It was a sunny Monday morning in June, and I was embarking on a trip to Chicago, something I do every three months or so in connection with a business that my husband and I run in our home city.

The flight was not heavily booked, and as I sat in my window seat I was hoping the seat next to me would remain empty. But it was not to be. One of the last passengers to board was a tall, good-looking black man wearing a Marine’s uniform, who headed straight for my row and, checking his ticket, sat down by my side. My immediate disappointment at not having the extra space to myself faded quickly as the man turned to me with a smile and greeted me courteously, saying, “Good morning, ma’am. My name is Drew, and it looks like we’re seatmates.”

I smiled back and introduced myself. We began to converse as the plane took off, and I found him very pleasant to talk with. He told me he was returning home after spending 16 months overseas. When I asked him if he was married he shook his head. “I had a girl waiting for me until six weeks ago,” he told me. “But then she wrote to tell me she was pregnant and was getting married.” I expressed my sympathy, but he said it was just as well, because it probably wouldn’t have worked anyway. I said it was a shame nevertheless, as I thought every soldier should have a hot woman waiting to welcome him home. He laughed and replied that it had been so long since he’d been with a woman, he would hardly know what to do with one. He then looked at my ring finger and asked me how long I’d been married.

He didn’t believe me when I said it had been just over 24 years, but I assured him it was true; I’d gotten married when I was 18, and would celebrate my 43rd birthday in the fall. Drew said he thought that was amazing, and then, after a pause, he asked me if I didn’t get tired of being with the same man night after night. I gave him a slow smile and replied that I traveled frequently, which allowed me to find ways to keep my life from getting too boring.

I saw the surprise in his eyes, and the speculation as he let my words sink in. He said nothing for several minutes. Finally he cleared his throat. “Look,” he said, “you don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to, but did you mean that you sometimes sleep with other men when you travel?”

I looked him in the eye. “Yes,” I said honestly. “Yes, I do screw other men. That doesn’t mean I don’t love my husband, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right?” What I didn’t tell him was that my husband knew all about it, and loved knowing that his wife was a slut. But I’ve found that guys get more excited when they think they are seducing a married woman behind her husband’s back. As Drew continued to stare at me I smiled again and told him we should probably change the subject, because my husband was away and it had been 10 days since I’d gotten laid, and this talk was making my panties wet.

Well, by the time we landed in Chicago it had been decided that Drew would spend a few nights with me at my hotel before going home to see his parents. He told me honestly that he was very nervous, as it had been such a long time since he’d had sex, and also because I would be his first white woman and his first older woman, not to mention his first married woman. I just told him to relax and everything would be fine. At the hotel he waited nervously while I checked in, then fell into step with me as the bellhop carried our bags to the elevator. He looked relieved once we were alone, but he nearly jumped out the window when there was a knock on the door just seconds later.

I laughed and told him that would be the wine I had ordered at the desk. The room service guy gave Drew a look as I tipped him, but said nothing. We sat on a small sofa and sipped the wine. I made a toast to good times, and thanked him for serving our country. After that there was an awkward silence, so after a few moments I set my glass down, saying, “Okay, look, why don’t we break the ice and get to know one another better before we go to lunch.”

Drew put his glass down as well. “What — what do we do?” he asked me. I just smiled and moved into his arms, planting a wet kiss on his broad lips, which got his motor started. We were soon smooching like teenagers in a parked car, and within minutes he had my blouse off and was fumbling with the hooks of my bra. He drew back to look at my breasts as he removed the bra, freeing my firm 34C tits tipped with dark pink lust-swollen nipples, which he was soon sucking on like a baby. In the meantime I’d been working to free his trouser snake, hoping to find a good substantial dick on this handsome black man, and I was not disappointed. It was an ebony beauty, very thick, at least eight inches long and already oozing precome.

I managed to collect myself enough to suggest we move to the bed. I quickly turned it down and lay in the middle of it, undoing my slacks and wiggling out of them, which left me in only my little white bikini panties. Meanwhile Drew was removing his own clothes, and when I looked up at him I saw his huge balls, hanging down about seven inches below the place where his cock jutted out tall and proud from his groin. I reached out to feel his heavy testicles in my hand. “Damn!” I said. “We’d better give these guys a little relief before they explode.”

