Hollywood Hotwife 1
I’d recognized her type instantly. It wasn’t hard. Those who live in Los Angeles, particularly Hollywood, can easily spot the interlopers. Living in a tourist mecca, you quickly learn how to pick out those who live and work in the city and those who are visitors. From the off, it was pretty easy to see that it was their first time in town. Maggie and Craig.
I’d swung around on my bar stool after the initial nervous tap on my shoulder and used the broad and welcoming smile designed to put a person at ease. It had essentially been programmed into me from years of interacting with the public and media.
The usual, “Oh my god! It is you,” recognition.
My standard sheepish grin and disarming shrug of the shoulders. It was delivered reasonably routinely throughout my day.
Real Angelenos generally leave you alone. Enough recognizable faces are going about their day in this city that you’re sure to encounter someone of some ‘celebrity’ virtually any day of the week. But when you venture into the pulsing arteries of Hollywood; Sunset Blvd, Santa Monica Blvd, Hollywood Blvd, you’re opening yourself up to those from out of town and a LOT more interaction with the public.
I want to use the term ‘celebrity’ very gently. I can converse with a 20-year-old guy at my gym, and as far as he’s concerned, I may as well be a bank teller or a lawyer. However, I become very recognizable when it comes to females (and even males, for that matter) between the ages of 30-40.
The TV show aired for five seasons total. It had come to a series finale around three years ago. Then, I’d become desperate to get off of it. I already knew that I was being typecast for my character. I was no longer Matt Nowell, the actor. I was Blake. In between seasons, I’d been auditioning for movie roles, and my agent kept delivering me more and more of the same. More Blake. I knew that if I had a chance of having a long career in this town, I’d need to stop being associated with the TV character I played pretty damn quickly.
Thankfully we had a good show runner and team who were intelligent enough to know when a good thing should come to an end. There was a huge public outcry when it was announced that the 5th would be our last season. But I was glad. It seemed like time.
Following the show, I did two independent films, and my performances were generally well-received (I think). Along the way, I made friends with a very well-respected film director. He often joked that he’d never cast me in any of his movies, but he had taken me under his wing and helped me learn more about his trade which was something I was interested in. With his guidance, I’d gradually become a reasonably skilled director, and over the past year, I’d shot several episodes of quality TV series. I was as proud of this work as I was of my acting!
Our TV network had been required to sign new contracts with our cast after the third season. Given the show’s popularity, it’s fair to say that I’d been more than fairly compensated. Providing I was intelligent with my money gave me a lot of financial runways. At the very least, I had been allowed to pursue my career at my own pace without chasing around for every paying job. For that, I was incredibly grateful to “Blake.”
My show aired on a streaming network, allowing it to be racier than the usual primetime fair. At least ‘racy’ for the time when it began to circulate. For whatever reason, women loved my character, Blake. He was set as a guy from New Jersey who moves to LA. He owns a plant store. I was part of a ten-person primary cast, but I and a couple of the other characters seemed to capture people’s attention. The show followed everyone’s lives (and love lives), and by the time we were into our third season, it had become a pretty sizeable hit.
Predictably I ended up having a real-life relationship (albeit brief) with one of the female cast members, which served to bring an added layer of real-life attention to me for a time. Thankfully things had leveled out a bit on that front. While I was undoubtedly recognizable, people were no longer taking pictures of me on the street from afar as they had been several years prior.
Being raised on a literal farm in the midwest had left me with a strong sense of values. Despite all of the trappings of Hollywood, I avoided the dangerous party scene and underbelly that exists. I’d seen it eat a number of my acquaintances whole. With that said, I still lived in LA. I was well off. My ‘celebrity’ afforded me occasional luxuries that aren’t available to the average person.
My business manager had strongly advised me against marriage “at all costs!”. It seemed a bit harsh, but in a town like this, I imagined that he only spoke based on what he’d seen historically. No, bother as I was nowhere near marriage. Or even a steady girlfriend. This is why I was always happy to offer a welcoming smile whenever an attractive female tapped me on the shoulder.
