Hot Sand: Hilton Head free porn video

Middle age doesn't feel like the middle anymore, not like it was portrayed in black and white movies, when forty-five year old men were bespectacled, with gray mustaches, mostly bald heads, a pipe in their mouth, and a newspaper in their hands. There was usually a dark leather chair involved, in a wood-paneled 'den.' Forty-five was old.

These days, thank God, men my age feel like they're just getting started. Or maybe not. There's always those lingering thoughts of a misspent youth, opportunities missed, beautiful girls not kissed. I think about that last one a lot. I never really did sow my wild oats, as they used to say in those old movies. The dictionary describes it thusly:

Sow one's (wild) oats: to have many sexual relationships particularly when one is young.

Yeah, I never did that.

So with that in mind, I tell you this story of a trip I took to Hilton Head, South Carolina. A work trip, to a boring business convention at a huge beachfront hotel and spa. I packed my suitcase with spiffy polo shirts, spiffy chino stye pants, spiffy socks and spiffy shoes. My mother calls them that, and yes, I'm living with her again, temporarily, because my wife of twenty-two years says she needs "a break." "Some space" was also mentioned.

So I'm still married but separated, and living with Mom again. Maybe I am just getting started. Maybe twenty-two years of marriage was a just a dream, something that didn't really happen. Maybe I look like George Clooney. He's spiffy, right?

Actually, I look like the guy down the block, and the guy over there, and that one over there, too. The one thing I have going for me is I eat right and I didn't get fat. I guess that's kind of a rarity these days. Maybe I am spiffy. I'm thinking no, I'm just an average guy, tall and somewhat slender, with nice clothes. Maybe that counts for something.

—

Arriving in South Carolina's airspace, just before the pilot began his descent, he played an old John Denver song over the plane's speakers:

Sunshine...on my shoulders...makes me happyyyyyyy

Sunshine...almost all the time...makes me hiiiiiiiiigh...

"We welcome you to the sunny South, folks," the captain said. "We hope you've enjoyed the flight. It's been our pleasure to fly you here. I know I always have fun when I'm in Hilton Head."

It seemed a rather odd thing to say. Does he hit the bars as soon as he de-planes? The colleague I'd flown down with, a woman I'll call 'Joan,' chuckled. I guess it struck her funny, too. "I'd like to meet him," she said, smiling.

Arriving at 10pm, on Sunday night, the temperature in Hilton Head was a muggy 78 degrees. It felt kind of wonderful after the hard winter we were almost finished with up in the snow-belt states.

Joan and I checked in at the desk in the hotel's lobby and we found our rooms, right next to each other on a long, quiet hallway, and we said goodnight. The next thing I knew, the alarm on my phone was going off. It was morning, time to get down to business. A full day of Health and Welfare seminars for actuarial analysts. That's me. One of them. A few hundred of us had gathered there in Hilton Head, most of the guys wearing polo shirts and chino style pants, and not a single George Clooney amongst us.

The women have a bit more fun with their fashion, but only a bit. These events are somewhat casual but it's still business, so it's mostly slacks, blouses, blazers, and the occasional skirt. Their color choices are a bit more adventurous than the men, but nothing too flashy. White and black are classically popular. To give an example, Joan wore black capri length slacks, a plain white blouse with no collar or buttons, and a cropped-sleeve lightweight blazer. Simple. Nice. With her nice leather briefcase-style handbag, she fit right in with the crowd.

Joan and I went our separate ways after breakfast, to take advantage of a greater variety of seminars. We'd decided to meet up in the afternoon for the most important presentation, at 2pm in the biggest of the convention center's rooms, after long lunch seminars that we planned to attend separately.

By 11am I was bored out of my mind. The morning presentations I went to were dull with a capital D. I decided to skip out on the lunch seminar, put on my swimsuit, and hopefully find a hotdog vendor on the beach. It seemed like a good plan, with plenty of time to get back and get dressed for my 2pm rendezvous with Joan.

I walked out past the pool, past the surprisingly busy outdoor bar, to the warm sand of the beach. It felt so good between my toes, and the warm, salty sea-breeze felt good in my lungs. I wondered who all the people were, the drinkers at the bar and the s**ttered sun-worshipers there on the sand. Conventioneers skipping out, like I was? I'm sure it happens a lot, even though I'd never done it before in all my years at conventions.

So this is where I tell you that I'm a heterosexual male; a fairly normal one, I think. By that I mean, women in bikinis catch my eye, in a big way. I hope I'm not lecherous and that it's normal to be so intrigued by feminine beauty. I think it is. Women of all shapes and sizes grab my eye, but I must admit the tall thin ones grab it just a little more. And so it was with a single, lone woman, sunning herself on one of a long row of otherwise empty lounge chairs right out there in the hot sun on the beach. Perhaps rudely, I decided to walk past her, not too close, but close enough to get a sneaking, corner of the eye look at her. Surprisingly, she spoke to me when I neared.

"You must be from up north," she said. "You're as white as I am."

I told her where I'd come from and why I was there, and an easy conversation blossomed. Before I knew it I was sitting sideways on the lounge next to her, chatting.

