Valentine’s Day snowstorm leads to second chance

Valentine’s Day snowstorm leads to second chance

“Shit!” Melanie slammed down the phone and walked over to the window. Staring out at the ominous clouds blanketing the lake, she said it again. This can’t be happening, she thought. I can’t be stuck here, today of all days. But she’d heard it for herself: The airport was closed for the rest of today and possibly tomorrow, depending on how hard the storm hit.

She went back to the phone and called her office. Her secretary told her that the storm had already shut down most of the airports from the Great Lakes through the Ohio Valley and that she was better off staying right where she was.

“Why is that?” Melanie wanted to know.

“Look, kiddo,” Peggy was sixty-two years old, had been with the company forever and called everyone “kiddo”, including the CEO, “They’re calling this a ‘once every 10 years’ kind of storm. You’re lucky to still be at your hotel. You could be stuck sleeping in one of those very uncomfortable chairs at the airport, fighting with the other passengers over who gets the pillow. I know; I’ve done it.”

Though not convinced, Melanie had to laugh. “I guess you’re right, Peg. Listen, call my clients and explain about the delay, will you? And tell Bill that I’ll spend my time going over those quarterly reports he wanted. I’ll email them to him la—”

“I’ll tell Kaiser Wilhelm nothing of the sort,” Peggy snorted.

Bill Campbell was the third company president that Peggy had served under and the one she least respected. She called him Kaiser because, as she put it, “His pointy head reminds me of the helmets the German officers wore in those old WWI movies”.

“You listen to me, kiddo,” she continued, “this whole layover has serendipity written all over it. Forget about work and treat it as an unexpected holiday. Enjoy yourself. Do something wild and crazy.”

Melanie laughed harder. “Peg, I’m stuck in Vermont in the middle of a winter snowstorm. I don’t ski, I don’t ice-fish, and they roll up the sidewalks at noon. What am I supposed to do that’s wild and crazy, go out and rent “White Christmas” in the middle of February?”

“You’ll think of something.”

Melanie hung up, still laughing, and called down to the desk to extend her reservation. Her good mood quickly faded. “What do you mean, you have no more rooms? What’s wrong with the one I’m in?”

“I’m sorry,” the woman on the other end of the phone sounded young, “but it’s Valentine’s Day and the start of President’s Day weekend. This is one of the biggest ski weekends of the season and most of these rooms have been booked for months.” She added, “With the storm and all the fresh powder coming down, the phone’s been ringing off the hook with people trying to make reservations.”

Melanie was tempted to ask how those people seeking reservations were planning on getting to Vermont, what with the airport closed, but she thought better of it. Anyone crazy enough to want to visit during this kind of weather would no doubt find a way, she thought. But as for those of us who are stuck here against our will…”You mean to tell me that even though I can’t leave because the airport is closed, I don’t have a place to stay, either?”

“We can try to find you a room at another hotel, ma’am, but that’s the best we can do.”

Melanie wanted to scream at her. Ma’am? You’re calling me ‘Ma’am’? What are you, twelve? Instead, she took a deep breath and said, “Is there a manager on duty?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Goddamn it! If she calls me that one more time—”What’s his name?”

“Mr. Hailey.”

“Will you tell Mr. Hailey that I’ll be right down to straighten this out?”

“Yes, I will, but ma—” Melanie cut her off in mid-ma’am by hanging up.

Less than ten minutes later, Melanie stepped out of the elevator and entered the crowded lobby. She flagged down a bellboy and asked him about Mr. Hailey. He pointed to a crush of people standing near the reception desk. She stared at the crowd of ski jackets and snowsuits and felt a momentary pang of guilt. God, I’m glad I don’t work here. This guy’s got real problems. Then she straightened her shoulders and walked purposefully toward the desk. Fuck it. I need a room.

She worked her way through the pack and found herself facing a tall, gray-haired man whose maroon and silver badge read, “Trevor Hailey, Day Manager”. She waited a few moments for him to notice her and when he didn’t, she spoke his name loud enough to be heard over the din. He glanced at her and said, “I’m sorry. We’re full up. Try the Sheraton.”

She spoke his name again, louder this time. When he looked at her again, she gave him her brightest smile. “Look,” he began, “I’m sorry, but we—”

“Mr. Hailey, my name is Melanie Nichols and I’m currently staying in Room 312.” That stopped him.

“Yes, Miss Nichols?” he asked, giving her his full attention.

She glanced at the group of skiers who were loudly debating the merits of any hotel that couldn’t accommodate extra guests during the best snowstorm of the season. “Could I have a few moments of your time?”

He followed her glance and nodded. “We can talk in my office.” He turned to the young woman standing with him at the counter. “Try calling the other hotels again. And tell these people if they don’t behave themselves we’ll be forced to call the police.”

“But, Mr. Hailey, I already called the other hotels. They don’t have any room available, either.” Melanie recognized her voice from the phone and gave her a quick appraisal. Not exactly twelve, she thought. More like nineteen or twenty. Probably a college student, working to have some spending money or to help with tuition.

“Then try the motels and the B&B’s.” The manager’s voice took on an exasperated edge. “Just find some way to get those hooligans out of my lobby.” Melanie followed him into his office and sat down across from him. “Now then, Miss Nichols. What can I do for you?”

She shrugged. “Well, after watching those people out there, I’m sorry to bring it up, but I’m afraid that I’m stranded and in need of a room, too. My flight was cancelled when they closed the airport and when I called down to extend my reservation, the young lady out there told me the same story you told them.”

“Unfortunately, Linda was telling you the truth.” He shook his head. “Believe me, I don’t like turning away business, but we’re overbooked as it is.”

“Look, Mr. Hailey. I understand your situation. I really do. But please try to appreciate mine. I’m a business traveler – a regular customer of this hotel – and I’ve just been told that I not only can’t leave but that I have no place to stay, either. Isn’t there something that you could do?”

He stared at her a moment before saying, “Well, I’m not going to promise anything, but what room did you say you were in again?” She told him and he turned to his computer terminal. Melanie amused herself during the wait by looking around his office, but he interrupted her almost immediately. “Your reservation has you listed under the last name of Masterson.”

“Oh, that.” For some reason, she found herself blushing. “I’ve only recently gotten divorced and I’m going by my maiden name now. But all my ID is still under my married name, so when I travel…”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right. It happens all the time. The way security is at the airports now, I’m lucky I don’t get strip-searched.”

“No, I meant that I was sorry to hear about your divorce.”

“Oh.” His stare was back and for the first time she noticed the color of his eyes, deep pools of gray and blue surrounded by flecks of green and gold. She let her gaze trail down to his moustache; it made her think of a thick slab of quartz with veins of silver spider-webbed through it. She blushed again as she fought down a sudden image of those hairs scratching against her swollen labia. “Thank you,” she managed. Get a grip, girl! “It’s been…difficult.”

