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In every affair, there comes a moment when one, or both of the participants decided that…, “It’s just not worth it anymore.”
Not that I was an expert, but my previous affair had ended in a way that… well… we both knew that it was definitely over!
In this case, I knew that it was still very much… “worth it!”
I’ll admit, like Harold, I was shocked by Elle’s declaration. Had she done it to make me jealous? If so…, it hadn’t worked. Did she do it to end our relationship and take on a new lover…?
She was caught up in the newfound freedom to express herself…, in any and every way she wished. Maybe she hadn’t achieved independence yet, at least not in her, “real,” life. But in this, “fantasy” where the “new” Elle resided, she was ready to take on anything that was thrown her way…, or just happened to wander past!
I stood there as they exchanged phone number, a slight grin on my face. The only thought ricocheting around in my head at that moment…? “How do I use this insolence against her?”
Like me, Mercedes was standing there also, in her case I was sure, feeling very awkward. I picked up her dress and offered her a tip for her performance. Politely refusing, “Harold would be very insulted,” she thanked me and then give me a kiss on the cheek, maybe I wondered, feeling sorry for the “cuckolded” husband? I asked her when she would be working again. She told me that she was moving, so she didn’t know when she’d work next, “…, but please call the club for my schedule…, and I hope I get to see you again.” I promised that I would make sure that happened.
I gathered Elle’s clothes as she and Harold made plans and then we all shook hands, acting very adult, she and Mercedes kissing, a promise from Elle that we’d get together again, “…, soon.”
As we prepared to leave, Harold gave me a quizzical look, one of those, “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” looks. A gave him a smile and then a wink, leaving him, I was sure, wondering, “What the fuck does that mean?”
As we were exiting the club, we stopped to say “Good night” to Anthony. Walking us to the door, he got an unexpected kiss from Elle, causing him to pause, before opening the door, saying to me, “Make sure you come in during the day to see me. I can tell you that having this sexy lady come through this door…,” as he patted her on the ass…, “always makes my day that much sweeter.”
Looking at him over her shoulder, she reached out and took his hand, lifted her skirt and placed it on her exposed ass, saying, “…, and aren’t you sweet.”
His hand lingered for a moment, a silly grin on his face, then he swung the door open and we walked out. His laugh and, “Sweet indeed,” audible as we walked away.
I blew off, “Eden Redux,” to get her to the motel!
The ride was…, interesting.
I purposely avoided any mention of her misbehavior, focusing rather on her interactions with the two dancers.
She was very enthusiastic about the way both girls had stimulated her and laughed about Harold comparing Crystal to an, “Italian Sports Car.”
Getting serious, she said, “You know…, I’ve never thought about having sex with another woman…, but the way that Crystal and Mercedes touched me, especially Mercedes…!”
“You’ve never had a lesbian experience?” I asked.
Looking at me like I was some kind of alien, “NO!”
Shaking my head, “Not even when you were living in a dorm full of girls in college?”
“I never lived in a dorm,” she replied, “but how about you? Did you ever have a homosexual encounter when you lived in a dorm full of men?”
“Touché,” was all I could answer.
But it didn’t stop me from considering the possibilities…, of her having a lipstick lesbian dalliance!
Arriving at the motel, thoughts of anything but her pussy were pushed into the background. She must have been feeling the same thing because she was standing outside the car when I retuned from the office.
In the room we dispensed with all pretenses of “love making,” tearing and ripping each other’s clothes off, my face buried in her twat before her blouse was off. The scent of Mercedes and her own earlier manipulations still lingered in her crotch, as were the tingles, because as soon as my tongue was inside her, she started to scream, her first orgasm seconds after I started. She tried to pull me around, my cock in her mouth the obvious reason, but I resisted, my interest centered on the slit that I was ravaging with my mouth and fingers. Her cries and moans, tugs and heaves, jerks and spasms of euphoria, assaulted my senses of taste, touch and sound…, and I wasn’t far behind.
But that wasn’t what I wanted.
With her pussy twitching in my mouth, I slid up her body and did something I’d never done before…, I mounted her from the front, “Missionary Style.”
This was the way her husband had always, “…, fucked her.” (her words not mine) I hadn’t done it this way, not so much as a courtesy to her, but rather as a way to show her all of the varied positions available to lovers.
Looking into my eyes and then up at the mirrored ceiling that displayed both of us from above, she sighed…, closed her eyes…, and then, “Please…,” a deep breath, a groan…,”fuck me.., canlı bahis fuck me, fuckmefuckmefuckmeee!”
