I'd only "accidentally" cheated on a boyfriend once in my life. In college, a British soccer player came to play for the university I attended. We dated, screwed, and eventually he left to go back home. I thought he was gone permanently so I found a couple of other dicks to have some fun with. I was at a club with one of them when my old soccer player boyfriend, whose accent I loved, came up and rather angrily asked what I was doing grinding pretty hard on the dance floor with someone other than him. I expressed my surprise that he'd returned (he said he was going back to Europe to stay and I thought our relationship had ended) and gave my apologies, but it didn't matter to him. That it was misunderstanding, I'd never be able to convince him.

That's as close as I ever got to cheating. Well, until this happened.

My work sends me to various conferences every year. They are usually the same ones over and over. Occasionally, there will be a training meeting that breaks up the routine, but five of the half-dozen annual out-of-the-office trips I, and various combinations of my coworkers, make each year are to the same events. There is one each year in our state capital that we see as the big one. I won't mention the name of the group that puts it on. It would surprise people, in a somewhat uncomfortable way, that the people in the profession that comprise the membership of this group would be involved in what takes place at this conference. I wish I could say that the association that hosts it would be embarrassed that the story I'm about to tell are so commonplace, but I know they wouldn't be. I think they take a bit of hidden pride that they provide a bit of the "conference culture" to their attendees and participants. Still, for the sake of anonymity, I won't give details that would cause them problems.

I'm not really motivated to anyway. I had a great time at the three of those conferences I had previously attended. It was actually my fifth year in the job, but I'd had to miss one year due to an ill-timed personal issue. You may think it was the cyclical nature and seeing the same people at a lot of the same events that helped lead to the story I'm about to tell you, but it wasn't. This was just one of those things that just happened, and spontaneously.

I didn't have it planned. I was satisfied at home. My husband treated (and still treats) me well. He isn't abusive. He provides for our family. He works hard and tries to do good in things beyond just his job and personal life. He is physically attractive, though nothing special. And, he doesn't lack in the "tools" or the "technique" department. Despite being, give or take, pretty average in the looks and personality department, he has talent in the bedroom. I wasn't dissatisfied with my life or marriage in any way.

I can even say that when me and a coworker stopped by the vendor booth at the conference I described, and entered to win a prize, that nothing special happened. Nothing occurred to me in that moment. It was not at all obvious that the man working the booth took notice of the dress I was wearing. It was a bit shorter than what I usually wear, though not anywhere near inappropriate. As strange as this may sound, I think I was comfortable enough to wear it because I'd been trying out some sunless tanner that I'd recently found and that had been working so well. Though it was fake, no one could tell. And, that "tan" I had gave me a bit of extra swagger, along with the confidence to wear that dress that hit me just above the knees. That dress, and that swagger, caught the eye of a horny insurance salesman as I tried to win the prize his company was giving away. I just didn't know it.

Later that night though, he made me aware. I ended up being peer pressured into going to a bar down the road from the conference's host hotel. It wasn't far. Just a bit over a mile I think. A couple of rides in the company vehicles that had brought all the people from various businesses and corporations got me, two coworkers, and a couple of dozen other people to that little dive bar where things would get started.

Though I'd met Ryan at the vendor booth earlier that day, and had briefly encountered him at a couple of other events before, he seemed unusually comfortable and interested in me once I arrived at the bar. He kept asking what I liked to drink. He kept asking me to dance. I took the free drinks without much hesitation. The dancing part, I had to be strongly encouraged by a coworker (my boss' boss, actually). Once on the floor, I discovered that Ryan was a terrible dancer and didn't seem to be used to clubs and loud music. I learned later that it is his job to entertain clients and potential ones. He wasn't showing he was very good at it in that moment on the dance floor.

