It was a mid-July Saturday night and my wife, Angela, and I were preparing to head out for the evening. Angela, or Angie, and I had only been married about two years, so we were still relatively newlyweds. Both of us had been in a previous marriage that didn’t work out, but neither of us had children. That gave us the rare privilege of starting anew in our early thirties.

We first headed to a local steakhouse. It was a fairly new place and quite modern. The major feature was a huge mesquite grill that was located in the central rear area of the restaurant. Nearly every item on the menu featured at least one ingredient which was cooked to order on the grill, even the desserts.

It was my personal favorite place to eat. One thing that I noticed during our previous visits, was that it was always the same chef manning the grill. He was an absolute maestro with that thing and everything that he cooked was done to perfection. I don’t know how he possibly kept track of everything scattered across that grill on a busy day.

We had a lovely meal. I had the ribeye steak with grilled veggies and a baked potato. Angie had the shrimp and lobster tail combo, with grilled veggies and a salad. As I always do, I walked past the chef and told him how much I enjoyed the meal on the way out. He clearly takes a lot of pride in his work and seems like he genuinely enjoys receiving a compliment.

After dinner, we headed over to the park. The city’s annual summer festival was underway and we were going to check out the featured performer of the week, the soft rock band Chicago.

We didn’t really know much about the band, other than a couple of rock ballads from the nineties. It was a free event, though, so we could always leave at any time if we weren’t enjoying ourselves. Fortunately, by the time we arrived, it was starting to cool down a little bit.

The festival was usually a pretty good time. There were people of all ages and demographics there. It was one of those rare times in life when it was alright to just walk up to a complete stranger and start a conversation. Angie and I liked to pick out people that we were curious about and approach them.

We grabbed a drink and mingled for a bit. The band started to play soon thereafter. I knew their first song, “Saturday In The Park,” although I had no idea that it was by Chicago. If you have a song called “Saturday In The Park,” and you are playing on a Saturday in a park, you definitely have to open with that one!

The music was very good, but the show could have been much tighter. There was a lot of talking between songs and they presented themselves as if they were playing to die-hard fans instead of casual listeners.

They certainly had been around a long time, over fifty years, I believe. Some of the band members looked as if they were well into their seventies. They put on a great show, nonetheless, and I guess I can’t blame them for taking a lot of breaks during the show at that age.

Angie and I decided to leave as the show was winding down. Traffic was sure to be a nightmare if we waited until the very end. Angie suggested that we stop at our favorite bar, The Oaken Barrel, on the way home. That pub was not only our favorite bar, it was also the place where we had first met.

***

It was just after the worst part of Covid had passed and places were starting to open up in our area. I had never been one to go out on my own to restaurants or shows, but wearing a mask everywhere made me feel like nobody would recognize me, even if I bumped into them. I went out to a movie that night and stopped at the bar on the way home. While I was sitting at the bar, sipping on a whiskey sour, I noticed two ladies at a table behind me.

It turned out to be Angie and her friend, Jen. I was far too shy to approach the two women while they were together. Angie and I exchanged looks several times, but I kept my butt parked on the barstool until Jen took a trip to the restroom. I slammed the remainder of my drink, took a deep breath, and strapped on my Covid mask.

I tried to act casual as I approached Angie’s table. As soon as I started to speak, though, my nervousness was quite apparent. I stumbled and stammered before asking her for her phone number. She read it to me and smiled, suspecting that I probably wouldn’t be able to remember it. I kept repeating it in my head until I thought that it finally stuck. Jen returned to the table at about that time and didn’t seem very happy that I was bothering Angie. So, I excused myself and rushed back to grab my phone from my jacket pocket and save Angie’s phone number.

Two days later, I called Angie’s number, not sure if it was the correct number or if she had made it up. Surprisingly, it was Angie. She seemed impressed that I put in a little bit of effort and we made plans to go out the following weekend. The rest, as they say, is history.

***

The Oaken Barrel was an upscale bar. On Friday and Saturday night, there was security at the door to ensure that nobody underage could get inside. The price point, along with the security kept most of the college-age crowd away. I’m pretty sure that was a deliberate tactic since the owners seemed to want to have a laid-back, casual establishment.