Her name is Tina. She's tall, thin and long legged, and that day she was as pale white as me. I asked her what brought her there and she said, "I'm celebrating my divorce. I signed the papers yesterday, got on a plane and here I am. I'm lucky they had a room here. One of you people must have canceled."

"Oh, wow. I'm sorry to hear about your divorce."

"Don't be," Tina said. "I've been with the same boring man for fifteen years."

"There's different kinds of boring," I said.

"Yeah, well...how about no sex for the last five years. Does that meet your standard?" Tina's eyes showed the quiet excitement of being brutally honest with a near stranger.

"Sadly, I can almost relate," I said.

"Oh, no," Tina said. "I saw your ring, but...now I've done it. I've bummed out our nice talk. I feel like it'll take me years to get used to talking to...men."

I smiled. "You're doing fine. Better than fine. I'm certainly enjoying it."

Tina smiled. She's really quite beautiful. "Don't you want to lean back?" she said. "You'll go home with a funny tan if you sit there like that. I have some lotion if you want. You'll burn without it."

I passed on the lotion because I didn't want to smell of it when I went to meet Joan, but I did lean back and relax in the lounge chair, hoping that my cock — chubby from the beautiful aura of this lovely, long-legged Tina — wouldn't lump up my swimsuit enough to be embarrassing.

"So you just got on a plane and flew away?" I said.

"Yup. I bought this swimsuit here at the hotel's shop, just two hours ago."

"Well, you nailed it. You look...perfect in it."

"To be honest," she said, "I didn't know if men would find me attractive anymore," Tina said.

"Are you k**ding? How many men have walked by this morning?"

"You're the first."

"And here I am," I said, smiling. "Tina, you're gorgeous. I probably shouldn't say this, but...you're almost unique, these days. You've probably noticed that you're...oh God, I'm going to get myself in trouble. You're thinner than most women."

"My sister says it's the stress of the divorce that made me lose weight."

"Well, all women should get a divorce, then, because you look amazing."

Tina smiled. I'd successfully navigated treacherous waters in this dangerous era where the word 'fat' can start a war. We chatted about health, and about eating well. She seemed fascinated that I do all my own cooking and eat everything fresh, no processed foods. "You should try it," I said. "Your beautiful body will thank you."

I must have been saying all the right things, because, over the course of our nice conversation, Tina's sexiness seemed to blossom, right before my eyes. We were definitely on the same wavelength, and it was a hornier and hornier one. And then it happened. We could both see, in each others eyes, what we needed. She asked me, "You have another meeting, you said? How much time do you have?"

"Right now, do you mean?"

Tina nodded. Her eyes showed a beautiful soft intensity that I recognized.

"Two hours," I said.

"Oh, wow," she said, almost laughing. "My husband would only need five minutes."

"Your ex husband, and he's obviously an idiot."

I watched Tina put all her things into her beach bag, her willowy body only just beginning to tan on her front, still winter-white on her back. All the bending and bag stuffing gave me my first look at her beautiful ass, and at her nice long legs in their upright position. She's truly a fine looking woman, and I felt like a lucky, lucky man.

Then, my wife was in my head, altering the coursing blood in my veins that had started to plump my cock. "I need a break, from...this," my wife had said, about our marriage, "and you should have one, too." It was our final argument/discussion, just before our separation. Is having sex with other people what was on her mind? I'd wondered about it, after she said it, and I wondered about it again, there on the beach, when Tina, so gorgeous in her new bikini, looked at me with nervous, bashful eyes and said, "Are we ready?"

Speaking of nervous, I felt like a k** who'd just shoplifted something valuable as Tina and I navigated our way past the busy outdoor bar, making our way into the pool patio lobby, and up the elevator. I felt like everyone who saw us was a colleague of mine, even though they weren't. We weren't alone on the elevator, but when we stepped out of it onto Tina's floor, all was quiet. Empty. You could have heard a pin drop, and neither of us said a word. She opened her door with her key card and we were in her room. "I wasn't expecting..." she said, her thought unfinished as she quickly straightened up the room. The hotel staff had already made the bed. It looked smooth, a little shiny, surprisingly big. It seemed to dominate the room, and my thoughts.

"I'll just be a minute," Tina said, ducking into the bathroom. "Want to sit?"

She shut the door behind her. I heard water running. It was a quick, two-minute shower, and then she was there, looking at me, with a big white hotel towel wrapped around herself. Her hair was still dry.

"I expected this to be exciting," she said, looking at me standing there in my bathing suit, "But...I can barely breathe."

I smiled at her wide-eyed nerves. I felt as she did, wide eyed, having trouble breathing. I walked to her, I think; or she walked to me, or both. Yes, it was both, a mutual decision to join together, the same as we'd decided with our eyes, on the beach. With her body tight to me, we kissed, and oh, yes, it was electric. I felt the dampness of the towel against me, and I felt the firm curve of her ass with my hands. Tina moaned, I moaned, and my cock was hard, pressing against swimsuit and terrycloth towel, tight against her lower belly.

