Tubbing "I hope you don't think I'm a slut or something." Patricia spoke to the passenger window to avoid making eye contact with me as I drove a little too fast down the freeway. We had exchanged barely more than a dozen emails, talked on the phone just once, and this was only the second time we'd met face to face. "No, of course not," I replied. More words stuck in my throat, unspoken. The first time we had met was over coffee at Starbucks. This time, three weeks later, I had picked her up at the same Starbucks, and we were driving to a spa that offered small, private rooms, each with a hot tub, a shower, and a small foam rubber mattress on a wooden shelf. It was her suggestion to go there. She wanted to fuck. If Patricia was a slut, then so was I. "This will be fun," I offered. She didn't come right out and tell me that she'd been there before, though it was obvious. She didn't tell me with whom. Or how many. She was married and bored. Looking for some adventure in her life, she'd told me. She was in her thirties, a decade younger than me, though she looked older and more tired than her years. Patricia was short and pleasantly plump, with brown Latina eyes and bottle-blonde hair. My guess was that she'd had a lot of adventure in her younger years. Maybe a little too much. We'd already had the obligatory "Condoms?" conversation - with her it was in email two weeks earlier. Birth control wasn't an issue. She'd had her tubes tied after her fourth kid. I'd had a vasectomy. "I'm safe and healthy," I had assured her. "I am, too," she'd said, "but you can use one if you want to. It's your choice." I was trusting. I was reckless. I didn't bring any. "It's a good place," she reassured me about the spa. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her smile at me. Perhaps it wasn't with too many other men, I thought. Faint hope, perhaps. She still seemed a bit nervous. Not that I wasn't a bit nervous, too. Fucking a married woman carried a certainly level of risk from a potentially irate husband, not to mention from my wife. The spa met my expectations, and my expectations hadn't been very high. It sat in a strip mall, around the corner from a restaurant and a dry cleaners. We waited in the lobby for a few minutes for a room to become available, sitting side by side in awkward silence on a bench seat. The wallpaper on the walls and the carpet on the floors were tired. So was the sullen female clerk behind the counter. Maybe I would be, too, if my job was akin to running the front desk at a seedy motel that charged by the hour. A couple emerged from a hallway that presumably led to the rooms. Two fortysomethings, him with a slight paunch, her with wide hips, both with wet hair. They handed a room key to the clerk and headed out the front door, never once making eye contact with us or with each other. I didn't get the impression they were there to bathe aching muscles. The clerk spoke briefly on the telephone, and then she caught my eye, held up a key, and wiggled it back and forth. "Room 15," she said, handing me the key and two towels, and motioning her head toward the hallway to the back rooms. We didn't make lingering eye contact, either. I guess it was that kind of place. The hallways to the rooms were a maze. Left, right, right. We followed the signs to Room 15. When we finally stood in front of the door, Patricia excused herself. "I need to find a bathroom," she said. Another sign showed the way. "I'll be right back." I opened the door to Room 15, our Gateway to Adventure, and walked inside. The room was bigger than I had imagined it would be, but I wouldn't have called it spacious. Cheap wood wall paneling. Large red Mexican pavers on the floor. A wood Jacuzzi tub to the left in the back corner. A door to a sauna in front of me. A showerhead on the wall to the right. No showercurtain, just a tile floor with a drain. A liquid soap dispenser. To the left of the door was a small coat rack with a shelf on top. And beyond that, a delightfully useful wooden platform about the size of a twin bed, sporting a three-inch thick mattress and covered with a cheap white sheet, seemingly freshly laundered. It wasn't a Five Star spa, but it would serve our needs for the next two hours. Patricia found the room, and I locked the door behind her. "Well," she said, facing me in the center of the room. I kissed her. It was sweet and soft, with just the right amount of tongue. She'd had a lot of practice kissing. We broke for air, and Patricia motioned her head toward the tub. "Want to do the tub? Or?" "Let's do the tub right now," I said. That seemed to be an easy way to get naked and intimate this first time, without having to make that awkward move to the mattress. I stepped back and began to unbutton my shirt. She matched me. Her eyes met mine at first, then watched my hands as I exposed my chest. "A little hairy," I said. "Nice." Patricia slipped off her blouse as she spun with her back to me. Shy, I thought to myself. I unbuckled my belt and slipped my pants and underwear down, then quickly folded them and started to put them on the shelf above the coat rack. "No," Patricia said, motioning to a flat surface between the mattress and the tub. "Put them over there. Otherwise the shower gets them wet." I deferred to her greater experience. Then, naked. That's always a heady rush with a new lover, that first exposure to a new body. Patricia stripped naked with a minimum of self-consciousness. Her body exposed no surprises. Five-two, tits firmer than I had expected, nicely accentuated with perky brown nipples. A rounded tummy, fleshy hips and ass and thighs. A dark thatch of pubic hair. We embraced for another long kiss. My erection pressed against her belly. The water was hot, and the smell of chlorine wafted into my nostrils, though I wasn't going to complain about an over-chlorinated hottub in this kind of place. I settled onto the seat with the water at nipple level, and Patricia sat next to me, our knees touching. It was an awkward position for kissing or touching. "C'mere," I said, maneuvering her to sit on my thighs, facing me. She nestled forward, her breasts against my chest, wrapping her legs and arms around me, and we discovered that fit together well - nose to nose, mouth to mouth. We took advantage of that and began to make out. It was a full-body contact thing. We adjusted ourselves to get my cock pressed against the length her cleft, and I notched between her pussylips and she began to rock her hips ever so