by Bart Tracer
Without a last name, no hotel employee in his right mind would give out a room number! I’d look like a stalker, trying to find out the room number of two dudes I knew only by their first names. And if I tried the whole “My wife is in there having sex with them” routine, I’d be lucky if they didn’t call the vice squad on me. No, the hotel reception was a definite no go. Shit! I was back to square one.
In desperation, I checked through my recent texts, hoping that maybe the number was in there somewhere, but no dice. There wasn’t a single text from either Jamaal or Scott. Nothing. All the texts they had sent had gone to Jenny’s phone. Of course. After all, I wasn’t the one they were interested in, when it came right down to it.
I tried Jenny’s phone again. There was no answer. It rang just like before, then went to voicemail. My wife was obviously too occupied to answer a ringing phone. Too busy being fucked senseless, I thought with a grimace. I ended the call without leaving a message.
Finally, I decided that my only hope was to walk around the hotel. Maybe I’d get lucky and run into one of them. Or, if the other night was any indicator, maybe I’d hear her when I passed the door. Especially if Jamaal is fucking her, I thought. A sudden memory of Jamaal’s huge black penis flashed through my mind, and I groaned inwardly as I stepped up onto the curb and began to walk around the building. I was missing everything!
Starting on the ground floor, I met a young couple who came out of a room about halfway down the building, but the woman was tall, with flaming red hair. Definitely not my wife. I nodded and smiled at them, hoping that I didn’t look as desperate as I felt.
As I neared the corner of the building, I could hear the sound of a television through the door of the last room on that side. I paused, listening for Jenny’s voice, but all I could hear was the muffled sound of a car chase, a jumble of screeching tires and blaring sirens. I moved on.
The other side was the same. I didn’t see Jamaal or Scott or Jenny. Several times, I heard television sets through the doors, but I never heard anything that I could definitively peg as my wife’s voice. When I passed the office, the man behind the counter raised his head from the paperback he was reading and eyed me suspiciously. I smiled and gave him a friendly wave, which he ignored, and hurried past. Time to try the upper level, I told myself.
Mounting the stairs two at a time, I reached the second floor and began to walk along the narrow balcony, listening intently for the sound of my wife’s voice. In spite of my growing frustration, my cock was as hard as granite. It throbbed painfully with each step.
Whatever doubts I might have had about what she was doing had long since evaporated. Jennifer was having sex in one of these rooms. Probably with more than one man. And even though the fact that I was unable to find her drove me absolutely crazy with jealousy, the knowledge that she was at that moment being so naughty sent a shiver of eroticism through me.
Twice, I walked around the upper tier, trying not to look suspicious as I paused to listen in front of a couple of rooms. Up ahead, I saw two young men knock on a door and then disappear inside. Both of them were tall and blond. They weren’t the two men Jenny had come here to meet, but when the door opened to let them in, I thought I heard a woman’s high-pitched moan. I picked up the pace and stopped to listen in front of the door. Room 214.
The television was blaring rap music, but through the thumping bassline, I could have sworn I heard an aroused feminine voice. I strained my ears, but the sound never came again. It could have been Jenny, but there was no way to know for certain.
As I stood there listening, a man came out of a room two doors down and gave me an odd look. Realizing how I must look, loitering there with my ear practically pressed to the door, I nodded at him and walked further along the balcony.
I would have bet money that Jen was in that room, but what was I going to do, knock on the door and ask if anyone was fucking my wife in there? Seemed like a pretty good way to get the cops called on me. And I was in no hurry to explain my present situation to the authorities.
I tried her phone again as I walked down the stairs at the end of the balcony, but had no better luck than the first two times. It rang and rang. I ended the call before the voicemail prompt began and stuffed the phone back into my pocket. She was still too busy, apparently. I decided to make another round and then try Room 214 again. Maybe I’d get lucky and happen to be walking past when the door opened again.
