I took another look at the instant message from Mark.

"Bastard!" I muttered to myself under my breath.

The queue for the wine bar shuffled forward as a middle aged couple were shown to a table. At this rate it would be half an hour before I could get a drink. Not that I particularly wanted to start drinking at two o'clock in the afternoon. But the choices in Terminal C were limited; McDonalds, Starbucks or the Wine Bar. I had already consumed two espressos. The wine bar was the only acceptable option left.

It didn't look like any of the customers would be leaving soon. The storm had come in sooner than expected and the departure board was covered with news of delayed and cancelled flights. If I had been five years younger and a little less married, I would be already seated while someone else bought me a drink.

After another ten minutes passed, a party of five paid and left setting in motion a reshuffle of tables that brought me to the head of the line. My hopes were raised momentarily as a pair of businessmen stood up and shook hands, then sank again as only one of them made his way to the exit. The other man sat down and called the waiter over to order another drink.

I hid my frustration in my iphone. Only to be reminded of Mark's message. I knew it was ridiculous to be upset when there was little chance I would be making the date myself. But this would be the first Valentine's date I had ditched on. Since the wedding, Mark's record had been unbroken: six years, six missed Valentines dates. He had missed other dates, including several birthdays and even an anniversary. But St Valentines was the only date he had stood me up every single year.

I reminded myself that Mark's absence on important dates is just part of the price of marrying a surgeon. A date is over the moment the call comes. From that moment on, all he can think about is his patient, regardless of whether he can make it to the hospital in time to operate. A dim witted nurse once called him on his mobile to see if he could come in to operate when we were five thousand miles away in Maui. For the rest of the day he was with me in body only... his mind was back in the operating theatre.

There are compensations of course and not just the timeshare in Hawaii or the cottage in the Berkshires: Mark knows how to apply all his dexterity and his knowledge of anatomy to make me cum time after time. And every time he blows off a date he makes sure he works extra hard to please me in the bedroom.

He had made up for missing last year's Valentine date with an oral marathon making me come four times in a row. It had felt so good, I had for a split second considered offering to let him take my anal cherry in return before coming to my senses. Mark had been angling for anal since we got married and judging by his recent purchases of anal porn novels on our shared Kindle, another campaign of persuasion was under way. Should have made sure you kept our date, I chuckled to myself.

My attempt to phrase an appropriate 160 character response was interrupted by the waiter.

"The gentleman asked if you would mind sharing his table?"

A few minutes later I was sipping a glass of overpriced Chardonnay sitting opposite a well dressed businessman called Charles. Rather to my relief, he wore a wedding ring and made no attempt to buy my drink.

Charles spoke with a rich English accent and a dry self-mocking wit. The conversation flowed easily and without pause until my second glass of wine arrived and I suddenly realized that for the past twenty minutes I had been doing all the talking. I had told him almost everything about myself, my life, the reason for the trip, and my frustration that Mark had blown off yet another Valentine's date.

Not that Mark's absence would make a difference: The weather maps made clear that no planes would be taking off for another four hours at least. There was little chance of making it home tonight at all, let alone in time for the romantic dinner we had planned.

I decided to make Charles tell me more about himself. He described himself as a sort of corporate problem solver which he claimed to be less difficult than it sounded as his clients always seemed to know what they should really be doing and the only challenge was to persuade them to accept it.

"Are you persuasive then?" I asked.

Charles made no reply. I looked up at his blue eyes staring back at me and knew that all he needed to do was look at me with those piercing blue eyes and I would do anything he asked.

Just like he had said, I had already told him what I thought I should do. His proposal merely put my desire into words. I wanted to spend the rest of the afternoon with him.

* * * * * 

I was a happily married woman but it didn't take long for Charles to brush aside my remaining inhibitions with his simple, concise instructions.

On the way to the airport hotel, "Hold my hand."

In the elevator to the executive floor, "Kiss me."

Entering the suite, "Take off your clothes."

Becoming naked for Charles was easy: His instructions were not so much orders as permission to break the rules.

I am not an easy lay by any stretch of the imagination. I had never even fucked on a first date before. But I knew it was going to happen the minute I gave him my hand. I had never so much as looked at another man with an impure thought. But I felt a shiver run through my entire being when he kissed me on the lips.

A large closet covered one wall of the room, the mirrored doors throwing my naked reflection back at me. Even my naked body reminds me of Mark. He likes me to wear my hair long and to shave my sex completely bare, which I do to please him.

Behind me, Charles looked at me appreciatively, still fully dressed. I shivered with anticipation as he ran his hands over my naked breasts, his teasing fingers barely touching my taut nipples. The warmth of his hands felt so good against my skin as he explored my body, touching me, owning me. My sex was wet to his touch, ready for him, aching to be filled.

My hands reached instinctively for his cock, touching his stiffness through his pants.

