Warren is a nice guy. He always has been. We met in a bar when he saved me from another dude who would not take no for an answer. The guy just kept hitting on me, trying to make me see the supposed error of my ways, and that’s when Warren pretended to be an old friend. He loudly announced it had been so long since we’d last seen one another, and I played along. I was amused and relieved all at the same time.

So, yeah, Warren is nice. But he’s not a beast in bed, and that’s what I need sometimes. Nice doesn’t always cut it.

Matt, however, is a different story. I met him at my friend Sarah’s baby shower, of all places. He gave me his number, and I said I’d call him soon — and I meant it.

Warren had a work thing. Two nights away and two states over. I decided to call my new friend and see if he was free.

He was.

Impatient for some passion, I arranged our meetup for a few hours after Warren left for his business trip. I rented a hotel room because my house is off-limits when it comes to flings. That’s our space — mine and Warren’s. A hotel room is neutral territory, where anything goes.

I arrived at the hotel first and headed straight to the room. It was nice, lush. The bed looked soft and promising. I thought of all the things that could happen there. All the things we could do.

I shivered, feeling my erect nipples rub against the cups of my bra. I felt heat and desire pulsing between my thighs and my pussy pounding in time with my heartbeat.

My cellphone buzzed, and I glanced at it to see Matt’s text: “I’m here.”

I swiftly replied, giving him my room number and telling him to come up.

Then I waited for him to arrive.

The waiting was both frustrating and delicious. The anticipation was beautiful.

Before long, there was a knock at the door, and I gave myself a final once-over in the mirror. I fluffed my hair and struck a pose.

“You look good,” I told my reflection.

I opened the door, and Matt and I stared at each other. But only for a beat. He stepped inside, pushed the door shut, grabbed me by the waist and hauled me to him. He planted a kiss on my lips that made my toes curl. I was kissing a man who wasn’t my husband, and that triggered deliciously wicked feelings inside me. I pressed against him and felt his rock-hard rod inside his jeans. He was all worked up, just like me.

I pushed my hand down into his waistband, past his boxers, and found his cock. I gripped it and gave him a friendly squeeze. He growled into my mouth, cupping the back of my head and kissing me harder.

He pulled back to look at me and asked, “Do you know how many times I’ve beat off this week thinking about you?”

I shook my head as I said, “No clue.”

“Dozens.”

“Industrious,” I said.

“Just horny,” he replied. “For you.”

Matt reached under my dress, then grabbed my ass and squeezed it.

I moaned when he pushed my panties down partway and shoved his hand between my thighs. He plunged his thick fingers into my pussy and roughly fucked me with them. He watched my face the whole time, and his gaze felt almost as intense as his fingers delving into my wetness.

Matt’s thumb brushed my clit, and I gasped, gripping his shoulders to steady myself. My knees went weak, but he kept me stable and upright. His fingers continued gliding in and out of my cunt, his thumb brushing softly, and then not so softly, over my pounding clit.

My breathing was rough as I tried to hold on to him through the rush of my pleasure.

“Give me that orgasm, sweetheart,” he said, and I gave in.

The spasms hit, and my pussy clenched. I clutched him as wave after wave of warmth and release rushed through me and my sticky juice slickened the tops of my thighs. I was so slippery I heard his fingers working me.

“You need to fuck me,” I groaned.

He surprised me by picking me up and carrying me to the bed.

After setting me down on the mattress, he undressed, and I grasped his naked dick in my hand and tugged on it, encouraging him to move closer to me.

I leaned in, took his cockhead into my mouth and sucked on it. At the same time, I whipped my tongue back and forth across the tip of him, sampling his salty pre-come. I cupped his balls, stroking them with my thumb. He thrust into my mouth and pushed his hands into my hair as he drove in deep.

“I want to come inside your pussy,” he said.

His words caused a thrill to ricochet through me.

I wanted that, too. I wanted his cock in me, and I wanted him to fill me up with the warm rush of his cream.

But first, I pushed my mouth down his shaft. I inhaled through my nose and drove my lips down to the root of him. He exhaled mightily, and then I pulled back slowly.

