I Cheated on My Husband with a Stranger at the Hotel

My name is Carla, and I’m twenty-four years old. I’m telling this now because I need to get it off my chest, even though I know no one in my circle should ever read it. I have fair skin, shoulder-length brown hair, and eyes that change color depending on the light. I’m a little over five foot three, and I’ve always been aware that my body attracts attention, especially when I walk without meaning to.

I got married at twenty-two, while I was still studying business administration. My parents accepted the marriage because Esteban had courted me for years and, at thirty-three, he was already an architect with his life all sorted out. He wasn’t ugly, not by any means. If I accepted, it was for two reasons: to escape the constant supervision at home and for the comfort he offered me. To be honest, I saw him less as a man than as a certainty.

Sex with Esteban was adequate. Neither bad nor memorable. He fucked me the way he handled everything in his life: orderly, politely, without surprises. Always the same routine: two kisses, a little lukewarm fondling, missionary penetration, and ten minutes later, his ejaculation inside the condom and a kiss on the forehead. He never made me come for real, and I’d stopped pretending months ago. I would lie there staring at the ceiling with my panties still half on, my pussy throbbing with unsatisfied desire, and have to slip two fingers inside myself in the bathroom so I could sleep peacefully. Certainty gets boring too, after a while.

What I’m about to tell you happened during a week at the beach in summer.

The first few days passed according to our usual routine: breakfast, beach umbrella, reading, nap. But by the third day I was restless and horny. If anything turned me on, it was seeing male bodies pass in front of me, and even more noticing how they looked at me—that barely concealed hunger in the eyes of a man imagining me without my clothes on. My eyes kept drifting to the bulges outlined beneath wet swim trunks, to the thighs of the men coming out of the water dripping wet, to the large hands of a stranger who asked me the time. Esteban slept on his side, oblivious to everything, while I squeezed my thighs beneath the towel and felt my thong stuck to my soaked pussy.

That night I suggested we go out to a bar. He readily agreed, as always. I’d never had any trouble convincing him to drink too much. He drank whiskey after whiskey until, well past midnight, we returned to the room with him talking slowly and laughing at anything.

“I’m going to take a shower,” I told him, handing him a glass of water with what he thought was an aspirin.

It was a sleeping pill.

I locked myself in the bathroom and didn’t waste any time. I put on black stockings, a matching thong, and a red miniskirt that barely covered what it needed to. On top, I wore a white blouse so thin that my hard nipples and dark areolas showed through the fabric. I wouldn’t have dared wear it during the day, but the darkness hid enough. I threw on a robe, and when I came out I found him already sunk in a heavy sleep, breathing slowly and deeply. I left the robe on the bed, took the room key card, and closed the door without making a sound.

***

I went down to the hotel bar. I ordered a vodka with an energy drink and sat down to wait for whoever might show up. There were men alone and couples, but none of them interested me. The first drink passed, then the second. I started thinking the night was going to be a failure.

On the third, with the alcohol warming me from the inside, my gaze met that of a thin blond man who had been watching me for a while. He wasn’t my type, but horniness doesn’t care about details. I crossed my legs and moved them slightly, looking for friction to push me into making up my mind. Just as I was about to hold his gaze, another man stepped between us.

He wasn’t handsome. He wasn’t my type either, and not because of his skin color, which was dark, but because he was enormous, broad-shouldered, with a bit of a belly and arms hard as tree trunks. He was close to six foot three, bald, and I guessed him to be around forty. The blond had lost his chance without knowing it.

“Good evening, miss. May I buy you a drink?” he said, with a smile that was part cheeky and part question.

I thought about it for a moment.

“Yes, thank you,” I replied.

“My name is Damián.”

We talked for almost an hour about unimportant things. He was more charming than his size would have suggested, and every so often I caught him staring fixedly at my nipples showing through the blouse, which made me laugh. When I said it was getting late and that it would be best to return to my room, his face darkened. But he nodded like a gentleman and offered to walk me there.

We left the bar. We had to cross the hotel’s inner courtyard, broad and silent at that hour, with the palm trees motionless beneath the low lights.

“It’s a hot night,” he commented. Then, without pausing: “Although the hottest thing about the night is being beside you.”