He did however manage to tell me that my legs looked good in the dress I'd worn that day. By this time, I'd changed to jeans. I could tell he was disappointed by the way he said what he did about my legs. He'd waited until the song was ending to tell me that, so I just ignored him, turned, and walked away. I hadn't even really wanted to dance with him in the first place and the four beers he'd manged to get in front of me hadn't changed that in the 3 minutes we were on the floor.

I got back to the bar to grab my purse off the stool, somewhat annoyed to discover that my colleague had left it unguarded despite my asking her to watch it. But, that also left ME unguarded. In the few seconds it took me to realize that my coworker was away to the restroom, that my purse hadn't been opened, and to think about throwing it on my shoulder to find my other coworker, I felt a hand land right on the underside of my right hip. Just high enough to not elicit a slap, just low enough to be offensive. Then, a millisecond later, Ryan's lips find their way to an inch away from my ear and he says, speaking normally to be sure I hear it over the music, "Your legs did look good in that dress. And, your ass looks good in those jeans tonight. Perfect really."

It is ridiculous. I am embarrassed that it was that easy. The remark was so juvenile and uncreative. But, in that moment, I blushed. I was flattered. I'd gone from irritated on the dance floor, to being glad the situation was seemingly over, to surprised, to flattered WAY to easily. Maybe it was because Ryan was about 6'3" tall, reasonably attractive, and I'd been drinking. Maybe it was because, after being with the same person for 15 years, I instinctively understood I was being pursued. And liked it. Whatever it was, I felt that flutter that comes with the first undeniable signs that, despite whatever you do try to not be, you are interested.

I collected myself and remembered that I was married. I told Ryan I had to go find my coworkers. I wanted to leave. I was afraid of what might happen if I stayed. I didn't mention it to them once I found them, but I think they understood that I was uncomfortable. We headed for the door but were separated on the way due to the crowded and dark conditions. Ryan, sprung out from the crowd and stood in my way. Aware that we were preparing to leave, he asked me to stay. I told him I couldn't and tried to walk around him. He put his hand upon arm, but not in a way that was painful or forceful. But, I did get the signal he was trying to send to not leave. He asked me, "Go back to the hotel with me."

Message received loud and clear. Ryan wanted to fuck me. I mustered the strength to tell him that I was married. To his credit, he then gave the signal that I was free to go. And I did.

During the short ride back to the hotel, I began to realize that I might be missing out on the one opportunity that I might have to be with another man ever again. Even just the thought of that started to make me tingle a bit. Especially where it would count if I decided to go back. I couldn't though. I had a good husband, a good man, a good person, back at home. But, this was going to be it, I thought. My one chance for me to relive some of my college days and have no one be the wiser.

I'd fucked a lot during college. I actually worried about my reputation a little. But, given that I ran with a crowd of four or five other girls who had still more sex than I did (and did kinky things that I didn't to boot), I managed to avoid too much damage to it. But, I loved the dick. Still do. I was reminded of it when Ryan complimented my ass. I wanted a dick in it. A different one than I'd had for a decade in a half. I decided my inner slut was going to come back out one last time.

When we got to the hotel, I stayed in the car. One coworker got out of the front and had no reason to look back to make sure I was getting out the car. The one in the back with me looked at me. Paused. Looked at me again, this time knowingly. She shut the door and went into the hotel. I asked the driver to take me back to bar. I didn't mention this, but in my mind, I knew I was going back so I could fuck and suck someone new for the first time in 15 years.

We discovered that the bar had wound down. We were surprised that it appeared to have done so as quickly as it did. I was disappointed and ashamed when the driver came back to tell me that there were only about a dozen people in the bar, none of them looking like conference attendees. I was disappointed because I wasn't going to get to do what I'd set my mind to do. Ashamed because I knew what I'd set my mind to do.

But, when we got back to the hotel, I noticed that a large crowd was in the lobby. The group from the conference that had gone to the bar had returned in some Ubers that they had called and that had pulled up right behind us after we'd first left the bar. Ryan was with them.

