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Author’s note: I had this idea come to me a while back, and couldn’t get rid of it. I don’t know if it’ll be everyone’s particular cup of tea, but the idea was simple–what would it take to get a good man to cheat? Really, truly take, before he cracked? Please note that there’s a lot of buildup, as I wanted the sex to make sense, so be patient with it. As always, feedback and votes are appreciated.


One of the things I hate most about international travel isn’t the jet lag, it’s the immediate fatigue and borderline hallucinations I experience due to total exhaustion. I can’t sleep on planes even with a sleeping pill, so by this point, I had been up for nearly 30 hours continuous. But, I had to admit, sitting here on my hotel balcony, overlooking the beach and a bunch of gorgeous women sunning it up, I was already in love with Australia.

“We should move the business here,” Jim joked, gesturing with his beer to a particularly leggy young blonde in a bikini. As she turned our way, he raised his beer in a salutation, and she waved back cheerily and smiled before turning back to the beach and her friends. I guess they were right when they spoke of Australian hospitality, I thought.

“Yeah, that’ll make your custody battle go great,” I retorted.

“If I got to look at this every day, I might care less about it.” We chuckled briefly and clinked bottles in a joking toast. “At the very least, we might have some fun this week.”

“You enjoy that,” I countered.

“Marcus, it’s the other side of the world. It doesn’t count. I understand you’re hanging on for a bit, but at least have some fun while we’re here, and leave your problems in Seattle.”

“I don’t know about that. Seems like a really dumb idea, I think.”

“Whatever, brother. I just want to see you happy.”

Jim and I had been friends for over a decade at this point, and I trusted the guy with my life. We met at a work flag football league, and bonded after a particularly long game filled with talking shit to each other, each struggling to one up the other with creative insults. Three years ago, he came to me with an idea for a simple logistics application that would drive massive amounts of saving for shipping costs of freight, with a simple question—can it be done? We created a company, with a simple division of labor—I’m the tech mind, and Jim is the business and sales guy. What started in our respective homes quickly moved to getting investors, an office, and now we had a staff of over 45, with a respectable profit. We were in Brisbane for a week for a summit on entrepreneurship, and hoping to triple our sales and potentially double our business in the coming year. We’d even been the subject of a couple of articles in the technical press, and were releasing a subscription-based mobile application in a couple of months, as soon as we got a few vital bugs fixed. Not bad for two guys who just turned 40.

Everything was going great on the business front, but there was a lot on the personal that was difficult. Jim had gotten divorced just before we started the company, and his ex-wife was currently doing her every other yearly “we need to revisit custody and child support” tour of the court system—pretty rough, considering he was one of the most devoted fathers I knew, and his ex seemed to be using the children as a bargaining chip for money, especially since her alimony had run out. Plus, my own marriage was now on the rocks as my wife had cheated four months prior, and copious marriage counseling didn’t seem to be making things any less tense. I had my part in it, to be sure, as I had been putting in insane hours to build this business into a money maker, and when I came home, being a dad trumped being a husband regularly. But now, as things changed, I was slowly realizing the only reason I was still in the relationship was that I didn’t want split custody and to lose a lot of my money. We hadn’t had sex since her affair, and while I was still extremely angry with her and occasionally contemplated giving her a taste of her own medicine, I would never give her the satisfaction of stooping to her level.

I realized I’d been zoning out, and I hadn’t answered Jim for a few long moments. I was just about to look back and give him my pat answer about being reasonably happy in life, when I saw him gesture down to the beach and say, “Marcus…brother, I think I see your happiness moving her way down the beach.”

I turned to follow his gaze, and saw her immediately. Jim really knew my type. She was tall, leggy, but almost obscenely curvy, with proportions that didn’t seem like they should naturally occur in nature. Her waist was slender, almost wasp-like, but her hips were wide, her ass full and amazingly pert. Her skin was pale like milk, with bright red hair that was long, past mid back, with a slight wave. As she turned, her bikini top, while not indecent in any sense, barely contained breasts that were simply gigantic—at least a triple D—and seemed to have no regard for gravity. I exhaled abruptly, transfixed, and as she looked toward my balcony, anime porno she stopped, and raised her sunglasses. Even at what had to be 50 yards, I could tell that her eyes were large and an arresting bright blue, and as they seemed to lock on to mine, her full lips curled into a large, stunning smile. I froze in place as she stared at me, then waved demurely, I had to remind myself to wave back politely without drooling. “Looks like we found what you’ll be doing after hours this week,” Jim remarked.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Jim. It’s just a cute girl. Besides, she’s got to be 25 if she’s a day.”

