You have just gotten off the phone with your husband, after promising that you would do unspeakable things to him when you returned this evening, you've had to break the news that your trip has been extended and you wouldn't be returning until the next day. He is disappointed and frustrated, the images of his cock sliding between your red-painted lips have driven him mad in your absence.

You argue, he slams down the phone in anger, blaming you for things that are beyond your control. After a cry, you get dressed for dinner, "To hell with him!" you think, "I'm going to have some fun!" You dress provocatively, not intending to violate the promises you've repeatedly made to him, you just want to see if you've still got what it takes to attract a man: a little heavy on the make-up, the new black dress and lingerie that you bought to tease him when you got home, your lipstick in a shade to match the soles of the Louboutin's that you splurged on with your annual bonus. You look hot, like hotter than you ever have. Satisfied, you leave your downtown hotel room and head for the restaurant.

You don't have a reservation because you thought that, at 6:30 in the evening you'd be greeting your loving husband with a long delicious kiss at the arrivals area of the airport. You agree to wait at the bar for the first available table, ordering a glass of pinot-grigio and scanning the room. As you lower your glass, you see the red lip print and you smile at the memory of the time you left the same shade on your husband's cock at your last naughty weekend.

Around the corner of the bar, you see a tall, fit black man staring at his mobile with a sad look. He looks up and catches your eye, you offer a little smile which he returns. Your glass is nearly empty when the cute female bartender slides another in front of you, "With the compliments of the gentleman down the way," she says with a knowing smile. She's seen this game played out so many times before. You drain the remains of your first glass and raise the second, tilting it his way to thank him for the drink. You feel a stirring deep in your belly and dampness in your loins, you lightly pat the bar beside you, inviting him to join you.

"Are you waiting for someone?" he asks. You shake your head, "No, I'm hoping to get a table for dinner." You make a point of showing off your wedding rings as he sits down. "My date has stood me up, I have a table for 7:00, it seems a crime to waste the trip, would you join me, just for dinner," he throws up his hands to show he has no ulterior motive. You don't believe that for a second. After a few minutes, the hostess comes and tells him that his table is ready, he takes your fingertips in his hand and you follow the sway of the hostess's behind to your table.

The air is charged between you, as dinner progresses and as you get to know each other it becomes more so. "You're married then," he says. You tell him of your fight with your husband, how he blames you for your trip being extended and how you are very frustrated because you had expected that at this moment, you would be riding him into the sunset. He smiles, a little embarrassed at your forwardness, you just stare directly into his dark eyes, trying to tell him with only a look that, if he asks, you will say yes.

After dinner has been consumed, he orders more wine, you are getting tipsy and increasingly horny. You wonder if the stereotype about black men holds true in his case. As you finish your wine, he excuses himself to the washroom, while he is gone, you touch up your lippy, then, in a moment of pure recklessness, you take your room card from your clutch and ask the passing waiter to borrow his pen. "Room 311," you write on the paper cover of the card, "Please don't make me wait". You cover the writing with a print from your lips, place the key card on the table and leave. Every man in the restaurant casts a glance your way as you walk through the tables to leave. More than a few stare unashamedly, to the consternation of their wives.

Stopping by the front desk to replace the card that you have 'misplaced', you go to your room and nervously have a quick wash, "Am I really going to do this?" You take out your phone and text hubby; if he is conciliatory, you will call the whole thing off. "Going out with some co-workers, won't be late. I'll call when I get back." His response was immediate, "Whatever. I'm off to bed." Whatever. You guess he's still pissed. You take off your dress and make sure your make-up is perfect. As you recline on the bed, you hear a soft tap on the door. Going to the peep-hole, you see it is your dinner companion, you scurry back to the bed as quickly as your heels will allow you, "Come in!" you call.

He enters the room, closing the door quietly and flipping the security latch behind him. He stops when he sees you, creamy white skin with the black bra, garter, stockings and panties contrasting it, the bright red on your shoes and your lips standing out invitingly. He licks his lips and looks like he is about to speak but you quiet him with your finger to your candy apple red lips and a small shake of your head.

