was willing to be just that.

"We hugged before I left him. I pressed my hand against his pants and curled my fingers around the girth of his cock. I just stood there, clinging to the front of his pants, holding it, holding him, a second away from getting on my knees like I used to do with him. He could have had me if he insisted. But instead, he reached out to me, lifted my face gently, and asked me if I'd regret it the next day. When I couldn't bring myself to answer, he smiled and told me he thought I would.

"I rode the elevator down, wondering if you'd still be there. When I couldn't find you, I panicked - at first because I thought you might have left me for good, but then, a second later I feared I'd give up looking too willingly, ride the elevator to his room again, take him inside me, and drain every drop of cum from his body. I'm not sure how many times I walked to the elevator and back before I found you. You took my arm, we left together snuggled against each other, and I was relieved that the elevator would soon be many city blocks behind us."

I'm not sure what words to use to describe what her story did to me. I had hoped what I witnessed that night was fiction, feared that it wasn't, but wasn't prepared for a twisted mix of both. My heart was pounding. She got up, moved to where I sat, and lowered herself into my lap, straddling me.

"Are you OK?"

"I - I'm not sure. I didn't expect that - I mean, the parts where you wanted him to touch you, and you wanting to be naked with him, and how you wanted his cock. All that was real? And how desperate you were for him to fuck you?"

"I promised you the truth someday, David. That's what I gave you. Do you know where you are? You look a little stunned. Maybe I should have waited..."

I put my hands under her top and explored her breasts with my fingertips. Her nipples hardened immediately, and she put her hands over mine, guiding them. Her eyes widened with understanding and she let out a sigh of relief. I knew she could feel my erection growing under her.

"If it happened today, would you take the elevator back up?" I asked.

"Would you like that, David? As a fantasy, or the real thing?"

She unbuttoned my shirt and ran her hands lovingly over my bare chest. Her voice was sultry and deep, almost a growl.     

"Becaaause...I'm sure if I asked...he'd be more than happy to do me. Orrr, I could come home someday...and tell you all about how I sucked his cock...and how he fucked your wife for hours and hours. And you'd never, ever, know if it was real or not. Remember, I'm the best - little - piece of freshman ass, he's ever had."

"So, I'd never know for sure? I'd never know if your story really happened or not? But you might at least pretend you did it, right? Like one of our fantasies."

She grinned, worked her crotch slowly forward and back along my cock, and told me, "Yes, David, I believe I would. Now let's go to bed. Let me show you what a bad girl I could be."

"Oh - Michael's number is in my cell. All I'd have to do is sliide my finger along the surface, touch his name, and when he answers, ask him to fuck me."