“That doesn’t matter. Especially when they’re willing and ready, brother.” Down on the beach, the redhead glanced down at the wrought-iron railings, and smirked a bit before walking off, taking a moment to give me a glance over her shoulder. “Uh, bud…” Jim trailed off.


“Looks like little Marcus might need some attention before you pass out.”

I looked down, and realized that my cock was tenting very noticeably in my khakis. “Oh, shit. That’s embarrassing.”

“She didn’t seem embarrassed. Anything but. However, on that note, I’m about done with this soldier, and ready for bed. See you sometime tomorrow-ish.” Jim went in a few inches to give me his customary bro hug, looked down, and thought better of it, waving and walking out the door to his own room.

As he cleared the door, I turned back to the beach, but I couldn’t see my new “girlfriend” in the crowd of people. Probably good, since I knew perfectly well I wasn’t going to do anything with her anyway. This week was about work, and I was here for only one reason—to turn our business into a major player. Distractions like women were simply a silly diversion I didn’t need, let Jim chase the younger babes on the beach, I thought.

Still, as I stripped off my clothing and settled into what felt, with my exhaustion, like the most comfortable bed I’d ever been in, I couldn’t ignore the fact that I was hard as a rock. I turned one way, then another, and finally, after five or six position changes, I grew restless. I was completely zonked, but couldn’t drift off. Finally, I gave up, and threw back the covers. My erection was long, thick and almost painful, as it hadn’t had any attention in I don’t know how long. I glanced across the room, and saw body lotion amongst the small bottles of hotel supplies, so I grabbed it and lotioned up my hands and cock, working my pole with both hands. I thought briefly about grabbing my phone or tablet and finding some porn, but my hands were completely covered in lotion, so I thought twice. I started to cycle through some thoughts of ex-girlfriends, but nothing was doing it for me, then started thinking about celebrities and a couple of porn actresses I liked, but nothing was working. Finally, I snapped back to the girl on the beach, and her gaze as she looked up at me, openly assessing. My already painfully swollen prick hardened even more, and as I thought about her mouth on me, pulling my length in, then climbing up and riding me as I manhandled those amazing breasts. Finally, after another minute or so of furious yanking, I came hard, groaning loudly as my balls emptied. I laid there, panting, my entire body spent, and as I tried to regain my equilibrium, I quickly dropped off.

I awoke six hours later, suddenly cold, and dragged myself out of bed to shower. My entire torso, it seemed, was covered in dried cum, and it took a goodly amount of work to get myself cleaned off. I called down and ordered a sandwich from room service, and as soon as it was delivered (by a young and very attractive, somewhat flirty woman), I tucked in, and then fell asleep again, awakening on what was extremely early morning local time. As it was a bit too early for breakfast and I was wide awake, I decided to use the gym downstairs, and pounded out a furious routine, running just over four miles and utilizing the weights for about 30 minutes. I’d been back to working out regularly the last few months to channel my stress and anger, and while I wasn’t yet anywhere near the “carved out of stone” status I had in my college days, I’d shed some pounds and was looking damn good for a man 10 years my junior. As I was leaving, I saw her again, coming into the workout room. She quickly hopped up on a bike, and began cycling through the screens, her headphones in and blasting music. I hesitated, taking her in again—up close, maybe 15 feet away, she looked even better. Her skin was flawless, her face chiseled and so damn lovely, with full lips, high cheekbones, and those eyes looked even larger. Her hair was in a ponytail, and although she was dressed in utilitarian workout pants and a large sportsbra, she looked incredibly appealing, and, dare I say it, fuckable as all hell. In fact, I felt myself starting to respond to her proximity and was starting to get some sensory overload, as my mind started clicking with thoughts of bending her over and ripping off her pants, grabbing her hips as I…

My reverie was broken as she looked up, asyalı porno and gave me a half smile of recognition, inclining her head towards me. As she reached for a headphone, I realized suddenly she wanted to say something to me, and I panicked, turning on my heel, grabbing the doorknob, and bolting from the room.