“I can imagine.” He turned back to his computer and began punching out some rapid keystrokes. Melanie glanced around the room, trying to get a feel for the man on the other side of the desk. Experience had taught her that you could often learn a lot about a person from the way they decorated their office. This one, however, told her very little. The room was clean and almost obsessively tidy. But there were no homey touches, no pictures of loved ones or scribbled notes from children. Are you that private, she wondered, or is it something else?

“What about you?” she asked. “Is there a Mrs. Hailey?”

“No, thank God.” His chuckle was dry. “And no little Haileys, either.” He laughed again, louder this time. He noticed her puzzled stare and said, “I’m sorry. It just occurred to me that if there were any little Haileys running around, they’d be legal adults by now.” When she didn’t respond, he added, “I’m gay.”

Once again, the best she could manage was, “Oh.” And then, a few moments later, “OH! You mean the last time you were with a woman was…”

“Almost twenty years ago, yes.” She laughed with him this time, but inside she felt as if she’d just been sucker-punched. Oh, Christ! He’s gay. She fought the rising bile in her throat. Can this day get any worse? Her spirits perked up a little when he said, “Hey! I may have found you something.”


“We just had a cancellation. It seems two women were coming to Vermont to have a Civil Union ceremony performed and because of the storm they decided to hold off. So we have a vacancy.” He looked up from his terminal. “It’s the Honeymoon Suite.”

“The Honeymoon Suite?” Melanie was shocked. “Oh, no. I couldn’t.”

“Why not? It’s a nicer room than the one you had and I’ll be able to rent it out at the corporate rate.” When she hesitated, he added, “And it’s the only available room in the hotel.”

“I’ll take it.”

“Excellent!” He stood up. “It’s actually ready now, so I’ll get you your key and you can go on up. I’ll have your bags sent over later.”

She thanked him and took the key, walking away on wobbly legs. Riding up the elevator the extra two floors to her new room, she felt light-headed and leaned against the wall for support. This can’t be happening, she thought again, opening the door to the suite. The front room was okay, a sofa, a couple of chairs, wet bar, television, nothing out of the ordinary. She braced herself for the bedroom. She turned on the light and cringed.

The bed was shaped like a heart.

Melanie immediately recalled a line from an Albert Brooks movie: “If Liberace had children, this is what their room would look like”. Well, it’s not quite that bad. But it’s close. If it has a built-in vibrator, I’m going to scream.

She went back to the anteroom and opened the curtain. The snow was coming down hard now; big, white flakes that swirled and danced like down feathers in a pillow fight. She slumped onto the sofa. In her mind, she heard Peg’s voice. Well, let’s see now, kiddo. You’re stranded in Vermont. Alone. In the Honeymoon Suite. And it’s Valentine’s Day. One year to the day since you caught your husband cheating on you. With another man.

Can your life suck any harder?

Melanie closed her eyes but she couldn’t shut out the memory, the white-hot vision of that day. She’d decided to treat her husband Paul to a little Valentine’s Day surprise nookie at his agency. Arriving just before noon, she planned to slip into his office, lock the door, and ravish him during his lunch hour. With any kind of luck, she hoped he might just recover in time to return the favor that evening.

His secretary told her that he was in a conference with Eric, his boss, and that she shouldn’t disturb them. Of course, Melanie agreed. Far be it from her to disturb Paul and Eric while they were in conference. As soon as the secretary left for lunch, Melanie opened the door to Paul’s office and walked in. To hell with Eric, she thought. He had her husband at his beck and call 8 hours a day. For the next hour, she wanted him to be all hers.

Her first thought when she entered the room and saw them was that Paul had dropped something at Eric’s feet and was bending over to pick it up. Then she noticed that Eric’s eyes were closed and he had a look of utter rapture on his face. Frowning, she moved to the side of Paul’s desk and was just in time to see Paul’s extended tongue lash the tiny slit at the end of Eric’s thick, meaty cock. She watched in horror as his mouth opened in a wide oval and engulfed the circumcised head, swallowing the shaft all the way down to the root. She couldn’t help noticing the distinct and startling contrast between her husband’s sandy-colored moustache and his boss’s dark, curly pubic hair.

Eric opened his eyes and saw her then. To her everlasting surprise and shame, he looked at her without shock or embarrassment, or even anger at the interruption. No, he simply smiled at her and asked if she wanted to join the party. She looked away from his leering face, down at her husband, who was only just then realizing that she had come into the room, and she saw something even more horrible. Paul’s pants were down around his ankles and he had his hand curled around his long, beautiful cock – her cock, as she liked to think of it – and from the angry, inflamed look of it, he was obviously close to coming himself.

She barely made it out of the office and into the restroom before she threw up.

He followed her home and she spent that night, the worst night of her life, desperately trying to rid herself of the image that had been seared into her brain: The sight of her husband on his knees sucking another man’s cock. She railed at him. Haven’t she been a good wife? Given him enough sex? Been inventive enough for him in bed? Without meeting her eyes, he assured her that she had been all of those things and more.

Then what? There had to be something, she knew. Unless blow jobs had become fashionable at work these days. Unless getting the key to the executive washroom also meant fellating the man who’d given it to you. Unless earning a quarterly bonus depended upon the amount of semen you swal—

Paul cried out in such agony that she stopped, startled by his outburst. It’s not you, he said finally. It’s me. It’s just…the way I am. What are you, she demanded. Gay? He shook his head. Bi? He shrugged. What then? I don’t know, he admitted. But I’ve been that way as long as I can remember. She stared at him, the man she had known intimately for almost a decade, the man she had sworn to grow old with, and was stunned by the realization that she hardly knew him at all. She said one last thing to him before leaving their home forever.

You should get help.

Melanie writhed on the sofa, unable to stop the flood of memories or the flow of tears that streamed down her face. I was so cruel, she thought. So wickedly cruel. And I hated myself for doing it – for saying those things – but I couldn’t stop myself, either. Because every time I stopped, I saw them again. My Paul. On his knees, mouthing Eric’s penis, wearing a look of lust such as I’d never seen on him before. Had he ever looked like that when he’d gone down on me? She couldn’t remember.

A knock at the door interrupted her.

“Yes?” she called out.

“Miss Nichols, it’s Jonathon, the bellboy. I’ve got your luggage.”

“Just a minute.” She wiped her face and did a quick inspection in the mirror. Oh, Christ! I can’t let anyone see me like this. She dug a five-dollar bill out of her wallet and placed it on the bar. “Look, I’m just getting in the shower. Why don’t you leave the bags by the sofa and I’ll put them away later. There’s a tip for you on the counter.” With that, she disappeared into the bedroom and closed the door.