I laughed nervously, not knowing what to say. It didn’t matter. He took me by the waist with one hand that nearly spanned my entire back and turned me toward him. With the other, he held my face and kissed me. It wasn’t a gentle kiss; it was a claiming kiss, his tongue inside my mouth from the very first second, searching for mine, sucking it as if he wanted to pull it out. I didn’t resist. I returned the kiss with the same hunger and bit his lower lip. I confess that his size intimidated and aroused me in equal measure. Against my belly, I felt the first bulge of his cock growing inside his trousers, and I knew at that moment that I was going upstairs with him, whatever it took.

Between kisses and caresses growing hotter, we reached the elevator. As soon as the doors closed, one of his hands dropped to my pussy over my skirt while the other slipped beneath my blouse, grabbing an entire breast in his open palm, squeezing it and pinching my nipple between his thumb and forefinger. I held the back of his neck while he kissed my neck from behind, and I felt the hard bulge of his cock against my ass, outlined beneath his trousers, a pressure that made me swallow. Out of reflex I tried to push his arm away, more from habit than desire. He wouldn’t let me. He put his hand under my skirt, pulled my thong aside in one tug, and shoved two fingers into my pussy all at once, without warning. I let out a hoarse moan against the elevator mirror and felt my juices run over his knuckles.

“You’re soaked,” he murmured in my ear, his voice thick. “Little slut.”

The doors opened. He pulled out his fingers abruptly, brought them to his mouth, and sucked them while looking at me. He took my hand and we walked to his door, stopping once more to kiss against the hallway wall. He swiped the card and we went inside.

***

As soon as we were inside, I began unbuttoning my blouse myself, because the last thing I wanted was for that man to tear it. When he saw my naked breasts, he looked at them as if he were seeing something he’d been waiting for a long time, and leaned over them without asking permission. He caught one nipple in his mouth and sucked hard, tugging with his lips, while his other hand squeezed my other breast until I moaned from the mixture of pain and pleasure. We hadn’t even reached the bed yet.

We fell onto an armchair. He sat me on his thighs, kissing my mouth, and suddenly caught one of my nipples between his lips while one hand pulled my hair and forced my head back. I felt the exact pressure of his mouth, his insistent tongue drawing circles around my areola before lightly biting it. With his other hand he fondled my ass beneath my skirt, squeezing my cheeks with fingers that left marks on my skin.

“Slow down,” I whispered.

He ignored me. His fingers had already slipped inside me, thick, clumsy, irresistible. Three fingers now, moving in and out with a brutal rhythm, and the wet sound of my dripping pussy filled the room. He sat me down in the armchair, undid his trousers, and freed something that made my eyes widen. In the elevator it had barely begun to wake up. Now it was fully erect, and bigger than anything I’d ever been with before: a dark, thick, veined cock, its swollen, shining head pointing toward the ceiling. I estimated it at over eight inches, with a girth I couldn’t have enclosed with one hand. I looked at it with a mixture of desire and genuine fear.

He gave a brief laugh, almost tender, and brought my hand to his body. I took it and began masturbating him, using both hands because one wasn’t enough, while he pulled my hair again and devoured my breasts frenziedly, sucking and biting, leaving red marks around my nipples. He guided my head downward. I tried to put it in my mouth, but I could barely fit the head. My tongue played with the tip, gathering the drop of pre-cum escaping from it, and he moaned with pleasure, his head thrown back. To make it easier, I licked him all over, from his balls to the tip, slowly, never looking away from him. I sucked his balls one at a time, taking each entirely into my mouth, while my hand stroked him up and down. I returned to the head and swallowed as much as I could, gagging, tears escaping my eyes from the effort. He held my head with both hands and began fucking my mouth at his own pace, forcing his cock down my throat.

“That’s it, slut, take all of it,” he panted.

As he did, one of his hands lifted my skirt and began working between my legs with two fingers, moving in and out of my pussy while his thumb rubbed my clitoris in precise circles. I already felt as though I were being fucked from both sides at once. But before he lost control, he yanked me away by the hair.

“Not yet,” he said. “You’re not going to make me come yet.”

He grabbed me by the waist, lifted me as if I weighed nothing, and dropped me onto the bed. He knelt, yanked off my thong—I heard the fabric tear—and buried his mouth between my legs. I was already at the limit. I writhed while his tongue moved with a patience I hadn’t expected from such a large man. He licked my pussy from bottom to top with his flat tongue, finishing with quick lashes across my clitoris. Then he thrust his entire tongue inside me, fucking me with it, while his thumb pressed against my clit. When I tried to pull away, convinced I was going to faint, he held my thighs in his arms and wouldn’t let me escape. He sucked my entire clitoris, took it into his mouth, and drew on it as if he wanted to pull it off.