I had gone no more than a couple of paces past the end of the steps when I noticed the man from the motel’s office leaning against the wall, watching me. Shit. I was drawing attention. I couldn’t really blame the guy. After all, I was acting suspicious. It was time for me to get the hell out of there.
Grumbling to myself, I turned on my heel and started back across the parking lot, headed toward the Hotel Sandpiper.
Chapter 9
Alone in our suite again, I paced the floor like a tiger in a zoo. The tomblike silence seemed to underscore the fact that my wife was not there.
Time and again, I checked my phone, hoping that Jenny would send me a text, but each time I was disappointed. Now, when I tried to call her, her phone went straight to voicemail. Either her battery had gone dead or someone had deliberately switched off her phone.
I typed out a quick text: Call me. Don’t know the room #. Who knew; if she turned her phone back on, maybe she’d see it.
Walking back and forth across the plush carpet of the living room, I wracked my brain, trying to come up with a way of contacting her. At one point, I considered returning to the Grand and pulling the fire alarm. Then, I could just wait in the parking lot for her to come rushing outside with all the rest of the guests. That would definitely do the trick.
But in addition to being highly illegal, it was also a pretty shitty thing to do. And probably not something that would leave her very pleased with me. No. I’d just have to be patient and wait for her to call. Unfortunately, patience was not one of my strong suits.
I looked at my phone again, checking to make sure it wasn’t switched to silent mode. It was not. She just wasn’t calling. Why the fuck wasn’t she calling?! The clock on the screen showed 9:33 PM. My wife had been gone for a little over two and a half hours at this point. Had she forgotten all about me?
Two and a half hours! Shit! They must have been giving her the pounding of a lifetime for her to be gone this long! And I was missing it all. The dull throbbing in my groin reminded me that I had been hard for almost the entire time. After our little shopping trip and shaving her for her date tonight, I was now sporting a truly colossal case of blue balls.
For the hundredth time that night, my mind filled with visions of my beautiful young wife being serviced by Scott and Jamaal. And with what had taken place in this very suite a couple of nights ago, my imagination had plenty of detailed material to draw on.
God, it had been amazing, watching her with them. I remembered vividly how insanely beautiful she had looked, on her knees with a hard cock in each hand. Never had anything turned me on more than the sight of her alternating between those two cocks, sucking first one, then the other. And when they had moved to the bed…
I closed my eyes and saw her biting her lip as Jamaal’s huge black cocked pried her pussy lips apart, working its way insistently up inside her pale body. Of its own accord, my hand strayed to my crotch, rubbing along the outline of my erection, pressing. Fuck, my balls ached like they were going to pop! I wanted… no, I needed to touch myself.
Maybe if I just played with myself a little, I told myself. I took a seat on the couch and opened my pants, freeing my cock. I wouldn’t cum. I’d just give my throbbing cock a few gentle tugs, just to relieve a little of the tension. I wrapped my hand around my cock and slowly stroked up and down.
A cascade of delicious warmth flowed over me immediately and an image of my wife’s gorgeous face flashed before me, her mouth torn wide open in orgasm as Jamaal pounded her from behind. My dick jerked excitedly. A shiver ran down my spi
ne and I began to stroke faster. God, I needed this! I imagined her taking a cock from each end and felt my breathing quicken.
With that image screaming in my brains, my balls suddenly tightened. I squeezed my shaft and held my breath, every muscle tense as I fought back the urge to cum. When the moment passed, I let my cock go. If I kept this up, I was going to shoot my load all over my belly. And I didn’t want that. No, I wanted to be ready to go when I saw my wife again. Whenever the fuck that might be, I thought with a scowl.
It was the strangest feeling, being left out like this. It drove me insane. More than anything else in the world, I wished that I was with Jenny at that moment, watching her being fucked by Scott and Jamaal. I longed to hear her cries of passion, to see the look on her face as she came for another man. But I couldn’t. I was here, alone. And she was there, with them. That made me more jealous than I had ever been in my life.
