My colleague, Amber, is a few years my senior at the consulting firm where we work.

Our jobs involve considerable travel — as much as 60 percent of our time. And anyone who has to travel today knows the process is mostly no fun at all. If TSA grope-downs, long lines, flight delays and crappy food aren’t enough, anyone in our position invariably ends up at a disadvantage in their personal life because dating can be tough. I’m only in my late 20s, so I’m in no rush to settle down, but it does get kind of tiring always hitting up Tinder in order to hook up with girls for the weekend.

Amber, however, is married. She’s in her mid-30s, and she’d committed to a man who is completely possessive and jealous. On a flight between Detroit and Seattle, I learned why — and no, it’s not entirely because she’s hot.

“The bastard cheated on me,” she blurted out.

We were taking off, and just about to start enjoying our fourth round of drinks after being delayed in the terminal’s bar for hours due to a thunderstorm. Loosened up by the liquor, Amber was in a candid mood.

“That’s why he’s always texting me, like, always. Because he cheated, he always thinks I will, too. And the idea has really gotten under his skin.”

“And you guys aren’t getting divorced?”

Amber shook her head. “It’s… it’s complicated — you know? Plus, divorce is expensive.”

“That’s for damn sure. I think the wedding industry and divorce lawyers are in cahoots.”

Amber laughed, then added, “Anyway, he did it only one time, or so he claims. But I think that’s bullshit. I would have been within my rights to walk, but he begged me to stay. And sure, I still love him, so we do counseling.” She took another sip of her drink, “And that went fine. But it’s funny because now he’s always looking over his shoulder, convinced that somehow I’ll betray him.”

“Well… would you?”

Our eyes met, and she kind of smiled. “Maybe. I don’t know. I haven’t decided.”

“You haven’t decided?”

Amber’s phone lit up once more. “Oh, there he goes again.”

She rolled her eyes and brought up the text message window.

I demurred and looked down at my magazine to give her some privacy.

“Well, that’s interesting.”

“What?”

“He says he can’t Skype tonight. He has a ‘last minute’ appointment.”

“So?”

“It’s probably nothing, but I’ve been wondering if he runs around with this girl at his office. Some chick just out of college.”

I shook my head. “I don’t get it. Young babes are pretty, but I can’t handle more than five minutes of conversation with them. And they usually suck in bed, and then there’s the drama. If I were him… ”

Amber interrupted me with a laugh. “What? If you were married, you’d cheat?”

“No, no, that’s not what I’m saying. But if I were a guy looking to step out, I’d pick someone like… you.”

Our eyes met again, and I flushed a bit as I explained, “You know, someone who is together, successful… experienced.”

We were now at cruising altitude, and Amber and I both got comfortable and drifted off. However, my nap was short-lived. I thought I was dreaming when I felt a hand caressing my thigh. I opened my eyes. The cabin was dark, of course, since it was an evening flight, but there was no mistaking what I felt: Amber’s hand was underneath my blanket, and she was looking at me, wide awake.

“What do you say we get to know one another better once we land?” she proposed.

“Are you sure?” I wasn’t going to say no to sex with a gorgeous woman, but I certainly didn’t want to complicate my work life.

“Yes, I am. And don’t worry about anything.” She slid her hand across my groin. “No drama, just sex.”

I want to go on the record and say that this instance was the only time a woman has said that to me and it ended up being true.

Once we landed, we headed to our hotel.

“Give me a half hour, and then come to my room.” Amber said, handing me her extra keycard.

I jumped into the shower, changed into some loungewear and drank a protein shake. I paced around the room, wondering if I should really take her up on her offer. But, at the end of the day, I know I’d be a fool to pass it up.

Amber is built. She’s five-foot-six with a runner’s physique, blonde curly hair and hazel eyes. She’s got a really great set of tits, too. (When they spilled out of her lacy bra, her nipples reminded me of pale pink gumdrops. Even now, I still think about sucking her tits.)

I knocked on her the door before using the keycard to enter. Amber was waiting for me. She stood in a sheer black robe and a matching lace bra-and-panty set.

“W-wow.” I stammered, kicking the door shut behind me. “You look amazing.”

“Thank you.” She smiled. “I bought myself these in front of my husband. But he hasn’t seen them on me. Though I made sure he saw me packing them.”

I laughed and shook my head. “You are wicked. Remind me never to piss you off.”