I can only guess that the feel of my arousal excited her. It certainly seemed that way, because she suddenly wanted the swimsuit and the terrycloth to be gone. The towel was first, dropped away by her own hand, and then that same hand tugged at my swimsuit, wanting it down, pushed away from the heat of my hardness. I helped her push it down, all the time kissing, and then I felt her hand on me, on my cock. It sent shockwaves though me, and I think through her; the most amazing kind of shockwaves, the likes of which I hadn't felt since my first time with a girl, way back when I was a teen.

Tina moaned deeply and often, our kissing mouths lost in the passion, She angled my cock downward, with her hand, and I felt the wet heat of the lips of her pussy on me. Her moans, huffing out of her nose, were more and more frantic. I could tell from the way she was manipulating things that she wanted me to fuck her, right then and there. Our kissing mouths never parted as I moved her toward the door that was right behind her. For a second, as I started fucking her up against it, I thought of the people who might be walking down the hallway, just on the other side of it. Those thoughts vanished, though, when I heard the glorious beauty of Tina's happy noises. My cock was fully inside her, fully fucking her hot, squeezing pussy. She lifted one of her long, slender legs and I hooked it with my arm, and then she lifted the other. I had her there, fully off the ground, hard against the door, and she cried her happy love of it. I'd never fucked anyone that way, never anything so wild and a****listic, never anything so amazing. Tina came quickly, thank God, because I was boiling toward the finish line and didn't want to be presumptuous and cum inside her. At the last minute I lowered her legs to the floor, Tina slumping from her lingering orgasm, me squirting gushing cum onto her stomach, her legs, and the door behind her. I'd never seen my cum fly with such vehemence, splattering and clinging, pudding-white with creaminess, dripping down a beautiful, naked woman.

"Oh my God," Tina said, breathless, her voice and eyes still suffused with the colors of orgasm. "Oh my God."

I was almost embarrassed at the mess I'd made of her, but she wasn't unhappy. There was excitement and sparkle in her eyes, and a sexy, barely curled smile creasing her cheeks. I wanted to kiss her, so I did, and a deeper, more powerful lust roared like a flaring fire inside of me. Instead of being a gentleman and handing her the towel so she could clean up, I guided her to the bed, pushed her down onto it on her back, and dove right I with my hungry mouth on her pussy. She giggled with delight, arching her back up high, and we were right back in the thick of it, with Tina flying toward her second orgasm.

I must confess, making a woman cum more than once was new to me. Tina's legs shook as she held them in the air above me. I managed to get my hands on her chest, holding the lovely tits that were riding the crest of her high-arched back. My fingers played with her nipples as the leg-shaking orgasm consumed her. The beautiful, powerful totality of it was awesome to behold.

"Oh my God," she said again, the same as she's said after her first beautiful orgasm, but this time even more breathless and disheveled.

"Wow," I said, lips wet with her succulence. "That's...wow."

"You're telling me!" she said, her back still arched, my hands still there on her breasts. She stared up at the ceiling. "Good Lord! " Trying, and succeeding, to prop herself up on her elbows, she looked at me, my face there in its new favorite place, just an inch from her pussy. "Are you...hard?" she asked, looking like the whole world was astonishing and new. "I want you to fuck me again."

I smiled, mounting her in the fabled old missionary position, her long legs wrapping around me, and I fucked her for a blissfully long time. After a while she had an orgasm again, her legs squeezing me tight, her moan growling out like a contented lioness.

Having cum already myself, I was able to maintain, way beyond what I ever assumed I could do. I rolled Tina into the doggy style position and fucked her some more, then I lay on my back and she fucked me cowgirl style. She said she wanted it standing up again, this time from behind, like she'd seen in a movie. I'm not sure if the movie went this far, but she took me by the hand, led me out onto the balcony, right out into the brightness of the day. There, she put her hands on the railing, arching her back low. Her ass would pass any pornstar audition, I'm convinced of it. I crouched behind her and ate it with my mouth and tongue. I ate her cheeks, and I ate her asshole, and I ate her pussy. I stood and thrust my cock into her pussy, her moaning scream lingering and then carrying away on the soft sea-breeze. Was anyone watching me fuck this beautiful, exciting woman? Maybe. We were quite high up, but yes, we were out there, and I felt like the king of the world.

By the time I got to my room, changed into my convention clothes and arrived at the afternoon seminar — the important one — I was quite late. I found Joan, and sat in the seat next to her that she'd saved for me. She looked perturbed at first, but then, rather quickly, she eyed me differently. Quietly, she told me my hair was mussed, offered to fix it for me. I let her, noticing something new her eyes.

"God, you're a whole new man all of a sudden," she said, eyes twinkling as she looked deep into mine. "Tell me all about it, after."

We settled in for the rest of the seminar, but my mind was awash with thoughts of Tina. Tina on the beach in her bikini; Tina in her room out of her bikini; Tina asking me to fuck her harder, out on her balcony.

"I never would have guessed this from you," Joan said, after the seminar ended, as we headed toward one of the hotel's nice restaurants. We hustled to get there before the crushing rush of conventioneers.

"Guessed what?" I said, feeling the heat of blushing embarrassment on my face.