Holding myself above her, my cock pointed at her hole, I lowered myself slowly until the tip slipped inside her. Arms outstretched, hovering over her, I murmured, “Is this the way you want Harold to fuck you?”
Her eyes snapped open and she looked at me.
Immediately I pushed just a little bit harder, the tip sinking deeper, before lifting myself, my cock head the only part of the shaft still inside. I hesitated for a second before lowering myself again, only to withdraw.
I teased her this way until she grabbed my ass and pulled herself up, my cock almost all the way inside. I pushed down and she would pull away until we found a rhythm, both of us looking at one another.
I asked again, “Is this the way you want Harold to fuck you?”
Eyes glassy, a look of euphoria on her face, her breathes coming in little puffs, she whispered, “…, yes.”
I pushed down harder, my shaft all the way in…, and then back out and down again, each thrust harder. Picking up her left leg, I pushed it back at her, still pumping before letting her leg rest against my right shoulder and chest, continuing to keep the rhythm, no longer in any danger of a premature ejaculation.
Leaning as close as I could to her, pushing her leg even further back, I buried my cock as deeply as I could inside her, a groan from her as I pushed even harder…, “Do you want him to cum in you? Do you want him to bury his big fat cock inside and empty himself in you?”
A long moan from deep in her throat, eyes shut tightly as I pulled myself back, hovered and the pushed my shaft all the way back inside…, “Do you want his cum dripping out of you so you can lick it off when you get home and you’re lying in bed with your husband?”
Her eyes opened and she locked them on mine. Then…, “Oh my GOOODDDD…, fuckmefuckme…, cuminmecuminmecuminme…, YESYESYES…!” tightening her vaginal muscles and bouncing so hard on the bed I thought she was going to shake it apart!
So much for my resolve, as I filled her cunt with my cum.
Arms locked, I hovered above her, my cock growing soft as she continued to spasm underneath me until I fell completely out of her.
Opening her eyes, she looked at me for a brief moment… and then she started to cry!
She was sobbing, rolling onto her side and curling into a ball.
I fell sideways, lying next to her. No idea what had happened or why?
Finally the sobs turned to whimpers, so I curled myself and spooned against her, wrapping my arms around her and whispering, “Its okay…, its okay.”
She grabbed my arms and held them tight until she’d cried herself out.
A sniffle…, and then another.
“Yes,” her voice flat.
“What was that all about?”
Straightening her legs, she rolled over until she was facing me. Reaching up, I wiped the tears of her cheeks with my thumb.
She just looked at me.
“I want to do everything you just said,” a sob slipped out, then a hiccup, “I want him to fuck me hard…, like you just did…, and I want him to cum inside me so I can go home and lick his cum off my fingers while I’m listening to my fucking husband snore!”
“Baby…, you were saying those things…, and I could see it happening…, and we were making love…. If you said one more thing, right now…, one more thing about Harold…, I could cum without you touching me or me touching myself.”
“I don’t want Harold to fuck me.”
“…, you don’t?”
“No! I want him to take me out to dinner and treat me like he treated Mercedes. I want him to look at me like he looked at Mercedes…, I want him to….”
“Elle,” I interrupted.
“He was looking at Mercedes like she was inventory. Remember how he said that the dancer’s bodies and smiles were their inventory. Goods to be sold every time they were on stage?”
“Did you see the way he looked at you?”
“I did look at him…, but not as often as I looked at you.”
That was bullshit, but I let it pass!
“And…,” wrapping my arms around her again, “what did you see?”
“I saw him rolling his cigar in his fingers and watching both of us.”
“He was watching Mercedes performance…, but what he was really interested in was YOUR reaction to her performance. It’s YOU he’s interested in…, not her! She was a means to an end. There’s no way he could have anticipated the way it ended. The only person in the room more shocked by your proposal than me… was Harold!”
“So you want me to…?”
“I’m not saying anything other than…, if you think Harold is infatuated with Mercedes…, you’re wrong. If you think that the whole “Lap Dance” thing was about Mercedes…, you’re wrong. If you think that he accepted your proposal for any other reason that to get you alone…, you are definitely wrong.”
“So what do I do now?”
“Do whatever it is that you want to do. There’s no Book of Etiquette on something like this.”
“I wish there was,” she complained.
“Well…, maybe I’ll write one…, but in the mean time, when is he expecting to take you out?”
“Saturday bahis siteleri night.”
“And where is he taking you?”
“I told him I like seafood.”
