I love my wife Cheryl – in many ways, our life together is great. But I'm just not satisfied sexually. We've never really done it that much, and she's never been adventurous, and is hardly ever sexually playful, not wanting to try new things, even positions. When it comes to sexual intimacy, there's not much there. It's kind of like she just lets me have it occasionally, acting like it's okay, without being into it. Sound frustrating? It is.
But, like I said, I love her, and we have a great time together and get along fine, including pretty nice vacations abroad and smaller getaways here and there. Not long ago, we spent a long weekend halfway across the country at a Bed and Breakfast, a giant mansion built in the 1800s, three stories tall with rustic wood floors, quaint guest rooms, and plenty of antique art and furnishings. The entrance led into a huge reception area with a kitchen and dining area to one side and lounge area to the other, with a grand staircase in the middle going up to the dozen-or-so guest rooms down the hallways of the second and third floors. Rather than being numbered, the rooms were named after famous people from the manor and community in generations past. We were in the Dawnfield room on the second floor.
Our second evening, Cheryl and I arrived back at the B&B after spending the day out, grabbing a snack and drinks in the lounge area. Two people were checking in – a kind of dumpy guy probably in his late forties – graying hair a little unkempt, wearing old faded brown pants and running shoes and a t-shirt, not completely fat, but with a large belly and kind of skinny looking arms and legs. The woman was not dumpy at all – she was dressed in a waist-length jacket that called attention to what was below it: her nice slacks were wide in the legs but snug enough at the top to proudly display her shapely hips and butt. When she turned sideways, I was able see that she probably wasn't much younger than he, I guessed a well-maintained early forties. She wasn't gorgeous, but pleasant-looking, mature but not aged, with thick dark styled hair cut above her ears and short at her neck. The two of them were digging into the same bag to get documents and stuff, and by their relative ages and mannerisms, I assumed they were husband and wife. They looked like they went together, all except the fact that he looked like he'd let himself go over the years but she hadn't. Ah, and yes, there was the rock on her left ring finger.
Cheryl and I refilled our drinks and picked some more snack foods out of the small dishes with the tiny tongs. The stairs creaked loudly, attracting my attention as we returned to our little table. As I watched the couple ascend to an upper floor, the woman's mature but shapely ass swaying with each step, her slim boots gently creaking each of the stairs, I couldn't help but think that tonight, while Cheryl was already asleep with two layers of clothes and bed covers, withdrawn, this lady would be wide awake and naked, her husband going down on her, or perhaps her riding him. I told him with my mind, if I had an elegant lady like that, I'd get myself in shape for her, to demonstrate that she didn't deserve to have to be fucked by a dumpy pudgy guy. Yeah, I was judging him.
That night and the next (our second and third nights of vacation, and hey, the first too, come to think of it) played out in the same uneventful way. Back at the B&B after visiting a variety of sights during the day, Cheryl was ready to call it a night before I was, which was typical. Sure enough, after washing our faces and brushing our teeth, she got fully dressed in her pajamas – she brought the light blue ones on this trip, the ones with the subtle tartan pattern which make her butt look extra cute for some reason – while I was in only my boxers, hopefully as an encouragement to her. After some giggling social media viewing and commenting, she burrowed down in too many covers and turned the light off. I knew it was no use, but I tried to get amorous with her, kissing her neck and face, sliding my hands under the hot covers and finding as much of her bare skin as I could. She didn't reciprocate as I ran my hands up her back inside her pajama top and worked it around to a boob. I often did this, and the result was the same: she'd let me, almost as if she thought she had to, but didn't give back, and after a few minutes of genuinely trying to arouse her and not just grab, I'd give up and just lie against her.
As was typical, I lay there face up as she was turned away, and stroked myself with my fingertips, lightly so as not to make any movements and because, well, no lubrication. Thoughts of being with a partner willing to fuck bent over the chair or up against the window, or hell, anywhere for that matter, occupied my mind. I would often fantasize about having an affair or at least a tryst, a one-night stand, but I have never seriously considered propositioning someone I know, like a friend or coworker, because I'm afraid any advance I made would be met with hostility, and even if a fling did get started, I've seen enough movies to want to avoid even the remote possibility of things going south and the woman turning out to be a psycho bitch who would ruin my life. So I have been stuck with my fantasies and my porn and my self-gratification.
At home, after Cheryl drifts off to sleep, many times I get out of bed and have some “me time”, staying up a while, reading, or watching something on TV or streaming on the computer. Of course, that means watching porn and masturbating frequently, and not too long before this trip, I'd gotten into an online sex story site with forums and such where I could read dirty stories and make dirty comments and post dirty pictures. Sorry, not dirty, but, ahem, tastefully erotic.
I always take my computer with me when I travel. Yes to check emails, including work emails, download and edit photos that I take during the day, and pop in to news and social media. And of course, to watch some porn if I get the opportunity. So this third night, I crept out of bed and grabbed my computer bag that I had already prepared, pulled on some socks, pants, and a t-shirt, stepped into my shoes, and left the room. I always tell Cheryl that I may get up, and she's always known me as a night owl and is fine with it I suppose, and I always spin it that I don't want to disturb her, so when we're on vacation, it never surprises her for me to leave the room for a bit.