"You don't need to explain," she said. "I get it."

Sitting and having dinner with her seemed fairly normal. The two of us talked about what we'd learned at the seminars and how we could apply it to the work we do at our company. We had some wine with dinner, probably a glass more than we should have. Joan suggested a drink after, but I begged off. I really needed a shower, to wash the sweat and the smell of Tina off of me. I suddenly wondered if Joan could smell it, the scent of feminine fluids and my very own semen, not to mention Tina's sun lotion, and her lovely perfume. When I'd first gotten to the afternoon seminar, fresh from my wild, sweaty time with Tina, I must have nearly reeked with it all. I was in such a hurry, I hadn't even washed the scent of her pussy off my face.

"Really? You don't want to have a drink with me?" asked Joan, her lovely eyes clearly disappointed. "What are you going to do, sit and watch TV? Come on," she said, "lets enjoy this place, before we fly back to reality."

It was a good argument, and I fell for it.

Joan took me, by cab, to a shabby old cocktail lounge about 4 miles away. "One of the other girls told me about it," she said. When we got there, the throb of dance music could be heard out on the sidewalk. A sign on the door advertised a Dubstep DJ, whatever that is.

Turns out Joan is a tequila girl. I had what she was having — a simple, non-frozen margarita, and a plenty strong one at that. We chatted a little at the bar, a difficult task that entailed leaning in close, talking just an inch or two from each other's ears. Joan smelled lovely, and I'm sure I didn't. She pointed out two women she'd seen at the conference, and three or four men. I didn't recognize anyone.

Her drink didn't last long, and she encouraged me to finish mine so we could dance. It wasn't something I really wanted to do — the cocktail chugging or the dancing — but I did both. The hard part for me is getting started, but I actually like to dance once I'm in the groove. The music — loud, rhythmic and deep — quickly had me under its spell.

Joan likes to dance, too, and before we knew it fifteen minutes had passed, another round of strong margaritas was in our hands, we drank them down, too fast, and we were dancing with the freedom of empty hands again.
I let myself go, more than I should have with a colleague. At one point, when the rhythm took me, I held her by the waist and ground my pelvis against hers. It was the music and the drinks that made me do it, and maybe some hormonal friskiness left over from my hours with Tina.

"Easy, big boy," Joan said, smiling. "Keep going like that and I'll have to break out the condoms I brought with me."

Still dancing, close but not touching, I'm sure my face showed my surprise. "You...brought some?" I said. "What about...your husband?"

She put her finger to her lips, the international signal for 'stay quiet.' She leaned in again to tell me her secret. "I play a little, very occasionally. I'm only telling you because now I know you do, too. We can keep each other's secrets, right?"

I wondered how was she so sure of what had happened to me. Was it written all over my face when I'd finally found her at the afternoon seminar? Are pheromones really a thing? Was the smell of Tina that ripe on me? For whatever reason, she knew my secret, and not only didn't it bother her, it made her eyes sparkle.

"What do you mean by 'play a little'?" I asked, still dancing. "You mean...at these conventions?"

Joan nodded, smirking, and she leaned in again. "I can't believe I'm telling you this," she said.

"We've been to these things together three times," I said. "For the last three years."

Joan nodded, looked embarrassed. Either the conversation, or the dancing, was making her face red. "That's what I mean by very occasionally," she said. "You'll think I'm crazy, but I think it helps my marriage."

She smiled a funny smile at my funny smile, both of us deep into new and confusing territory. The music sounded rubbery, elastic, and our up-until-then 'just colleagues' relationship suddenly felt that way, too. I was dancing with someone new all of a sudden, someone sexy, someone full of mystery. Was this the Joan I'd known for ten years? The donut lover with the coffee mug that says World's Best Mom? The wearer of conservative, high-necked dresses and low, chunky-heeled shoes? I was beginning to understand the outfit she had on: the black capris that snugly showed off her meaty thighs in a way I couldn't ever remember seeing; the white, buttonless wrap blouse that showed off her buxom curves, a blouse cut lower than her office apparel, enough to show off the entirety of her pretty, dangly silver necklace, drawing the eye to the very nice beginnings of her undoubtedly deep cleavage. The shoes she was dancing in weren't clunky, either. It suddenly dawned on me that they were sexy. Yes, they had mildly chunky heals, but they were higher and not at all unpleasant, and the rest of the little black shoes was almost nothing, just a minimal number of spaghetti-thin sandal straps, rendering her painted-toenail feet virtually bare.

"You're a good dancer," she said, smiling at me in a new way.

A new, faster song began, with a beguiling rhythm. Joan took off her lightweight blazer, tossed it to me, said, "Want to hold that for me?" It was the moment I realized Joan can really dance. The flesh of all of her curves seemed to loosen in a delightful way, her breasts giving whatever bra she was wearing a springy workout. I'd never thought of her as a big breasted woman, but there they were, tits-a-plenty, movin' and groovin', surprising the hell out of me. "Don't chicken out on me now," she said, smiling at my reticence as she let the music take her. "We're in this together, right?"