I guess he'd moved on to another woman since he thought I'd gotten away. But, that other woman didn't know she was up against a wife who'd decided that she didn't want to be one that night. I stood close enough to where Ryan had this woman sitting on his lap in a chair in the hotel lobby. I guess he got the signal I wanted him to because he reached out and brushed my leg. That let me know that he still preferred to fuck me that night instead of the woman on his lap. I knew I could step back, just out of his reach, and play a bit hard to get. It would be one last test of just how bad he wanted my hot legs to spread for him and how much he wanted in my perfect ass.

He passed that test. As I pulled way and walked to the elevator, Ryan found a way to get that woman off his lap and start making his way over to it. He wasn't going to make it before the doors shut. Should I test him again? Should I make him work for the action he was about to get? No. I held open the door.

He gets in. I ask, "What floor?" He sees I've already pressed the button for the fourth floor and says, "Not four. How's six?" Without saying a word, I press six and let the doors close. Ryan was quiet during the trip up to the fourth floor. When the elevator stopped there, I had one more chance to end the whole thing by walking out and to my room, but I didn't take it. I wanted Ryan to TAKE ME. I made it known through a small, quick glance at him while the doors sat open for what seemed like ten minutes. I was wet. I could feel it. A quick glace made it clear Ryan was hard. His pants couldn't hide it.

Finally, the doors shut. Floor five. I could see my face turning red on the mirrors that were part of the decorations of the elevator. Floor six. I realized I hadn't taken a breath since the third floor and finally took one. I stepped out of the elevator and turned to wait on Ryan as I had no idea in which of these rooms I was about to get fucked in.

I almost didn't care if we did it right there in the hallway. If Ryan's bulge was showing, I was afraid that my readiness was showing too. I just knew there had to be a wet spot going all the way through my jeans. Obviously, I didn't have time to look.

Once we got to room 614, Ryan started trying to use the card key to get the door open. As is the case with many hotel card keys, it wasn't working. It took at least five tries before it worked. What Ryan hadn't noticed was that I had gotten five buttons down on my shirt while he was trying the door. Once he got it open, he glanced back, almost said something, but then noticed my cleavage.

I wear such modest clothing that no one would ever guess it, but I have D-cup tits. I also have a small waist. Ryan was figuring this out in one glance now that my shirt was mostly out of the way. He smiled and walked in the room. I followed him. This was happening.

He turned around as the door to the room shut behind us. Yes, this WAS happening. It was just him and me now. There was nothing special about him other than the opportunity. I was going to take it. And, I started by placing my hand on his dick, through his pants.

Ryan took a deep breath and stood up a bit straighter for a split second. As he came back down to his normal posture he just kept slowly lowering his head low enough to kiss me. In mind, I was thinking that this had better not end up being a romantic kiss. I wanted some cock and while, I was willing to engage in some petting and foreplay, I was interested in getting hammered hard. I kept it to myself for the moment.

I kissed back, but started stroking Ryan's dick through his slacks. I think it got uncomfortable for him because he pulled back slightly and unbuttoned his pants, giving just enough room to be a relief for his growing hard on. But, that's all he did. I don't know if he was leaving it to me on purpose, or was having some small hesitation in his mind. Either way, I was going to move things along and pulled his zipper down as we continued to kiss.

Thankfully, they seemed like hook-up kisses and not "I love you" kisses. I think that I was right about that as he didn't say anything as I pulled away to kneel down in front of him. I pulled down his underwear to the bottom of his open fly. His dick sprang out and I didn't even have time to take it all in before I took it all in. It wasn't with my eyes that I figured out that Ryan had a pretty average dick. No one would ever laugh at it. No one would probably ever be impressed by it.

I think he had resolved to fuck me that evening. Or, at least fuck someone. There were hints that he had showered more recently than that morning and that some grooming had taken place too. There was even the smell of some cologne or aftershave that had, quite obviously, been applied to his crotch. I noticed, but just barely, as I started bobbing my head up and down with my lips tight on his cock. I didn't wait. I didn't lick, tease, or play with the balls or head. I just went down as far as I could, as fast as I could, on his dick.