As I mentioned, you learn to figure people out pretty quickly in LA. Maggie was too easy. The words tumbled out of her mouth. Excited, embarrassed, and concerned about disturbing me. I recognized a Midwesterner immediately. For fuck sake, I grew up as one! Her and her husband, Craig. Ten feet further down the bar. On vacation. First time in Hollywood.
The dress also gave her away. Unnecessarily going out for a place like Delaneys. The Angelenos that frequent Delaneys have a way of looking like a million bucks while also not trying.
She had wavy blonde hair, dropping just below her shoulder. She was classically cute. She was probably wearing more makeup than she was used to because of the surroundings. I figured she and her husband for mid-thirties. Craig appeared to be dressed nicely in dark jeans and a gray dress shirt. He was slim, fit, and a relatively good-looking guy.
Maggie’s dress was black and very tight. The series of silver buttons that ran up the stomach to her chest were unnecessarily showy but likely qualified as ‘edgy’ back in her town.
As she related the usual fare (“I miss the show so much!” “I loved you as Blake,” etc.) I took the opportunity to admire the impressive figure that the dress contained. She was the type of woman that I appreciate. She had a figure! She would indeed be considered ‘big’ by Hollywood’s unrelenting standards of wafer thinness. I had dated my share of Hollywood types. Aside from the fact that I didn’t find ‘super skinny’ attractive in any way, I’d also found that the unrelenting attention to the feeble Hollywood lifestyle usually made for very uninteresting sexual partners. In turn, when presented with the opportunity to sleep with women who “I” found attractive, I have to admit that I didn’t mind indulging.
Maggie was everything that she was into. Curves. Hips. A lovely round ass. And big, seemingly natural tits.
I’ll admit that it probably seems a bit basic to sleep with women who adore you for a role you’ve played on TV. However, given what was traditionally offered to me in Hollywood, I didn’t mind occasionally taking advantage of the non-LA types who were a bit starstruck. They were usually more my type anyway.
If they were excited to have sex with the guy who played Blake, who was I to deny them that opportunity?
Maggie’s wide-eyed wonderment at having met me in person was palpable, and as I modestly shrugged off her compliments about the show, I asked her where she was from. I wasn’t that surprised when she answered Columbus. Sensing that she was just excited, not crazy, and undoubtedly beautiful, I motioned to a couple of empty barstools and suggested she and her husband join me.
Her disbelief lasted for several seconds before she turned and hastily waved him over.
We arranged two more barstools into a triangle as her husband Craig ambled over to join us. He was pleasant but certainly far less gregarious than Maggie. I learned that they were on their first-ever visit to Los Angeles (they consistently referred to it by its full name rather than the locally accepted LA. Maggie was an insurance salesperson, which wasn’t surprising. She had a natural gift of the gab and enough confidence to have approached me in the first place. Craig worked in management at a Mercedes dealership.
As most do, Maggie had some questions about the show. I have a few standard tidbits which I keep stored away for conversations like these. Some ‘behind the curtain’ details about the show. How we almost got canceled after Season 1. A famous actress was almost cast as a lead but was replaced last minute etc. Maggie (and even Craig) seemed to hang on every word of that stuff.
I gradually began to transition the conversation back toward them. They explained that they’d been in LA for close to a week. They’d done the usual stuff. Universal. The Walk Of Fame. A Lakers game. They’d gone to the beach for a couple of days. I smiled inwardly. They’d gone twice in a week. I hadn’t been twice in the past year.
The hotel they were staying at was lovely. It was a classic 20-story building on Sunset that had been acquired and redone by a large chain about five years ago. They mentioned a couple of restaurants they’d been to on Sunset. Again, the usual. Showy and designed to scoop up tourists. They told me they’d found Delaneys by asking the hotel concierge for recommendations on a bar where ‘locals’ hung out. It was one of my favorites for precisely that reason. Mostly just locals. Quiet, dark, and tucked away on Las Palmas off Yucca. I gathered they’d both had a couple of glasses of wine with dinner. Maggie was now sipping from a glass of white while Craig had opted for a Miller. They were easy to chat with, and I enjoyed their company.
