Freedom 3. On My Own - Sex Stories

Freedom 3. On My Own

The men had just left Connie and me. My vagina was still swollen, leaking, and even a little sore from the evening's antics. Both men had each fucked me twice. I don't know how they did it because they took care of her, too. I started to get dressed.

"It might be fun to find some other guys to play with," she casually offered. "On your own."

"I don't understand," I replied.

"There are bars in hotels where men are away from home," she said. "Or maybe you would feel better not starting in a hotel bar. There's a bar next door to a Hampton Inn way over by the airport. It's far enough away that nobody who recognizes you will come in."

"You mean go and pick up a guy? I wouldn't know how."

"Well, go in like you just want a drink. Don't dress like a whore. Jeans and a tee shirt," she suggested. "Sit alone at one of the tall tables, not the bar. Look lonely, hehe, staring into your drink. Maybe something will happen. Maybe you just get a couple of drinks and go home."

I was terrified and, at the same time, excited, a couple of weeks later when the opportunity arose. Hubby was out of state for several days after a big storm tore through Pennsylvania. I swear I was getting wet when I stepped out of my car and started to walk into the Gate Twenty Pub. I could see there was a waiter, so I didn't have to order from the bar. Connie had thought that a beer would go down slower than wine or hard liquor and give me more time to look lonely, haha. I did feel lonely staring ...

... into my glass.

I was getting discouraged by the time I finished my salad and ordered a second light beer. But then a middle-aged man, asked, "Is this seat taken?" I shook my head, no, and he sat across from me. "I'm Roger," he informed me before he flagged the waiter and ordered Jack and soda.

“Nicole,” I replied.

The conversation started out awkwardly, but we eventually established that I was a local and he was from Portland, Oregon, here for a couple nights' business.

"You seem lonely." I guess I pulled that off.

"Yeah, I suppose."

"Your husband went off somewhere?"

"He does that a lot. It's his job, you know." I explained that he worked for the electric company. "I just don't like sitting at home alone drinking. So, I go somewhere where I can watch people." Connie had primed me with all my lines.

"We could do something about your loneliness, you know."

"What do you mean?" I pretended to be clueless.

"Why don't you come next door with me?"

My shaking hand went up to my mouth. "Really? ... You mean ....? Oh God!" I twisted my ring.

"I'm sorry. I should have been more respectful."

"It's OK. It's just ... Really?"

"I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I should leave you. I'll pick up your tab."

"No. No. I really am lonely," I confessed. Then, after an appropriately long pause, looking down into my beer, "Maybe next door would be good."

We left together and walked across the parking lot, which was shared with the hotel. I'm sure anyone in the ...