I literally ran to my room and hit the shower. What the hell was wrong with me? I was reacting to this girl like a scared teenager, and I couldn’t do anything in this situation. As I soaped off, I was bothered by another painful erection, and the object of my new lust kept popping into my head. I let my hands roam again, this time not wasting time and instead thinking about her in detail as I finished myself off, my release flushing down the drain along with the rest of the shower water. Relieved, I got out, dried myself off, dressed, and went down to meet Jim for breakfast at a cafe he had scoped out just down the block.

“You doing any better than yesterday?” he asked, between bites of his omelette.

“Yeah, I’m rested. Still jet lagged, but you know that takes a few days.”

“No, I mean the boner problem.”

“Oh. Yeah, I’m good. I think that girl just does something weird to me.”

“Yeah, well you probably need to get laid, my friend. How long’s it been?”

I ignored his question and said, “Well, it ain’t gonna happen this trip. I don’t know, maybe I’ll finally give in on the whole resentment thing with Theresa and jump her when I get home.”

“No! Fuck that, man, she cheated on you. And you know, despite what she said, it wasn’t just the one time, you know that. You need some strange, brother. Something to reinvigorate you. No matter what happens with you and Theresa, you need to remember that you’re a man, and be reminded of what it’s like to conquer something new. It’s too bad you couldn’t get that girl’s number.”

“Where’d you get that bullshit? Dr. Phil?”

“Hey, fuck you, buddy. I’m just trying to help you out here, and I’m being sincere. It may sound a little odd, but I really think it’d help. It’ll clear your mind, and get your mojo back.”

“I’m not doing that. Not with some random girl on a trip.”

“Who better than that?!” he asked incredulously.

“I dunno, maybe I’ll call a hooker or something.”

“Nah, that doesn’t mean anything. You’re just buying it, so there’s nothing there. You need a conquest, a real one. Whether you’re chasing her or vice versa, bro, you gotta fuck something new, and preferably something young. Something unmarred by childbirth and age.”

“Hey, Theresa looks damn good for a woman that’s had three kids.”

“Oh, for sure. Hell, if she weren’t your wife I’d hit it. But you know as well as I do that there’s nothing like something young and firm.”

“Anyway, it’s not important. I’m not doing it.”

“You telling me if you ran across that redhead right now, you wouldn’t fuck her brains out?”

“Actually, I ran into her a couple hours ago at the hotel gym.”

“No shit!? So, you get her number?”

“No, I turned on my heel and walked out.”


“Yeah, maybe so. But I’m not going to stoop to Theresa’s level or give her an opening to take the kids and half of my shit.”

“Whatever, bro. You know as well as I do that the chances of that are pretty slim, especially this far from home. But in the interim, just relax. Try and loosen up a bit. Even if you don’t fuck the little redheaded sexpot, you could talk to her, or some other girl. Maybe have a drink with some local sassy little Aussie beauty while you’re out here. Let the hair down a bit. It’s all good here, we’re on a working vacation, after all.”

“I just don’t know about that.”

“I know. Just think about it, for fuck’s sake. You need to lighten up a bit. Leave the bullshit behind back in the states, and enjoy this trip.” I thought about countering him, but instead I chewed my waffle and fruit, mulling over what he had said.

We spent the rest of the day alternating between a bit of sightseeing, and catching up on work and correspondence. Even though I was ostensibly out of office, it seemed there were always things that needed my attention, and I approved changes and responded back to a litany of queries from my software developers and testers. As the day got later, I logged into Skype, and took a video call with my family. Emily, my 13-year-old, had sensed some tension between her mother and me, though she hadn’t figured it all out. The twins were still eight and too young to know what was going on, luckily. However, though I had 30 very fun minutes with them where they all told me about their days, some movie they had seen last night, and a whole host of other stuff, it seemed telling that when Theresa got me to herself, she was almost businesslike, perfunctorily telling me about some household items and pediatrician visits that were upcoming. Finally, after a couple of minutes, she stopped, and said “Hey, I have to go, they’re begging for breakfast. Love you,” before quickly switching the connection off. backroom casting porno I was a bit struck by her abruptness—I wasn’t sure at all what was happening between us, and her actions seemed rather telling. I glanced up and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. While it wasn’t a dramatic, movie of the week type moment, I felt a little deflated. I was supposedly in the prime of my life, still physically attractive, intelligent, and financially successful. Plus, to add insult to injury, I knew, from every single girl I had ever been with that I was possessed of a very nice, large piece of equipment, and here I was, in a celibate marriage that may, in fact, be loveless. I was angry, and felt defeated. I felt like I was too young to cash in my chips now, but really had no idea what to do.