I came like that, trapped, unable to do anything to stop it, pushing his face against my pussy with both hands and screaming into the pillow he’d put over my mouth so I wouldn’t wake the whole hotel. He didn’t care. He continued until he tore a second orgasm out of me on top of the first, while I was still trembling, my clitoris so sensitive that every brush of his tongue sent an electric shock through me, jerking my hips.

***

When he let me go, his face was soaked with my juices and he wore a satisfied smile. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, grabbed my ankles, spread my legs until my knees nearly touched my ears, and began entering me little by little. He helped himself with his hand, pressing the head against my pussy lips and rubbing it up and down before beginning to push. After my orgasm, every inch made me spasm, and I felt my pussy forced open to let him through.

“Slowly, please,” I managed to say. “It’s very big. You’re going to tear me apart.”

“That’s what I want,” he murmured. “To tear you apart.”

It took him a full minute to get all the way in. Every time he pushed a few more inches, he stopped, letting me adjust, and I felt his cock fill me in a way Esteban never had. When he finally buried it to the balls, it felt as though the tip were touching my stomach. Then he began to move, slowly, with his entire weight on top of me, kissing me to silence my complaints. I felt every vein of his cock rubbing against the walls of my pussy; every movement created a new friction. The calm didn’t last long. Soon he sped up, and the sound of his balls slapping my ass filled the room along with the wet slapping of my soaked pussy.

“Slower, you’re killing me,” I protested, my words lost against his mouth.

“Are you enjoying it, little slut?” he asked in my ear without stopping his thrusting. “Say yes. Say you like me fucking you like this.”

“Please, take it out.”

“You can say whatever you want,” he murmured, “but your pussy is asking me to keep going. Look how it sucks my cock. It doesn’t want to let me go.”

And he was right; that was the worst part. My body betrayed me, tightening around his cock, pushing me against his hips to take him deeper. When another spasm shook me, he pulled away suddenly, yanking his cock out and leaving me empty and needy, then dropped onto his side, panting, his cock wet with my juices gleaming against his stomach. I didn’t give him a moment’s rest. An impulse made me climb on top of him, kiss him, bite his neck, and guide his cock back inside my pussy so I could ride him at my own pace, my legs spread wide because of his size. I felt him enter from another angle, even deeper, and let out a long moan when I bottomed out with my clitoris pressed against his pubic bone.

My face must have been a picture of suffering while everything else was pure pleasure. I began moving in slow circles, rubbing my clitoris against the base of his cock, and he helped with gentle thrusts from below, each one at a different moment, making it even more pleasurable. I took his face in both hands and kissed him deeply, pushing my tongue all the way into his mouth while I moved up and down on his cock.

“That’s it,” he moaned. “Ride it all the way.”

“Do you like my pussy?” I asked without stopping. “Do you like the way I suck you with my pussy?”

“I love it, slut. You’re a whore.”

He raised my hands to my breasts and squeezed them hard, twisting my nipples between his fingers. I turned around and mounted him again facing away, giving him my back. Now he could see my entire ass bouncing on his hips, his cock moving in and out of my open pussy. He held me by the waist and began guiding the rhythm more forcefully, lifting me and letting me drop onto his cock, while I spread my legs as wide as I could. With one hand he brought his finger to his mouth, spat on it, and placed it against my tightly closed asshole, pressing lightly until it slipped in to the first knuckle. The double sensation tore a scream from me. Another spasm, another orgasm. My pussy contracted so hard I nearly made him come. We stayed like that for quite a while.

“Get on all fours,” he said at last, accompanying the order with a sharp slap on my ass that, far from bothering me, turned me on even more.

I obeyed. I settled on my knees on the bed, my ass held high and my legs spread, and felt his eyes fixed on my dripping pussy and my asshole, still tight. He nipped my buttocks with little bites while his tongue moved in and out of my pussy, then climbed higher, licking my entire ass from bottom to top, coating my hole with saliva. I was enjoying myself as I rarely had in my life when he placed both hands on my waist and entered me again. This time it felt even deeper. I saw lights. With every inch, I thought I would pass out. Then he stopped being slow. He thrust with his whole body weight, his cock going all the way in to the balls and coming almost all the way out before sinking back in, stopping only to slap my ass with his open palm, and although it hurt, the pleasure was immense. With the thumb of his right hand he pressed against my asshole while he drove into me, and that double pressure had me on the verge of fainting.

