We find out that his name is Don, he's single and at the hotel for the conference. I made up the story that we were married, just not to each other. W... were swingers out on a date, and it was my job and promise to show her off and make her feel as sexy as possible. Don immediately seemed interested. After another couple of drinks and small talk, I asked Don and Vicki if they were up to a little game of Truth or Dare, bar style. I guess that since there wasn't a lot of truth in our story, Vicki. “He’s ready,” she uttered perfunctorily. Her motion towards me instinctively made me back off, she straddled him in reverse. “Guide him into me.” Mesmerised as she moved into position, I held him to her and watched as she skewered herself with it. I felt the heat of her pussy engulf him. I had to feel her wetness and she sat fully onto his cock. I tasted her juices off my fingers as she positioned herself before me, leaning back over his prostate body. I cupped his heavy balls, they felt full. I had finally fallen asleep sometime in the middle of the night while sprawled in the overstuffed chair that dominated the main room. She started kneading the dough with the occasional thump against the counter and I think that the thumping is what woke me. I checked my stitches and they seemed to be healing nicely.Cook, that's what she insisted on having me call her, was very generous with her food and gave me a plate of fresh fruit to tide me over to breakfast. Although, it probably wasn't. .”“In the room, Stoney,” she said.That was an improvement. At least I wasn’t ‘Randall’ again. I let her into the room, flipped the privacy lock, followed her to the bed.“Sit.” Her lips were a straight line. My doll. My life. The girl with the perpetual smile. Not smiling. I sat. She turned to face me.“One more time, Mister Jackson,” she said. “I am not a delicate little flower. I married you, for God’s sake. I know you’re not perfect. Neither am I. I know there are probably things in your.