We took a seat at one of the tables. They were incredibly busy and the waitresses were running all over the place. After a few minutes, Angie offered to walk up to the bar and get our drinks directly.

I didn’t pay much attention, at first. Mostly because I was checking out the other patrons. After a few minutes passed, I glanced at the bar and saw a young African American gentleman standing behind the bar while talking to Angie. He had my whiskey sour and Angie’s glass of Chardonnay in front of him, but he seemed much more focused on Angie.

The bartender looked like a clean, respectable sort of guy. He looked to be in his late twenties and was fit and handsome.

I watched as he continued to smile at and chat with Angie. His eyes were all over her body and it was obvious that he was coming on to her.

Normally, my response has usually been to feel jealous or angry that another man is stealing my wife’s attention. This time, however, I started to picture the two of them together. I imagined him taking her sexually, his dark skin contrasting starkly against Angie’s pale, white body.

I tried to distract myself by doing some more “people watching” but couldn’t get the image of Angie and the bartender out of my mind. Both of our drinks were poured, and still, the two of them continued to talk. I found myself incredibly curious about what they could have been discussing.

Eventually, Angie returned to the table. I made a casual mention about how long it took for her to return and Angie dismissed it. Instead, she initiated the game we always played while at The Oaken Barrel. We typically enjoyed picking out a couple or group of people sitting together and making up a backstory of who they are, what they are doing together, and so forth.

After analyzing a table, I tried to redirect the conversation back to the bartender. I mentioned to Angie that he was continuing to look in her direction, and she attempted to restart our game. I don’t blame her for doing so. As I mentioned, I am normally the jealous type, so she was certainly trying to avoid an argument.

Back and forth we each tried to control the conversation as if it was a game of tug-of-war, until I finally muttered, “It would be really hot to see the two of you together.”

Angie stared at me for a moment with her mouth agape.

“What in the fuck has gotten into you tonight?” she asked.

I quietly tried to explain to her that I couldn’t stop fantasizing about the two of them together. A brief discussion ensued about whether she was attracted to him and if she would consider having sex with him in front of me.

Angie reluctantly agreed that she found Lee attractive. It would seem that first names were exchanged during their earlier interaction. I strongly encouraged her to approach him again and see if he was interested in an encounter.

After thinking about it for a while, Angie decided to go for it. She approached the bar with me following behind. Again, I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Lee was staring me down most of the time. It seemed obvious that I was the sticking point in their negotiation.

Lee had a brief discussion with the other bartender and exited into the seating area. He waved us along and we headed down the hall toward the restrooms. Lee stopped halfway down the hall in front of an unmarked door and pulled a set of keys from his pocket. After unlocking the door, he opened it and ushered us inside.

The room was a storage room for the bar supplies. It wasn’t a large room, perhaps eight feet in each direction. The three walls that didn’t have an entry door were lined with steel wire shelving that was stocked with straws, mixers, wine, and hard liquor. The shelving brought the size of the room down two roughly five by six feet.

We all stepped inside and Lee locked the door from the inside. He gestured at me to stand in the corner. I could see that he had absolutely no interest in me being involved. To be honest, I hadn’t really thought about doing so.

Lee positioned Angie with her back against the door. I could tell that this affair was going to be brief and torrid from the start.

Angie was wearing a soft pink, summer dress. I had already missed the fact that he had unzipped the back of it, because within seconds he had pulled down the front, exposing her breasts. Angie hadn't worn a bra on this occasion, because of the cut of the dress. The dress was lined in the bustier area for exactly that purpose.

After Lee manhandled Angie’s breasts and got himself worked up a bit, he stepped away and casually removed his shirt. He quickly and neatly folded it and placed it on the wire shelving. At that moment, it was apparent that Angie was not the first woman that he had ever brought into the storage room. Lee continued, sliding off his shoes and removing his pants in a similar fashion to that of his shirt.

Lee was fit and muscular, but the most surprising thing was that his body was covered in tattoos. He was quite deliberate in where they were placed because none of them were visible while he had his work uniform on.

He returned his attention to Angie and placed his hands on her hips. After sliding the bottom of her dress up to her midsection, he pulled down Angie’s nearly matching pink panties. They weren’t the sexiest pair of panties that she owned, to say the least, but they were thin and stretchy and kept her from having an exposed panty line under her dress.