The lump in my pants is what worried me. Watching Joan's body do new and exciting things had triggered me. It's Joan from work I kept telling myself, still unable to believe how she was cutting loose. From the neck up? Yes, that was Joan, smiling brighter than usual, with more and sexier eye makeup on, but it was definitely her. From the neck down? No, this was somebody new. She turned and gave me the ass view of her dancing and I never would have guessed it was her. Without her blazer on there was a fuller view, and her ass was something special, tightly and beautifully packed into what I was now realizing were stretchy pants. No, it's not a slim and trim ass, but I'll be dammed if it didn't give me an even bigger lump in my pants than the one I had before.

Still giving me the full-sexy backside view of her writhing dance, she looked over her shoulder at me, extended her arm out behind her, reaching for me. Her whole body gyrated to the loud, kick-ass beat. I took her hand and she pulled me to her, Joan the actuarial analyst, twerking like a teenager. Suddenly, the hard lump in my pants was tight against her, squeezed and massaged by her soft, warm, gyrating, thinly covered ass. My cock, with a mind of its own, felt hard as wood. Joan spun on a dime, facing me. With her arms on my shoulders, her pelvis danced tight against mine, giving my hard cock no quarter. "Oh yeah," she said. "We're doin' this. Want to fuck me?"

"Yes," I said, not thinking about anything but how good her movements felt against my cock. "Yes, I do."

She smiled, took my hand, and we were gone, into a cab, where she gave me a blowjob with the driver blatantly watching in his rearview mirror. He even adjusted it downward so he could see better. I should have said something, "Eyes on the road," or something like that, but I was so stunned by the situation that I couldn't. I just sat there, with Joan — Joan from the office — showing true, exciting hunger for my cock.

"I can smell her on you," she purred, stroking me with her hand while she took a breather. "Who was she? What kind of woman breaks down Brian Redfeld's defenses?"

The mischief in Joan's eyes was intense, lit only by passing neon and flashes of streetlights. I was glad I was so hard, and glad, in a way, that all the sex with Tina was keeping me from cumming too soon. Squirting cum with a cab driver watching wasn't exactly what I wanted to do.

Joan's mouth was on me again, but she stopped for a second, saying, "I'm listening. Tell me."

"I met her on the beach," I said. "I skipped the lunch meeting and went to the beach."

"Did you change your clothes? Were you in a bathing suit?" asked Joan, getting right back to her lovely wet blowjob.

"Yeah, I changed." I said, becoming breathless.

"You just met her? Were you looking?" asked Joan, watching my eyes as she used her tongue to lick and massage my balls.

"No, not looking. I never have."

"I know," she said. "That's what makes this perfect. No one will suspect anything."

She was right about that, as far as I knew. Joan was at the other end of the spectrum from the office sexpot, and so was I. I was seriously rethinking my assessment of Joan, though, going back through my memories of her sparkly eyes in certain situations, her subtle looks that didn't seem like anything at the time, but maybe were. She's a woman, after all, a pretty one, and sexy feelings are only human. Why had I missed it? Why didn't I have a clue about her?

The cab ride ended, Joan stuffed my still mighty hard cock into my pants, we showered the driver with too many dollar bills, and we walked to the elevators. Luckily we had one to ourselves. "So, where did you fuck this mystery woman," Joan asked, smirking at my befuddled look. "You fucked her, didn't you?"

I nodded. "Her room. Her trip down here is to celebrate a divorce."

"Wow!" Joan said. "So...you were her first, maybe?"

I nodded.

"Was she super horny?"

I nodded.

"I hope you have something left for me, because I'm super horny, too. Doing this with you is...let's just say I'm pretty worked up. I've had a crush on you for fucking ever."

It was surprising to hear Joan use dirty words, but it was far from the last of them I'd hear from her. The woman is a dynamo in bed, more fun than a barrel of monkeys. Talking dirty, taking charge, asking for everything, and I mean everything. We started with a condom on my cock, but before too long she pulled it off. "You're clean. I'm clean. We don't need this."

Joan likes things a little rough, and she kept encouraging me to follow suit. After we'd had a nice start to things — doggy-style was how she first gave herself to me — she said, "Switch off that nice guy stuff and just fuck the shit outta me," with a persuasive lustiness in her voice that made me want to do it.

We made a racket, that's for sure. It was only 10pm when we'd arrived back at the hotel, so not terribly late for sex noise, but she made plenty of it. It was an absolute thrill, I have to say. I felt like the king of the world again, making one of the office women cum, over, and over again. I'm hoping she felt the same. She seemed truly tickled that it was me she was fucking, me she was cumming on, me who was making her cry "Harder!...Oh my God!...Ye-e-e-esssssss!

She giggled when she rode me cowgirl style, I think because she had a clear view of just who she was on. Me. Brian Redfeld. She said my full name many times, smiling, eyes twinkling. I guess she wasn't k**ding about having a little crush on me. And from my point of view, more than once I had to remind myself that this voluptuous sexual dynamo was Joan from the office. It seemed unbelievable, even after an hour, even after two hours.

At one point during it all, Joan went to her suitcase and pulled out a nice big dildo. Amazed, I said, "You travel with that? What if they search your bags?"