She came back out a few minutes later to find her bags sitting on the carpet and the counter empty. Well, I’m all moved in. She glanced out the window. If anything, the snow was coming down harder now. She sighed. And it looks like I’m not going anywhere for a while. Melanie stared out at the cottony sky, lost in thought, seeing nothing. I need a drink, she decided finally.

She opened the small refrigerator. There were three bottles of wine tucked in the door. She was about to go eanie, meanie, minie, moe, when a sudden thought occurred to her and she burst into a fit of giggles.

Absolutely, she thought, reaching for the Zinfandel. Under the circumstances, it has to be the ‘fruity’ wine. And with the lovely, elegant screw top, too. She twisted off the top and tossed it in the general direction of the trashcan. She took a sip, swishing the tart liquid back and forth in her mouth before swallowing. Oh, yeah. That’s the Brunch of Champions.

She surveyed the room, taking little sips as she walked. Now then, she thought. What do they have in this burg that qualifies as entertainment? She scanned the list of cable channels on top of the television. Wait a minute. This is the Honeymoon Suite, for crying out loud. Don’t they have any porn? Maybe you have to call the desk and order it. She had another fit of giggles. She saw herself calling down to the front desk. Mr. Hailey? This is Melanie Nichols in the Honeymoon Suite. I’m feeling a bit bored and I was wondering if I could order up some porn on my television? Why, of course, Miss Nichols, he’d answer. We have 10 separate channels for you to choose from. All gay.

She collapsed onto the sofa, laughing so hard she almost spilled her wine. Oh God, she thought, when she’d regained some control. That would be just my luck. Of course, the men in those movies are usually pretty well hung. And it would be more cock than I’d seen in a good long while. Who knows? Maybe one of them would belong to my husband. She took another swig of wine. Ex-husband, that is. She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting back tears.

All right, she thought. Time to change the subject. She opened her eyes and saw a folded, laminated card sitting on top of the bar. On the front had been drawn a heart and under it written the words, ‘Especially for You’. Melanie opened it and discovered a list of special amenities the hotel offered its Honeymoon Suite occupants. She noted that the tub in the bathroom was oversized and could be used as a hot tub, complete with bubbles. Also available for the romantically inclined was a complete ‘Chateaubriand for Two’ candlelight dinner. And then she saw it.

“Get a Massage: The perfect way to prepare for a romantic evening or recover from a long trip. Performed by a licensed Massage Therapist, combining essential oils (aromatherapy) and moist heat hot packs, this Swedish Style Massage will increase your circulation, decrease stress and completely relax your muscles. Time: Approximately 90 minutes. Cost: Individuals, $150; Couples, $250.”

Well, Peg did tell me to enjoy myself. She dialed the front desk before she had a chance to change her mind. When Linda answered, she said, “Hi, this is Melanie Nichols in the, um, Honeymoon Suite and I was just reading that you have a licensed Massage Therapist on staff and I wanted to know if I could schedule an appointment for later today.”

“One moment, please.” Melanie heard pages rustling. “We don’t have anyone else scheduled for today,” Linda said. “I’ll have to find out if he’s available and call you back.”

“He? It’s a man?”

“Yes, ma’am. Is that a problem?”

Melanie thought a moment. For some reason, she hadn’t expected it to be a man. Was it a problem? No. He’s probably gay, anyway, she thought, suppressing a laugh. Hell, for all I know, the whole damn state is gay. “No,” she said, finally. “It’s not a problem. Please call and find out if he’s available and let me know.”

A few minutes later, the phone rang and Linda told her the Massage Therapist could be there at three. Melanie sat back in the sofa and raised the bottle. “Well, Peg,” she said aloud to the empty room, “here’s to ‘Wild and Crazy’.”

The time was almost noon and Melanie was feeling sleepy and more than a little looped from the wine. She called room service and ordered lunch and then decided a quick shower might help her wake up.

Lunch came just as she was drying off and she made herself comfy in a thick, floor-length terry robe she found in the closet. Maybe this, she thought, is what passes for romantic eveningwear in Vermont. She turned on the television and was delighted to discover that HBO was showing “A Little Romance”, one of her favorites. She spent the next hour wishing that she could magically become twelve again, and enjoy her first kiss while riding in a gondola floating under the Bridge of Sighs at sunset.

By the end of the movie, the combination of wine and food had taken effect and she knew she’d never make it till three without a nap. She set the almost empty bottle of wine on the nightstand and slipped naked under the sheets. Good old heart-shaped bed, she thought. It’s just you and me now. Her head found the pillow and in moments she was fast asleep. She began to dream almost immediately.

In the dream it was last Valentine’s Day and she was once again in Paul’s office, about to surprise him and be surprised in turn. She saw the two men; Eric, with his expression of orgiastic ecstasy, and Paul, on his knees performing the magic trick of making Eric’s dick disappear into his mouth. Eric looked at her and this time she felt no embarrassment or shame under his lustful gaze. Instead, she felt her nipples harden and press against the coarse fabric of her coat and her already moist pussy lips began to expand and swell.

Melanie thumbed the buttons of her coat, letting it fall to the floor behind her. Wearing only a skimpy thong underneath, she smiled at her good fortune. She’d come prepared to seduce her husband. Now she would have them both. Paul held Eric’s dick out for her to inspect as she knelt beside him. She took it in her hand and milked it gently.

A crystal-clear drop of pre-come oozed from Eric’s slit and Melanie leaned forward, capturing it on her extended tongue. She turned to Paul and presented it to him, a signal of both submission and her approval of the wanton position she’d discovered him in. As the two of them kissed, she rubbed Eric’s meat over her nipples, smearing them with his leaky fluid.

She then turned to the task at hand, swallowing Eric’s cock. He groaned his approval and Paul said to him, “See what I mean? I knew you’d love her. She sucks cock just like a man.” Melanie blushed at the compliment, taking the thick pole even deeper into her throat. Paul fondled her breasts, tweaking her nipples, and Eric’s fingers were tangled in the strands of her hair, holding her head in place while he fucked her mouth with slow, deep strokes.

She felt her thong being tugged aside and a long, slender finger inserted into her sopping cunt. She heard Eric’s voice above her.

“It’s about time you got here.”

A shudder rolled through her at the thought of an unknown fourth person joining them in the room. Her mind ran wild with the possibilities of who it might be as a second finger joined the first one inside her and a third began massaging her aching clit. Hot, sultry breath scorched the inside of her thigh. She came hard when she heard the voice of Paul’s secretary come from between her legs. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

The phone rang, startling her.