“So,” I said, sitting up and looking at her, “you pretty much have to make your mind up. What are you going to do?”
Rolling over on her back, she threw her arm over her forehead and looked at herself in the mirror. “I told him I wanted him to take me to dinner…,”
“Simple,” I told her, “that’s what you’re going to do.”
“No buts! You WANT to go to dinner with him don’t you?”
Rolling onto her stomach now, she looked at me and said, “Yes…, there’s something about him….”
“Are you letting him pick the restaurant?”
“You have his number?”
Eyeing me suspiciously, “…, Yes.”
“Call him and ask if he’ll take you to, “Union Seafood.” It’s on the water and a great restaurant.”
“I can’t do that. He’s taking me out.”
“But it was your idea. Tell him a friend recommended it. After dinner, he’s going to want to take you somewhere else, so you can suggest the Bayside Inn. It’s got a great bar, real old fashion and after the two of you have an after dinner drink and he has a cigar…, unless he’s a titanic boor…, or a closet pervert…, you’ll want to get to know him a little better, so you can go to the front desk and pick up your room key….”
Jumping up, she looked at me and hissed, “No I’m not!”
Putting my hands up…, “I’m not saying that you will, but just in case.., you’ll have the option….”
Shaking her head, “Save your money. It won’t happen.”
Smiling, “Hey, I can always cancel the reservation before 11:00.”
“You’re so stubborn. Fine…, but you might as well call at 9:00 because I’ll be on my way home by then.”
We got dressed and I drove her back to her car, discussing “Passions” and Harold. Since we wouldn’t be seeing each other that week, me with a golf tournament and her with a three day, “Enhanced Reading Program” Conference at the end of the week…, as I kissed her goodbye, I held her close and said, “Make sure you remember to take lots of pictures and video of your date with Harold!”
I called the hotel the next morning and made the reservation in her name, paying for it in advance.
Spent the next two days playing golf, hanging out with my buddies and expecting a call from Elle saying she’d canceled the date with Harold.
I ended up waiting all week and never got that call!
She called me at work on Monday morning, “Want to have lunch?”
She’d taken another, “Personal Day.”
I met her at a little seaside restaurant and found her sitting on the deck outside wearing a cute little sundress that I’d bought her, one that displayed her “assets” superbly.
A chaste kiss in greeting as I sat down, asking, “Nice weekend?”
She shook her head, almost as if she was expecting the smartass question…, “Asshole,” she muttered.
Managing a hurt look, I still got a smile when I replied, “Moi?”
We waited until we’d gotten a drink and ordered lunch, before I asked, “So…, how was dinner?”
This was “her” version of the evening’s events. Since I’d never known her to lie, I never bothered to ask Harold.
“I called him and asked if he would take me to the restaurant, “…, that a friend had suggested,” and he told me, “What I great idea…, since it is where I’ve already made the reservation. Should I pick you up?”
“That would have been interesting,” I interjected.
“I asked for the time and told him I’d meet him there. He was waiting and had reserved a table that was practically hanging over the water. It was very romantic.”
“What did you wear?”
“The pewter colored dress that you bought me.”
“How did he…,”
“He loved it…,” cutting me off before I could finish the question, “and he told me, “This is why I think you are so amazing. I don’t know another woman who could wear that dress and look, “sophisticated,” rather than, “disreputable!”
I didn’t respond to that.
But Harold was right. The pewter dress was very short, very tight and very low cut in the back and front. On a woman in the wrong frame of mind… the dress could make her look “… disreputable.”
Continuing, “So, we had drinks and then dinner. I asked him to tell me about himself and found out that he’s 71 years old, is a widower, has two children and three grandchildren, and owns his own consulting business, doing most of his business with the City and the State.”
“How long ago did his wife die?” I asked.
“I didn’t ask, but he told me he’s been going to the club for about four years…, so?”
“Did he ask about us?”
“He did, but I never answered directly, figuring I’d let him think what he wanted to think.”
When I didn’t say anything, she continued.
“So, we had a great meal and he ordered a wonderful bottle of wine to go with my fish…, it was really good. Nice conversation and like you, he knows a lot of stuff so it wasn’t boring. We had desert, along with an after dinner drink and then he asked, “Would you like to go somewhere…, where we can continue this conversation. maybe have another drink and I can enjoy a cigar?” That made me a little nervous and I guess bahis şirketleri he could tell because he said, “It’s only a short walk and they have a nice patio…, unless you’re bored and want to go home?”