A few minutes later, I was down the block in a local bar and burger joint, nursing a tall neck as I waited on a burger. An attractive, willowy blonde came up and sat beside me, and enquired what the score on the rugby game was. I confessed that I was only half watching. “Oi, an American,” she responded. “Of course you’re not interested.”

“No, I like rugby just fine,” I countered. “I even played some in college. I guess I was just kind of zoning out. Still a bit jet lagged and all that.”

“You played?” she said, giving me a bit of an assessing gaze, then reaching over and pinching my bicep through my hoodie. “Well, you just went up a notch in my book, then.”

Thus began a whole conversation about rugby. Charlene, or Charlie to her friends, was obviously more of an expert than I, but we compared its merits to NFL football, and she was quite impressed when I told her I had met Jerrod Hayne, who was a former all-star down under before coming to play for my hometown 49ers. She was a bit tomboyish, with shorter blonde hair and a nose stud, but appealing nonetheless. We chatted all through our burgers, and shared another beer afterward. As I was settling up my check, she asked me to see my phone, and input her number, instructing me that if I wanted to get a drink while I was in town, I should give her a call. While I wasn’t necessarily planning on it, I felt a bit better going back, like I could possibly get back in the swing of single life if I really needed to.

On Monday the conference began, and we started in with introductions about ourselves and our business goals. There were about 60+ attendees from across the globe, and each person got a few minutes, along with a few pointed questions from the panel running the conference. By the end of the morning, I was starting to get burned out and a bit tired, when I heard a very melodic, feminine voice began her pitch as “Mariah Grayson, and I’m the CIO of Graybach software…” As these things are normally 93% men, and most of the women look like my mom, I instinctively swiveled to get a look. My jaw nearly dropped to the floor when I recognized the redhead from the past several days. I looked up at the ceiling in disbelief, and Jim, seemingly reading my mind, leaned over and whispered, “Yep, bud, it even looks like God wants you to hit that.” Even though I’m not particularly religious and hadn’t been to a church in years, I hissed at him to shut up. As she paused to formulate an answer to a question for the panel, I noticed her steal a sideways glance down in my direction and give me a little smirking smile.

Lunch was brought in, and we finished up the afternoon with some relatively boring discussions about markets. Coming out of the conference room, I was chatting with some guy who had been seated next to me, when I heard the same voice say “Hello. Did you enjoy the first day?”

I turned and looked at her, and for a couple precious moments, she stole all my rational thoughts yet again. She was dressed in a decently conservative business skirt, matching jacket, and a pale pink blouse, but still, her curves, and, it seemed, her raw sexuality just oozed through. “Yeah, it was good,” I replied.

She extended her hand, “I’m Mariah.”

“Marcus Klein,” I replied, taking her hand, which was warm and incredibly smooth. She held my hand firmly, but not overly so, and as we touched the first time, I felt an almost electric pulse. I almost pulled back, but she held my hand and moved in her left to cover it.

“I’ve seen you around a couple of times,” she observed. “From the beach, and the workout room.”

“Yes,” I replied. I wasn’t sure what else to say, but I was a bit transfixed by this woman.

“I had wanted to talk to you, and introduce myself. I’m glad I finally got the opportunity.”

“Me too.”

“I’m glad I’ll be seeing more of you this week. Are you based in the states?”

“Yes. Seattle. You?”

“No. I mean, I’m American, but I’m in London most of the time.”

“No kidding? We’re opening a satellite office there at the end of the year.”

“Excellent. Here, let me give you my card. If you’re in town, give me a contact.” We quickly swapped business cards, and she reached out and softly grabbed my hand again, then said “Nice to finally meet you, Marcus,” before walking away. I stood unintentionally staring as her incredible ass swayed down the hall, before pulling myself out of my reverie. As I looked toward the lobby, I caught Jim, no more than 20 feet away, giving me his best amused, raised eyebrow smile.

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