When his cock was free of my mouth, his eyes were wide and he was panting.

He had me stand and then he gathered my cotton dress in his hands. He pulled it over my head and then removed my lacy bra, too. He slid his hands down my sides, outlining my curves. Then he cupped my breasts in his hands, and my small pink nipples poked against his palms. He took a moment to drag his fingertip over the sensitive nubs. Then he pushed my panties down all the way, and I stepped free of them.

I reclined on the mattress and stared up at him, so big, imposing and handsome.

He climbed atop me, pushed my thighs wide and settled between them. Gazing down between us, he ran the tip of his cock up and down my wet slit. He nudged my clitoris with it.

Impatient, I took hold of his erection and directed it toward my entrance, raising my hips and sighing as his dick finally entered me.

He let his weight rest on me, his bulk pushing me flat, but I liked it. The heaviness of his body, the intimacy of him moving in and out of me, while lying fully atop me. He slid a hand beneath my ass, angling me just a bit, and fucked me hard. He pounded me so intensely I feared he’d come too quickly, but he didn’t.

He did manage to grind against my G-spot so perfectly that I came fast and hard while fisting the bedsheets in my hands.

He kissed my parted lips, swallowing my cries, then he rolled off me. I lay on my side, facing him and eyeing his stiff rod, which was standing at attention. I dipped my head and swallowed him down. I deep-throated him a few times, my fingernails stroking his balls, and when his hips did a restless little bounce, I pulled back.

“That’s just an appetizer,” I told him.

He groaned and said, “Nothing wrong with making a meal out of it, though.”

“Maybe later,” I told him. “We have the room all night.”

As he lay on his back, I straddled his hips, rubbing my wet pussy along his dick but not taking it inside me.

“Stop torturing me,” he groaned, releasing a rueful little laugh.

“But it’s so fun,” I said, raising myself and letting my hot cunt hover over his cock, barely touching the tip of him.

Impatiently, he grabbed my hips and then bounced his upward, driving his dick into me just an inch or so.

“You want me?” I asked.

“Yeah, I want you to fuck me,” he said.

That was all it took. The words. The desperation in his tone. And my own hunger for cock.

I slid down his length, gradually letting his cock enter me in small increments. When I was fully seated and his dick was buried deep inside me, I started to rock. I didn’t pull up much because his cock was knocking against all the perfect places inside me. My arousal was growing, and my body took over, finding its rhythm.

Matt cupped my tits, massaging them and pinching the nipples hard enough to make my cunt flex around his dick. I rode him eagerly then, all humor and teasing gone. I leaned into his bracing hands and moved to the beat of my pleasure. When I got closer to my orgasm, I switched tactics and moved from side to side. That surprised him. He groaned, and I felt the sound deep within me. It was an animalistic noise that made me feel hornier. My cunt was flowing.

Matt let go of my breasts, grabbed my hips to steady me and started to thrust up from underneath me with commanding strokes that took my breath away.

My pussy grew tighter and wetter, and I moved a tiny bit against him, getting the best possible friction.

“I’m going to come,” I told him. “Fuck, fuck! I’m going to come.”

I let go, and my orgasm tugged at the center of me, emptying me of tension and filling me with pleasure. I tried to get off him — to get into another position — but he steadied me with a shake of his head. His hands gripped my waist, his digging fingers clutching me harshly. His hips drove up, his powerful thighs flexing. He held me steady and true as he drove up from under me, his face a mask of intensity.

I stroked his chest, his arms and his shoulders. I used a firm but gentle touch, and that extra stimulation seemed to trigger something inside him. Matt grunted, thrust hard once more and came. I felt the warm rush of his load, the heat and wetness.

It was a fierce, passionate fuck — and exactly what I craved. Warren is my man, but Matt was exactly what I needed to feed my erotic hunger. Before we’d hooked up, I’d promised myself our encounter would be a one-time deal, but I knew in that moment it was a lie.

The next time my husband was out of town, I’d give Matt a call, and he’d come running.