I had already scouted out the reception and lounge area, so after creeping as quietly as I could down the stairs, close to the outside to try to minimize the creaking, I tucked myself into the breakfast area, making sure no one else was around. I sat with my back to the wall, plugged in my computer, and connected to the WiFi and to my VPN. I started to scroll through work emails first, just to make sure nothing had blown up. It hadn't, and after I deleted a bunch of spam, I closed it and went on to personal email. Nothing much there. Social media... same old stupid political memes, a couple health issues and some pet and baby pictures, but nothing to hold my attention.
I heard creaking outside the room a couple times, thinking it was the stairs, but it stopped quickly. I thought I could hear muffled voices but couldn't tell if it was from inside or outside – maybe just guests going to their rooms? After a couple clunks in the distance, all was quiet again. I was so glad it was no longer raining – it had poured earlier in the day, and the rain and street noise would have made it hard to hear faint stirrings inside the building, but it was pleasantly quiet inside, thankfully.
So... on to the porn. First, I got up and surveyed the room to make double sure no one was around, then stepped outside into the lounge area for a quick peek. Seeing no one, I crept back to my station, knowing now, in case there was ever any doubt, that I'd be spending the next little while getting my porn fix. After switching my VPN connection to a server in Belgium, I stopped by the erotic story site and picked a couple shorter stories to read, looked at dirty picture forums, and then logged off to watch a couple videos out of the folders I'd copied to my hard drive before leaving home. Listening intently to make sure no one else was downstairs, I plugged in my earbuds and stuck one in my ear, leaving the other open. I unzipped my pants and fiddled with myself while I watched a hot blonde and brunette play with each other in their lingerie, pulling it off piece by piece while they kissed and fingered and sucked and licked each other everywhere. I stroked my full-on boner while the next video played, an elegant Japanese woman with an older man, removing her kimono and his robe and giving him an oily full body massage before they fucked in a variety of positions.
I didn't cum while I was watching. Many times I don't – cleaning up and risking someone catching me wasn't worth it in this setting, and I don't want to cum every time I watch porn, but rather like the feeling of edging myself and not feeling like I need to every time.
Shit, it was 12:42 am. Had I really spent over an hour and a half down here already? I zipped up, logged off everything, and packed up my computer and phone. As I left the room, the door creaking upon opening and closing, I was surprised that the floor was quiet, but stepped lightly anyway, anticipating the creaky stairs.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a blueish glow, and turned, expecting to see it coming from some signage outside. But I was surprised to see a face, inside, up against a wall, not a window, aglow with the light of a screen in front of it. Shit, had I really missed the other occupant when I peeked earlier? Had my ears not been as attentive as they should have been, and allowed creaking stairs and floor to go undetected?
I couldn't tell if it was a man or woman, but it was definitely someone, looking at a computer screen. I didn't want to stare, or even try to sneak away in case the person would think I was creeping, so I made a little bit of noise to let them know I was there, at a distance so as not to startle them. The person didn't move as I walked over to the snack table and clinked a couple things.
Closer to the person now, I was at this point sure it was a woman's face.
A long bench seat ran the length of the wall, with three tables in front, and chairs opposite the seat, so that the bench was seating for all three tables. The woman was at the very end, in the corner against the wall. Evidently to make room for her computer, she had pushed the other items on the table aside – a water glass, a tea cup and saucer, a honey jar, a small ceramic pitcher, a stack of paper napkins, and a vase of flowers. Studying her screen, but not typing or clicking, she was unaware of my presence.
But what caught my attention more than her face was the image behind her. You see, she was oblivious to the fact that the glass picture frame directly behind her was hanging, not fastened flush, angled downward a bit, and thus reflecting the image of her screen plainly to anyone standing in front of her, as I was now. And she wasn't looking over any documents, that's for sure! There were two naked bodies on the screen, intertwined, moving passionately. Was she watching porn?
It definitely was porn, I determined, as I shuffled another couple steps closer and continued to watch the reflection. It wasn't a set of fleeting glimpses of out-of-focus bare flesh that you'd see in R-rated moves. This was actual bare bottomed thrusting and naked titty sucking. A woman watching porn in the B&B lounge – how scandalous!
I decided, what the fuck, I was going to say hello. So I grabbed the pitcher of water from the table to use as a conversation starter, holding it up to her.
“Would you like a refill, ma'am?”
I knew that was an awful choice of words a split second after uttering them, and I knew I had said it too loud a split second after that. She jumped – literally jumped – off the seat, banging her knees into the table and yelping. Yanking on a little cord I hadn't seen before, an earbud popped away from her head as she clicked furiously a few times before closing the lid of her computer halfway.
“I'm so sorry,” I followed up with my nice quiet voice.
“You scared the f--” She censored herself and took a breath, “You really startled me.” What was that accent?
“I'm sorry, oh, I didn't see that you had earphones in.”
This was the woman who checked in with her chubby husband a couple days ago, I was sure of it. Even though I couldn't make out her body behind the table in the dark, that hair style was unmistakable. She wasn't a hot perky teenager, but she was kind of sexy, especially paired with my recollection of the rear view of her shapely figure from fifty-odd hours ago.