Oh God, she thought, still in the throes of her climax. Just ignore it. She tried to suck harder on the cock in her mouth. Please just let it ring. But something was wrong. She still felt the fingers thrusting inside her, but the room had faded into darkness and her mouth felt strangely empty. She opened her eyes and looked around her, completely disoriented. Then she remembered. It’s Valentine’s Day. I’m in Vermont. Alone, in the Honeymoon Suite. Then why–?

She threw back the covers and gasped at the sight of her hand, coiled around her pussy, three fingers shoved inside as far as she could get them. Moreover, her fingers were still moving, as though they had a mind of their own, sliding back and forth within her silken crevice, urging her towards yet another orgasm. She threw her head back and closed her eyes, abandoning herself to the wave of pleasure about to wash over her.

The phone rang again.

Fuck! Who the hell is calling me? Then she saw the time. Oh, my God! The massage! She sat up, her still throbbing pussy grudgingly releasing her hand. She used her other hand to pick up the phone. “Hello?”

“Miss Nichols?”

“That’s right.” Melanie held her hand up. Her sticky juices coated her fingers like syrup.

“I’m Mark, the hotel’s Massage Therapist. We had a three o’clock appointment.”

“Oh, yes.” She stared at her hand, spreading and flexing her fingers, watching her come slowly congeal and dry on her skin. “I’m sorry. I was taking a nap and I guess I lost track of time.”

“We can reschedule if you’d like.” He sounded disappointed.

“What? No, of course not.” Not after I made you come over here in this weather, she thought. “What do you need me to do?”

“Nothing. I’ll be up in a few minutes.” He paused. “Oh, wait. One quick question; if you’re uncomfortable with it being just the two of us in your room, would you like me to arrange for a female employee of the hotel to be present while I administer the massage?”

“No, I don’t think that will be necessary, Mark.” Melanie wondered if Linda had said something to him. “But I very much appreciate your thoughtfulness and professionalism in offering it to me.” She thought a moment. “Now let me ask you a question.”


“I’ve never been given a massage before. How should I be dressed?”

“Comfortably. Normally I use oversized towels that I can arrange so that only the area I’m working on is uncovered. You should find some in the bathroom. But if that’s not enough, you’re welcome to wear a bathing suit, bra and panties or some loose-fitting sweats, if you’d prefer. You tell me what works for you, and I’ll take it from there.”

“All right. I’ll think about it. Do I have time to take a shower?”

“Go ahead. I’ll be about ten minutes.”

“See you in ten.” Melanie set the phone down and hurried into the bathroom. She held up one of the oversized towels in front of her and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Two of these should be more than sufficient, she thought. I’ll just make sure I’m good and clean. She showered quickly, taking special care to lather her pubes thoroughly. God, I hope I don’t smell like I just had sex.

She had just gotten out of the shower and into her robe when she heard the knock on the door. “It’s open,” she yelled from the bedroom. She heard the door open, followed by a thump. The door closed a few moments later. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Take your time. It’ll take me a few minutes to set things up.”

Melanie went back in the bathroom and checked her appearance. Christ, she thought suddenly. Why do I care what I look like? Oh, I don’t know, she heard Peg’s voice answer, because you’re about to get naked in front of a total stranger in a hotel room? Oh, now. C’mon, she answered back. This isn’t any different than having a doctor see me. And besides, he won’t see me. I’ll be covered up.

Is that so, she heard Peg answer. Of course, you could make sure, by putting on the bathing suit you have in your suitcase, or at least a pair of panties, for crying out loud! Melanie shook her head. I’ll be fine, she insisted. Then why, Peg asked, is your skin all tingly? Beads of gooseflesh sprouted instantly on her arms and shoulders. She tugged the robe tighter around her.

That’s not what I meant, the voice said. Melanie sucked her breath in sharply. Oh, no! I am wet. And getting wetter by the second. What is wrong with me? Am I still hopped up from my dream or am I really getting turned on by the thought of that man in the other room – a man I’ve never even seen – giving me a massage?

Now you’re talking, kiddo, she heard Peg say. No, she said firmly. This isn’t me. Since this morning, everything has been messed up. First, the wake-up call, telling me the airport was closed, then losing my room and having to come here to the Honeymoon Suite, and then that dream, that unbelievably incredible dream! And to have it be Valentine’s Day, of all days, one year to the day after it happened.

It’s like some weird episode of the Twilight Zone. But whoever heard of the Twilight Zone in Vermont, for Christ’s sake? I mean, all they have here are cows, and Ben & Jerry’s, and flannel and snow and –

And they’re all gay.

That’s it! He’s gay! Oh, thank you, Peg! God, why didn’t I think of that before? Of course, he’s gay. Why else would he be a ‘Massage Therapist’? To score with chicks? I don’t think so. And certainly not with this chick, anyway. Oh, wow, that’s it. All I have to do is remember he’s gay and after he leaves I’ll play with myself some more and everyone will go home happy.

“I’m ready whenever you are,” she heard Mark call out.

“Be right there.” She took one last look in the mirror. Gotcha, she said to her reflection. Are you sure? Peg was still hanging around. Absolutely. Now, go home, Peg. I’ll be fine. She opened the bathroom door.

Okay, kiddo. Peg’s voice was faint. Just remember one thing: Be careful what you wish for. Melanie folded the two oversized towels over her arm and walked into the anteroom.

The man sitting on the sofa stood up and extended his hand. “Hi,” he said. “I’m Mark Cooper.”

Melanie smiled. “Nice to meet you.” Her hand seemed to disappear in his. Hooo, boy! What big, strong hands you got there, grandpa. Not to mention the shoulders and pecs that go with them. They stood like that for an awkward moment and then Mark saw the towels she was holding.

“Oh, you brought the towels. Good.” He took them and motioned her to the table he’d set up. White and sturdy looking, it reminded her of a hospital gurney. “Linda told me about your flight getting cancelled and almost losing your room. Sounds like it’s been a rough day.” He turned away from her long enough to toss the towels onto the table. “So, how are you holding up?”

“I’m gay,” she said. Oh, Christ! “I mean; I’m good.” Oh, you idiot! Stop staring at his ass. “I’m…okay.” Luckily, he appeared not to have noticed.

“Can I offer you a glass of wine before we start?” He held up a bottle of Zinfandel. Melanie shook her head no, hoping he couldn’t see her cheeks turn the color of the wine. I’m already over my limit, she thought. “Okay, then.” He put the bottle down and handed her one of the towels. “Why don’t you wrap one of these around you under your robe. Then you can take the robe off and lie down and we can begin.” She took the towel and turned away from him, loosening her robe.

“Why don’t you start out on your stomach?” Mark suggested. When she was settled, he draped a second towel over her, which started above her waist and extended to her ankles.

“Now, I’ll need you to loosen the first towel for me so that I can adjust it as I move around the different parts of your body. Yes, that’s it. Just let it hang over like that.” He moved to the counter where he had several bottles lined up, each containing different color liquids. “Any questions?”