She shrugged. "Who cares." She had something else in her hand — a small bottle of lube. She said, "Since there's only one of you, you get my ass and Dicky here gets my pussy. You ever DP anyone?"

My face showed my naiveté. Joan's face brightened with mischief. "Double penetration," she said. "A cock in each hole."

"Oh my God," I said. "You do that?"

"I want to," she said. "I've done anal, but...this'll be new. I think it'll work. Want to try it?"

"I've never..."

"Never done anal?" she said. "Do you want to?"

"Yeah, I mean...if you do."

"Oh, I totally do," she said, with that look of mischief again. "Brian Redfeld in my ass? Yes please."

As the next few seconds passed, I realized that putting my cock deep in Joan Morgan's astonishing ass was a 'yes please' for me, too.

I shouldn't have been surprised that she surprised me again, but she did. Earlier, without mentioning Tina's name, I told Joan that Tina and I had fucked out on the balcony, and Joan, it turned out, wanted some of that action, too. So out she dragged me, both of us buck naked, out to her ocean view, pool view, outdoor bar view balcony, with one hand on mine and the other holding 'Dicky' and the lube bottle. "You're crazy," I said. "Out here? Look at all those people down there."

"We're up high. You already did this you said, right?"

"Yeah, but..."

Joan bent over the balcony railing, shutting me up with the sight of her round, big booty ass beckoning me. "Work the dildo in first," she said "Fuck my pussy with it."

I felt stunned. Joan was fully committed, hanging right out into the view of whoever cared to look, much more blatantly than Tina had done. The moon lit the night, and the light from Tina's room illuminated us softly. The outdoor bar below us couldn't be heard, we were too far up, so that gave me small comfort. All of that left my mind, though, when I started working Dicky into Joan's pussy. She made her lovely noises and I was lost in her again.

I fucked her with the big dildo and she loved it. "Oh, yeah!...Fuck, yeah!" she said. After I got going with it I worked the dildo with one hand, standing off to the side of her so I could see her lovely big tits hanging into South Carolina's salty gravity, out over the rail where the world could see them. "Put it all the way in," she quietly begged. "All the way."

It's a somewhat soft, flexible dildo, thickly girthy, and a good eight inches long. A damn big cock. The balls on the end of it kept it from being lost inside Joan's pussy, if such a thing can happen. When it was fully in, balls against her, she handed me the lube. "Your turn, big boy," she said, happily breathless. "Fuck my ass. And none of that nice guy shit, either. Fuck it hard."

Her words stiffened my cock even more, even stiffer than 'Dicky'. I lubed her dark hole, I lubed my cock, and pressed it into Joan Morgan's asshole, a tighter, more extraordinary place than I could have ever imagined.

"Fuck!" she quietly shrieked. "I've only had a little guy in there. Wow!"

Wow was right. Soon I was fucking, soon I was deep, soon I was giving it to her hard, the way she wanted. Joan's mind was lost, her voice emanating a low howling wail, her hands wide at her sides, gripping the rail with white-knuckled fists. As my pelvis slapped into the jiggly, quaking flesh of her ass, I could feel the dildo against my balls with each thrust, the slap slap slap of our coming together loud and clear to any neighbors within earshot. I reached for Joan's pendulous tits, wondering if we'd both tumble over, falling to our death with my cock and Dicky still deep inside her. The feel of my hands on her tits sent Joan into a series of wild, loud orgasms, her crying, mumbling words occasionally morphing into recognizable phrases. "Yeah! " she cried. "Fuck my ass! " Her cries turned mumbly again, and then, even louder, "Do it!...Do it!...Do it! " Her orgasms spasmed her, shakier and shakier as her faculties left her, both physically and mentally. My own body was on autopilot, thudding into her ass with authority. I'd already cum again, deep in her ass, but I was still at it, hips thrusting quick and somehow athletic, the muggy Carolina air shining me to the point of dripping. Joan's body shone with warm sweat, too, her tits not only soft but slippery in my hands. When her body was limp and her voice was nothing but gasping breath, I lifted her to upright, my cock and Dicky still in her. We stood there, my arms around her, the lights, stars, and dark ocean a blur. And then we giggled. We'd fucked each other silly.

Later, when we were dressing, Joan said, "Maybe, if we're both at the next convention, we could each find somebody, team up, and have a little party."

"You mean...all together? " I'm afraid I said it with an embarrassing amount of surprise in my voice.

Joan chuckled. "Don't tell me you've never heard of such a thing."

"No, but...have you done that?"

"No," she said. "Always wanted to. Having two men touch me is a big fantasy."

"Wow," I said, "Yeah I can..."

"You can what?"

"I can...picture it."

Joan looked a little surprised, and happy. "Wow. Knowing how well you and I put projects together at work, this should be a piece of cake. I guess I've got a lot to look forward to."

"You actually think it's possible?"

Joan smirked. "At these conventions? Brian, there's all kinds of shenanigans going on at these things. I've heard stories. You haven't? Don't guys talk about that kind of thing?"

"I guess I haven't been paying attention."