“I shrugged and told him, “No I wouldn’t mind. It’s a beautiful night.”
I looked at her…?
“…, and guess where he took me?”
Before I could answer, she blurted out, “The Bayside Inn! It was practically right next door. And you were right, the bar was beautiful, but Harold wanted to smoke a cigar so we went out onto the patio, He order cognac and lit his cigar and we sat there watching the water…,”
“What time was it?” I interrupted.
Shaking her heard, “I had no idea. A little while later, seeing my glass empty, he asked if I’d like another drink. When I said, “I don’t think so. I’ve got to drive home and it’s getting late.” Looking at his watch, he said, “It’s not even 10:00. Have another one and if you then feel like you’ve had too at much, I’d be happy to drive you home.”
“What’s with that? Second time he wants to come to “OUR” house!”
She giggled and said, “I know. But I wasn’t feeling drunk or even high. I had a nice buzz so I said, “Okay, one more.”
“He ordered more cognac, re-lit his cigar and looked at me. I looked back and asked, “What?” Serious look on his face and he asked, “Elle…, why are you here?”
“It was THE question that I been waiting for all night. I figured I’d just say, “For the experience,” but at that moment…, I felt that I had to tell him the truth. So I said, “I’m here because I find you very attractive and very interesting. You and…, my husband, have lots of similar traits. In many ways, I’d like to think I see a lot of him in you at your age and if I’m lucky enough to have that be the case…, it makes you all that much more attractive.”
“Should I be flattered?” he asked.
“You should,” I answered, but his reaction wasn’t what I’d expected. He looked at me through the smoke of his cigar and said, “I’m flattered that you find me attractive and the comparison to your husband. But there is one big difference between he and I…,”
“…, and what’s that?” I asked, expecting to say how much older he was…,”
“With a smile, he told me, “If you were my wife…, you wouldn’t be here alone…, at least not with a man like me.”
Looking at her, “And you said…?”
“I smile and asked him, “Are you saying that he’s put me in some sort of danger by allowing me to come to dinner with you?”
“Now he gave me this beautiful smile and answered, “Only if you’re afraid of a man who harbors a wonton desire for your flesh.”
I almost choked on my drink, “Com’on…, you’re making this stuff up!”
A look of surprise, “I swear I’m telling the truth! What difference would it make? You wanted me to tell you what happened and I am. Why would I need to lie about anything?”
“I’m sorry,” I apologized, “go on.”
Looking at me…, “Where was I?”
“He was harboring a wanton desire for your flesh.”
Now she laughed…, “It does sound funny when you say it, but…, anyway…, I’d been really good about keeping myself covered up all night and he actually been really good about it too. Not that he didn’t look…, but at least he didn’t stare. So I told him I needed to use the ladies room and when I started to stand, he got up too and offer his hand to help me. When he stood up, I could see all of this talk about, “…, wanton desires,” was getting him excited, so when he let go of my hand…, I, “accidentally” let it brush against his erection…, and kept on walking. First I went to the front desk and picked up the room key…,” she stopped to gauge my re-action and getting none, continued, “and then I went to the ladies room, fixed myself up a little and retied the top of my dress….,”
“What time was it?” I interrupted again.
“It was…, ten something by the big clock behind the front desk…, and would you have cancelled the room at 11:00?”
“Of course,” I answered with a smug grin.
“Well you didn’t…, and stop looking at me that way. It was your idea to reserve a room!”
Smiling now…, “And was Harold able to cancel his…?”
Looking at me, not a look of surprise, but…, she just nodded her head and answered…, “Yes.”
I nodded for her to continue.
“When I got back out on the patio, he was looking out at the water, smoking his cigar and just looking really sexy. I quietly walked over to him, leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. Because I’d loosened the dress strings, my right boob fell out the dress when I leaned over and when he started to stand up, he bumped me, which caused the entire top of the dress to shift, my left one falling out too. I moved in front of him and when he finally was standing he looked at me, kind of got this goofy look on his face and then…, “Elle…,” and pointed at my chest. I looked down, tried to look embarrassed and said, “Oops,” and adjusted the top of the dress to cover myself. Then I held the room key up in front of his face. He got this shocked look…, like he couldn’t believe what I was holding…, and then he took a last puff of his cigar, dropped the rest in his ashtray and walked me into the lobby. Once there, he excused himself and went to the front desk. When he came back, I asked him, “Harold…, what did you just do?” He looked at me, turning three shades of red and asked, “The truth?” I shook my head, “Yes,” and he whispered, “I cancelled my reservation.”
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