slightly as our mouths played together. My hips matched hers. My hands went from tits to ass to tits to face to ass. She moaned into my mouth and held me tighter. Was she wet enough to fuck? I angled my cock and tested. Yes sir'ee, she was just wet enough to get my cockhead inside her. I rocked my hips to slide in and out, popping past a nicely snug muscle ring. Every time I slipped inside, her muscles nibbled at my cock. This was going to be good. Time was a'wastin'. "Let's try the mattress," I suggested, and Patricia disengaged and clambered out of the tub, with me following. We quickly swabbed off the bulk of the water with towels, then she laid down on the mattress and held out her arms to me. I didn't need to be asked twice. In an instant I was on top of her, and she wrapped herself around me, kissing my lips, pulling me closer. "Wait," I told her, and I slid South, sliding my cock between those nice pussylips with an "I'll be back!" promise as my lips kissed lower and lower. First her neck, causing her to squirm and mutter something unintelligible, then her breasts, first one then the other. Her nipples were standing tall and suckable, but I didn't pause there long. I had places to go and things to do. Down to her bellybutton, then her lower tummy. Pubic hair, matted from the water, and then a first good look at her pussy. And such a nice pussy it was. Puffy outer labia, delightfully distinct and swollen inner labia, a medium-sized clit that jumped right out and begged to be licked and sucked. Some women, especially plump women, have thin, almost hidden inner labia, but not Patricia. She had a mildly musky scent and taste, unfortunately half masked by the chlorine, but it only took a few slathering licks to dispel the chlorine and get her juices flowing. Patricia was hot, slick, and softly vocal. She moaned, she panted, she murmured, she squirmed and thrust her hips at my mouth, holding the back of my head with her hands. Her pussylips laid open in a crimson welcome, her clit standing high and isolated, her guttural noises increasing in frequency and loudness as I ratcheted her upward. When my fingers found her gspot, her hips began undulating nonstop and her vaginal muscles clenched over and over. I took her over the top with a quickening tongue lashing and increased pressure on her gspot, as her hips raised up off that crappy mattress and her body shuddered, punctuated by gasping, exhaling grunts. It was a good fifteen second orgasm. After her body began to relax, I gave her a few soft licks and then mounted her, missionary style, and was inside her with one easy thrust. Patricia's eyes were wide open and wild, her face was still flushed from her climax, and inside she was hot, slick and buttery. I buried myself inside her and pressed even deeper. Her hips rose, her mouth opened into an `O', and I felt the flicker of her cervix against my tip. Then I began to stroke, and I realized this wasn't going to take long. Four kids, yes, but her vagina was snug, and to make matters even more quickly inevitable, I discovered that Patricia could deliver grippy squeezes on every outstroke. In, out, in, out. We were in a rhythm. "Oh yes," she murmured on every creamy instroke, then I'd pause for a fraction of second, buried deep and enjoying it, then just as I began my outstroke her muscles did that squeeze until only my cockhead remained inside. Then her clench relaxed and I stroked inward again. "Baby," I told her, "I can't hold back much longer." My tempo increased. I couldn't help myself. Faster, a little bit harder. The end was near. Her eyes widened even more. "Give it to me," she breathed, "I want to feel you come." That did it. I gave up trying to fight it, and just let it gallop forward. Each thrust was now imperceptibly faster, harder, deeper. Patricia's hips angled up to take me in, rocking just slightly to meet each my stabbing plunges. My breaths came faster, too, and so did hers. "Ready?" I warned her. "Do you feel me?" "Yes," she panted. And then, I felt my orgasm begin. "Now!" I told her, "Now!" The sensations expanded out of my loins and my cock stiffened and I drove one last deep thrust inside her, pressing with the strong legs and an instinctive desire to fill her juicy little honeypot with as much of my flesh as I could manage to stuff inside her and load her to the brim with my come. I gasped, she gasped. We froze in an tableau of intertwined lust and spasming pleasure, with my cock spurting its fiery white and her muscle ring responding to each quivering spurt with a welcoming squeeze. "Oh my God," I murmured when I could finally speak. My stiffened body relaxed, my spurts weakened into feeble twitches. Patricia's squeezes slowed. "Did that feel good?" she asked me. "Wasn't it obvious?" She smiled, sighed, and gave me one final squeeze that ejected my softened cock. "Oops!" she giggled. I raised my weight and sat upright. Looking down, her pussylips were inflamed, red and raw and yawning wide. I could see telltale white oozing from her opening. Patricia reached a hand down, playing her fingers in the mutual sloppiness. At first it was a slow caress, then her fingers quickened. Her eyes closed, and her face took on a look of concentration. I sat perched there, between her legs, my hands quiet on her hips, and watched her masturbate. Her fingers flurried across her lips with a sideways motion, focusing on her clit. It didn't take long, maybe thirty seconds, and she climaxed, which seemed to squeeze even more juices out. I joined her on the mattress, lying side by side, and we embraced and kissed and nuzzled. Twenty minutes later, Patricia's mouth had me hard again, and this time she rode me to an orgasm. Our eyes were locked, my hands cupping her softball sized breasts with those big, brown hard nipples, and her hips did that undulating grind of clit against pubic bone until she got herself off, exhaling those sharp, guttural grunts, which triggered my orgasm when she was out in outer space with hers. The timing worked out. A minute later the phone on the wall rang with a ten minute warning from the front desk. We showered - yes, the spray went everywhere, though our clothes were spared for the most part - and toweled off and dressed in silence. One last long, lingering kiss. "I had fun," she told me, and I agreed. On our way past the front desk, I handed back the room key, and Patricia and I walked to the door. In silence, not touching. Two more couples sat in the waiting area. It was a busy place.