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Beas Third Hall Pass
Bea was giddy. Although she was an experienced hot wife and this would not be her first Hall Pass, it was the first time she actively pursued a tryst. Her previous flings had been spontaneous—heat-of-the-moment rendezvous. Afterward, she shared every explicit detail with her husband while they made love. His cock would expand inside her as she described being seduced by strangers. Now, whenever she traveled solo, he encouraged her to play. Tonight, she was in the middle of a two-week business trip, the weekend was free, and frankly, she was horny.
She slipped into her favorite “little black dress,” packed especially for this occasion. She didn’t wear a bra because she adored the luxurious feel of silk caressing her tits. Underneath she wore only black lace panties. Her husband posted many nude pictures of her on the amateur porn sites they frequented. The notion of thousands of men admiring her, and the explicit comments they wrote was empowering. But the appeal of stripping, in person, for a new lover thrilled her; almost as much as the sex itself.
With a deep breath, Bea grabbed her purse and stepped into the hallway toward the elevators. As the doors closed, she lifted her dress just enough to run her fingers into her panties. Before leaving home, she had meticulously waxed her labia smooth, leaving only a neatly trimmed tuft of dark hair on her mound—a detail that bespoke her confidence at 55, exuding the allure of a mature woman. After all, she was a MILF, not a schoolgirl.
Reaching the floor of the VIP lounge, she adjusted her dress before stepping out into a mirrored corridor. In her reflection, she regarded the way her small breasts jiggled beneath the fabric. The lounge was dimly lit, but busy. Professionals in business attire mingled casually in groups around tables next to the bar. A three-piece ensemble played music loud enough for dancing but soft enough to allow conversation. Feeling self-conscious as an unattached woman, Bea walked directly to the bar and took a seat. Surveying the room, she nervously fiddled with her wedding band-—always aware of the forbidden nature of her quest. It wasn’t long before the bartender offered her a glass of red wine, courtesy of a young man at the table behind her. He was with a lively bunch of thirty-somethings who seemed to be buying rounds for every lady in the house. Intriguing, but a group was not quite what she had envisioned for the evening. She raised her glass and mouthed a polite “thank you,” hoping they’d notice her ring and not engage further. She decided to leave the ring on. The right sort of suitor would notice but not be deterred by the taboo of pursuing a married woman.
Bea sat alone, sipping her wine, when a handsome gentleman took the seat next to her. Clad in a business suit, sans tie, he nodded affably but said nothing. He just ordered a drink and settled in to watch the ball game on the TV across from them. Furtively, he’d glance toward Bea, admiring her figure and crossed legs. Greying around the temples, he seemed a little younger than Bea. Maybe forty-five or so? They sat quietly, enjoying their drinks, when the young man who had bought Bea’s drink, finally conjured the nerve to invite her to join them. Not wanting to be rude, but also not wanting to waste time on a dead end, she demurred saying, “Thank you, but I’m here with my friend,” nodding to her pleasantly surprised companion on the next stool. Mildly dejected, the young man excused himself, and Bea extended a hand to her new acquaintance, saying, “Thanks for playing along, I’m Bea.” Accepting her hand, he charmingly inquired, “Bea? Short for ‘beautiful,’ I suppose? I’m Marcus.” Bea blushed, thinking to herself, “Now, THIS is what I had in mind for tonight.”
Over another round of drinks, the pair exchanged playful banter, feeling each other out. When the band struck up a catchy tune, Marcus asked, “Care to dance?” taking Bea’s hand and pulling her from the bar. On the dance floor, he raised her left hand with one hand and loosely wrapped the other around her waist. “Strong and tall,” Bea thought, as she gazed up into his green eyes—unusual for a black man, she thought. As they danced, laughed, and talked, Marcus would occasionally finger her wedding band. Each time pulling her tighter, cautiously testing her boundaries.
The band caught their vibe, transitioning to sexy tunes that gave them an excuse to draw closer. Bea felt Marcus’s free hand roam up and down her back before settling on her ass. His fingers traced the pattern of the lace beneath the silky material of her dress. By now she was relaxed with her new friend, so it felt natural, as if it belonged there. But as a married woman, they both knew it shouldn’t, and the brash contact sent shivers of anticipation up her spine. She knew where this was leading and relished the seductive journey.
Until that point, Marcus had been the perfect gentleman… mostly. It was getting late, and the shadowy lounge was mostly empty. As the dancing continued, she allowed his fingers to explore more intimately. He subtly lifted the hem of her dress to feel the soft skin underneath, fingers slipping beneath the edge of her panties. He was emboldened when she offered no protest, pressing her hips close to feel his growing interest against her belly. Finally, she raised her hand to his neck, drawing him into a tentative kiss.
