[Continued from "Correctional Officer, Part 4."]

Since I was being accused of emailing CO too much anyway, I began to email him more.  And I began to seriously consider fucking CO.  Our emails went from innocent to dirty.  Eventually we set up a time that CO would come down to San Francisco so we could fuck.

If the Ex hadn’t pushed, I wouldn’t have set up the meeting with CO.  I swear.  I was already being accused of things I wasn’t doing so I figured I might as well do them.  Not a very mature attitude, but I was dealing with someone who was treating me like a child.

I arranged for a room at the W.  CO and I planned to go to the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art and then to our room at the W where we’d fuck.

On the appointed day I worked in the morning and then met CO in front of the MoMA.  I was kind of disappointed.  I had remembered CO being hotter and less dorky.  But I was stuck.

We walked around the museum.  But it still wasn’t time to check into the hotel.  So we walked to the mall.  It was boring.

We looked into going to a movie but couldn’t agree on which one.  We had shared a fantasy set in a movie theater, but I didn’t want to go into a movie that I actually wanted to see since I’d be distracted by – according to the fantasy – his fingers in my cunt.

Finally, we ended up sitting in one of the mall’s many seating areas.  I was nervous.  He was nervous.  After so many emails and phone calls we had nothing to say to each other in person.

But it was too late to back out.

We went to the W and went to our room.  For over $400 it sure was small.  It felt like the guy who checked us in knew what was up.  We were very nervous.

After we did the obligatory look around the tiny room we took in the view.  We were in a corner room, facing southwest.  The view was nice.

Then, before I realized what was happening, we were kissing.  And then I was on the glass-covered desk.  And he was on top of me.  Being big and strong.  He got his fingers in my cunt.  I looked back, over my head, at the view.

It got very hot very fast.  The windows were cool though.  The air conditioning ducts ran along the windows and cooled the glass.  I pressed my hands and face into the glass as his fingers tore into my pussy.

He was rough and strong in a way that was obvious he hadn’t full control.  He was a big, dumb boy.

We moved to the bed where his cock finally got into me.  I don’t think we used a condom.  We had both been monogamous in our marriages and believed our spouses had been as well.  I remember thinking his cock wasn’t all that big, but I also remember not really looking at it.  I didn’t suck it.

I remember looking at him from behind and thinking he looked silly.  I did not think he looked sexy.  I was wondering what the fuck I risked my marriage for.

The fucking was ok.  He was rough in that same Lenny-esque way.  He pulled my hair – out of my head.  There were wads of hair all over the bed.  He fingered me so hard I bled.  (I was nowhere near being on my period.)

We tried to take a bath together but the tub wouldn’t accommodate both of us.  He took a shower and then began to get dressed.  He said he had to leave.

What the fuck?!  We were risking a whole lot by getting together at all, so shouldn’t we get in as much sex as possible?  And I was paying over $400 for a hotel room that was being used for all of an hour?  No fucking way.

I had to beg him to fuck me again.  Really, he was going to drive all that way, risk his marriage, lie to everyone for one pretty average fuck?

Two pretty average fucks.  He fucked me again and then left.  I stayed in the room.  I just hung out for a little while, but then figured I, too, should go home.

I pretended like nothing had changed with my husband.  It had, a little, though.  If that was sex with someone not my husband then I didn’t have further interest in pursuing it.  My husband’s cock was big and thick and he absolutely loved to lick my pussy for as long as I wanted.  I resigned myself to work on my marriage.

[To be continued ….]

I swear.  True story.

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