Date Night Extraordinaire
Our date nights have been few and far between for a couple of years now. It is how it is, I guess, when you have a small child, and few you trust to watch him for more than a couple of hours. We have a fantastic relationship, though, and our love is stronger than ever. So is our sex life. We have a lot of fun, both being exhibitionists and me being a voyeur; our proximity to the beach, and day trips to some excellent spas, locally and in the city an hour and a half away, have proved much fun. Tales for another time.
***
This evening we finally had a babysitter, and we were going dancing.
After an excellent dinner with a lot of flirting, and after some drinks in a bar with lots more flirting, kissing, and touching, we finally arrived at the club. It’s a big venue, luxurious and dark and packed, perfect for some mischievous fun.
My wife, who is tall with perfect curves, 32-DD, and a delicious ass, was wearing a short, airy black skirt, just covering the top of her stay-ups, black boots that make me drool, and a satin top. Underneath, I had picked out black open panties, from Agent Provocateur, and a matching quarter-cup bra, that just barely gave her the tiniest support, but kept most of her breasts and nipples, naked underneath the thin top. Her nipples were constantly straining against the light fabric.
Now, just a little bit of a backstory. We have been together for 18 years and still find each other extremely attractive. Let me know if you want some relationship advice. We have developed together over the years, emotionally and sexually. My wife is a light submissive, and we are both open to sharing our intimacy with others, her body, but our intimacy. We have attended quite a few sex parties, while we lived in London, UK. Then we mostly just played together. Again, another tale for another time.
With this sharing in mind, I had an idea that had been brewing, for almost a year now, a fantasy I’d cum too many times, and tonight was the time to see if we, or I, could make it happen.
***
As we entered, hung our coats, and had a glass of champagne each, I began scanning the room. It was huge. On one side was a large oval-shaped bar, with service on all sides, and the people wanting service were at least double, some places triple, deep. It’s almost completely dark, outside of the bartender’s keep.
So far, so perfect. I looked around some more, and after a short while, I found my potential partners in crime. This all happened while chatting with my wife, and slowly moving our bodies, feeling the bass hit us in rhythm.
I have told my wife about my idea, more in the form of a fantasy, to get us in the mood. So when I told her to go to the bar, order drinks, and, no matter what, to not turn around. I could see her straighten, and stiffen up. In the fantasy, the rule is that whatever happened, whatever she felt, she was not to turn around, protest, or stop anything. Make no resistance.
Her eyes widened, and her mouth fell open, for a short while. When she was about to say something, I kissed her, deeply and passionately, while I pressed our bodies close. My hand, moving down over her butt, squeezing it before going lower, until my hand was below the hem of her skirt. I slid my hand up again, pulling the skirt with me, exposing her left ass cheek. My fingers gently slid over her naked and, I discovered, wet pussy. She gasped in my mouth and pressed herself against my crotch, feeling my very hard cock. When it's in the mood, its eight inches are difficult to hide. She made no effort to stop me, though.
As we released each other from our embrace, she backed away a step. Her smile broadening, and without a word, she set off to the bar.
***
I wasted no time and set off towards my targets. Two gentlemen standing, drinking something that looked like whiskey, or a cocktail of resemblance. I wanted someone with class, and, no offense to beer drinkers, who can of course be incredibly advanced intellectually and emotionally. My calculations were, that the odds were better with someone drinking something...more sophisticated. I was lucky to be right. The men were in their forties and were kind and welcoming when I introduced myself.
I went personal without wasting much time. They were both single but had children. I could tell from the way they talked, and by their social skills, that these were the kind of men that I would let near my wife. So without further delays, I put forward my request and plan.
They were shocked, briefly. One coughed and the other laughed out loud, not believing what I had just said.
"Please repeat that," Jack said. He was about the same height as me, had slightly broader shoulders, and definitely worked out regularly. They were both fit, another reason I chose them.
"Yes, man, repeat please!" Ben said with an incredulous look.
"My wife is at the bar, right there."
I pointed her out, she was clearly visible with her long legs and her blonde curly hair in a bun above her sharp shoulders.
"We are playing a game tonight, and she will not turn around, no matter who touches her. Her face will never turn in any other direction than the bar. I chose you two to be the ones who get to do whatever you want with her, as long as it is at this bar, and as long as you do not hurt her physically. She likes a bit of roughness, but her nipples are very sensitive, so be gentle with them. If she does turn her head, you move away without a word."
"Anything? We can…" Jack started.
"Anything," I interrupted.
"You're serious about this?" Ben asked.
"100 percent," I replied.
They looked at each other, stunned. Then, still facing each other, they started smiling and slowly nodded.