I couldn't go all the way down. That's not to compliment Ryan's endowment. Again, he was very average. I can't get all the way down on my husband either. He was just a bit bigger than Ryan, but none of that crossed my mind as I just kept gobbling up the dick that was in front of me.

And, I'm good at it. It was few minutes before I could show it off, but I'm great at it. Despite deep throating not being a skill I possess, I am very good at giving head in almost every other way. But, right now, I just wanted to feel and taste it. I went hard and fast, but still avoided any issues with my teeth. I eventually slowed down and twirled my tongue around the head. That seemed to be something Ryan liked. I kept doing it until I could tell he was about to cum.

"If I make you cum do you promise you'll still fuck me?", I asked.

"I'm going to fuck you. Don't worry about that. Even if I come.", he replied in a breathless way, almost begging me to finish. I put my mouth back on the head of his cock and kept swirling my tongue. He got bigger still. His pants had fallen down to his ankles and now I could tell by how tight his balls were that he was at the edge. I started bobbing again. Up and down. Fast. At the first throb and hint of metallic taste, I took my lips off his dick and began stroking him fast, aiming him at my face. I wanted his cum on my face. About five seconds later I got it.

It was all over my cheeks, nose, and I even had to close one eye. But, thankfully, it didn't get in it. Even more conveniently, it didn't get in my dishwater blonde hair or anywhere else. I was able to stand up and take two short steps to the bathroom and wash my face and was done with it.

When I went back out into the room, Ryan was sitting on the bed and had turned on the TV. I assume it was to keep the room from possibly being awkwardly silent after what had just happened. He'd pulled his pants back up, but his shirt was still untucked. I took that as a good sign that I'd still get what I wanted. And, I wasn't going to wait for it.

He saw me come out, took a deep breath, and before he could exhale to say anything I asked, "Why did you put your pants back on? You promised you'd fuck me. You're going to fuck me."

Ryan was as surprised by those words as I was. College was a long time ago. I'd grown up. Returned to my more conservative upbringing. But, here I was, telling a man who wasn't my husband that he was going fuck me. Not asking. Telling. I was a cock hungry whore again. It was exhilarating.

"I just didn't want to be sitting out here naked when you came out. That would have just seemed creepy", he said.

"Take them off. I'm going to take mine off. Then you're going to screw me. If you need a little more time, that's OK.", I replied.

"I won't need much!"

"Let's see.", I smiled back.

He took off his pants and underwear. He was right. He'd need a little time. He had some plans though.

After I got my pants completely off, he stood up, walked over to me, turned my back to the bed, and guided me back to it. I laid down. He put a hand on each of my knees and pushed my legs apart. He was so tall that he had to lift my hips and push me back a bit on the bed, but was able to finally get his mouth down to my pussy. He started lapping at it. Licking furiously. As with his dancing, he actually wasn't that great at oral sex. Then again, I never really enjoyed it, even during my slut days. But, since it was something that hardly ever happened, I just relaxed and enjoyed how good it felt even if it isn't something I have to have.

But, after a few minutes, what I had to have was a good fucking. I'd started to breathe pretty heavily from all of Ryan's work on my clit and, in between breathes, I asked him if he was ready to fuck me yet. He stood up and it was obvious that he was!

Now, he had to pull me back to the very edge of the bed. He grabbed and lifted behind my knees to drag me there. Then, he bent over and put an arm on each side, and just above, my head. I was wet enough that he didn't need a hand to guide his cock into me. He adjusted his hips until the head was just outside me. Then he thrust it in. Normally, that wouldn't work that easy. This time, I needed it to happen so badly that it did and he slid right in.