"That's because you're a good man. I'd feel like I corrupted you except for what you did with that woman earlier. You joined the club all on your own. I want to say I'm proud of you, but...I think my views on it are skewed."

We slept in our own beds that night. I don't know how Joan felt about it, but to me it felt like the proper thing to do. We weren't starting an affair; neither one of us wanted that, or made any comments about one. No, it was purely a business trip fling, although, traveling and eating together, as we did, sort of muddied the waters a bit and deepened our connection.

The next day we had breakfast together. "So, now that you've slept on it, do you still like the club you've joined?" Joan asked.

"I like my game partner, very much," I said.

Joan smiled. We looked at the seminar schedule and planned out our day. We both agreed the lunch meeting was better used as beach time, two hours to relax after a busy, physically exhausting first day. "I'm curious to see what Brian Redfeld looks like in a bathing suit," she said. "And yes, I will be telling the girls at the office."

"Oh, so it's like that, is it?" I said, smiling. I took a free look at the decidedly conservative business casual clothes she had on that day. "You know, the guys are going to be even more curious about you. You cover it all up so...effectively."

"Believe it or not," she said, "at my last job I was told I was too curvy. By a woman boss, no less. She said it would be good for my career to dress conservatively, so...that's what that is all about. Believe me, I'd love to have all you guys at the office look at me a little more. When I'm away from work I'm a bit of a slut for the male gaze, I'm afraid. My husband laughs about it. He likes it, though."

"Yeah, it sounds like fun. My wife's not like that."

"No? I've never met her, have I?"

"I don't think so," I said. "She avoids work parties. She used to go to them, a long time ago, but not anymore."

Joan nodded. "Do you think your separation will stick? I probably shouldn't say this, but there are some girls at the office who wouldn't mind if it did."

"Oh yeah? Are they the ones you're going to describe my bathing-suit body too?"

"Yup," Joan said, smiling. "Them's the ones. I'll bet you dinner sometime that they melt, right there on the floor, when I tell them I went to the beach with you."

"How do you know that? You haven't even seen me yet."

"Brian. I've seen all of you, remember? Even that cute little asshole that you like to have licked."

Joan and I both blushed. I was a somewhat surprised to see her face redden, what with her being the one with experience, sort of an old pro at these kind of convention flings, but I guess our knowing each other and working together had something to do with her discomposure. The blush was certainly cute on her.

Her short but sweetly graphic explication of just one little moment of our deeply carnal fun embarrassed us right back into business colleague mode. We paid the waitress as our blushes faded, then we were off on our own, separated, taking in the morning seminars.

In my room at ten minutes till noon, I heard a knock at my door. I let Joan in, her voluptuous body clad in a hot-pink bikini with a white and black kimono-style robe over it, untied, open down the front. She set the beach bag she was carrying down on the rug. "Oh, goodie, I got here in time to watch you strip," she said, smiling.

Still in my polo shirt and chinos, I took off the shirt and tossed it on the bed.

"Best. Trip. Ever," she said, settling in to a comfortable chair, with her eyes firmly on me. "Did I tell you that, last night?"

Her smile was contagious. "You're seriously going to watch me?" I said. "Because, things are already happening. I wouldn't want you to blush again, when you see what you've done to me."

Her smile became even more beautiful, and yes, she was blushing when my cock came into view, already hard, more so than even I thought it would be.

"Wow," she said. "You are a potent man, Brian Redfeld. Okay, just a quickie. We've only got two hours and I want to get some sun."

Joan was quickly in doggy style position on the bed, with her knees near the edge and her head and shoulders down on the mattress. She reached behind, pulling the gusset of her bikini away from her glistening pussy, just enough for me to enter. "Tell me when you're cumming. It'll be cleaner if I take it in my mouth."

"Cleaner, or dirtier?" I said, just before we both moaned as I sunk my hard inches into her. "You're a fabulously dirty woman."

"Am I?" she said, her voice a sexy sigh as I started to fuck her. "I love that you think that." She moaned deeply, and said, "Fuck me, Brian. Fuck me till you cum."

It didn't take long. Joan's ass just astonishes me, completely converting me to a big booty lover. Well, maybe not converting, but I certainly added big sexy asses to the list of things I love.
"Want me to tell the girls all about your cock?" Joan asked, getting wound up as I fucked her. "Huh? Want me to tell them how big and hard it is? Huh Brian? Want me to?"

The thought of her doing it put me over the top. My cum was spewing when she got her mouth on it, my cock throbbing with intense pulses as she sucked it all in, swallowing it, licking the ooze from my cock's tip, her squeezing, stroking hand forcing it all out. I could barely breathe. "God, Joan," I said, my voice huffing. "You're...amazing."

"So are you, Mister Redfeld," she said, squeezing and tonguing the last dribble. "I could get used to this thing."

I felt half hard and lumped as we walked to the beach, me with my towel around my neck to give my middle-aged chest some modesty, Joan with her kimono cover-up tied closed with a sash. We went out a side entry, avoiding the crowd at the pool and outside bar. I wondered if Tina would be out on the beach, but I didn't see her. It's just as well. It would have been awkward.