Maggie confessed that all of the glitz and glamor of LA was a bit overwhelming. She laughed about how pretty every girl seemed to be and indicated that she had felt frumpy at the beach and around their hotel pool wearing a one-piece swimsuit instead of the tiny string bikinis she said seemed to be favored. I reassured them that not all of LA was fake and that some of the best parts of the city were also some of the best-kept secrets. I told them I’d give them a list of places to check out the next time they were in town. Craig thanked me but laughed, saying that after their whirlwind week, he felt they were maybe more ‘Florida’ than ‘California’ people. Maggie gave him a teasing punch and leaned in conspiratorially, providing an eye-catching glimpse of her cleavage.
“He’s just sore because you’re on my ‘list,'” she giggled with a blush. “And I met you,” she continued with a laugh.
I feigned ignorance and raised an eyebrow. “Your list?”
I naturally felt like I knew what she was talking about but was keen to let it play out.
“You know…” Maggie said quickly in response, now a bit flustered. “Like, a list of celebrities you’re allowed to…” she trailed off.
I let her hang.
“Like each partner has a list of 5 celebrities they would have a free pass to…”
I raised my eyebrow again in confusion.
“Oh, why would you know!” she chastised herself, sitting back up, now several shades of red. “You’re a celebrity yourself! Why would you need a list!”
“It’s a list of people that you’d get to… ” I slowly encouraged, now leaning into her for clarification.
She cleared her throat, briefly looked at Craig, who seemed decidedly displeased, and then leaned back in.
“Have sex with,” she finally uttered. “Consequence free.”
“Ohhhhh….!” I exclaimed in surprise. (I am a professionally trained actor).
“It’s all just a joke, of course!” Maggie quickly shot back, patting a reassuring hand on her husband’s leg. “It’s meant to be people you would never meet before!”
I nodded slowly, seeming to begin to understand.
Now moving to disarm the situation a little bit, I pondered for a moment.
“So, if I’m on your list Maggie, who else is on it?” I teased. “I’ve gotta figure out who my competition is!”
Thankfully they both laughed.
I wasn’t surprised by the answers. Somewhat standard fare. Chris Pratt. Nick Jonas. Both Hemsworth brothers. I reflected that all were making far more money than I.
“I’m fairly certain the Hemsworth boys don’t do women at the same time, so I wouldn’t get your hopes up there,” I mused in mock thoughtfulness earning laughs from both barstools.
“And so if that’s who’s on Maggie’s list, who’s on yours, Craig?” I queried.
He seemed surprised to have the attention shifted his way but ultimately relented. After some prompting, he mumbled out a few famous movie stars and a couple of attractive girls on TV. I laughed when he mentioned Shoshanna.
“Oh, Craig! You’re in luck! I know her”
He looked at me in surprise.
“We used to live on the same street,” I explained. “Things might turn out for you yet!”
He blushed in response.
I picked up my iPhone and mimed dialing a number.
“We’ll drop you off at her place, and then Maggie and I will see you tomorrow? How’s that sound?”
He laughed uncomfortably, but I noticed Maggie fingering her dress along the chest line, undoing one of the numerous buttons that lined the front.
For the next 15 minutes, we laughed and talked. My cocktail was finished, and I began to make small body language movements inferring that I was preparing to leave. Seemingly a pretty good study of her surroundings, Maggie picked up on it and asked if I would stay for one more drink.
“We’ve never had the opportunity to hang out with a celebrity before!” she implored.
I made a motion to check the time on my watch. In reality, I had nowhere to be. I had simply popped into Delaneys to have a drink and say Hi to Damon, the main bartender and someone I played guitar with occasionally.
“Just one more,” I reasoned.
Maggie quickly dispatched Craig to the front of the bar to fetch us all another round.
I turned my bar stool until I was facing her directly. Just the two of us now.
“So… a sex list, huh?” I was grinning widely, teasingly.
She blushed again, but I placed my hand on her knee reassuringly. “Trust me. It’s an absolute compliment. I should be so honored”.
