I couldn't sit and watch one more night of TV. Ed had been gone for three nights on a work trip and I just had to get out of the house and talk to someone. He'd been gone a lot in our five years of marriage and when he was home he was tired and only half there. I was 28, very attractive and my relationship with the TV remote was getting old.
Whenever we went out I got more than my share of head turns. I liked it. I liked it a lot. It made me feel sexy and desirable. Now Ed liked to show me off at any opportunity, encouraging me to dress sexier and flirt more. He said, "That's the kind of hotwife I want on my arm."
But I felt like I had a sign around my neck, 'For display purposes only'.
When he first pursued me it was intense and the sex was great but the closer he got to having me the more our sex life flattened out and mediocrity set in. After the chase and capture, what then? He seemed not to know what to do with me. At the same time my fantasies were running wild and I was constantly replacing the batteries in my vibrator.
I could understand this if we were much later in life but our hormones were still fully intact and I was getting desperately horny.
When I went out by myself at the mall or grocery store and a man was checking me out, instead of feeling self conscious and objectified I deliberately played to his fantasy, my hips moved seductively and the way I looked at him gave the subtlest hope that he could have me.
I knew I wouldn't really do anything about it but my pussy tingled and my heart beat faster. I was aroused and I didn't want to be fucked politely.
But what if I did it? What if I let a stranger take me? What if I became a total slut? I used to pass judgement on women who stepped out on their husbands and called them sluts, but now I wondered if being a slut might not be preferable to being window dressing. At least I'd feel alive.
And so, despite not finding a girlfriend to reign me in I decided to fly solo. Dangerous but necessary for my mental health. I decided to go to a country bar where directness, cowboys and beer ran freely. I didn't want to be a slut necessarily, I just wanted to temporarily feel like one.
Short denim skirt, moderately ornate western shirt unbuttoned low enough to let my 34C rack get some breathing room and tied at the waist. Nude stockings and high heels instead of cowboy boots. I rolled up the sleeves and fashioned a big brunette ponytail. Grabbed my purse and headed for the door...but just as I reached for the handle, the door opened and Ed made one of his loud entrances. "Hi, Mara honey! The whole affair got derailed when the client got Covid and from there everybody scattered so here I am!"
I couldn't run fast enough to the bedroom and change so I froze, "Well look at my little cowgirl! Off to the rodeo?"
"Oh I wasn't going anywhere. Just trying on some old clothes." I reeled off the top of my noggin'.
"You always carry a purse around the house when you're trying on clothes?"
Shit.
"Well that was just to see how it looked with the skirt." God, lying is so laborious.
"Pretty sexy look if you ask me."
"Oh, so you like your sexy cowgirl?" I purred, using sex to deflect his inquiry. I had the urge just to come clean and tell him my frustration but instead I paraded around the room posing like I was on the haystack runway. This was basically how we communicated, distraction instead of discourse. It was fatiguing to say the least. I was so frustrated.
"Hey, that outfit gives me an idea," said Ed with an impish smile.
I just wanted to get changed and forget the whole thing. "I'm going to put my pj's on and maybe we watch some TV?"
"No, no, no, it's still early, let's go over to Lanny's Roadhouse and have a couple drinks and show off my hotwife cowgirl."
I always wondered if Ed really knew what a hotwife was. I mean, he liked to show me off but I was never sure that he understood the dictionary definition of 'hotwife'. I never asked him but I guessed he thought it was just a term of endearment for his sexy wife. There was never a discussion of sharing me with another man, just the constant encouragement to dress sexy when we went out anywhere. For sure, he got off parading me around as eye candy for friends and strangers alike.
It freaked me out a little that he suggested Lanny's since that was my original destination.
"I'm feeling tired, maybe another night. It's late."
"Late?! It's eight thirty, Mara. C'mon, let's just have a couple beers and come home. It'll be a celebration that I don't have to work. Besides, I'll be with the hottest girl in the bar."
I gave in like usual, "Sure, just a couple beers."
"That's my girl!"
***
When we got there Ed dropped me at the door, "I'll park the car, you find a place at the bar. Get flirty, babe. Make eye contact. Let's have some fun." It was what he always said. He loved showing off what they couldn't have.
Lanny's was fairly calm for a Friday night but it was early. Mostly guys and a couple girls, dancing, playing pool or just unwinding. We'd been there before and it kicked into gear around 9:30 as everyone got lubricated.
I had the usual number of head turns especially dressed as sexy as I was. It took some adjusting to get the little skirt to cover my ass on the barstool. I ordered a drink and sipped on that for awhile and wondered why it was taking Ed so long to park the car. I was starting to generate some serious attention as it appeared I was alone.
Why would parking take so ridiculously long? I looked back at the front door when out of the corner of my eye there was Ed sitting alone at a table in the corner of the room facing me. I gave him the WTF hands and started to go and sit with him when he motioned me to stay at the bar.
What the hell was he doing?
I dutifully turned back to my drink, pissed that I didn't know what he was up to. Then it hit me like someone flipped a switch. He wanted to watch me be approached by a stranger, ironically what I set out to do in the first place before he came home.
I was starting to enjoy sitting by myself and I was getting a tad toasty in the process. Fuck Ed and his nutty shit. I could feel the energy in the room and I played to it, smiling at a couple cute guys at either end of the bar. From behind me, leaning into my side was another guy I hadn't noticed who asked me to dance. I wasn't much of a dancer but the power of drink made me go for it, and besides it was a slow song and he was easy on the eyes.
Leading me to the dance floor, "I'm Tom, what's your name?" he asked, taking me in his arms like falling into a cloud. Surely he heard me sigh.
"I'm Mara."
"My lord, Mara, you are a sweet vision."
"But, sad to say, I'm not much of a dancer."
If 'swept off my feet' were more than an expression then Tom embodied it. As more people crowded the dance floor we became lost in a sea of bodies and lustful intentions. I doubted that Ed could even see us anymore. I was liking Tom's touch and didn't complain when his hand slipped farther down from my waist to my rear end. That was a green light I gave willingly, enthusiastically. It had been a long time since I let a man touch me like that and I liked it.
By now the floor was packed and you could barely move.
He kissed me and I kissed him back, silently encouraging him to go further. Our tongues touched and a spark ran between my legs. I lost visible track of Ed. Suddenly I wanted, needed him to fuck me and I didn't care where. It was all happening so quickly, the loud music, the sweaty bodies, his fingers reaching under my skirt. I moaned as he manipulated my clit.
It was exciting, illicit and out of control. I didn't even know this man and my husband was nearby.
We kissed again. There were so many people crammed onto the dance floor no one noticed or cared when he unzipped his jeans and lifted me up. I instinctively pulled my panties aside and guided his hard-on into my pussy. The noise, the abandonment, the undulation of the crowd, our lips meeting again, I came harder than I had in years. I screamed a release that no one heard over the din of the music.
He pressed his lips against my ear, "That's it, baby."
Seconds later I felt the surge of his hot cream fill my pussy. Impulsively he put me down, stuffed his cock back in its holster, took my hand and dragged me off the floor and out the back door. There was one other couple making out in a pickup truck. He took me to a dark place near the building.
"Get down on your knees and suck me back to life, baby. We're not through."
I gladly did what I was told and he used my ponytail for leverage. He got hard quickly, forcing his cock in my mouth until I coughed up saliva.
He pulled me to my feet, kissed me, spun me around facing away and placed my hands on a pickup. He yanked down my panties, lifted my skirt and stuffed his cock in my wetness. It was just like my fantasies had been; raw, nasty and an unbelievable high. He pumped me with everything he had.