Jack stretched out his hand, and I shook it.
"I saw you two when you came in, you’re a gorgeous couple, and your wife is a particular beauty," he shared.
"She is indeed, now, get going, she is getting closer to the front of the bar, more crowded, that’s good. I’ll be on the other side, enjoying the show. Oh, one more thing, no talking to her," were my final words to the men I had just given a carte blanche with my wife.
They both nodded and headed for the bar…and my wife.
With that, I took my leave to find a place where I could see as much as possible.
*******************************************************************
My husband has lost his mind, and I love it. My nerves are on the outside, as I make my way to the bar. I feel incredibly sexy. I notice the attention I get, as my hips sway, and the light fabric of my clothes move with me. My husband has lost his mind, and I love it. The thought pops into my head, over and over again, as I focus on not turning around to look at him.
Him. My man. My tall, awesome, sex on legs of a man. He, who cares so deeply about me, makes me feel so safe and secure, that this doesn’t scare me at all. Well, doesn’t scare me too much to not go through with it, at least. My god I am horny. I can feel my juices starting to run down my legs…
I’ve reached the bar. There are at least two rows of people in front of me. Do not turn around, eyes front young lady, I tell myself. The bar crowd moves slowly, and I advance one row further. The bodies of the thirsty are tightly packed, and every inch of me is hypersensitive, knowing the mission. My husband’s mission, my mission now. Was that a hand? No, just someone’s hip. My body is in constant, moving contact with the other patrons wanting a drink.
That was definitely a hand, is a hand, it’s still on me. I am pretty sure it’s my husbands, the idea that he got someone else to do this, is somewhat farfetched, but nevertheless, it is exhilarating. We are snuggly surrounded by so many people.
It’s on my hip and it gently moves around my waist, caressing my stomach, before moving back again. It keeps wandering back, and down over my ass, giving it a pinch, not too hard. I like it, and I unconsciously hold my breath for a second. The hand keeps moving down and under my skirt. I part my legs a little bit, as my breathing becomes quicker, my heart is beating in my ears. I can still hear the music over it though, thankfully.
The hand sneaks up between my legs and reaches my pussy, I am so wet. Fingers that know exactly what they are doing, start to massage my opening, this is definitely my husband, he knows me.
The fingers slide past my opening and start to make slow circles with perfect pressure over my clitoris. I made a sound, I couldn’t stop myself. As I’m about to look around to see if anyone noticed, I catch myself, do not turn around Margot’. I feel his other hand on my waist, pulling my back towards him, slowly but firmly. I let myself be moved. His other hand changes position, and as I’m pulled towards him, his fingers position themselves at my opening, and enter me with the same motion.
My mouth opens and I gasp.
I can’t believe this is happening. I love it, I feel like such a slut, and owned at the same time. I am his, I will let him do anything to me, I trust him completely, and I give myself to him entirely. The thought that it might not be him, hits me, just as the fingers start fucking me, slowly at first, in and out, rhythmically. His fingers bend as they enter, massaging my G-spot. The thought drives me crazy, and I feel like I might cum at any moment.
My knees feel weak. Oh my god, am I cumming, is my last thought, before my orgasm crashes over me. If his other arm wasn’t around me, I’d fall. But it is around me, and it carries me, as the wave of ecstasy hits me, over and over again. I slowly regain my footing and balance as the strength returns to my legs. The fingers have slowed, and gently exit me.
We have done some naughty things, but this has definitely topped them all, believing this was it. I am wrong, oh my god! What is happening…?! I feel a hand sliding up my front, coming from the same side as the other arm still holding me pressed against him in the back. This is not the same man. There is more than one.
I freeze.
We have not properly introduced another man into our sex life. I mean, I’ve been fingered by a man, while my husband was fucking me senseless at a party, but this feels different, we are not at a party. My mind races through these thoughts, as the hand keeps moving up my belly, under my loose-fitting top, gently cupping my breast. My nipples were erect before, but now they feel like they are going to burn through the fabric of the universe, in the best way ever.
I have to use all of my remaining consciousness, to force myself to keep looking forward. Oh, shit, I’m at the front of the bar, how did I get here? I realize the hand has moved down and away from under my top again and a bartender is eying me, with a questioning gaze.
"What can I get for you, hun?"
"Uh, um, ah, a glass of Prosecco please," I manage to get out. I have no idea how many times he asked me before I even realized he was there. How embarrassing my ego tells me, I quickly tell it to fuck off. I am not embarrassed, I feel surprisingly empowered. If I wanted to, I could turn my head, and it would all be over. I choose not to. My husband calls me his slut queen and fuuuuck me I am, and proud to be it. He treats me as his queen and equal, always, but he also fucks me like his slut.
