When two married people want to fuck each other — but not their respective spouses — discretion is everything. But in a city teeming with family, friends and acquaintances, most local hotels and motels remained firmly off limits for me and my guy. Ironically, an old honeymoon resort tucked into the chilly mountainside provided the anonymity me and my lover needed.

Armed with our excuses, we each left our spouses behind and boarded separate trains that would bring us to the same town. To my delight, Jim sprang for a ritzy suite — a sublime ’70s relic complete with a red shag carpet, mirrored ceilings and a champagne glass-shaped soaking tub.

The clear, crystal-inspired tub was the first spot I wanted to fuck him senseless. I bounded up the spiral staircase that led to the small deck... Read More