Lee pulled Angie’s panties to her knees and she kicked them off the rest of the way, leaving them lying on the floor. Wasting no time, Lee pressed his body against hers and slipped his fingers inside of her. Again, he was whispering into her ear as he finger-fucked her. I couldn’t see the action at all, but he stopped briefly several times, presumably to insert an additional finger.

Apparently, Lee decided that they were both adequately prepared, so he yanked down his Superman blue boxer briefs and tossed them onto the shelf. Angie started to drop to her knees and Lee stopped her. I heard him mention something about saving all of his energy for her pussy.

He turned Angie around so that she faced the door. She looked as if she was about to be frisked by a police officer. Although I couldn’t see it, I could tell by the way that Lee had his fist wrapped around the base of his cock that he wasn’t fully erect. That didn’t seem to impede him gaining penetration, though. “Oh, fuck!” Angie cried out in a quiet, but enthusiastic, manner.

I kept weaving from side to side trying to get a closer look at the action. Since Lee was standing a good distance behind Angie when he slid his cock inside her, I was pretty confident that he had quite a bit of length. I wanted to see it for myself, though. There was no time in my life that I have ever wanted to see another man’s cock that intensely.

Everything happened incredibly quickly. It didn’t take long for Lee to have the entire length of his cock inside of Angie. He had her pinned against the wall as he, once again, whispered into her ear. His thrusts were hard and fast and the sounds that he forced Angie to make were ones that I had never heard before.

I felt so vastly different than what I thought that I would. There was an intense nervous energy that filled my body. I would describe it as a combination of excitement and anxiety.

Not knowing what else to do with myself, I unzipped my pants, only to realize that my cock was still quite flaccid. I gripped it with my thumb and forefinger and started to stroke it rapidly. Perhaps thirty seconds later, I blew my wad. My cock was still quite limp and most of the cum had merely dribbled onto my hand and gotten applied to my penis. I couldn't recall ever cumming that quickly, or with a flaccid cock.

Lee heard me moan as I came and turned his head back toward me. I am sure that he feared that I had hit him with some off-target spray, but it didn’t make it nearly that far. As he saw my limp, little cock in my hand, a smirk came across his face. Then, he resumed fucking my wife like she was a cheap whore, right in front of me.

Angie’s hands tried unsuccessfully to gain some sort of grip on the surface of the door as they opened and closed over and over again. She seemed to be enjoying herself, even if she was being pushed to her sexual limits.

I could tell that Lee was about to finish because his pace quickened even more. He grunted several times and his body stopped moving for the most part. His butt cheeks clenched tightly and relaxed repeatedly as he came. Determined to properly seed Angie, Lee gave a few more hard thrusts. Angie climbed onto her tiptoes as Lee forced every bit of his cock inside her.

After taking a few deep breaths, Lee reached over and grabbed his shorts. He quickly slid them on and started getting dressed. Unfortunately, I didn’t get a decent look at his cock, once again. He was completely dressed and excused himself before Angie had even turned back around. I tucked my “Willy” back through the now cum-soaked fly of my pants and helped Angie get dressed.

I exited back to our table and Angie went to the ladies' room to try and fix herself up a bit. As I waited for her to return, I wondered if she had climaxed during the encounter. She had certainly made some interesting sounds, but I had personally never made her cum with merely my cock. The encounter was pretty quick, as well, so I couldn’t image her having enough time to build up to orgasm. However, nothing would have given me more pleasure than to know that she did.

It dawned on me that I had unintentionally become a cuckold. I guess that made Lee a bull. Yeah, he was definitely a bull.

Angie returned, looking a bit worse for wear. We tried to discreetly talk about it, but most of what I got was that he was big. She said that she liked it, which was a relief because I felt like I had pressured her into doing it.

Before we left, Angie whispered into my ear, “I’m so full of Lee’s cum right now.”

I don’t think that I have ever heard my wife say something that sounded sexier to my ears. Even better, she hiked her dress up slightly and flashed me a look at her cum-soaked panties.

I decided that it was time for us to return home, although I didn’t know exactly what I hoped would transpire there. We paid our bill and Angie left a one-hundred-dollar tip for our bartender, before leaving.

I’m not sure if we will ever hook up with Lee again, but I hope it will not be our last encounter of this type.