Melanie folded her arms under her chin. The thin fabric felt like fine sandpaper against her skin, exciting her nipples and bringing them to full attention. “Yeah,” she said. “Why aren’t you named Helga?” Mark laughed out loud.

“Is that,” he asked, “in reference to it being a ‘Swedish’ massage, or is it because I’m not a woman?”

“A little of both, I guess.” She sighed, closing her eyes. In this position, the pressure on her clit felt wonderful.

“Well, it was developed by a Swede back in the 18th century, but today calling it a Swedish Massage refers more to the technique, or what kind of massage it is, rather than the country of origin.” He laughed again. “When most people think of Swedish Massage, they usually think of a tall blonde who also doubles as a spiker for the Swedish National Volleyball team.” He selected a bottle filled with a golden yellow liquid and came over to the table. “And that, I think, explains your second question.”

He opened the bottle and poured a small amount of the liquid into his hands. He held it there for a few moments, warming it, and continued, “Actually, you’d be surprised just how many men there are in this profession. A lot more than most people think.” He opened his hands and let the liquid drip onto her shoulders and neck. “Of course, when I tell people what I do, the first thing they usually think is that I’m gay.”

Melanie’s eyes snapped open. What?

And then his hands were on her shoulders, those, large, powerful hands, and she forgot about everything else. A rich, exotic scent drifted up from her skin and she inhaled deeply. “Hmm, what is that you’re using?”

“A mixture of oils, mainly sandalwood.” His thumbs dug into the soft muscles on either side of her neck. “Don’t worry. It’s not greasy and your body will absorb most of it. I like sandalwood because it does an excellent job of relieving stress and at the same time stimulating the senses.” Amen to that, she thought. Her nipples poked at the coarse fabric like diamond-cutters and she couldn’t help wondering just how much more stimulated they could get.

“Be sure and let me know if I dig in a little too hard. Sometimes I get carried away.” Don’t worry. She fought back a moan. You’ll be the first to know.

She closed her eyes again, letting herself float away on the tide of his marvelous hands. Mark kept talking as he worked, his voice soft and comfortable. “One of the keys to relieving stress is to speed up the flow of blood as it returns from your extremities.” Like my tits, she wondered. Would they be considered ‘extremities’? Cause they’re feeling kind of, um, extreme at the moment. He lifted her arm and began twisting it. “The quicker we rid the system of the unoxygenated or toxic blood, the better we feel.

“By stroking against the muscles, rather than with them, I can help to flush your system of lactic acids and actually increase the circulation without increasing the load on your heart.” She had a sudden image of him, sitting on her chest, her inflamed tits sandwiching his thick cock as it plummeted between them. Would that load be ‘regular’ or ‘heavy’?

He dribbled more oil on her lower back and began spreading it. “If this is boring, let me just tell you that I’m one of the few men you’ll ever meet who won’t be offended if you fall asleep, so please feel free to doze, if you wish.” From the small of her back, his fingers slid upwards, gliding past her rib cage and ending just below her armpit. Fully half of her breast must be exposed, she knew. He’s probably staring at it, watching the soft, gelatinous skin as it flattens out against the table.

Without conscious thought, her hips moved, just a little, and her clit exploded like a cherry bomb. She couldn’t suppress her moan and his fingers paused. “Are you okay?” he asked. Oh, God, she thought. Yes. I’m more than okay. I just needed to, um, release a little steam from the boiler. “I’m fine,” she managed. She felt his stare, felt it as surely as she did his hands. After a few moments, as though nothing had happened, his hands began working again.

For the next 40 minutes, Mark worked nonstop and the two of them hardly spoke. She lost herself in the feeling and his hands became her entire world, stroking, lifting, kneading, and twisting her body until she felt like a blood-filled pretzel. But her nipples remained erect and her swollen clit was once more crying out for release. Then the time came for her to switch to her back.

She rolled over and one of the towels almost slipped off her. She had a sudden thought: What would he do if he knew how turned-on I am right now – What would he do then? Melanie stretched out and closed her eyes. Knowing my luck, probably nothing.

She felt him move the towels around, followed by the slow drip of oil on her skin. Was it just her imagination, or had he arranged the towel so that her breasts were more visible? She kept her eyes shut and teased herself, using her imagination to visualize what he must be seeing. In her mind’s eye, her breasts seemed to expand under his touch, growing fuller and more round. And her nipples! Oh, her nipples must seem like ripe, budding shoots threatening to burst up through the towel.

Still, his hands were circumspect, rubbing near but never actually on her breasts. As he moved on to her shoulders, she groaned inwardly. She needed release so badly now. Her right hand slipped under the bottom towel and began to creep towards her pussy. He stopped for a moment and adjusted both towels, so that her left side and leg were both accessible to him. Again, it seemed that his arrangement exposed more of her than was necessary. Maybe he did know.

Or perhaps he was only indulging himself in a voyeuristic fantasy, recognizing her need and prolonging it, keeping her in torment while he made her wait and wonder. Maybe he did prefer men and her obvious state was nothing more than a joke to him, something to laugh about later while his gay lover sucked him off. “Can you imagine?” he’d laugh. “She actually came on to me!”

But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except for his skillful hands massaging her flesh and her fingers as they edged closer to the swollen lips of her cunt. Mark poured more sandalwood oil onto her hip and upper leg. A few drops trickled down the inside of her thigh, finding a home in her glistening pubes. There! Her index finger slipped past her engorged lips. Melanie had to bite her lip to keep silent. Mark shifted his hands downward, one behind her knee and one under her ankle. He lifted her leg.

And then both towels slipped off.

All the air seemed to go out of the room at once. Melanie knew how she must look; her breasts heaving, her finger buried to the second knuckle inside her gaping slit. But she couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes. He set her leg down gently and she expected him to reach down and pick up the towel, covering her with it. For a long moment, nothing happened. Then she felt his wet breath on her skin and he said softly, “Let me help you with that.”

The touch of his mouth was like a gentle mist on her overheated sex and she let out her pent-up breath in a long sigh. The stubble on his chin scraped her finger as he removed it from his path. Then his tongue was inside her, burrowing like a liquid cock, darting back and forth, rooting for her secret juices. The joyous surprise of his lips and tongue had stopped her in mid-orgasm, pausing her breathtakingly on the edge, and now she was climbing higher and higher, the spiral of pleasure building like a spring coiling tight.

Her fingers were in his hair, wrapping and coiling like snakes around the loose strands, clutching him, jamming his face into her flowing pussy. His response was to slip his hands under her ass, lifting her legs up and over his shoulders. He squeezed her cheeks, and managed to raise his mouth up far enough to fasten onto her clit.

