Guest Room is an erotic story of betrayal & the sexual excitement it can bring. Never be surprised about what can turn a man on…
“Oh, my aching head.”
The sunlight was streaming through the bedroom window violating my eyelids. I reached out to grab the clock and held it in front of my face. I was having a heck of a time trying to focus. It must have been the one, or two, or three long island ice teas too many last night. I hadn’t done anything like that since college.
My mouth tasted like, well, you’ve all had that feeling. I needed a serious drink of water and some coffee, lots of coffee. The good news was that I could smell it brewing downstairs. I could also smell something else cooking, bacon. “I wonder what I’ve done to deserve this?” I thought to myself.
I gradually sat up and looked around the room. There on the floor was my suit, one of my more expensive suits. I didn’t even remember taking it off last night. That would explain why it was all balled up by the door. I looked over by my wife Diane’s side of the bed. There was a pair of empty wine glasses on her nightstand. What the hell were they there for? Then I started to get that, “Ah shit, I really fucked something up!” feeling.
We had both been really busy lately. Me with work, her with a new job, and the kids. There hadn’t been much time for us. We had talked about sending the kids off to her parents for the weekend. I sure hope that wasn’t supposed to be this weekend.
I dragged myself up and went to the bathroom, looked in the mirror and, realized I looked as bad as I felt. I suppose I should go downstairs and see how bad the damage is. Passing the kid’s bedrooms I see no kids. The beds weren’t even slept in. It must have been this weekend. I continued down the stairs and now I could hear the bacon cooking. I came around the corner to the kitchen and spied her across the room. Her back was to me.
Damn, I was a lucky guy. Diane, my wife of 15 years was about 5’7”. She had long legs and a fantastic ass. She still turned my head from across a crowd even after all these years. Her blond hair was tied in a ponytail and her left hand was resting on her hip as she stirred the bacon with her right. A pan of scrambled eggs sat off to the side.
I slid a chair out from the kitchen table and sat down.
“Good morning,” I said.
“Morning,” she replied without turning around.
“How about some coffee?” I asked.
“You know where the cups are,” she said in a cold monotone voice.
This is going to be a long weekend I thought to myself.
“We got the contract at work,” I told her.
“That’s nice,” she answered.
The contract was the reason I’d been drinking last night. The proposals came in and we won the second biggest award in the companies history. The guys came in and decided we should all go down to one of the bars near work and celebrate. I figured one drink couldn’t hurt. Then we ordered some wings, then another round, and another.
“I’m sorry,” I sort of pleaded.
They’re not yours…
“Its ok” she said, “It actually worked out quite nicely.”
“Did you sleep alright?” I asked trying to make small talk.
“I didn’t get much sleep last night,” she said.
What the hell did she mean by all that. I got up and poured my coffee while I admired Diane’s rear view. She was dressed in my boxer shorts, which she had rolled at the waist and had tied one of my white t-shirts in a knot at her navel showing just a hint of skin. It was terribly sexy but something wasn’t quite right. I just couldn’t put my finger on it. Then it sort of dawned on me.
“When did I get those boxers?” I asked. I didn’t remember any purple boxers. She took the last of the bacon out of the pan and turned around. There was a gold omega symbol in the front corner of the boxers.
“They aren’t yours,” she said as she looked at me with a slightly irritated look. Then she turned back around. It felt like I’d been punched in the gut. Not mine, then who in the hell did they belong to.
My mouth was suddenly very dry again. I looked around the room not exactly sure what I was looking for. Then I heard someone coming up the basement stairs from the guest room. I turned and there stood Jason from work.
Yes, Jason from the cube next to me, Jason, 6 feet of brash arrogance. Jason, tall, built, and blacker than the richest coffee. My heart was racing as the adrenaline surged through my body. What was he doing here? Then I started to remember more of last night. The slurred speech, “You can’t drive home.” Then Jason offering to drive me home. I thought he had just dropped me off at the door.
“Good morning,” he said.
Diane turned and now had a big smile on her face. She was positively beaming. “Good morning yourself,” she said. “Would you like some coffee?”
“Love some,” he said as he glanced at me as he walked across the room to her side. I gripped my cup tightly and looked at them standing side by side. His black skin contrasting with her pale white skin and blond hair. He had on his suit pants and his button-down shirt was hanging out. He reached out and took a piece of bacon.
“I made you some eggs,” she told him. “Hopefully they’re the way you like them.”
“I like your eggs anyway I can get them,” he quipped.
What the hell did that mean. She scooped up some scrambled eggs and put them on a plate with some bacon.
He turned to me. “Thanks for the use of your guest room last night.”