His prick was long, thick and very hard. I began to unzip his pants to slip a hand inside but Charles was too quick for me, grabbing a fistful of my hair and giving a sharp tug.

Too surprised to feel pain, I opened my mouth to complain but no words came out as his blue eyes stared back at mine.

Charles guided me into the position he wanted: Bent over the desk with my rear pushed out towards him and my head turned so that I could see our reflection in the mirrored doors. He held me by the hair with his left hand and pressed the fingers of his right into my sex. I badly needed the satisfaction of being filled and felt like I might have cum almost immediately but Charles deliberately kept me off balance with sharp tugs to my hair to bring me down each time an orgasm started to build.

With a smooth flowing motion, Charles moved from finger fucking me to working my whole slit with his fingers with his thumb pressed firmly up against my asshole. This was a new but not unpleasant sensation. After another tug at my hair I realized he had slipped his thumb inside my ass.

A whole new rhythm began. Instead of tugging at my hair to bring me down, Charles pressed his thumb further into my ass forcing me to take a sharp intake of breath. By this time I was too far gone to care about anything other than reaching my long-delayed climax. I decided to end it the only way that I could think and pushed my hips back to impale myself completely on his hand. I felt a white hot pulse of energy flowing out from my center to my breasts and thighs, then another smaller glow as Charles worked my sex and ass with his hand.

By the time I recovered my senses, he was riding me slowly, missionary style, twisting his thick cock inside me at the end of every stroke. I gave an inward sigh of relief: the adulterous deed was already done.

Charles was a sexual gourmet. He knew every trick to get the most out of every position. In missionary he raised my legs to allow himself deeper penetration. Then in doggy style he pressed my shoulders down onto the bed so that his prick drilled directly into my G-spot. Finally he rolled off me onto his back and told me to ride him.

This was my first chance to get a good handful of his cock which was long, thick and uncircumcised. I kissed the tip gently and slid him home inside me.

I felt the beginnings of another orgasm but that would be unfair, I thought. I had to make him come first and I knew just how to do it.

Turning round on his cock to face away from him, I bent low to press hard on his cock and offer him a full view of my ass. He took the cue, placing his hands on my bum and working his thumb back inside me. It took only a few more strokes to make Charles come loudly with thick spurts inside me.

I thought we were finished but Charles barely paused for breath: "Clean it up!"

His cum was thick and tasted slightly salty. Charles returned the favor, licking my slit clean and working my clit with his tongue. His cock was quite impressive even deflated. Then I felt his grip tighten on my hips and his cock stiffen in my mouth as his tongue began work on my anus.

I tried to relax knowing that Charles was preparing me for the pain that would soon come. But when the time came I felt neither pain nor pleasure but merely a sheer intensity of being.

Charles had laid me out on my front with my legs pulled apart and up to each side to open me up wide. He lay on top of me, his full weight bearing down on top of me with my hair twisted round his right wrist, his left hand squeezing my breast and the tip of his prick pressed up hard against the center of my being.

The prick pinning me to the bed began its remorseless descent into my ass slowly, quarter inch by quarter inch, then stopped.

"Deeper, deeper," I begged. But Charles was already fully inside me.

His entry had been so slow and deliberate that the idea of him actually fucking me seemed ridiculous. But he started moving inside me with smooth strokes that gradually picked up pace. I felt his fingers on my nipples and clit. Stroking me, pulling my body into his, owning me.

I arched my back and beat my fists into the mattress as I came the second time. Charles continued to bugger me without pause, each thrust wringing another climax from me.

* * * * *

A short while later I was back at the terminal, all traces of my two hours of passion with Charles scrubbed and rinsed away. Dorothy must have felt the same way when she returned to Kansas from Oz: Had my adventure been real or was it just a dream?

The crowd of passengers had thinned as flight after flight had been cancelled. My flight was one of the few left on the departure screen saying 'Delayed' and not 'Cancelled'. The predicted departure time slipped again and again making me hope against hope that I would look up and be released to spend the night with Charles. But instead the word Delayed turned to Boarding. Some of the passengers cheered.

I held out hope of a last minute flight cancellation until the very last minute when the stewardess announced that the cabin door was closed and it was time to turn off cell phones. My stomach sank: My last chance of a second round of carnal passion had gone after all.

My phone vibrated as I reached into my purse to comply: A message from Mark, 'Happy Valentines'. I felt a sudden surge of relief mixed with desire. It would be very late by the time I got home and Mark would be thinking of sleep rather than sex but I knew one suggestion that was guaranteed to arouse his interest.

Trying to think as little as possible about the consequences, I quickly typed in a response and hit send. There was no going back now, the deed was done. I spend the whole flight playing and replaying the endless possible scenarios in my head.

Mark met me at the airport and one look at his face told me that this was a Valentines night neither of us would ever forget. Just to make sure, I leaned forward as we kissed and repeated my promise in his ear.

"It's time baby: Anal sex."