Husband Turns Gay: Chapter 3

Abstract: The 3rd of 16 chapters.
Troy's innocent flirting to Amy during their international route together this time winds up as sex in a hotel room.
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The hum of the engines vibrated through the cabin as the overnight flight to London sliced through the Atlantic darkness. It was one of those red-eye hauls, where half the passengers snored under scratchy blankets, the other half nursed their third scotch to drown out the turbulence.

Troy was already in the back galley, restocking the beverage cart with his usual flair—tall and slender, his sharp jaw catching the overhead lights. His uniform pants hugged his lean hips, and that soft voice of his carried over the drone, laced with the kind of flirtation that had always made Amy's crew shifts bearable.

"Darling, if this turbulence gets any worse, I'm climbing into your lap for safety," Troy said, winking as he handed her a stack of napkins. His eyes lingered on the way her blouse strained against her breasts, the top button undone just for the hell of it tonight. Amy felt a spark low in her belly, the memory of David's confession fueling her boldness—the way he'd admitted his cravings on their shared computer, those bisexual clips that had cracked open their marriage like a secret door. She'd promised to test the waters with Troy, and here they were, the plane's isolation making everything feel sharper, more immediate.

She leaned against the cart, her hip brushing his, and let her voice drop low. "You say that like you'd mind the view from down there." Troy's laugh was light, effeminate in that rom-com way, but his gaze heated up, tracing the curve of her neck. "Oh, honey, with you? I'd pay extra for the upgrade."

The flirting escalated as they served—his fingers grazing hers when passing out trays, a whispered "Bend over like that again, and I'll have to join the mile-high club right here" while she bent to pick up a dropped fork. Amy played along, her responses bolder than usual: a teasing brush of her ass against his crotch in the cramped galley, her hand lingering on his arm as she murmured, "Keep talking like that, Troy, and I might not wait for the hotel."

By the time the seatbelt sign dinged off for landing, the air between them crackled, thick with unspoken promises. David's words echoed in her mind—hell yeah to bringing Troy home—and Amy's pussy clenched at the thought of reporting back, every filthy detail stoking their fire.

The crew’s hotel in Heathrow was a sterile tower of beige carpets and keycard locks, the kind of place that smelled like industrial cleaner and jet lag. Amy's room on the sixth floor overlooked a foggy parking lot, the curtains half-drawn against the pre-dawn gray. The layover was a measly ten hours before the Dubai leg, enough time for sleep if you crashed hard, but Amy's mind raced.

She'd stripped down after her shower, slipping into the black lace bra and panty set she'd packed on a whim—delicate straps that framed her full breasts, the fabric sheer enough to hint at her hardening nipples. Her skin still tingled from the hot water, and she paced the room in bare feet, heart pounding with the thrill of what she'd started. Texting Troy felt like lighting a match in dry grass.

In his room two floors down, Troy unzipped his suitcase on the neatly made bed, the steam from his shower still clouding the bathroom mirror. He'd shaved everything smooth as always—face, armpits, back, arms, chest, ass, cock, balls, legs—his ritual for feeling sleek and ready, like he could step into any fantasy without a hitch. His body was lithe, toned from yoga and those endless layovers, his huge cock hanging heavy even soft, a solid ten inches that promised more.

He toweled off, pulling on loose boxers and a tank top, exhaustion pulling at him until his iPhone buzzed on the nightstand. Amy's name lit the screen: "Troy, come to my room, number 603." He stared at it, pulse quickening. Flirting on the flight was one thing—his usual game to pass the time—but this? Unsure what to make of it, he typed back: "Are you serious?" Her reply pinged instantly: "Yes, please come now." Troy's cock twitched in his boxers, a mix of curiosity and heat flooding him.

“Fuck it.” He threw on jeans and a fitted tee that clung to his smooth chest, no underwear to slow things down, and slipped out into the quiet hallway. The elevator ride felt eternal, his mind spinning scenarios—her wanting a quick fuck to unwind, or maybe just company. By the time he knocked on 603, his dick was half-hard, pressing against the denim.

Amy yanked the door open before the echo faded, her eyes locking on his with raw intent. She stood there in nothing but the black lace, bra cups barely containing her tits, the panties a thin strip that did fuck-all to hide the outline of her pussy lips. No words—just her hand shooting out to grab his shirt, pulling him inside with a force that slammed the door shut. Troy's breath caught as she backed him against it, her body flush against his, the heat of her skin seeping through his clothes.

"Amy, what the—" he started, but she cut him off with her mouth, kissing him hard and hungry, tongue diving in like she owned him. Her lips were soft but demanding, tasting faintly of mint toothpaste and the wine she'd sipped on the flight.

Troy's hesitation melted in seconds, his hands finding her waist, sliding up to cup her ass through the lace. She ground against him, feeling his cock swell instantly against her thigh—thick, insistent, way bigger than she'd imagined. "Fuck, I've wanted this," she murmured against his mouth, nipping his lower lip as she tugged his shirt up and over his head. His skin was baby-smooth under her palms, no hair anywhere, just warm, taut muscle that made her clit throb. Troy groaned, his soft voice turning rough as he unhooked her bra, letting it fall to expose her breasts—heavy, nipples peaked and begging.