His tongue swirled like a pinwheel around her hard, pea-shell mound, showering sparks in all directions, but he was deliberately avoiding her clit, keeping her suspended in desire, poised on the brink of the relief she so desperately needed. After a few moments, Melanie couldn’t stand it any longer and she opened her eyes.

She saw him staring at her, his eyes dark and remote, his gaze intent, studying her, gauging her responses. A breath of sanity rushed through her then, warning her how crazy this was, cringing at how vulnerable she’d allowed herself to become in front of this total stranger. But that thought only served to ramp up her excitement another notch, galvanizing her further, and in a voice she didn’t recognize, she found herself hissing, “Now, Goddamn it! NOW!”

His expression changed and his low, throaty chuckle sent shivers through her loins. His tongue crested slowly, gently over the top of her mound. He rested his tongue there, not moving. Melanie felt it building, like a swirling tornado in the pit of her soul, unstoppable; irresistible force meeting the immovable object of his mouth. His tongue flicked once. Twice. And she came. Bucking against his face like a wild stallion. Sobbing. Gushing, the juices flowing like molten lava over his lips and tongue.

She had never experienced an orgasm like it and had no idea how long it lasted. For all she knew it could have been hours. Gradually, though, the convulsions began to slack off, and she become aware that something had changed. She opened her eyes again, unaware that she’d closed them, and she saw Mark standing over her. Melanie noted with not a little satisfaction that his pants were now fully tented and showed a dark stain on them. His face was slick with her juices; beads of her come still dripped from his chin. But he wasn’t looking at her. He was staring at the door.

She followed his gaze and with a shock realized that someone was standing by the door of her room — inside her locked room. It took her a few moments to recognize the contorted, visibly angry face of Trevor Hailey, the Hotel Manager. And when he spoke, he sounded nothing like the man she’d talked with earlier.

“You BITCH!”

Melanie gasped, quickly draping the towels over her as best she could. He looked at her, and under his hard gaze she blushed, not only because of her current state but also because she recalled the wicked thoughts that raced through her mind the first time she saw him. Her pussy contracted and she stifled a moan.

“Not you. Him.” He looked away, dismissing her, and turned his attention to the man standing between her outstretched legs. “Mark, how could you?” he asked, coming into the room.

Mark laughed, and made no effort to wipe the drying come on his face. “Careful, Trevor. If you keep that up, you’re liable to lose your tip.”

“Goddamn it, Mark! She’s a guest of the hotel! Do you realize how much trouble you’ll be in if she reports this?”

“Well, I don’t think there’s much chance of that. Do you, Melanie?” The best she could manage was a quick shake of the head. “We both know that’s not the real reason you’re upset, don’t we? And just how long were you standing there anyway? Did you get a good show?”

Trevor stepped forward until he stood right in front of Mark, both of them opposite your feet. His face grew agitated. “I was not –”

“Really?” Mark laughed again, surprisingly calm in the face of the older man’s anger. “Then why is this,” he said, gripping the swelling in Trevor’s crotch, “so nice and hard?”

Melanie noticed the size of the bulge that Mark was squeezing and her pussy contracted again. This time her moan was audible.

Mark slid his hand up and down the front of Trevor’s pants, stroking the full length of his cock. “Why, Trevor? It couldn’t be because you saw me kissing this, could it?”

Suddenly, she was naked again, dimly aware that Mark had flicked the towel out of her grasp. She shrieked, instinctively covering her oily pussy with her hand.

“It’s all right, Melanie.” Mark’s voice was gentle, soothing. With an effort, she lifted her gaze to see that both men’s eyes were on her now. Involuntarily, her nipples puckered as they stared at her exposed flesh. She felt Mark gently tugging at her hand and she didn’t fight him as he lifted it up and placed it on her stomach. “Isn’t she beautiful, Trevor?”

“Do you want to know how she tastes?”

Her heart began pounding as she watched Mark kiss Trevor lightly on the lips, his tongue snaking out to rim the salt and pepper moustache. As the two men opened their mouths and kissed hungrily, her hand pulled on her distended nipple. She felt the cycle starting again; the butterflies tumbling in the pit of her stomach, her skin arcing from hot to cold as the blood rushed to her engorged clit. She pinched her nipple harder as Mark’s hands undid Trevor’s belt.

“Touch her,” she heard Mark say. “I know it’s called a snatch but trust me, it won’t bite.”

Melanie felt Trevor’s hand on her mound, softly, tentatively, like a bird fluttering in the grass. His fingers grazed lightly over her silken hair, coming ever so close to her clit. She gasped as his finger traced a line down the center of her dripping gap. She heard and felt all of this, but her eyes were focused on the parting zipper, the pants tumbling to the floor, and the thick, pendulous cock as it bobbed freely in the air.

Trevor’s fingers were slipping inside her, his thumb fumbling for her clit. Melanie was using both hands on her tits, squeezing them fiercely. She leaned back, her head resting on a folded towel, and looking down her body she saw Trevor’s hand massaging her pussy, and just beyond she watched Mark open his mouth and engulf that beautiful, bulbous cock.

And she felt it then, the rush of blood and power rocketing through her for the second time in the last few minutes. It was all she could do to keep her eyes open as the feeling pounded her again and again, but she managed, not wanting to miss a second of this spectacle.

Her orgasm subsided slowly, as though she was riding a series of giant ocean waves, each one lowering her into calmer and calmer waters. In contrast, her clit had become so sensitive that the slightest touch jolted her like an electric shock. She gripped Trevor’s hand in hers and saw him staring at her.

His expression was such an odd mixture of surprise and desire that she couldn’t help but smile at him. She remembered talking with him earlier, and his comment about how much time had passed since he’d been with a woman, and being caught off-guard by the rush of blood to her loins when she had the sudden image of his moustache hairs rubbing against her clit.

She mouthed a silent “Thank you” to him and sat up in order to get a better view of his cock in Mark’s mouth. The feeling of déjà vu overwhelmed her, adding to her sense of unreality about the day. And Melanie had to admit that, in the objective sense at least, watching two men together like this was an incredible turn-on. It was only when she projected the thought of her husband into the scenario that her emotions short-circuited on her. No, this was like living a fantasy, and now, as she watched Trevor’s glistening, turgid flesh slip back and forth between Mark’s eager lips, she realized that the real thing was far better than any fantasy.

Aside from that terrible day a year ago, she’d never had a chance to watch anyone, man or woman, perform such an intimate act on another. And while she’d always taken pride in her ability to please a man with her mouth and tongue, it hit her that what she was seeing now was more sensual and erotic than anything she’d ever experienced. As she stared transfixed at Mark as he slid his tongue down Trevor’s cock and mouthed his balls, she understood suddenly what it was that made this so hot.