“Gawd. That was so embarrassing. I can’t believe I admitted that to you,” she moaned, covering her face with her hand and peeking out between her fingers. “As if you would ever…”
I patted her leg.
“Can I share a secret with you?” I asked soothingly.
She nodded in curiosity, finally dropping her hand from her face. I leaned in a bit. Quietly.
“Just to clear that part up. You are completely my type. You’re fun, beautiful, and very sexy. In any other circumstances, I absolutely would…”
I let that hang for a minute as an embarrassed smile started to creep around the sides of her mouth.
“And as far as that one-piece swimsuit. I bet you look fucking incredible in it” I gently tugged on the hem of her dress, halfway up her thigh. “I’ve wondered what’s underneath this since you tapped me on the shoulder.”
I winked at her mischievously and leaned back on my stool against the bar.
She paused for a moment. Processing.
She leaned back towards me, and I met her.
“They’re purple,” she whispered with a smile.
We both had returned to a more natural sitting position when Craig returned, balancing all three drinks in hand.
This wasn’t the first time I’d been in these circumstances. Given my recognizability, it was relatively common for women to hit on me. Ninety percent of what came my way was of no interest to me whatsoever. Hollywood is a drab place, and you can very quickly get sucked into something you don’t want to be a part of. I imagined it was partly my taste and a product of my upbringing that I was far more attracted to wholesome women.
I had slept with my fair share of ‘normal’ women. I’d imagine that some might even qualify it as the Hollywood equivalent of a musician having sex with groupies. It was simple. Uncomplicated. They knew what they were looking for, and I was happy to provide it in the right circumstances. Fucking a celebrity was indeed a pretty good story for someone to take back home from their LA vacation.
Over the years, I’d developed a pretty good radar to determine what opportunities were worth pursuing and which were more hassle than they were worth. Anyone who seemed unnecessarily starstruck or who ONLY wanted to talk about the TV show was a ‘No,’ regardless of how attractive they were.
Someone on a ‘girls trip’ with friends was usually in precisely the headspace I was looking to deal with. Sex with a hot guy from TV. No strings attached. Something that probably would NOT get mentioned to their boyfriend or husband back home. The topic of boyfriends and husbands was an exciting subject that I had only been exploring over the past few years.
It had started with a husband. I was in Park City for Sundance promoting an indie film I’d done. It had been announced that I would be at a panel and Q&A and a launch party following the event. Mid-evening, I had just returned from the bar when a guy approached me. Rick. He was pleasant, said it was nice to meet me, and explained that he had an unusual request. People at the bar surrounded us, and he indicated a quiet area in the corner. It was less common for males to approach me, and I’ll admit that I was a bit uncertain; however, there was an entourage of people that I had come within the bar (agent, publicist, people from the film company), so despite his request seeming unusual I relented and followed him back from the crowd.
He apologized in advance and said he realized his request was out of the ordinary. He paused to take a long draw from his glass of red wine. He seemed to steel himself and quietly asked if I would like to have sex with his wife. Understandably I didn’t know how to respond. My immediate reaction was that it was some kind of joke. But based on the look on his face and demeanor, something told me that he was serious.
He added more without giving me too much time to stammer out a response. She was a big fan. She’d always wanted to meet me and often fantasized about me in bed. He assured me that she was very hot. Struggling to understand why, as her husband, he would suggest such a thing, I managed to ask him exactly that. I was skeptical that he would be okay with it.
“Look. I like to see her happy and turned on,” he admitted. “As much as she’s attractive, I don’t have any illusions that she’s going to run off from where we live in Denver and start a new life with you. If it’s ever going to happen, I’d rather it be with you than some other man”.
I eyed him with curiosity. His honesty was unusual.
“Why don’t you come and meet her. She’s sitting at a table over there. If you want to do it, I won’t interfere. You can do whatever you like as long as she’s ok with it. I’ll probably just watch.”
The oddity of his approach had piqued my curiosity, and I agreed to follow him to the table, but with no guarantee of anything further than meeting her and saying hello.