As soon as the bartender left, the hand was back. This hand knows how to treat my tits. This must be my husband. He’s firm but gentle, as his hand glides over me, so sensually and softly pinching my nipple. I shiver and the hairs on my arm stand, my breathing is heavy, and I feel a pearl of sweat running down the side of my cheek. No one notices. Or do they? What do I know, I have looked straight forward since I got here. What I mean is, I don’t care if anybody notices.
I feel my skirt being lifted and settled on my hips, I realize my eyes growing large. I quickly gather myself to not look too obvious, even though I am acutely aware, that my ass is now completely exposed in a tight gathering of strangers. Thank god it’s so dark.
I feel a slap on my ass cheek, I try not to move. Another, I bite my lip. I love it. A few seconds go by, and I am anticipating the next. I am not prepared for the cock that starts pushing inside me, parting my lips painfully slowly. This is not my husband’s cock. His is magnificent, the perfect size for me, and I love every inch of it. This is thicker, obviously thicker, my pussy is opening, welcoming it.
I don’t turn my head, I am in delirium..The cock keeps pushing inside me until I feel the man’s hips against my bum. Not just the man, the OTHER man, the not my husband, man. I have not had another man’s cock inside me for over eighteen years, and I am having it at a bar. In a club, that is not a sex party.
He pulls out again, and this time he slams back in, hard. I yelp. I can’t help myself. He is properly fucking me now, and I can’t think. He’s so thick, and I take it. Had it been bigger, it would’ve hurt, but there is no pain, just immense pleasure.
I can’t focus, this is more than I have ever dared fantasize about, and it is really happening. The other man, is this, my husband?? I don’t know anymore. His hand is roaming so expertly over my breasts, and a brief moment of clarity makes me aware that my top has slid up, completely exposing the underside of them. It even rises above my right nipple. and stays there. Held up by my extreme arousal, which is clearly manifesting all over, including both nipples being rock hard. He seems a gentleman though, as he adjusts it, and at least my nipples aren’t for the world to see.
A hand grabs my wrist and pulls it down. This man is standing next to me, and he moves my hand towards his groin. His cock is already out, and I immediately open my hand and close my fingers around it. This is not my husband either. Fuuuck, the sensation makes me explode. I cum again, as the thick cock keeps fucking me, and I have another stranger’s cock in my hand.
Two strangers, that I have no idea who they are, even though they are so close. One inside of me for fucks sake. My orgasm washes over me, again and again, with every thrust in my pussy.
As I regain some form of consciousness, I start to move my hand. I am good at handjobs, I am good at most things sex actually. I begin to jerk him off, using all my skill and sensitivity. As much as I can, as I am still being fucked, at least. I open my eyes, as apparently, I’d closed some time ago.
My glass of bubbly is in front of me, but the bartender is gone. Long gone? Did I pay, no, who paid? Who knows.
I can feel my hand is doing a good job, the sensation that he is about to cum sends sparks through my skin. I see a hand grabbing my champagne glass, the hand that belongs to cock in MY hand. The glass disappears out of my limited allowed field of vision. He’s cumming now, I feel his breath in my ear, and as he cums, he grunts deeply, and impossibly, I just got even wetter.
I feel the top of my stay-ups are soaked. As is my hand, and the front of my skirt, as his cum shoots out his cock, not once, but multiple times. I couldn’t count as I am still being fucked, hard. I can feel my stranger from behind picking up pace. Is he going to cum inside of me? Not allowed, is it? Fuck, he might cum inside of me!
The thought is just too much, the thickness of the cock, and the position makes him hit my g spot. I cum again, and I cum big. I squirt. I feel it over my legs, I feel it running down my boots, I feel it in my entire being. I still haven’t released the cock in my hand, and I’ve been squeezing it hard.
Just as my orgasm subsides, I feel the cock push one final time deep inside of me, exploding. I can feel every spray of cum hitting my insides, and it’s so much. He comes for ten, fifteen seconds, until he finally stops moving, and slowly slips out of me. He adjusts my skirt back down.
A hand grabs my wrist, and I let go of the cock I just had coming all over my front. He places a glass in my hand, and just like that, it’s all over.
What the fuck just happened. I raise my glass and see that not all of it came over my hand and front, a lot came in the glass. I am stunned.
I finally look around at the people around me, no one is paying me any notice, at all. As my gaze travels over the bar, I see you. My love. My husband through everything and forever. My heart explodes at seeing your eyes looking into mine. I knew you were watching, not just for your arousal, but for my protection.
You raise your glass to me, and I mine to you. I make sure you can see mine, and what’s in it, before I slowly drink it all.