There was no tension, no anxiety. Mark was making love to Trevor’s cock and it was obvious that he was in no hurry for it to end. Every inch of Trevor’s engorged meat was being savored and worshiped. For him – for both of them – to be this comfortable in front of her was incredible. But it was more than that.

She watched with envy as Mark swallowed the thick tool all the way into his throat, resting his nose in Trevor’s pubic hair, and it dawned on her that the enjoyment she’d gotten from giving head had always been from her lover’s perspective. And that enjoyment had always been measured by the end result, ejaculation. Ribbons of shiny, gooey come, rushing into her mouth, streaming down her throat, congratulating her on a job well done.

Now she wondered if she hadn’t been cheating herself. As Mark swiped his tongue rapidly across the throbbing blue vein on Trevor’s dick, she realized that she wanted to know what she’d been missing. She wanted it to be her mouth swallowing Trevor’s cock, her tongue slathering his balls, her lips kissing the leaky slit, and she wanted it to be for no reason other than the sheer joy of doing it.

But before Melanie could move, Trevor tugged on Mark’s shoulders, pulling him up. Mark reluctantly let go of his prize and Trevor’s chunky dick bobbed freely once again. The two men kissed, tongues swirling between open mouths, and she stared at them avidly. Her arousal was such that even coming twice had been nothing more than a small appetizer prior to a big meal. Her blood ran feverishly hot and once more the need for release was growing urgent.

Then Trevor unbuckled Mark’s pants and dropped them to the floor. Her heart started thumping again as he knelt in front of Mark. She gasped as Mark’s cock spilled out of his briefs and Trevor opened his mouth to receive it. Her pussy twitched spasmodically as she watched the salt and pepper moustache sliding down the thick, meaty shaft. Melanie moaned out loud.

She rocked forward now, resting on her hands and knees at the edge of the massage table. Closer. She needed to be closer. As impossible as it seemed, her need was still growing. Instead of draining and sating her, her orgasms had only served to energize her, filling her with strength and a desire for more stimulation. Her clit and pussy lips were so swollen that even the slightest pinching of her thighs sent a burst of pleasure through her entire body. She felt like a cat in heat must when she comes across two randy, full-blooded Toms.

Trevor’s pace was slow and methodical as he hobbed up and down on Mark’s burly shaft. Like a metronome set to a silent beat, his face rose and fell; cheeks hollowed, lips stretched full and thick, moustache bristles curling and twisting around the shiny pillar of flesh. She imagined his tongue, swirling and slashing inside the moist cavern of his mouth; liquid, darting, meltingly soft, like butterscotch under a hot sun.

She wanted to feel that tongue on her skin, in her mouth. Licking at the base of her ear and thrusting at the brown halo of her asshole. She wanted it bathing her clit and teasing her hardened nipples. She’d never wanted anything so much in her life. And she couldn’t wait any longer.

Melanie hopped off the table and knelt on the floor next to Trevor. She was close enough now to inhale what for her was an intoxicating aroma: the pungent, completely masculine mixture of sweat, pre-come, and saliva. She took one hand and ran it lightly through Trevor’s shock of gray-white hair. Her other hand glided over Mark’s firm, muscled thigh. Both men were startled, so lost in their sexual reverie that they’d momentarily forgotten her. This didn’t bother her. She’d been enjoying the show, indulging her voyeuristic fantasy. But now it was time to join in.

She leaned in, flicking her tongue along the underside of Mark’s cock. Trevor pulled back and the spongy, circumcised head floated free in front of her. Light, wispy tendrils of Trevor’s saliva swayed from the throbbing pole and she sucked them in greedily, delighting in her first taste of both men. She stared into Trevor’s eyes, taking the thick cock into her mouth, letting it glide over her tongue and nestle in her throat. She held it there for a few moments, squeezing it with her throat muscles, and then she let it slip out until only the head remained surrounded by her lips.

She tightened her grip in Trevor’s hair and pulled him towards her. For a few seconds, he resisted her and she saw an odd expression on his face. At first she took it for jealousy, but then she realized that there was an implicit challenge in it as well. The look said, “He’s mine, little girl, and you’ll never please him like I can”. With his dick leaking pre-come all over her lips and tongue, she wondered briefly if Mark felt the same way. But that wasn’t her goal. She had no desire to possess either man. This was pure enjoyment.

Finally, Trevor smiled, opened his mouth, and the two of them were sharing Mark’s dick. And at last she felt his luxuriant tongue on her skin and over her lips and mouth, simultaneously licking Mark’s pulsating member and slathering her with kisses. She moaned, answering him with her own tongue, her juices seeping, slick and shiny, coating the inside of her thighs.

Melanie became caught up in sensation, lost in the delirious ménage of man, woman, and flesh, convinced that nothing could make this moment any better. And then Mark groaned.

“Oh, God! I’m going to come!”

She felt Trevor’s hand on the back of her neck, his fingers slipping through her dark, lustrous hair. She stared into his eyes, those hazel eyes with flecks of green and gold swirling around each other like falling leaves. And she saw once again in them that mixture of envy and defiance. She had a small epiphany then, knowledge and understanding simultaneously blossoming fully-grown in her mind. But she had no time to ponder it.

Mark’s breathing was labored and his movements were growing more and more erratic. In a few seconds, his jism would come raging out, spilling over her lips and tongue, covering her face, and she couldn’t wait for it to happen. She wanted to see it, smell it, taste it; she wanted to feel the hot globules splashing against her skin. And at this moment, most of all, she wanted to share it with the man in front of her.

Mark cried out and the first gooey jet sprayed between her and Trevor, covering her lips and Trevor’s moustache. She covered Mark’s slit with her mouth and the second ropey spurt washed over her teeth and tongue. She pulled back and Trevor managed to catch most of the third blast in his mouth, with some of it staining his cheek. Then the two of them were together again, their mouths forming a moist grotto to receive the steady flow of hot come erupting from Mark’s cock.

Again and again, the thick shaft slid between their joined lips, the semen cascading like a waterfall over their tongues, until at last, the flood began to subside. Then it was just she and Trevor, sharing the spoils, dividing up the syrupy bounty that Mark had bequeathed them. Their tongues plunged in and out of their open mouths, strands of come dangling, dripping, dropping to their skin to wait patiently to be scooped up. Her lips engulfed Trevor’s moustache, sucking the bristles dry.

Through it all, her clit had been filling with blood, her pussy lips bloated and saturated, crying for release. She reached down and stroked Trevor’s fat dick; it felt like a steel rod, coated and slick with pre-come. He needed release, too; needed it as desperately as she. And there was only one way for both of them to get it.