It wasn't his dick. It wasn't how he was using it. In that moment, I wasn't feeling anything special relating to the mechanics of the sex. It felt good of course. But, more than that, I was feeling a much more general sense of euphoria. It wasn't Ryan. It was the situation. It was the adrenaline. It was the dopamine. I was high on my own body chemistry. The feeling that I was doing something I wasn't supposed to be doing. The feeling that I KNEW I was doing something I wasn't supposed to be doing. Even more than the sex, it felt wonderful. It was good to be a whore again.

The sex felt good too though. Without realizing it, I had gotten close to cumming. Ryan was apparently in good physical shape and didn't get tired easily. He just kept pounding me. Fucking me incessantly. I started to rock my hips to make sure he hit just the right spots inside me. As best I could, I reached down and started rubbing on my clit. It was still sensitive from the licking, but that was actually a good thing.

I started to whimper. I tried to be quiet. I couldn't help myself. After my first burst of two or three squeals, I couldn't contain myself. I started telling Ryan to fuck me harder. I started tantalizing him by saying, "If you keep fucking me like this I'll let you in my perfect ass."

At that, he managed to go even faster. Almost to the point of it being uncomfortable. But, it was one of those times where it hurt so much if felt good. I really let loose with a series of, "Fuck me" commands and "Oh my God" moans. I finally asked him a question and it made him have to answer through his own orgasmic groans. I asked him, "Did you need to cum all over, and all in, a whore tonight?"

He barely managed a a couple of yeses and a final, "I knew you were that whore when I saw you in that dress today." Up to then, I thought he was going to cum without me, but that set me off. I needed to be whore. I was being a whore. I was being called a whore. That whore came all over the dick that wasn't her husband's like she had so badly needed and wanted to.

After we'd both finished, I was tempted to fall asleep. I considered staying quiet. But, I if I was going to slut it up, I was going to play the part well. I asked how long it would take for Ryan to be ready again. He said he didn't know. I think he also got nervous as he'd cum inside of me. After he returned from getting a cup of water, he asked if I was on birth control. I was.

I went to the restroom to "clean up" a bit. Strangely enough, I still had my shirt on. I'd even buttoned it back up when I'd gone in to wash Ryan's cum off my face earlier. But, otherwise, I walked out naked and freshly fucked. And, I was wanting some more.

"I understand if you need a little while.", I told Ryan.

"Yeah. Just a few. I'm ready, but my dick needs some time.", he laughed.

I had an idea. I was still horny and I was already fucking the brains out of some man from a work conference. I was going to make this a good night. "I'll take care of things until you tell me you're ready."

Ryan looked at me with a bit of confusion on his face. But, he figured out what I meant when I went down to the bottom of the bed, laid on my back with my head just at the bottom edge, and let me knees fall apart. Sitting up at the top of the bed, he could see everything my fingers were doing. In and out of my pussy as I needed the lubrication to keep making the circles around my clit. I kept going faster and faster. Eventually, I could feel another orgasm getting ready to find its way out of me. Ryan sensed it too.

"Are you about to cum?", he asked.

"Yes.", I said.

"...."

"Fuck yes, I'm about to cum.", I said.

"...."

"Oh shit. Ohhh.... Oh.... Ohhhh... OHHHHHH.... Oh.... Awwww.... OHHHHHH... I'm cumming. I'm cumming! I'm cumming! Ohhhhhh.... Awwwww"

"....."

"Oh God.", I said barely able to catch my breath. "What'd you think?"

"...."

"You're going to have to come up with something better than silence!", I said to Ryan.

"It's a stunned silence! That was, well, that was fucking hot!", he finally said.

"Hot enough to make you ready again?", I retorted.

Ryan didn't say anything. He just leaned forward and kicked his legs back out from under and behind me so that he ended up on his stomach. He scooted forward and dived into my muff again. As I said earlier, for whatever reason, I don't always have to have oral sex performed on me. Sometimes I don't even like it. Since it had happened earlier, I think I was already tired of it. But, I took it that Ryan needed a bit more time.