And in some insane way, the more jealous I got, the hornier I got. The thought of her spreading her legs for her two new lovers without me there was like an icy knife in my guts, but it made my cock throb with raw excitement. I’d never considered myself a masochist, but I had to admit that despite my frustration, there was something very arousing about this whole situation.
I reached for my phone again. It was becoming a reflexive action at this point, a habit, and when each time I found no messages from Jennifer, my jealous arousal grew. It was now almost 10 o’clock. She’d been gone for three hours.
As I leaned forward to put the phone back down on the table in front of me, I suddenly remembered the pictures I had taken earlier, the ones of Jennifer modeling her lingerie for me. I leaned back and opened the folder.
When the first image of Jenny in a matching set of bra and panties appeared, I found myself reflexively reaching for my cock again. For just a second, I debated putting the phone down and zipping up my pants, but the torture had gone on too long. “Fuck it,” I said out loud. I couldn’t resist any longer. I needed this. I needed this so bad. With my dick firmly in hand, I swiped to the next picture.
I went through the pics slowly, one by one, studying each detail of her sexy body while I stroked my aching cock. I was getting close by the time I reached the last image. It was the outfit she had worn beneath her dress when she left, the one we had chosen for tonight. I propped the phone on the couch beside me and began to stroke in earnest.
As the pressure built in my balls, I stared at the image of my wife, glaring into the camera with a “come fuck me” look. The red bustier. This was what she was wearing right now, I reminded myself. Somewhere, in a dingy motel room not a half mile from here, she was on her back wearing this bustier while another man rutted between her thighs. The thought made me lightheaded.
The little black thong in the picture would be long gone by this time. Who knew if I’d ever see it again! I closed my eyes and pictured Scott stripping those tiny panties down her long, toned legs and lifting them to his nose. Fuck! He’d probably keep them as a trophy. To remind him of the hot married slut he had fucked on vacation.
With that thought churning in my head, I lost it, thrusting my hips up off the couch as I came. I couldn’t remember ever having cum so much. It was like a river of lava flowing out of my throbbing cock, sending vibrations of pure pleasure racing up from the base of my spine. My stiff shaft pulsed and jumped again and again in my hand, pumping a huge load of semen out onto my belly in powerful squirts.
I moaned, throwing my head back into the cushions and clamping my eyes shut as the ecstasy enveloped me. Jenny’s face swam before me as my aching balls emptied themselves all over my shirt. It was so good, so long. For a moment, I thought I was going to lose consciousness. When the feelings finally subsided, I lay there panting, covered in sticky sperm.
What a fucking mess! I thought, grinning at myself in the bathroom mirror. I stripped off my soiled shirt and pants, dropping them on the tile floor. I reached into the shower and turned the knobs until I was satisfied with the temperature, then stepped into the stall. The hot water felt amazing as it ran down my tense body.
I stood there, letting the tension melt away. With my eyes closed, my thoughts turned once more to my wife. What was she doing right now? Was she being fucked by someone? Had she fallen asleep sandwiched between Scott and Jamaal? Somehow, that thought bothered me more than the idea of her being fucked.
As I reached for the bar of soap, I was only half surprised to see that my cock had returned to a full-blown erection. I soaped up my crotch and began to stroke myself again.
Suddenly, I remembered the two young men I had seen going into Room 214 at the Grand Hotel and my eyes shot open. If that had been Jennifer’s voice I had heard through the door, who were those two, and more importantly, what were they doing in the room where my wife was having sex with two college guys?!
I began to stroke faster as I pondered those questions. The answers were pretty simple, really. If it really had been the correct room, they were probably friends of Scott and Jamaal. As to what they were doing in that room, there were two possibilities: one, they were watching Scott and Jamaal tag team my wife or, two, they were helping them tag team my wife!
“Oh fuck!” I grunted in surprise as my balls seized again and shot a powerful bolt of sperm against the wall of the shower. The second spurt splashed against the tiles next to the first and began to lazily slide down the wall as a third rocketed out the end of my jerking cock to fall into the water beneath me.