Joan and I lounged on chairs, ate hotdogs and french fries, and made it back just in time to get dressed for the big 2pm seminar, the final one for us.

After a quiet and, dare I say, romantic dinner, we went out on the town again to another dive bar, this one with a rock band. I thought such a thing would make me feel old, but instead I felt like a teenager; partly because the band played classic rock songs from my youth, and partly because I fingered Joan to an orgasm in the backseat of the cab on the way back to the hotel. With another horny cab driver watching in the mirror, Joan seemed to enjoy having her pussy on display, legs spread wide, giving him an eye-popping show, thanks in no small part to the fact that she wore no panties under her shortish skirt. I'd discovered it when we were watching the band, me standing close behind her, my hard lump prompting her to reach behind herself to guide my hand between the backs of her thighs, right up to her wet pussy.

We fucked like a****ls that night. I must have been getting the hang of things, because I felt more wild and free than I ever had before, experiencing sex in a whole new way. Both days had been that way, a new and enlightening freedom that felt amazing. Joan and I had done everything the night before, so this was more like a confirmation that it all, in fact, was awesome. We both had less energy, so we found ourselves quietly sixty-nining for long periods, and I'll tell you, that's alright with me. Sure, there was some beautifully hard fucking and wild orgasms, but those quiet sixty-nines are what haunt me, using the word 'haunt' in a very good, positive way, of course. At the finish of one such round in that wonderful position, after Joan orgasmed for the umpteenth time with me, she lay there on top of me, completely relaxed, her head on my hip, my hard cock loosely gripped in her hand. "God I love what your mouth does to me," she said, moaning softly. "When we get back to the office, if you catch me staring at it, you'll know why."

I smiled. I kissed her pussy a few times, the warmth, the wet, and the flavor all so addicting. I wondered something, so I asked her. "Do you ever wear sexy lingerie under your work dresses?"

"Oh, yeah, all the time. Life's too short for boring underwear."

"Really? Every day?"

"Yup," she said. "I'm crazy about garter-belt sets, lately. I probably have a dozen of them."

"You mean...a set where all the pieces match?"

"Yeah. Bra, panties and garter-belt. Most of them are sort of see-through. A couple of them are crotchless."

"Really? Under those...work dresses?"

"You can say it. They're boring, right? I told you why."

"Oh, right. Yeah, I get it. I just think it's kind of wonderful that you're wearing a protest vote down underneath. I love it."

"I'm not the only one," Joan said. "You'd be surprised at who amongst our coworkers is wearing sexy lingerie. I won't say which woman it is, but there's one on our floor who doesn't wear panties under her dresses at all. Ever. We k** her about it, but I think it's kind of great. I do it, too, sometimes."

"What does your husband think?"

"He doesn't know I go that far, but he likes the lingerie. He's happy that I feel sexy."

—

The day of our flight home was interesting. We had breakfast in one of the hotel's restaurants, surrounded by a hundred conventioneers, some of whom we know. It felt odd to sit there and act businesslike, dressed in our conservative going-home clothes.

On the plane we sat next to each other, of course, flirty and mischievous at first, her with her hand on my thigh more than once. But then, as we got closer and closer to home, subtle changes pulled her back to the Joan I'd known for years, the Joan who talks business with bold and interesting ideas, the Joan who talks lovingly of her husband, the Joan who's thought of by her daughter as the World's Best Mom.

In the lobby of our home airport, after claiming our bags, she shook my hand and, with a sparkly-eyed smile, said, "See you at the office in the morning. We'll probably have a meeting with Jack to tell him about that new software."

I nodded and smiled. Joan smiled, too.

The day after I returned home I went to my house to talk to my wife. She said I seemed different, and then I kissed her and she kissed me, the kind of passionate kiss we hadn't shared in so many years. Soon we were fucking, on our very own bed, on top of the covers, naked to the room, something we'd never done. I felt the a****l in me, and it rose up in her, as well. She said I seemed like a new man. It's what she wanted, I think, a new man, even if it's me. Maybe she had one on her own, too. It didn't worry me. If anything, it excited me, made me want to perform, to be better than whoever it might have been.

My wife has never been adventurous in the bedroom, but that night, for a long hour or two, she let me have my way with her. That may sound like some sort of 'male supremacy' on my part, but I'll tell you this — on that night, it's what she wanted. She told me so, with her words and with her actions — a thrill in her eyes when I pinned her wrists to the bed and fucked her; a happy squeal when I rolled her and pulled her ass up for doggy style; a deep moan when I put my cock in her that way, a position we hadn't tried in ten years or more. She even giggled and slowly became a hungry cock-sucker when I presented my cock, wet with her juices, to her horny, happy mouth. It was the first time she'd ever had a cock in her mouth, unless she'd been with someone else during our separation. She's no Joan when it comes to cock sucking, but just seeing her smile as she got used to it was a thrill.

So maybe Joan is right. Maybe a wild, once-a-year fling of adultery really is good for a marriage. It's a crazy idea, but maybe she's on to something. And maybe, after the next convention, after Joan and I convene a wild four-way, maybe our marriages will be even stronger. That's one way to look at it, right?