Melanie pushed Trevor back until he was lying on the floor. He stretched out, getting comfortable, and as she climbed on top of him she marveled at his cock; how chiseled and marbled it looked, as though a master sculptor had carved it. She straddled his waist and grasped his shaft, pointing the mushroom head between her sodden lips.

She was so wet that even a cock this thick slid almost all the way inside her without effort. She forced herself to slow down, savoring each delicious inch of meat. She leaned forward, her nipples taut against his chest, and the two of them started to kiss again. Trevor’s pubes scraped her clit and she moaned into his mouth. She milked his cock with her pussy, squeezing it. She felt his pounding heart. She knew it wouldn’t take long for either of them.

Trevor’s arms were around her, holding her. Stroking her. No, she thought, this won’t take long at all.

And then she felt Mark’s tongue worm into her asshole.

Melanie let out a gasp at this unexpected invasion. Again, she flashed on her dream, that moment when she felt the unknown presence pleasuring her. And it didn’t matter that she knew it was Mark; in her imagination it could be anyone, even her husband. Oh, yes, she thought. Let it be Paul. Her body jerked and tried to rise but Trevor tightened his grip, holding her in place. She moaned as Mark’s tongue tunneled slowly inside her tight, puckered anus. He pulled back, rimming her rapidly, lapping between her ass cheeks, before sliding down to dab at Trevor’s cock and the bottom fold of her cunt. His tongue, soft and downy, bathed her backside like a warm washcloth.

For a brief moment his mouth abandoned her and the air washed coolly over her rounded flesh. Then his thumb poked inside, massaging the rigid inner ring of muscle. Trapped between Trevor’s thick cock in her pussy and Mark’s thumb probing her ginger tunnel, she writhed like a fish on a hook, wriggling and squirming as the intermingled sensations of pain and pleasure flooded her body. Beneath her, Trevor moaned as Mark sucked on his balls.

Her breath was coming in short gasps. His thumb was pushing at her nether walls, stretching her, and the heat that emanated from his anal probe pulsed in time with her heartbeat. Her body had never felt so alive, so energized. Every nerve ending had been peeled back, raw at the core, and the rivulets of sweat streaming from her pores were like ribbons of fire, coating and blistering her skin. At this fevered pitch, every moment was a continual orgasm, as though her senses had been elevated to a plateau high above any previous peak. But deep inside her there was an even greater mountaintop looming, waiting only for the right trigger.

Mark’s thumb withdrew from her asshole and before she could react, she felt his weight behind her. Then his powerful hands grasped her hips, his fingers slipping on her slick skin, and her only thought was of his cock, impossibly hard so soon after being drained, sliding between her creamy ass cheeks like a heat-seeking missile.

Melanie whispered a silent prayer of thanks for the recuperative powers of young men as the fat, spongy head pressed against her sphincter, which, despite Mark’s diligent efforts, refused to yield. She looked down. Trevor’s eyes were closed, his face contorted in ecstasy. She could only imagine how it must feel for him; his cock, ensnared by her covetous cunt, helpless to do anything but twitch and throb as Mark’s equally thick member tried to penetrate her asshole. Mark’s grip tightened on her waist and she popped a tit into Trevor’s surprised mouth.

“Suck it!” His lips fastened on her nipple, his moustache hairs raspy against her soft skin. “Harder!” The suction increased but it still wasn’t enough and she grabbed her other nipple, twisting it savagely just as Mark grunted, flexing his hips, and his cock head popped inside her rectal channel. She screamed and Trevor groaned, releasing her nipple. Mark inched forward, sliding along the thin, tissue-like wall that separated him from Trevor’s dick, lodged snugly in her pussy.

After a few moments of patient, gentle thrusting, Mark’s thick pole was buried to the hilt, his balls resting against her ass cheeks, and she was filled like she had never been filled before. She stared at Trevor and she understood that this was a first for him, too, and she smiled at his dazed expression. He smiled back and suddenly the two of them were laughing, sharing the sheer incongruity of the moment.

She leaned forward and kissed Trevor, his tongue like silk in her mouth. Mark’s lips nuzzled her neck wetly. Then the three of them were kissing, mouths open, their tongues dancing wildly. She was being shared in an intimate sandwich of the most erotic and delicious kind. Led by these two beguiling strangers, impaled on their fleshy hooks, she was sounding deep in the uncharted waters of her sexuality. And it wasn’t over yet.

Melanie wiggled her ass and Mark responded with a quick, sharp slap on her buttock. She moaned and he slapped the other cheek, harder this time. She moaned again and her hand slipped behind her to fondle his balls. She gave Trevor’s scrotum a playful squeeze and his cock jerked, making her gasp. Mark started to rock her gently. Hardly moving at first, barely an inch at a time, gradually the arc widened and his cock was sliding back and forth inside her like a weighted pendulum. Soon Trevor joined in and, after a couple of false starts, began matching Mark thrust for thrust.

The two cocks were like giant snakes inside her, writhing and bulging together, readying their venom, and the urges they called forth were primal. As they sped up, battening her front and rear, the sounds that issued from her mouth became more animal than human. The room hummed with the noise of flesh colliding with flesh, grunts intermingled with gasps of breath. A low wail escaped her lips as she started to come, convulsively squeezing Trevor’s dick, forcing him to flood her pussy with jets of semen. Mark cried out and let loose a blast of his own deep in her rectum.

And her body responded in kind, climaxing again and again with thundering contractions that exploded inside her like mortar shells, each detonation leaving her weaker than the one before, her body finally reaching the point of exhaustion. At last she lay her sweat-soaked body onto Trevor’s, unable to speak, her head nestled on his chest, listening to a heartbeat as ragged as her own. Mark covered them both with his body and Melanie dozed, snug and relaxed and completely sated.


The airport reopened the following afternoon and, as Melanie sat staring out the window of jet that would take her home, she thought about the previous day. In her heart she knew, somehow, that it wasn’t just a random event, a fortunate meeting between strangers. No, what happened was like a second chance for her; an opportunity to experience something that could have taken place a year earlier. She hadn’t been ready for it then. And now, for the first time, she thought she understood why.

She asked Mark at one point the same question she’d asked her husband and in her mind she listened again to his response.

“What am I?” His laughter was rich and full. “Oh, man, what a question. It makes me feel like I’m some two-headed beast or something. I suppose,” he went on, “if I have to be called something, it would be bisexual. But I’m not a big fan of labels. We need to learn to accept people for what they are, not for what we want them to be.

“I like to think that I’m just a person who is in touch with his sexuality, who is comfortable with it, without the need to put it in a box and tell the world, ‘This is who I am’. I want to stay open to the possibilities that life offers me.”

Possibilities, Melanie thought. That was a good way of putting it. She realized now that she had some unfinished business to deal with. And the possibilities it presented brought a smile to her face.


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