It had been two years since the fantasy had started, two years of toying with the idea, of using it when sexting and to turn her husband on when whispering in his ear whilst he was deep inside her. But now, she sees him. The hotel bar was a favourite spot of theirs, and across the crowded space, there he was.

She leans over to her husband. "Do you remember when you said I could have a pass?" she whispers.

"What? Who? Wait... he's here?" he says, his eyes darting around the room.

She touches his leg, pulling his gaze back to her. "Yes, he's here. Can I?" she asks.

"Tonight?" he counters.

"Yes, please," she asks again, her eyes on fire.

"Can I watch?" he asks her, hardening at the thought of seeing someone else pounding his wife. She pauses.

"Well, yes. If he doesn't mind."

"Okay, but has he even seen you?" he asks, once again scanning the room.

"Not yet, but he will," she grins.

Age had given her body confidence she didn't have in her 20s, despite having a slimmer, firmer body back then. Now she was curvier, less firm, but strong from daily gym visits and craving a strong man whose arms could easily lift her and whose thighs could pin her to the wall. The bouncer fit the bill perfectly.

She can't remember who saw him first. They were both in the habit of pointing out people they thought the other would find hot, and after nearly 20 years of marriage, they knew each other's types pretty well. He'd been working the bar a couple of years ago, but despite many visits, they hadn't seen him since. Time hadn't changed a thing, though; he was still completely fuckable. Around 6ft and solid as a wall, she wasn't sure how he got trousers to fit those thighs, and tattoos snaked up his arms, disappearing into shirt sleeves straining around his upper arms. This was definitely a man who'd have no trouble holding her upright, and from the tightness across the front of his trousers, leaving little to the imagination, she was not going to be disappointed in that area either.

Now, how to get his attention? As a residents' bar, there was no official closing time, but it was now after midnight, and people were starting to drift away, either home or back to their rooms, which was exactly where her husband needed to go.

"I'll be fine. Leave me a key and go on up," she tells him. "But before you do, if he's not interested in coming to our room, can I still have him?" she asks, hope, longing, and pure lust evident in her voice.

"Yes, but at least try to bring me some evidence," he agrees with a wink before leaving her with a long, slow kiss and a pussy that was getting wetter by the minute.

She decides to move from the booth they were sitting in to a more prominent high table along the side of the bar, close to the entrance, where she can see her target chatting with another bouncer. She's more of an understated, informal dresser, and tonight the sheer shirt added an element of coverage to the leather corset that pushed her tits up and out like they were being presented on a tray, not huge but an ample handful, looking like they would escape the corset's confines with the slightest bounce. Jeans that hugged a butt firmed by months of squats led down to her favourite red-bottomed black heels. She feels good and knows there's a telltale glint in her eye of exactly what she's thinking and what she wants to do.

She's aware she's looking at him like a hunter watching her prey and is licking her lips when he glances over. He's locking the street-side door, and it's just a dozen or so hotel guests left in the bar. She slips off her shirt to mark her seat and heads over to the bar for one last drink. Returning to her seat, she turns and collides with the bouncer, spilling her vodka down his front.

"Shit, I'm sorry. Let me replace that for you," he says.

"Sure, but then you should be getting out of those wet things," she replies, with a long, lingering look down his body, taking in the hardness of his chest where the wet shirt is clinging to every muscle.

He smirks and heads to the bar, returning with two drinks, and sits next to her.

"Work finished?" she asks.

"Yes, where's your friend?" he inquires, looking around the bar.

She smiles. "Gone back to the room."

His eyebrows rise in disbelief. "And he left you down here alone, looking like that?"

"Looking like what?" she pouts.

"Hot and like you're about to devour something," he points out.

"Well, I am hungry," she agrees with a smile.

"Can I get you something?" he asks.

Hmmm, does she play coy or go for it? Fuck it, what's the worst that can happen? He says no, and she goes to her room alone for some pretty hot sex with her husband, who will be rock hard, just wondering what's happening.

"Yes. You," she tells him quickly before she can change her mind!

His eyes flash open wide, but from his slight shift in his seat, he knows exactly what she means.

"Me? Now?" he asks, wanting to make sure he'd understood. She wasn't wrong; he's rock hard and trying not to get in any trouble with his employer.

"Well, it's a bit of a proposition," she goes on to tell him.

He leans in further. "Now I'm really intrigued!"

"I have a room. I've watched you all night, and I don't intend on leaving without you joining me," she tells him.

"Okay, that doesn't sound like something that would make you look a little nervous," he says, a little confused. She laughs slightly and takes a sip of her drink, watching his eyes follow her tongue as she licks her lips.

"I'm not finished. My husband is in there. He wants to watch," she confesses.

Now he looks a little more shocked.

"Not to sound arrogant. In my line of work, I get propositioned fairly regularly, but this is a new one. He's a cuck?" he asks, his eyes widening. He does actually sound a little shocked too.

"Not yet, you'd be the first," she confirms.

He takes a slug of his whisky and thinks this over. His eyes drop to her cleavage, cleavage which is heaving now. She's watching him, watching her. His top shirt buttons are open, another tattoo peeks through the dark patch of hair visible in the gap. She's a sucker for a hairy chest and can feel her hands twitching, wanting to tear that shirt from his body and run her hands down his chest.

"Okay, I have an alternative suggestion for you. I want you, just you. If I don't get my mouth on those glorious tits and my dick out of these pants soon, I think it's going to burst through them. I want to touch you, taste you, and then, we can go up to your room and your husband can either watch me fuck you or join in. You in?" he counteroffers.

