The below is my story and I reserve all rights.

If you want to talk about it or simply comment on it, email me 
at twylamarie @ ymail.com

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I cheated often when traveling early in my marriage, but never in 
my home town. 

It's not that Seattle is a small town, it's that every town is a
small town.  Every guy you fuck has friends he wants to brag to.
Every desk clerk at the cheap hotel where you wore out the walls
with the slamming bedpost is someone's sister or girlfriend. 

That parking garage where the windows fogged, the car rocked and
a single used condom was left after the car drove off - that guy
watching on security cam might be a next door neighbor.

You might not even know them - but they know you - and that's how
the rumors start that can spread and destroy your world.

When I cheated I did it on business trips far from home and never
with anyone I planned to see again.  Perhaps a guy from the hotel
bar or the cute man also dining alone in the restaurant, but
never a co-worker or client where you might be discovered.

I looked for the times when I was travelling alone, or in hectic
environments like major conventions that swamp a town with out of
towners.  Places where no one knew me and where I wasn't likely
ever see my bedmate again.   Places where I could use a fake
name and a one night hotel room or even a rental car in the
remote part of a hotel parking garage.

As sneaky as I always thought I was, one time in Las Vegas my
boss saw me stepping out of a hotel room very, very early one
morning wearing the clothing I'd worn the night before.  He was
doing the same - his own formal evening suit as badly out of
place by the morning light as my cocktail dress -  and we both
knew we weren't staying at that hotel we were in.

At first we both just acknowledged each other and said nothing. 
What was there to say really?  But on the elevator he turned to
me and simply said "We're on the road Twyla.  No stories.  No
judgments. No names. No memories."  It was a combination of
advice, an order and a bit of a prayer and I never forgot it.

Had he not been as guilty as me that morning, that chance meeting
could have gone very bad for me indeed.  You'd think that the
near miss on being discovered would have made me give up my life
of carnal crime, but instead I just redoubled my efforts.

The next business trip was to Vegas and I knew that my coworkers
would be hanging out on the strip near our hotel at the MGM.  So,
I took the expensive cab ride to "old" Vegas and found a young
tourist on a budget nearly 10 years my junior with six-pack abs
and a $50 hotel room.

He was timid at first since I don't really think he believed I
was into him, but once we were in his hotel room he practically
tore my skirt and panties off.   I was still wearing my
half-unbuttoned blouse and bra when he bent me offer the cheap
chair in the corner of the room and entered me with an urgency
that felt closer to a sexual assault than a seduction.  If he
hadn't spread me with his fingers he'd lubricated with his own
spit before entering me, I would have likely screamed so loud
that they would have heard it in the casino six floors below. He
was done so fast I felt like we were back in high school.

The second time he'd given me a chance to completely undress and
even taken some time to make amens for his violation by
thoroughly eating my pussy.  The stained mattress was almost as
thin as the hotel walls, so when he entered me my moaning let the
other guests know that someone in the hotel had won big in Vegas.

As we athletically went at it, the idea that the walls were
thin, the hotel room was seedy, and that the sex was throwaway
and cheap made me enjoy it all the more.

After a repeat performance he pleaded with me to stay the night.
I was soaking wet with sweat, sex and spunk, and was tempted, but
common sense got the better of me.  I was to my hotel before
midnight and in the shower and to bed before my coworkers were
likely done at the poker tables.

Laying back in my rather palatial suite in the MGM and looking
out the window at the hotels shaped like castles and pyramids
beyond, I couldn't help but admit that the rather cheap and
tawdry nature of the encounter had really made it very hot.  I
was still sore from the rough treatment than my cooch had gotten
earlier in the evening, but masturbated myself to sleep anyway.

The next few business trips I indulged myself by wallowing in
down rent infidelities.

On a trip to Chicago with a hotel room on the miracle mile I
skipped out on a business dinner at The Chop House to find a
rowdy bar on Rush St.   Two hours after arriving I swapped
drunken and in-elegant oral sex with a salesman from Ohio in the
backseat of his car.  Luckily he did me first, as after he came
in my mouth and I opened the door to spit his seed into the
gutter he lost interest in further contact.  I was out of the car
and he was drunk driving away within moments and it took me
almost 40 minutes to find a cab to take me back downtown.

In Orlando the team attended a swank dinner at a ballroom at the
Dolphin Hotel, I found myself eating with, and then being eaten
by, a good looking conventioneer near Lake Buena Vista.  We were
so drunk that he actually attempted to finger me in the cab from
the restaurant to his room at the Marriot Courtyard, and I spread
my legs and let him.  He loved standing in front of the hotel
room mirror while I sucked his cock - both of us otherwise fully
clothed - an act that led to me needing to soak cum stains out of
my lavender colored silk blouse before bed once back in the
safety of my own hotel room.

The cheap sex in cheap locations continued in a downward spiral
for a while - but I eventually scared myself when I picked up a
rather large and good looking man in Los Angeles. His look was a
mixture of Hollywood bad boy and LA street thug complete with the
muscles and tattoos.   He took me to his home in the hills above
Burbank and what began in a hot tub as very pleasant foreplay
quickly escalated to what could be called rough sex and then near
anal rape as he got amped up more and more on the lines of
cocaine we shared on the glass of this bed stand.

Despite the good time, when I let him know that the ass wasn't
happening he became ominous and verbally abusive.  When I held my
ground and got pissed with his persistence he at first would not
let me have my clothes and then wouldn't call me a cab. (We were
far from any major street.)  Finally, after I gave in and let him
do some very demeaning things to me that didn't include an
assfuck he called me a cab and I was allowed to go.

After that affair, I swore off cheap sex and one night stands on
the road for a while (at least with men) and when I returned to
sport fucking a few years later it was back to higher class
locations, a more gentile class of men, and closer to my own
evenings accommodations.

I have never been caught again - at least so far - and doubt I
will be as I have really cut back on my extramarital activities.
I scratch my itch maybe once or twice a year now.  O confine
my fun to times when I'm traveling alone and I have gotten 
rather brazen about communicating "my rules" before I ever 
let a man enter my hotel room.  

I no longer go to their rooms and never let them spend the 
night in mine.  That's rule #1.

I always take off all of my clothes first to avoid stains and
marks on my clothing.  (I do occasionally leave on my
heels.  That's rules #2.

And it's always safe sex, either through use of condoms or 
simply by  using mouths and fingers. (I know this isn't really
"completely safe" sex - but I do so enjoy when a man cums
between my breasts or on my neck and I have never enjoyed
sucking a cock that has a rubber on it.) That's rule #3.

Men seem to get it and respect my limits and we end up 
having a marvelous time anyway, and at the end they don't 
ask for my phone number or email address - they get and
respect that this was a one night stand.

After all, I'm on the road. No stories.  No memories.  
No names. No judgments. Just a hot zipless fuck and a 
good nights sleep. And I wouldn't have it any other way.