He was right. Candace was hot. Given the outright sexuality of the request, I had expected her to be some kind of vamped-up, hyper-sexual tease. She was the exact opposite. Denver housewife. Beautiful smile. Nervous. She was wearing a pair of tight leggings and an oversized wool sweater, given the temperature outside. Even with the shirt, I could tell she was nicely proportioned.
Her nervousness continued throughout the evening. I imagined that the weight of what they were doing as a couple was a lot for her to handle. She seemed a bit embarrassed, and even after a few drinks, she appeared somewhat uncomfortable being in my presence. She was stiff as I kissed her back in their room and began to disrobe her. It took a significant amount of quiet compliments about her body and how attractive she was to ease the tension out finally.
She was by no means the wildest lover I had ever been with. However, once she got down to it, she seemed determined to ensure she had a good showing. She was quiet but determined, and I enjoyed the moment as I stood beside the bed in their hotel room, her purposefully sucking my cock as her husband watched from an armchair several feet away. The fact that I was the one getting a blowjob from her, not him, had a strangely arousing and powerful effect on me.
As I thrust in and out of Candace a bit later, I turned to watch as Rick stood and undid his pants. He ruefully slid them down his legs and stepped out of his underwear. I watched him take his dick in his hand, and it was a tiny dick at that, and he began stroking it. He could no longer refrain from pleasuring himself as he watched his wife having intercourse.
Candace took a reasonable amount of work to coerce into her first orgasm. She was nervous and seemed uncomfortable allowing herself to show passion in front of her husband. But having a relatively significant amount of experience in the bedroom, I read her cues. I gradually worked her up to the point where she was physically shaking and moaning as her orgasm neared closer and finally overtook her. Once the first was out of the way, she loosened up significantly.
Over the next half hour, I made Candace cum twice more. As I neared orgasm, I had her turn on her back and climbed above her chest. She was panting and looking satisfied as she pushed her breasts together for me. Rick watched from a nearby armchair as I directed my cock towards her tits and began to stroke it quickly. He looked utterly exhausted. He was no longer stroking his penis. About 15 minutes prior, he had disappeared from his post next to the bed and made his way to the bathroom. He reappeared after a couple of minutes and slumped into the armchair minus his erection.
As I reflected on the encounter later, I became increasingly turned on by that part.
I tried to imagine what must have been bouncing through Rick’s mind as he disappeared into the bathroom, clearly unable to hold off any longer. Listening to his wife’s soft moans and the repeated slapping sound of her tits bouncing against each other as I railed into her from behind again and again. Felt the rush from his tiny dick (an God, it was like three and a half inches erect at best) as he unloaded into a towel, knowing that his wife was taking a huge cock inside of her on the other side of the door.
It was all quite heady stuff!
I knew that Rick and Candace would have a lot to digest, so when I was done ejaculating all over her chest, I gave her a long kiss and told her that she was great and that, hopefully, she enjoyed living out her fantasy.
Then I beat a hasty departure.
As I accepted my drink from Craig (a bottle of beer to match his), we fell back into the conversation. I enjoyed watching Maggie. She was a bit giddy from our flirtation and my opening the door to the fact that should she choose to, it could happen. Initially, I was unsure how my request would be received, but as I watched Maggie fiddling with another button near the top of her dress, I smiled inwardly.
My encounter with Rick and Candace had undoubtedly stuck with me. It had been quite exciting, and from then forward, I changed my outlook when meeting women. Being in a relationship did not automatically rule them out as potential bedmates. I realized that I had likely been missing some signs from women over the years while under the auspices that those with a man were only approaching me under platonic circumstances.
Over the next couple of years, I had three more encounters with ‘couples.’ All as stimulating as the first with Rick and Candace.
I once met a woman and fucked her in her hotel room while her husband waited downstairs in the lobby bar.
A woman from England had hit on me at a nightspot. Her husband was made to watch as I fucked her up against the full-length window of their high-floor room at The W Hotel. He was decidedly less excited about it than Rick had been. But his wife had been evident that now that she had met me (on her list), she was going to fuck me regardless of what her husband said. It was hot.