“What a delicious pussy you have, slut,” he panted as he pounded me. “This pussy needed a good cock.”

“Yes,” I moaned, unable to stay quiet. “Yes, fuck me, give me more.”

“Your husband doesn’t fuck you like this?” He grabbed my hair and pulled me backward. “Do you tell your husband you’re a slut who spreads her legs for strangers?”

I felt another orgasm coming and, almost instinctively, tried to escape forward. He wrapped an arm around my waist, pulled me against his chest until I was nearly kneeling against him, and kissed my neck without taking his cock out of my pussy.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he whispered. “You wanted this, and now you’re going to have it. You’re going to come with my cock inside you as many times as I want.”

He began thrusting again in that position, one hand squeezing a breast and the other moving down to my clitoris to rub it while he fucked me from behind, until the orgasm left my legs trembling, unable to support me. I collapsed face down against the mattress, and he fell on top of me without pulling out, crushing me beneath his weight, fucking me against the bed. He didn’t stop because of that. On the contrary, he used more force, his hips hammering my ass, his breathing increasingly ragged, until his entire body tensed.

“I’m coming,” he growled. “Where, slut? Inside?”

“Inside,” I panted without thinking, my face pressed into the pillow. “Come it all inside me.”

I felt him grow even harder a second before he finished, holding me with both hands so I couldn’t move, and then the hot stream of his cum filling me, shooting inside me once, twice, three, four times, while he moaned against the back of my neck. I felt his seed overflowing and beginning to run down my thighs even before he pulled out.

Afterward he stayed still, still inside me, kissing my back while I slowly caught my breath. When he finally withdrew, a thick river of semen dripped from my open pussy, and he watched with satisfaction, running his palm over his gleaming cock to clean it off against my buttock.

***

“Are you leaving?” he asked, stroking my hair.

“Yes, I’m sorry.”

“Stay. I promise we’ll only sleep.”

“I can’t. My husband will worry if I’m not there when he wakes up.”

“You’re married?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes. You never asked.”

He smiled without reproach and fell back onto the bed, his cock still semi-erect, resting against his thigh and shining with our juices. I dressed as best I could, feeling his cum continuing to run down the insides of my thighs and soak the inside of my stockings. I didn’t realize the stockings had torn until I had them on, but I was too tired to care. He reached out, found my shredded thong, and lifted it to his nose, smelling it with his eyes closed.

“I’m keeping this.”

They were my favorite, but I didn’t have the energy to argue. I kissed him on the mouth goodbye, and felt him slip his hand beneath my skirt one last time to touch my soaked pussy and pull out his fingers smeared with his own semen mixed with my juices. He sucked them while looking at me. I stepped into the hallway with my legs still trembling.

What a surprise it was to discover that my room was only two doors down from his. I smiled to myself and walked the few steps separating me from Esteban, feeling his cum continue to drip inside me with every step.

When I entered, the clock read five in the morning. He was still deeply asleep, suspecting nothing. I hid the torn clothes, got into the shower, and washed myself slowly. Beneath the hot stream, I watched white threads of the semen still inside me run down the drain. My breasts and body were irritated and marked, with bites around my nipples and bruises on my waist where he had gripped me. My pussy burned, swollen, and I felt every movement of my battered ass. For a moment, the idea of getting into bed just as I was, with another man’s cum still dripping out of me, and telling him in the morning turned me on, but I didn’t do it.

When I came out of the bathroom, Esteban stretched between yawns.

“Hadn’t you showered last night?” he asked.

“No,” I lied.

“I thought you had.”

“My head hurt from the hangover.”

“Mine too,” he admitted, rubbing his eyes. “Should we sleep a little longer?”

“Okay.”

I lay down and he hugged me from behind, knowing nothing, unaware that less than an hour earlier another man had emptied his balls inside the same pussy he had been fucking halfheartedly for two years. When we finally woke up, I felt battered, every muscle reminding me of the night, my pussy still throbbing whenever I moved. Esteban blamed it on the hangover. And I, for the first time in a long while, smiled for real.