He moved onto the bed then, kneeling beside me, and asked me politely if he could take off my panties. I drew my knees up to plant my feet on the mattress and raise my hips off the bed. “Hell yes!” I told him. “Take them off me and fuck me, please!” His eyes grew wide as saucers as he tugged my sopping panties down, exposing my full dark bush. I thought those eyes would pop right out of his head once the panties were off, and I spread my legs as far apart as I could, showing him my glistening pussy lips, parted now to reveal the inner pinkness of my cunt. His hand trembled as he reached to touch my dripping opening with the tip of his finger, saying, “Damn, I’ve never seen a pussy so beautiful and so wet before.”

“Come on, Drew,” I begged him breathlessly. “Put your cock in me now, Drew, please!” A moment later he was between my legs, pressing the fat head of his dick against my opening. I gave a small moan of anticipation and he pushed more firmly, until the head of it popped inside me. He then paused to ask if I was okay with his size.

“Yes, baby,” I panted. “I love your big cock, so just do it to me!” Gradually then, he fed inch after inch into my body, doing it with considerate slowness to allow my vagina to expand as it received all of him. When he was buried inside me he remained still for a long moment, giving me time to get accustomed to his size.

Finally, at my urging, he began thrusting gently in and out, using the full length of his manhood, but obviously holding himself back, trying not to come too quickly. Under the circumstances I thought he showed surprising control, banging me continually for nearly five minutes before exploding. Then I felt his cock jerk and throb again and again, shooting an amazing amount of come inside me as he unloaded his pent-up passion. He collapsed on top of me then, but after a minute I rolled him off onto his back, then slipped down to suck his now semi-limp cock, savoring the taste of his come mixed with my tart cunt juice, until I had his prick shining with saliva as it stood proudly once again. Then I rolled onto my back, saying, “I really enjoyed that, Drew. Let’s do it again.”

Drew eagerly took his position between my open legs, this time slipping easily into my creamy sheath to fuck me with long steady thrusts that stimulated my clit perfectly.

Having cooled his jets somewhat the first time, he was now quite capable of giving me a couple of delicious orgasms before his gun went off after another 15 minutes of fantastic screwing. Drew and I ended up ordering lunch from room service, after which we fucked for the rest of the afternoon.

We managed to go out for dinner, but even as we ate a delicious meal we were both impatient to get back to the room. Drew was fucking me doggie-style later that night when Craig, my husband, called to check in and say good night. I was just able to reach the bedside phone and answer it as Drew continued humping me like a bunny. He paused with his cock buried in my pussy when I said, “Hi, sweetheart, how are you doing?” Then he resumed fucking me, slowly, so as not to make too much noise. I tried to keep my voice under control as I continued speaking to my husband. Drew may have thought we were fooling him, but Craig knew me too well not to recognize the strain and breathlessness in my tone. “Damn,” Craig said. “You’re fucking somebody right now, aren’t you? Didn’t take you long to hook up this time, you sweet slut.”

“Yes, dear,” I managed to say. “And everything is just fine. It’s just lovely.” I turned to wink at Drew as I said this, keeping up the pretense.

“Well, you better tell me all about it when you get home,” Craig said.

“Oh, I will,” I assured him. We spoke for a few more moments, and finally said good night and hung up, just moments before I started convulsing in orgasm.

This became a nightly ritual; if Drew wasn’t already fucking me when my husband made his good night call, he would start in as soon as the phone rang, and I would have to control myself while making normal conversation. Drew got a big kick out of this, never imagining that my husband was actually reveling in the thought of his wife screwing another man with wild abandon. For the remainder of my stay I had business meetings during the day, but my evenings and nights were spent with Drew. When I flew home at the end of the week, I left a very happy young man behind me. He asked me to call him when I was back in town, and I probably will — unless I happen to meet another interesting young man on the plane. Or wherever. I mean, you never know.