I had also had a brief affair with a woman who worked on the crew of an episode I directed. She and her husband were from New York and stayed at The Oakwoods for the month while she worked. They had a ‘thing’ where she had sex with other men, and he knew about it. I fucked her. Three times.
That first night I picked her up from her place, we went for drinks before heading back to my place. She FaceTimed her boyfriend after I’d gotten her top off and told him quite clearly what she would be doing with me for the next hour.
The next time we went to her place, she made her boyfriend sit in the living room and listen while I fucked her in the bedroom. The final time before she left back East, she let him watch. Poor guy. But, wow! The power imbalance of having a sexual relationship with a woman while her partner knew about it or was forced to acknowledge it was very intoxicating and far more exciting than just having sex with a regular hookup!
So by that point, I had developed a relatively clear understanding of how to read couples and judge a woman’s interest if she was already in a relationship.
And by that evening, I knew it was time to let things fall into the balance and see what would happen. I asked Maggie and Craig if they’d excuse me for a moment. I’d seen a friend of mine enter the bar, allowing me the perfect opportunity to leave them on their own for a few minutes.
As I greeted Billy on the other side of the bar, I kept one eye on the two of them. They were talking intently, but it didn’t seem heated. Maggie had her hand on Craig’s leg. I watched her kiss him a couple of times. Leaning in convincingly. When she started looking back around the bar for me, I patted my friend on the back and rewound my way toward them. Sliding back onto my barstool Maggie looked at me with a soft smile. To restart the conversation, I was about to tell them about Billy’s excellent art gallery, but Maggie spoke first. Quiet and shy.
“We were wondering if you want to join us for another drink back at our hotel?”
In practiced fashion, I lifted an eyebrow with curiosity. I met Maggie’s gaze and held it for a moment, letting the silence do the work. My lack of questions and seriousness showed them that I understood what was being asked.
Holding for a beat longer, I shifted over towards her husband. “Are you sure, Craig?”
He sat impassively. Difficult to read. But his pause was shorter than mine had been. I noticed him swallow, and he cleared his throat.
Then he gently nodded and mouthed, “Yes.”
“Then ok,” I said simply.
I knew from previous experience that the next short period would be awkward. What was about to happen had been put out on the table. Both of them were going to be feeling VERY different emotions. I’d learned that it was best if I projected confidence and took charge in these situations. With the wheels now set in motion, I didn’t want any tires coming off along the way.
“Why don’t I have my car service pick us up,” I suggested, reaching into my pocket for my phone.
Even though our current round of drinks was relatively new, they were now irrelevant. They looked confused for a moment as I quickly sent a text message to the dispatcher. I’d been using the same car service for years. They essentially just existed to drive around people like me. Those who demanded efficiency, a quick response, and most of all, discretion. Their fleet of luxury cars operated all over Hollywood, out to Malibu, and down through the beach communities. The near-immediate response from Jessica confirmed that Jackson was close by and could be there in under 5 minutes. I knew him well. He drove me frequently. Mid-twenties from New York and great with people. He naturally knew when to make conversation and when to leave it alone.
Looking back at Craig and Maggie, I smiled widely and told them our ride would be arriving shortly. As we collected our things, I rose to my feet and extended a hand to Maggie, offering to assist her down from the tall bar stool. Her warm hand slipped into mine and wrapped around it. She looked at me with excitement. Craig had reached for his beer and was draining its contents. He was indeed expecting the night ahead to be aided with further intake.
I passed Maggie her coat, and the three of us began to make our way for the door. I waved casually to my friend Damon, the bartender. I was in Delaneys a lot and knew him well. He had seen me leave the bar with plenty of women before, but it was likely the first time he’d seen me pick up a woman right before her husband. I saw him crack a wide grin and laugh as he waved back at me.
“Poor guy,” he mouthed.
There was no hiding Craig, and Maggie’s amazement as Jackson’s large black SUV slid up to the curb right in front of us as we walked out the door.
“Evening, Mr. Nowell,” he pleasantly greeted as he hopped down from the driver’s seat, walked around the vehicle to the curb, and then opened the rear door.
