Third night of a long business trip. At the bar, grabbing a quick bite and a glass of wine. Distractedly watching the game on the TV and glancing at my phone. Business types all around me; some attractive, most not. I'm a little aroused, I guess normal for a man at the end of an intense day. I miss my wife and wish she were up in my room waiting for me.

I glance up and see you. I am not, was not, seeking. Not even close. And yet. The eyes. The serious, intense look. You're dressed properly, well put together. Doesn't look like you're on the prowl. And yet. I can't stop glancing up. What is it? I can't put my finger on it. This kind of thing doesn't happen to me.

I try to distract myself with my phone and the game, willing myself not to look. Finish your dinner, I think, put it out of your mind. It's getting hard to be disciplined. So I pick up the phone and call my wife. It's wonderful to hear her voice, about her day, the kids, all the wonderful, slightly mundane things that I love about our life together.

There. I'm centered again. Until you speak. At first I think it's not me you're addressing, but I have to look up, and you're looking at me with a somewhat shy expression. I beg your pardon and you tell me that you are thinking you should probably call your husband, that I'm a nice, considerate man for calling my wife.

The ice broken, conversation unfolds. Some background revealed. Your laugh. Your eyes as they light up. Butterflies in my stomach, my chest. Everything seems alive in a way I haven't experienced in forever. Adrenaline rushing. So this is what it feels like.

You lay back on the bed, spread out before me, dressed only in your pearls. My god you are beautiful. I know I shouldn't. But I cannot stop myself. It's as if my entire life has led me, led us, to this point. I am hard, harder than I can ever remember being. My cock is poised. The scent of sex permeates the air. I push forward and you gasp.

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I hate business trips. I cannot stand leaving my beautiful, wonderful husband and three adorable kids. Another suburban hotel, could be any city. A mediocre glass of wine and a salad. Whoever said this life is glamorous has never lived it. I'm tired. I'm lonely. I can't wait to go back to my room and call home, maybe fall asleep to some silly movie.

Then I see you. I am a people watcher and usually a bit prone to condescending thoughts when in places like this. But there's something different about you. I'm slightly fascinated. My imagination begins to paint your story. And suddenly I catch myself. My nipples have hardened and there is a damp spot between my legs.

I chide myself and look away. I unlock my phone and begin to scroll social media, but I can't focus. I have to glance over again. I'm becoming a trifle mesmerized. I'm in unfamiliar territory. A good, faithful wife and mother. I force my eyes downward, but have to look up again, and that is when our eyes lock.

Did I blush? I glance downward. Then I hear a voice, your voice. I eavesdrop. Am I a bad person? You're talking to your wife. There is a tenderness in your voice, a warm familiarity. Did jealousy just creep in? I think about my husband, back home, but my mind drifts back to you. Your call ended, I initiate the conversation.

This is like a dream. Here I am, on my back in your room. So many decisions have been made by both of us, conscious and unconscious. Eros is guiding me now. I feel beautiful, sexy, naughty, dirty. I must be a slut for being here. The thought thrills me. Your cock is glorious, and hard, so hard. As you enter me. I moan in surrender.

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I feel the impending eruption. I cannot hold it back any longer. Our tongues dance as I drive myself into you. Your legs wrap around my back, pulling me deeper in and locking me in place. Your pleading mixes with your cries of delight and I lose myself completely inside you, my seed flooding you in the most intimate act in which two people can engage.

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I ride the wave again, it is cresting. So many times the waves have crashed already. This time I sense you are close to the crest as well, and I implore you, beg you, scream your name, dig my nails into your back. Tears stream down my face as I feel you empty yourself into me and I crash hard on the rocks.

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Laying next to you, I stroke your back, your hair, your face. The afterglow feels wonderful. How do I describe this? It cannot be love, and yet it's not trivial either. This will take some time to sort out, but something has changed. Something inside me has been awakened. And only you could have lit that flame.

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I'm alternatingly smiling and sobbing softly. I didn't know I could feel this alive. What I've done, what we've done, is so very wrong, and yet so very perfect. And I know, as surely as I've ever known anything, with your loving gift deep inside my vessel, that I will never, ever, be the same again. You have completed me.