“Ohh, no problem. I hope you slept alright.”
“Actually, I didn’t get much sleep at all,” he said as he smiled at Diane. She smiled back and I thought I was going to throw up.
Blue satin chemise…
“I set you a place here.” She told him as he followed her into the dining room. I got up and walked toward the stove and looked at the table; Jason was sitting in my place. Diane was sitting next to him gazing at him. He looked up at me, gave a slight look of disgust, and finished eating.
“That was great,” he said as he got up from the table.
“My pleasure,” Diane said as she also stood.
Jason walked to the door. “I guess I should be going. We should do this again sometime.”
“I look forward to it,” my wife answered.
Then he closed the door and was gone. Diane turned to me and said, “I’m exhausted, can you clean up while I go take a shower?” Then she disappeared up the stairs.
I heard her turn on the shower. I was still in a state of semi shock. My stomach was churning. I looked over at the door to the basement and walked towards it. Every step made my heart beat faster and faster. My throat was in a lump that made it hard to swallow. The light was on in the guest room. I walked to the door and looked in.
The bed had been slept in. It was our old king bed. We’d bought another one and put this one down here. I stepped in. Lying on the floor was Diane’s light blue satin chemise, the silky one with the spaghetti straps. The one that just barley covered her delicious ass. I bent down and picked it up. It smelled of her perfume. She must have had it on last night while she was waiting for me to get home, her nipples poking against the thin satin fabric.
I felt my cock stir as I thought of her waiting for me and what it usually led to. But now it was down here on the floor. I looked around. There, on the nightstand, the companion to the wine glasses upstairs, an empty bottle of Merlot. God, what had I done? What had they done?
My mind began to wildly imagine. The kids were gone. She’d put on her outfit and had been waiting for me in our bed; ready for some seriously good catch-up sex. Then Jason drove me home. I remember that now. It was late, very late. What was it one, two in the morning?
I’d offered him the use of our guest bedroom so he didn’t have to drive home. He’d accepted. I went upstairs. She’d been mad, hurt, upset, rightfully so I imagine. As I passed out, no use to her, she must have taken the bottle of wine and stormed downstairs. Had she intended to sleep in the basement or did she just see the light on and head down there to see who left it on?
I imagined her walking down and running into Jason. She in that deliciously sexy top that clung to her body and left little to the imagination and he half undressed getting ready for bed. There would have been the customary apologies and “excuse me’s”. Then what? Maybe they didn’t actually do anything. Maybe it was all in my head. I stepped closer to the bed and pulled the blue flannel sheet back and got my answer.
There, on the bed, a small white blotch. A circle of dried cum and another and another. Three circles of dried cum, each one a different size. He had fucked her. Fucked my wife. Fucked her here in the bed we conceived our kids. Shit, I didn’t need a condom. I’d been fixed. He obviously didn’t use one. What is in her now? How many sperm were swimming deep inside her? For some strange reason the thought of them coupling had made me strangely excited.
The old mirror that used to sit in the corner was now propped against the wall opposite the side of the bed. Had he fucked her from behind while they looked at their reflections in the mirror? He would have been able to see the look on her face when she came. It is a look that is one of the most erotic things I’d ever experienced. Now someone else had shared it.
Did she look in the mirror and sees his large black hands holding her hips as he slid deep inside? Did she feel his balls slapping against her ass? My own cock was rock hard as I stepped closer to the bed. I moved one of the pillows and saw that it was wet. I looked at it and picked it up and raised it to my nose and smelled. It reeked of sex. Had he slid the pillow under her ass for one more fuck before breakfast?
I could imagine his muscled body over my wife. His ass moving up and down as he slid his cock in and out of her. Her legs spread, her hands grasping his back as he pushed deeper and deeper, her feet digging into the bed as she got closer and closer to release.
Release and next steps…
Then, she’d feel his cock getting harder and bigger as he got closer, followed by the mutual release as he exploded deep inside her, sending her over the edge, her insides contracting and sucking at his cum, biology betraying her as her body worked to draw as much of his seed as deep in her as possible. Her body thrashing on the bed she had thrashed so many times before with me.
I could picture his cum starting to ooze out from around his cock as he gradually softened, pictured it running down her ass and pooling on the pillow. My knees began to buckle. My own body sought release as a stream of cum blasted out across the bed to mingle with their dried juices.
Spent, mentally, physically, and emotionally, I sat down next to the remnants of their night. I picked up her chemise and drank in her scent one more time.
Maybe, I thought, we should have Jason over for dinner next time we send the kids off for the weekend.
Guest Room. An erotic story presented by eroticprose.com. The home of sexy stories and erotica