I stroked myself until I felt my cock begin to soften, then slumped forward with my head against the wall. Breathing heavily, I watched a small eddy of milky white sperm swirl around the floor of the shower at my feet before being swallowed by the drain.
It’s strange, the things you think of at a time like that. But as I watched my sperm being washed down the shower drain, I had a sudden vision of four young men fucking my wife. But unlike mine, their sperm was destined for Jen’s married little pussy.
After my shower, I tried to watch some TV, but I couldn’t concentrate. All I could think about was my wife and what she was doing. I was soon hard again and took my phone into the bathroom to jerk off into the toilet while I looked at her pictures. My orgasm wasn’t as strong this time, but the relief was still welcome.
Three times in one night! I hadn’t tossed off so much since I was 18 years old! And still, I was so turned on I could scream.
When I had yet to hear from Jenny at midnight, I got ready for bed. I switched off the lights and slid beneath the sheets, but sleep wouldn’t come. Every time I closed my eyes, my mind was filled with images of sex. Legs and butts, cocks and pussy… Jenny’s sweet little pussy, shaved bare now for them to enjoy.
My cock, getting a little sore now from all the attention I had been lavishing on it, reluctantly rose to the occasion once more. With a sigh of resignation, I reached for it and rubbed out another load, lying there in the darkness, thinking about my wife riding a faceless young man with a cock the size of an Italian salami. When I came that last time, there was only a small dribble of cum that spattered onto my bare stomach. My balls were finally empty.
Chapter 10
I awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of the hotel door creaking on its hinges. Listening, I heard the familiar sound of Jenny’s steps in the other room. The clock on the bedside table said that it was 4 in the morning. I flicked on the lamp just as the bedroom door eased open. Jenny’s face peeked around the edge of the door.
“Hey,” she smiled sheepishly as she slipped into the bedroom. “Sorry I woke you.”
She was a mess, her dress wrinkled, her new stockings hopelessly laddered. Her black hair was no longer tied up into the neat ponytail it had been in when last I saw her. Now, it hung in lifeless, matted strands that drooped across her shoulders like a wilted houseplant.
The makeup she had spent so much time on was gone now, except for just the slightest hint of smudged mascara that streaked her eyelids. Her cherry red lipstick was nowhere to be f
ound, and as I looked at her mouth, I realized that her lips were swollen. Nothing dramatic, not like someone had hit her, just a little puffier than usual. This was a mouth that had seen a workout.
“Jen, where have you been? I was starting to get worried.”
She wrinkled her brow in confusion. “With Scott and Jamaal, baby. Don’t you remember?” She moved to the bed and sat down on the comforter next to where I lay. With her this close to me, I could smell the sex on her. “I thought you said you were going to catch up with us. I kept watching for you, but you never showed.”
“I didn’t know the room number. You never told me.”
“Oh my God, Ken. Why didn’t you just call my cell number?”
“I did. Like a hundred times. It just kept going to voicemail. I even sent you a text. But you never answered.” I hadn’t meant to sound so accusatory, but I was exhausted, and she had just awakened me. “Guess you were too busy.”
She stared at me, eyes wide. “Ken. No. I mean, yeah, I guess I was kinda busy, but I wasn’t ignoring your calls. My phone never rang!”
She reached behind her for her purse and pulled out her phone. She tapped the darkened screen. Nothing happened. She tried again, but the result was the same. The battery was dead.
“Oh baby. I’m so sorry! I must have forgotten to charge it. I’m so, so sorry!”
“I went there looking for you. I went to their hotel, but I couldn’t find you. I thought about asking the guy in the front office, but I didn’t know their last names.”
“You were there?”
I nodded. “I walked around the place a couple of times, looking for you. Until I got worried about someone reporting a suspicious character. Then, I came back here and waited for you to call me or text me or something.”
“I’m so sorry!” she repeated, reaching for my hand and squeezing it urgently. “I could have sworn I told you the boys were staying in 214.”