Amber smiled and reached out to play with the drawstring on my pants. “I won’t get pissed if you fuck me right.”

“I’m happy to accommodate you.”

I stroked her hair, and then we looked into one another’s eyes and kissed. Once our lips were locked and she was pressing her amazing body against mine, I felt pissed off at her husband, too. Somehow that raw emotion made the moment more passionate. I would treat this goddess the way she deserved.

“I slid three fingers inside her, pumping them in and out of her snug snatch.”

I stripped her down and put her on the bed. Just as I started kissing her neck and traveling down to her breasts, her phone buzzed on the nightstand.

Amber looked up and said smugly, “He’ll have to leave me voicemail. Please, keep going.”

I suckled her nipples for a while before whispering, “Touch your clit for me.”

Amber did, and she was a very sexy sight.

I kissed my way down her torso to her navel and took my time caressing her hips and thighs.

“Wait a minute,” she said. “Grab my phone. Take a picture of me playing with my pussy.”

Her request threw me, but I sensed I knew where this was going. I snapped picture after picture of Amber fingering her cunt as she brought herself nearer

to orgasm.

“Oh, God! Keep taking those nasty pictures.”

“Am I ever going to get to eat you?” I laughed.

“Yes, yes… ” she chanted.

I put the phone down and got to work on Amber’s pussy, gorging on her succulent flesh.

With her encouragement, I slid three fingers inside her, pumping them in and out of her snug snatch while I sucked on her clit.

Amber bucked her hips toward my face and clutched the sheets with both hands.

“Yes! Oh, fuck! Make me come!” she cried.

As her climax neared, I reached for the phone with my free hand and managed to get a shot of her orgasmic face, while keeping the fingers of my other hand buried in her pussy.

Amber laughed joyously as she caught her breath. She sat up and pushed me down on the bed. We kissed some more, but Amber wasted no time grabbing my dick and putting it in her mouth. She sat astride me, sort of a reverse cowgirl, wiggling her ass enticingly as she swallowed my cock.

“Oh yeah, suck me.” I groaned, reaching out to spread and squeeze her ass cheeks. I was very much enjoying the view.

Not surprisingly though, I heard the familiar click of Amber’s phone camera. She was literally taking selfies of her lips wrapped around my cock. (I made her send me some of those pictures afterward.)

And true to form, Amber made sure my blowjob had a perfect photo finish. She swallowed my shaft and cupped my balls, sending chills up my spine as her pointy red nails scraped my sensitive skin.

“Oh, Amber. Let me fuck you.”

She looked at me over her shoulder and winked before saying, “As long as you’re ready for your close-up.”

She wiggled herself into position and slid my cock inside her pussy. Then I realized she was taking a reverse-cowgirl selfie, and I laughed.

“Amber, are you going to document this entire night?”

“Yes, I am.”

I shook my head. It was all so funny and weird — but hot at the same time. She turned around, repositioning herself to face me, and once again mounted my dick, and that’s when things got crazy. I cupped her breasts as she rode me, her hips undulating like we were dancing a merengue.

I could feel the sweat running down my armpits and the sides of my face. This woman had endurance. But whenever the tempo slowed, Amber was taking more pictures, but never with my face in them. She stuck to nasty close-up shots of her riding my cock and touching her clit, or pictures that captured her expression of obvious enjoyment.

We fucked with her on top for a while, and then I asked if I could do her doggy-style. I really wanted to feel that plush ass crushing against me.

Amber was happy to change position, but added, “Just make sure you take a picture of your cock going in.”

The sight of my dick skewering her elongated pink lips just below her puckered asshole — that was picture worth a thousand words, for sure.

I fucked her for as long and hard as I could, intermittently teasing her asshole with my thumb. While we fucked, she kept playing with her clit. She was a loud, shrill moaner, and managed to bring herself to at least two orgasms before I caught up with her.

Finally, I could feel the climax rising from my toes. I gasped for breath to utter, “Amber, I’m gonna come.”

“Pull out!” she ordered.

I groaned but did as she said, stroking my dick to keep my orgasmic high on the rise. I was dumbfounded when she whirled around to finish me with her mouth, then pulled back so I could come all over her face — and, of course, she wanted to take a come-covered selfie.

I never asked if she showed her husband the photos. But not long after our encounter, Amber and her sizable alimony relocated to the West Coast. Sometimes, when I’m in her town, we get together, pull out our phones and reconnect.