“What about this?” he whispered, fondling her ring finger. With a coy smile Bea replied, “He approves. We call it a Hall pass. I can do whatever I desire with whomever I choose--as long as I share every detail later. Tonight, I choose you. Interested?” Marcus responded by deepening their kiss, their tongues now exploring with fresh intensity. His hands caressed her curves, venturing between her thighs. Bea parted them slightly, inviting him to discover her hidden treasure. She purred her consent with each encroachment of her body.
Presently, Marcus leaned in and breathed, “Let’s go upstairs.” Bea replied, “Yes. Let’s,” as she broke their embrace, hastily leading him from the dance floor. After charging their tab to his room, they made their way through the lobby and into the elevator. The ascent was a blur of passion and exploration as Marcus’s hands trailed beneath her dress, appreciating each contour of her body.
Upon entering his room, Marcus reached for her, intent on guiding her toward the bed. Instead, Bea resisted, pushing him back with a frisky smile. She retreated a few steps to renew the sensual dance they had started downstairs. Her hips swayed seductively as she slowly lifted her dress, each erotic movement under Marcus’s approving gaze. First, the delicate lace of her panties emerged, followed by the porcelain expanse of her smooth belly, and then her small, round breasts, nipples erect. With a flourish, she discarded the dress, presenting herself, almost naked, to Marcus.
Spinning gracefully away from him, she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and provocatively slid them down to her ankles, bending over to present her glistening, smooth sex. Then, standing tall once more, she turned back to meet his eyes, her bare skin tingling with the cool excitement of the exposure.
Stepping confidently between his legs, her bare tits brushed temptingly against his face. Marcus captured one firm nipple between his teeth and then the other, taunting them with gentle bites that drew breathless squeals of delight from Bea. In a sultry whisper, she urged, “Your turn, Marcus.” Undressing him with deliberate care, her hands wandered across his body to savor every detail. She knelt to lower his underwear, exposing his swelling member, which she eagerly took into her mouth. Tasting the sweet pre-cum on his tip, she looked up into his eyes as she brought him to the brink before pausing to let his urge subside.
She rose and took his place at the edge of the bed, lying back with her knees apart, inviting him to taste. Marcus knelt between her thighs and began licking along her puffed lips, pausing at her most sensitive spot with each upward stroke of his tongue. Bea moaned softly, tilting her hips to offer better access. His tongue danced quickly inside her to bring her slowly to climax. Grasping his hair, she pulled him deeper as her body shuddered with her first wave of pleasure. Sitting up to steal a kiss, she tasted her own essence. She wrapped her arms around his neck and uttered, “You can fuck me now.”
With strong arms, Marcus hoisted her to the center of the bed, then climbed between her spread legs. He teased her with his tip just penetrating before withdrawing and sliding up her wet slit. Each movement sent tremors of pleasure through her. Bea pleaded, “Don’t tease me, Marcus! Put it in me!” Finally, he rolled onto his back with Bea on top, straddling his hips. Now in control, she guided him into her aroused opening. Despite his size, he glided deep inside her, sending a gasp of satisfaction up her throat. As she began a slow, undulating grind, her clit pressed against his pelvis. Every time he swelled and neared climax, she paused their motion to prolong the ecstasy; she wanted this tango to last as long as possible. With each break, his strong arms flipped her body to penetrate her in new, creative ways.
For the next hour, they repeated this teasing game—each pause extending the tension until finally, her resistance melted away. Sprawled on her back so she could savor the look on his face, he erupted into her. The warmth that filled her womb was intoxicating as he continued to thrust, his milky release soaking the comforter. Even spent, he remained hard, flexing to continue pulses of pleasure through her. After withdrawing, he allowed Bea to lick the sweet remnants from his shaft and balls—a flavor she adored, the tang of his seed mingling with her own. Reclining once more, fingering herself, she felt the sticky trickle of his discharge. Then, reaching over to the nightstand, she handed him her phone and gestured between her legs. Marcus snapped several pictures of his cum dripping from Bea’s married pussy. With the phone back in hand, Bea texted the picture and a quick “I love you,” to her husband.
With that, Bea gave herself with abandon to Marcus for the rest of the night, eventually dozing off, satisfied, in each other’s arms. In the early morning light, Bea arose, pulling the black dress over her head, tucking her panties into her purse. Giving Marcus an intense parting kiss, she left his room and returned to hers.
Later that morning, while heading out with colleagues, she caught a glimpse of Marcus at the front desk checking out. Alas, there would be no round-two. . . this time. With a wry smile, she waved goodbye and turned to step outside, her latest Hall Pass now a memory.
If you would like to enjoy more of Bea’s journey to becoming a hot wife, look for The Hall Pass, The Second Hall Pass, and A Masked Party. Cheers, Valpcupl