I let him go for a few more minutes. I even had another very small orgasm on his face. But, I needed more fucking. And, I'd promised someone my perfect ass. So, I asked Ryan if he was ready yet. He said, "I think so."

He wasn't. But, I told him to get on his back. I straddled him just beneath his balls and started to stroke him. I could tell his dick was trying, but might still take some time. I just kept stroking him until he was hard. I scooted up and sat down on him while guiding his dick inside me. I rode him like the horny cowgirl I was. He was still a little limp from the frequency of the night's activities, so I didn't get too crazy.

Then, I remembered how he went off when I started asking him earlier about fucking a whore. So, I started again. "You still feel like you need to fuck a whore?" I felt his dick twinge inside me.

"What do you think about this whore fucking you?", I said as I thrust my hips up and down. Again, his dick got a bit harder.

"I feel that. You like giving sluts what they need?"

"...."

"DO YOU LIKE GIVING SLUTS WHAT THEY NEED?"

"Wha...uh..."

"DO YOU FUCKING LIKE GIVING WHORES AND SLUTS THE COCK THEY NEED?!"

"Uh. Yeah. I mean, "

"NOOO...DO YOU LIKE FUCKING MY PUSSY?!?!?!"

"Yes. Yes. I do. Do you like the DICK YOU'RE GETTING YOU LITTLE SLUT?" He reached up and ripped my shirt open, causing it to lose a few buttons.

I got dripping wet. I knew his dick was both hard enough and lubricated enough for it, so I asked him, "What do you want to do to me? To this little slut?"

"You tell me what you want done TO you. You're the one needing the cock. Just tell me how.", he said.

"I want you in my perfect ass."

Ryan pushed me off of him to his right side. I nearly fell off the bed. He grabbed my arm and pulled me back over to the center of it. He pushed my head down, but kept my ass is up in the air. I knew what was coming. Many women, me included, get tense in that situation. Not me, not that night. I knew I needed to relax. So I did, and I feel the head of Ryan's dick press up against my asshole.

"Do it. Fuck my ass. My PERFECT ass. Fuck it."

He pushes in. It's tight. It's still a bit rough despite how wet my pussy made his dick. He surprises me by pulling out and spitting on my ass crack and using his hand to rub on me in just the right place. He does the same for cock. He pushes in again.

This time, he makes it far enough that we both know there won't be any more problems. I gasp. After about three more thrusts, he goes balls deep. I feel them hit my clit. I moan. He pumps me harder, I get louder. He pumps me faster, I get I start uncontrollably yelling, "Fuck my perfect ass. It's yours. Fuck it. Fuck ME."

I feel him getting bigger again. "Is this what the whore wants? A dick in her ass?"

"OH YES. I needed to be fucked. I needed it hard. I needed it in my ass. I needed it from more than just one man. Oh fuck."

"How about my cum. Where do you want it?"

"Just cum in my ass. My perfect ass. Cum in it. Oh God I need it."

I feel Ryan cum. He was loud. It took him a while to finish. Afterward, I went to clean up one more time. I look at my phone while I'm in the bathroom. A missed call from my husband. A missed text from him an hour later. It said he was going to bed and to just call him in the morning.

I did. I lied. I lied again when I got home. But, my husband isn't stupid. He found where I'd searched for Ryan on Google and Facebook. I'm not tech saavy enough to know how to hide that or delete the searches. I made up a story. Several stories actually. My husband would end up figuring out a problem with each version of them and I'd have to revise them.

Eventually, I think he just accepted a combination of my stories just to save our marriage. I think he started to lie to me about believing MY lies. He's good man. He has good judgment. I think he knows he married a slut. Someone who, deep down, needs to be whore every now and then. Not role play one. Not be one for him. But, a whore who gets fucked, and hard, by another dick or three every so often.

I had to quit my old job to salvage our marriage, so my routine has changed. But, I still wonder when I'll end up going to my next conference.