With traffic passing down Las Palmas, I indicated that I would slide across the large bench seat so that we didn’t have to open the door on the street side. As I clambered up into the large vehicle, I again extended a hand for Maggie to follow. As I helped her into the truck, I deliberately did not slide myself further over, leaving myself more in the middle of the long seat. As Craig watched his wife climb in behind me, there was very little room between her and the door frame.
His slow recognition of what was happening was aided along by Jackson. In the approximately 20 seconds that he had been parked, he had instinctively read the situation, understood what my night likely had in store, and provided an assist. With an encouraging grin, he opened the passenger door and indicated toward Craig.
“Why don’t you come on up here with me, sir. Best seat in the house!”
As Craig bewilderedly slid into the front seat, the doors were closed behind us. Maggie and I were situated mostly behind the passenger seat, which prevented Craig from having any realistic view of the two of us.
As the SUV slid away from the curb, I felt Maggie move in close to me. Her warm body and soft curves pressed up against my arm, and I turned towards her, smiling reassuringly. I was sure she was nervous, but the dark confines of the back seat seemed to allow her to relax. As our eyes met, she softly wet her lips and bit one seductively. I let my gaze wander down towards the exposed cleavage from her dress. I didn’t attempt to hide my interest, and as Jackson negotiated his way through traffic on Hollywood Blvd.
Maggie reached up and slowly undid another button and then yet another. Using her fingers, she eased the top of the dress open, exposing a deep canyon of cleavage. It was clear that she hadn’t adequately prepared for the intensity of the California sun, and I grinned as the pink sun-touched skin of her upper chest gave way to the deep milky white of her cleavage, which her swimsuit had protected.
Jackson had R&B playing at medium volume up front and engaged Craig in disarming chatter, pointing out various locations as we wove down Hollywood. He had the kind of ‘inside knowledge’ that wouldn’t be found in tourist brochures, and I smiled inwardly in appreciation as he did his best to keep Craig distracted.
As the bright neon lights flashed past and we cruised through the intersection of Hollywood & La Brea, Maggie let out a soft moan as I leaned down and softly kissed the top of her exposed breasts. It was our first overtly sexual contact, and I felt her right arm come around and onto my shoulder, encouraging me more. As traffic broke and we shot clear of congestion and down onto Sunset, I slid a hand up Maggie’s leg and onto her thigh. She eased her legs apart, encouraging me to go further, and I began to ease my way up between her legs suggestively.
It was a short drive from Delaneys to their hotel, and once Jackson was on Sunset, he expertly negotiated his way through traffic and to the block of their hotel. As we neared our destination, I slowly slid my hand back. I’d been softly rubbing around the outside edges of her panties but demurely going no further, knowing it was a quick trip to their hotel. She had been radiating heat between her legs, and she shifted in disappointment as I withdrew my hand. I gave her a mischievous wink as I straightened up, knowing that there was far more to come.
As Jackson pulled into the hotel’s front entrance, the large SUV was quickly set upon by a doorman who opened both doors, welcoming us to the hotel. I thanked Jackson, and he responded with his usual polite demeanor. I was pretty sure I detected a knowing gleam in his eyes, but as with all of the drivers at the service, he could be counted on for his discretion.
Craig’s eyes slightly widened as he took in his wife sliding down from the backseat. She was flushed and flustered, smoothing and readjusting her dress. I climbed out behind her, and she flashed me an embarrassed grin. Her large boobs were pushing out from the loosened top of her dress, and I watched in enjoyment as she demurely struggled to button them back a while her husband watched. Without any objective view of the backseat, Craig was surely now wondering in frustration what had been happening behind him on the drive from the bar. I immensely enjoyed that.
We passed through the spiral doors and into the large lobby of the well-appointed hotel.
To Be Continued…
*This story has been edited to fix spelling, punctuation, & basic grammar, but the narrative and plot have remained the same. Remember, even with limited editing. It doesn’t mean any possible major flaws in this story were fixed. The opinions/views expressed in this story are those of the author and do not represent this site. We support freedom of speech.