You are as nervous as the virgin you had been on your wedding night as you beckon him to join you. He sidles up to you, you reach for his jacket, pushing it back over his shoulders and trapping his arms, you grab his shirt collar and pull his lips to yours. You are beyond horny at this point, you are wanton, thinking only of carnal pleasure, all thoughts of your husband in the far back corner of your mind. Piece by piece, his clothes are fling to the corners of the room, as you slide his briefs down over his hips, his manhood comes into view, it flicks upward it clears the waistband, slapping against his belly.

You take it in your hand and gasp, never have you imagined anything so beautiful as this, long, thick and dark brown, the tip of the circumcised head glistening with us pre-cum. You lean forward and lick it off with your pink tongue before opening your red lips and taking him as deeply as you can in your mouth. His head alone almost fills your mouth as you try your best to take as much of him as you can. A few moments of this and you know he is as ready as he will ever be; you have been ready since you dropped the key card on the table.

You move over him, raising your hips and positioning yourself over his magnificence. Slowly, you lower yourself onto him, he stretches you wider than you have ever been, it is a little uncomfortable at first, but you are not dissuaded, you will take this monster inside you, whatever it takes. You raise up and try again, he sinks deeper into you but still, there are several inches of him protruding from you.

You lean over to the nightstand, taking out a small bottle of clear viscous fluid, applying some to him and a little to your opening, running your fingers inside to make sure, you reposition and try again. This time he is in you, your rounded buttocks coming to rest on his hips. His balls are large, you feel them against you as you hold yourself onto him. You start moving, as does he, and together you find a rhythm, drawing up so that only his head remains inside you and them down so that your pubic bones bump together. The feeling of him fills you, you have surprised yourself by taking him all the way inside you.

Your orgasm builds as his thickness agitates your g-spot, your fingers find your clit and in moments it hits you. Your orgasm explodes from inside you, a week of pent-up sexual frustration that should have favoured your husband rushes from you, drenching the both of you, running like a river down his shaft, over his balls, down the crack of your backside and onto the bed covers. Your lover never slows, bringing wave over wave from inside you, your sighs and moans fill the room, it is well it is still early, else you would have awoken your neighbours. As it is, you have likely interrupted the evening telly for them. He strains to move faster, his own orgasm approaching quickly.

A hotshot comes from him as he explodes inside you, triggering another debilitating orgasm, your body going to jelly as you collapse on top of him, holding him tightly as your body quakes with the aftershocks. As your breathing slowly starts to return to normal, he shifts and his cock stimulates you again, sending one last thrill through you before you raise yourself off him. You kiss tenderly, neither of you having uttered a word since your invitation to enter your room.

As you lay cuddled together in the afterglow, the guilt hits you, "What have I done?" Just then your mobile chimes, you reach for it, it's your husband, "I'm sorry. I did a stupid thing." Tears come to your eyes as the magnitude of your sins flood your consciousness. You reply, "I'm sorry too."

Turning to your clandestine lover, you kiss him softly. "You were amazing but you should go."

He blinks hard, not believing what he's heard, "But I..."

You stop him by placing a finger to his lips. "You were wonderful, this was wonderful but it should never have happened. You should go." Your eyes plead with him to understand, you don't want to admit your guilt to him so you just kiss him one last time and push him away. He smiles and gathers his clothes, blowing you a kiss as he removes the key card you left him and places it on the desk.

Your tears burst forth as your guilt overtakes you and you begin to come to terms with your infidelity, you reach for your mobile and call your husband. "Hi Baby, I'm so sorry..." and the tears begin again. You confess your sin and he confesses his, equally as grave as your own. You want to be angry but you can't be, you have both betrayed each other. You hope you can get past this and renew your love for each other. You text your boss, telling him you'll be returning home in the morning, as you have an emergency at home. The first available flight will get you home before nine AM. You cry yourself to sleep and dream of a joyous reunion with the man you love.