They stumbled toward the bed, a tangle of kisses and grabs, Amy's hands fumbling with his belt while he sucked on her neck, leaving a trail of wet marks down to her collarbone. She shoved his jeans down, boxers following, and holy shit!—his cock sprang free, ten inches veined perfection, thick as her wrist, the head already glistening with precum. Twice David's size, no question, and shaved smooth like the rest of him, balls tight and heavy below.

Amy's mouth watered, her neatly trimmed pussy soaking the lace panties as she wrapped her hand around the base, barely closing her fingers. "Jesus Troy, you're fucking huge," she breathed, stroking him slow, feeling him pulse in her grip. He kicked off his clothes, fully naked now, his slender frame all lean lines and that massive dick jutting out like a challenge. "All for you, darling," he said, voice husky despite its natural lilt, pushing her onto the bed.

The mattress dipped under them, hotel sheets crisp and cool against her back as Troy hovered over her, kissing down her chest. He took one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, teeth grazing just enough to make her arch. Amy moaned, threading fingers through his damp hair, guiding him lower. "Eat my pussy," she demanded, and he didn't hesitate, hooking his fingers in her panties and yanking them off.

Troy spread her thighs wide, settling between them, his breath hot on her slick folds. She was drenched, lips swollen and pink, clit peeking out like it needed attention. He dove in, tongue flat and broad, lapping from her entrance to her nub in one long stroke. "Taste so fucking good," he murmured, the words vibrating against her as he sucked her clit between his lips, flicking it with quick, precise swirls.

Amy's hips bucked, her hands clutching the sheets—fuck, he was good, better than she'd fantasized, his mouth working her like he'd mapped every nerve. He slipped two fingers inside her, curling them against her G-spot, pumping in time with his tongue. The wet sounds filled the room, obscene and hot, her juices coating his chin as she rode his face. "God, yes—right there, Troy, don't stop. So fucking good."

Her voice cracked, pleasure building fast, the kind that made her toes curl. He added a third finger, stretching her just right, his free hand kneading her thigh. Memories of David flickered—his eager mouth on her after their strap-on night, but Troy's skill was next level, effortless, like he'd done this a thousand times on layovers.

She came hard, thighs clamping around his head, pussy clenching around his fingers as waves crashed through her, a gush of wetness flooding his mouth. Troy lapped it up, humming approval, not stopping until she shoved him away, oversensitive and gasping. "Your turn," Amy said, pushing him onto his back, her body still humming.

She straddled his chest, leaning down to kiss him—tasting herself on his tongue, salty and sharp—before sliding lower. His cock loomed in front of her, that ten-inch monster throbbing, veins standing out like ropes. She licked the underside from balls to tip, savoring the clean, musky taste of him, then took the head into her mouth.

Troy groaned, hips jerking as she sucked, her jaw stretching to accommodate his girth. She worked him deep as she could, tongue swirling, hand stroking what she couldn't swallow—five inches in, maybe, but fuck, it felt powerful. Saliva dripped down his shaft, her other hand cupping his smooth balls, rolling them gently. "Fuck, Amy—your mouth is incredible," he panted, his effeminate edge gone now, replaced by raw need.

She bobbed faster, hollowing her cheeks, the sloppy sounds mixing with his moans. But she wanted more—wanted to feel that dick splitting her open. Pulling off with a pop, strings of spit connecting her lips to his tip, she climbed higher, positioning herself over him. "I need this inside me," she said, rubbing the head against her soaked pussy, coating him in her arousal.

Troy gripped her hips, guiding her down slow. The stretch was intense—his thickness burning as she sank onto him, inch by inch, her walls gripping tight. "Oh god! So big. You’re so fucking big," she gasped, pausing halfway to adjust, rocking her hips to take more. He was halfway in when she bottomed out, her ass flush against his thighs, that ten inches buried to the hilt. The fullness was overwhelming, pressing against every spot, making her clit grind against his base.

She started riding him, slow at first, hands on his smooth chest for leverage, tits bouncing with each drop. He thrust up to meet her, the bed creaking under them, his hands roaming—squeezing her ass, thumbs teasing her hole. "Ride that dick, baby—take it all," Troy growled, surprising her with the command in his voice.

Amy picked up speed, slamming down harder, the slap of skin echoing, her pussy creaming around him, juices slicking his balls. Sweat beaded on his shaved skin, making him glisten, and she leaned down to bite his shoulder, marking him as hers for this night. He flipped them suddenly, pinning her beneath him without pulling out, that massive cock driving deep as he took over.

Now he fucked her proper—long, powerful strokes, pulling out almost to the tip before plunging back in, hitting her cervix with each thrust. "You like that baby? My big dick owning your pussy?" His words were filthy, breath hot on her ear, and Amy clawed his back, legs wrapping around his waist. "Yes—oh god. Troy-fuck me harder. Make me come on this monster." He obliged, pounding relentlessly, one hand slipping between them to rub her clit in tight circles. The pressure built again.

“Oh fuck! I’m coming!” Amy screamed, again letting out with another wave-crashing orgasm. Troy said “Amy, I’m gonna come. Where do you want this baby?” Amy said “inside me. Please Troy, please come inside me!”

Troy let out a groan as he exploded a huge load of come into her pussy. Both collapsed on the bed, exhausted, barely able to move, but so sexually satisfied. Amy had enough energy to set her alarm before they both fell asleep in each other’s arms.