She can barely breathe, her pussy is soaking, her mouth is dry, and her heart is pounding so hard she's sure he can see it.

"Where? Where will we go?" she needs to know.

"I have somewhere. You in?" he asks again.

In response, she knocks back the last of her drink and stands up. "Let's go."

He leads her across the bar and out through a hidden door she hasn't seen before. She follows him through a maze of turns and up stairs before coming out into a corridor of what looks like guest rooms.

"Staff quarters," he tells her. "I have a room here, when it could be a late one."

The corridor is deserted. He suddenly turns and pins her to the wall, his mouth crashing into hers as his tongue slides into her mouth. With one swift movement, his hands lift her until her legs are around his waist and he's pulling at the corset to free her tits.  He succeeds and lowers his mouth, surprisingly gentle as he sucks on her nipple. She moans as he lifts her away from the wall and carries her down the corridor, his face still buried in her tits. With one hand he opens a door, stands her inside and kicks it closed behind him.

Shit, this is really happening, not that she doesn't want it to, but she needs to tell her husband where she is. The room is a smaller, more basic version of the main hotel rooms, and she quickly excuses herself and slips into the bathroom. Taking out her phone, she snaps a quick photo of herself, flushed and with her tits out, and sends it to her husband with the caption, "Just having a little taster before I bring him back."

The response came almost instantly. "Fuck me, well, fuck him first if you want, but hurry, I don't know how long I can wait!"

Stepping out of the bathroom, he's right there, shirt off, and she's practically drooling at the sight of this man mountain in front of her. His skin is a mass of tattoos, dark chest hair, and rippling but not bulging muscles. But just as she reaches out to touch, his hands capture hers, and he flips her around so she's braced against the wall.  He unzips the corset and slides his hands up to cup her tits before gently pulling her head to one side to kiss along her neck. He bends down, removes her shoes before sliding her jeans off, leaving her standing in just her silky panties that are so wet she's surprised they're not dripping.

"Let's slip these back on," he says as he returns her into her heels. "You need the height, and they're sexy as fuck!"

From his position on the floor, he slides his hand up the inside of her thighs, groaning loudly as he brushes against the wet silk. Pulling them to one side, he runs a finger along her soaking slit, causing her to arch her back and him to rip the panties off and spin her around. She's now completely naked except for her heels, and he looks up at her from his kneeling position.

"Fuck me, who are you?" he asks in disbelief.

"You don't need to know that. You said you wanted to taste me. What are you waiting for?" she tells him impatiently.

With that, he pushes her into a chair by the bed, runs his tongue up her thigh whilst touching that sweet spot behind her knee. He reaches the top, and his tongue flicks out on her clit, the sensation is electric and almost lifts her off the chair. He pulls her forward, hooking her heeled leg over his shoulder and dives in. She loves oral, its probably her favourite way to come, but this is insane: licking, sucking, probing. His fingers join in the action, curling into her as she clamps down around them.

"Stop! I don't want to come yet," she tells him as she stands, and now it's his turn to be pushed against the wall as she sinks to her knees.

She's fantasised about having this cock in her mouth for two years, and she's not waiting another minute. She unzips and frees him from the straining pants and, holy fuck, he's big. Easily 8 or 9 inches and with a girth that her hand barely gets halfway around.

"You're smiling. You like what you see?" he asks her.

"Yes, I tried this once before with a very different and disappointing outcome; that is definitely not the case tonight!" she says happily. 

She slowly reaches out and sucks the tip into her mouth while gripping the base. She's good at deep-throating, but this one is going to take a minute to adjust to. She works her way down his shaft, moving her hand to cup his balls as she succeeds in getting 6 or 7 inches in. His hands are in her hair, holding her steady as he slowly fucks her face.  He abruptly stops and pulls her to her feet, kicking off the trousers she left around his ankles as he once again picks her up as if she weighs nothing. She wraps her legs around him as he lowers her onto his dick. He takes his time, knowing his girth and this angle can be a lot to take. She's moaning in pleasure as she begs for more of him, and he pulls her down with a force that has her screaming enough for the surrounding rooms to hear.

He lowers them into the chair so she can take control, riding him, alternating with teasingly shallow dips into her wetness and sharp thrusts that have him digging his fingers into her hips. Time for him to take control again, he stands, lifting her with him before lying her back along the desk, all without once slipping out of her. 

He stands admiring the view as she arches her back, pushing herself back along his full length. He leans down to kiss her, his tongue dancing with hers. He stands again, his hands stroking, teasing along her tits until he's at her hips, and pushes his thumb to her clit, rubbing circles as he thrusts into her until she comes with a force that lifts her off the desk and he has to catch her before she slams back down onto it. With the force of her orgasm milking his dick, he's about to come himself, and he pulls out just in time to spray her tits and stomach.

He collapses back into the chair. Fuck, they were right about older women; they knew what they wanted, how to get it, and how to fuck. They're both silent for a minute, catching their breath before he goes to grab a towel for her to clean herself off.

"It's okay, leave it," she tells him.

He looks puzzled. She's covered in his cum, and it's running down the sides of her tits, and many women would be desperate to wash it off.

"I promised my husband I'd bring back evidence," she tells him.

He smiles. "Was he not thinking more like a photo?"

"No, trust me, he'll love this. I just need to get back to the room without losing it all. Are you still coming back with me?" she asks him. Hope and desire flood her pussy once again.

Wow, she's insatiable. Already his dick is stirring; he can go again. Women have always been impressed with his stamina and repeat performances.

He throws her a robe. "Here, let's go!"

Find out what happens when they get back to her room in Part 2.