{This is a "woman has sex with other guys" story in the cuckold/wittol/stag genre. All you angry, bitter, sad people who hate things and feel righteous about it enough to 1 bomb stories, including with fake, multiple accounts, have at it. The rest of you who just read what they like and decide for themselves, enjoy!}
Sometimes serendipity strikes when you least expect it (or in a way, how I met your mother!)
"You fucking slut!" he yelled at her, his eyes bulging, his face red with anger at the woman seated at the bar next to him.
"Because I'm wearing an outfit that you yourself loved on our first date?" She responded tersely, "because other men have the gall to find me attractive?"
I recognized this many times before, in previous relationships. Jealousy, people seem to not be able to avoid it. For me, it was the women who were the jealous types. I...not so much as you'll see. Now, the woman at the bar DID look like a slut, to be fair.
"Look at your tits!" he continued, "they are hanging out of that dress, the bartender can't keep from drooling every time he comes over here!"
I had noticed it as well. The bartender, an attractive 20 something had been paying special attention to the woman. He seemed the type who'd have no problem bedding the woman, if not for the man berating her in front of everyone. I saw the bartender eyeing them suspiciously, as if he was about to intercede on her behalf. I wondered if he had also noticed that I had been an interested onlooker who had been shamelessly ogling her since I'd walked in.
"Randolph, stop making a scene," she huffed. "We have only dated a few times, you hardly own me."
Yes, his name was Randolph and he looked like one, too. He was a middle aged businessman with a thick belly, thinning hairline and buddy holly glasses.
"You probably would give the bartender or THAT guy a blowjob the first time you meet them, like you did ME!" he said, his face red, pointing directly at me. "Put your jacket on!" Randolph insisted.
"Or what?" the woman said, with obvious disinterest
"Or we're DONE!" he insisted, as if that should mean anything to her. He was NOT reading the room correctly.
"Oh, we're done," she said smoothly. "We were done the moment you started this diatribe."
He looked startled, as if he hadn't expected resistance. "Fine!" he huffed as he picked up his jacket and stormed away.
"Good riddance," I thought. "Last thing a woman needs is a controlling relationship. I'm always amazed how often they willingly get into them.
"That's exactly why I need to be single," she said aloud, to no one in particular.
I toasted her from across the bar and she acknowledged the toast by raising her own glass. Normally I'd have let her be, honestly I would've, especially after that scene. But, the way she looked at me with...I swear was a bit of a wink made me make the move that I did, thankfully.
"Having fun?" I said with a wry smile after moving next to her from my former position at the end of the bar. There was something about her, well, besides the slutty attire. There was an intensity and a spark.
"Sorry about all that," She said as she sipped on the new drink I'd just supplied her with. "Men get so jealous. Can you believe he actually picked out this outfit for me? He asked me to wear it because he'd enjoyed it on a previous date."
"I can see why, it's....lovely," I said, which gave me a legitimate reason to ogle her ample and inviting cleavage. It would be unfair and understatement to call it just a "little black dress." Her boobs, which were either a C cup, pushed together, or a D cup, slightly restrained. Her tits formed that perfect cleavage line down into the top of her sleeveless dress.
I was guessing the woman was in her mid to late 30's. Her hair was blonde, perhaps dirty blonde is more accurate. There were patches of lighter and darker blonde in it. I also guessed that most of the lightness came from a bottle. Her face would be the attraction even if she was wearing a burlap sack. She had round, sexy, hazel eyes which seemed to look deeply into my soul. She had thick, luscious lips which she accented with a very arousing shade of pink lipstick. She reminded me of an older sister, perhaps, of someone like Jennifer Lawrence.
I'm 50, right off the bat, I wasn't in her league, in the normal world. My daughter and her friends always say I'm on the way to being a silver fox. My hair is graying, but only at the temples. I'm fit, a former athlete, but this woman was a stunner. She was clearly a class or two ahead of me in the ratings game. One thing I am, though, is a clever pervert. If she let me "in," who am I to argue?
Back to the bar. Her eyes had an intense, all knowing quality. As she observed me, I sensed a great knowledge under that smooth, cool exterior.
"I'm Brent," I smiled.
"Maggie," She offered.
She was so comfortable in her own skin that it made me comfortable as well. We were soon exchanging all sorts of thoughts and life philosophies.
"I guess I just am not looking for any serious relationships now, for obvious reasons, they all seem to turn out just like this," she said, expecting disappointment in my face. "I want to be free to....experience things," She said, her intentions clear enough to make herself blush.
I said, "me either. I've been married, and been in several long term relationships. Also, the women in my life have never been very....open to things....you know?"
I think she knew. I wanted someone more free sexually, I didn't really even consider a long term relationship anymore, I'd pretty much given up on either.
I saw her eyeing the bartender's behind when he bent to get a bottle off of the bottom shelf.
"See something you like?" I joked.
I liked that she wasn't offended....in fact, she gave me a sly wink.
"I was pretty much planning on getting laid tonight," she said matter-of-factly, "and after Randoph, a girl needs to consider all her options."
I grinned. I loved her openness and honesty, she could've easily just lied and acted innocent while placing the "dirty thought," blame on me.
"Why Randolph, if you don't mind me asking?" with me honestly wanting to know the answer.
"I didn't consider us even "dating," I guess he did. I thought we were friends with benefits or something. I saw him alone at the bar one night and....well honestly, I felt sorry for him. Gave him that blowjob he just told everyone about," she chuckled with only a hint of shame.
I think the fact that I was comfortable with her honesty threw her for a minute.
"You...don't mind that I was openly ogling some young stud's ass?" She said with suspicion.
