My Wife's Night Class

My Wife’s Night Class, 1

Nancy Meets Her Classmates

My wife Nancy recently turned 25 but looks quite a bit younger thanks to her angelic face and petite figure. She has short blonde hair, stands a little over 5’ 4”, and weighs around 112 pounds. I love seeing her naked and she likes getting that way. Her breasts are small but perfect, with light pink areolas and nipples that are almost constantly at attention. She has a neatly trimmed swatch of pubic hair, reddish blonde in color, which tickles my nose when I eat her delicious little cunt. Her asshole is very tight, and the one time I fucked her there she didn’t like it much.

We’ve been married now for four years and Nancy has worked at various jobs (including nude modeling – as I said, she doesn’t mind getting naked) to put me through graduate school. Last year, she cut back on work hours to return to college part-time, and when I graduated and took a full-time teaching job in the local community college, Nancy became a full-time student at the state university twenty miles away from home.

One of Nancy’s classes last semester was an evening seminar in educational foundations, whatever that is. In her class were several women and five men, one probably gay and the other four jock-types – guys who planned to become high school coaches, she thought. She quickly got the four straight guys interested in her by the way she dressed and her open, often flirtatious manner.

The class was on Wednesday nights and finished around 9:30. Driving home after I picked her up after her first class, we discussed what was happening in the class besides the content (which was pretty much a bunch of crap). She said she’d immediately become the focus of male attention. No wonder. She’s almost always the best-looking woman wherever she is and she’d worn a short pleated skirt to class that showed plenty of thigh. The four jock-types, who seemed to know one another pretty well, invited her out for drinks after class. She told them not that night but maybe the following Wednesday.

Her cover story for the guys was that she and her husband were having a trial separation. That she and her husband were good friends and that he (er, that’s me) had taken an apartment near her house. They might or might not get back together someday.

The idea of her going out for drinks with some guys who thought she was available sexually was very exciting to me. And they didn’t know who I was, so I could show up where they were without their knowing I was the “estranged” husband. I could watch them interact with her as though I were a complete stranger

So after dinner the following Wednesday I helped her pick out a horny outfit -- another short skirt and a loose white top that had a way of gaping open -- and drove her to her night class. I dropped her near the building where the class was, and, clutching her book bag and draping a light sweater over her arm, she climbed out of the car. When she leaned back in across the front seat to kiss me, her blouse fell open to give me a brief view of her beautiful right breast with its perfect, erect nipple. Did I mention that she wasn’t wearing a bra? Knowing her classmates would soon be treated to similar views, I felt my cock begin to stir.

I went to a nearby bar and had a couple of beers. Nancy said she’d tell the guys that if she went out with them after class, someone would have to drive her home because she’d miss her regular after-class ride. If this was all right, she said, she’d be happy to join them.

At about 8:30, the bartender told me there was a call for me. It was Nancy, of course. I’d given her the name and number of the bar where I’d be killing time and she’d agreed to call me there during the class break to let me know how things were going. Three of the jock-types (one had to go home to his wife) had agreed to drive her home after going out for drinks and she said they would at least start at a bar about a mile from campus. She gave me the name of it and said they’d probably be there around 9:45. Giggling, she said she’d been having fun in class by “accidentally” spreading her legs for the benefit of two of the guys sitting opposite her. Earlier, I’d watched her pulling on a pair of her sheerest white panties. I had a pretty good idea what the lucky bastards were getting to see.

With the Guys After Class

I wasted a little more time at my time-killing bar before driving over to the bar where Nancy and her new male friends would be going after class. It turned out to be at the back of a Mexican restaurant. It was a fairly large place with a long counter, tables, and three booths against the back wall. I started to order a drink, but since it was only about 9:30, I returned to the car and drove around awhile to think about things.

I tried to imagine what might happen that night. What did her classmates look like? She’d said they weren’t anything special, just average guys who looked like they’d once played sports. Since they hardly knew her, except to look up her skirt, what sort of moves would they make? Did they plan to compete for her or did they contemplate something as a group? Did they hope to get her drunk and group-fuck her? Probably they had nothing definite in mind. I just hoped whoever did the actual driving when they took her home that night didn’t get too drunk to drive safely.

I got back to the Mexican restaurant/bar at around 10:15. I wanted to give them a chance to settle in. The place wasn’t very crowded, and I saw them immediately seated at a table near the bar. There was a pitcher of beer in front of them and they had nearly finished it already. A few minutes after I arrived and took a seat at the bar a few feet from their table (Nancy flashed a wicked smile at me as I sat down), one of the guys, who was very tall and probably an ex-basketball player, returned the empty pitcher to the bar and ordered another one. Like the other two, he appeared to be in his late twenties or early thirties. All of them seemed clean-cut and in reasonably good shape, though one had the beginning of a paunch.

As the tall one was returning with the pitcher of beer, one of the booths cleared and they all moved over to it. As they stood up, I noticed that the one with the slight paunch was quite short and very broad in the shoulders. An ex-wrestler, maybe. The third guy, very Nordic looking, seemed the oldest and had a receding hair line. They stood aside so Nancy, clutching her beer mug and still draping her light sweater over her arm, could slide into the back of the booth.

She made quite a production of it. After setting her mug down, she placed one knee on the end of the curved seat and leaned in to deposit her sweater at the back of the booth. This caused my wife’s skirt to hike way up in the back, almost but not quite to her ass. She held this position for a few seconds, apparently busy folding her sweater where she had laid it. I noticed the Nordic guy bend slightly, almost involuntarily, to get a slightly lower vantage point, but the show of legs wasn’t wasted on any of them. Then, Nancy stood up, and, gripping the table with both hands and bending forward (so one and maybe both of her breasts were on briefly full display to her new friends), slid into the back of the booth. They stood for a few seconds looking at her appreciatively, then slid in on either side of her.

Just then, an older guy sitting two stools from me at the bar groaned and said, “Jesus, Christ! Would you look at that!” It hadn’t occurred to me that others might be enjoying the show, too.

I was sitting sideways at the bar, so I could look over discreetly at what my wife was doing. But the old guy had twisted his seat around so he was looking directly at the four sitting in the booth. He was pretty drunk.

He leaned toward me, confidingly, trying not to let his enthusiasm get too loud. “That’s the best looking piece of ass I’ve ever seen in here,” he said. “Usually they’ve got pants on. The girls I mean. But it’s a treat to see a girl like that . . . .” He suddenly stopped as though he’d swallowed something the wrong way. “Geez!” he resumed, “Look at that! You can see right up her dress. See that?”

Oddly, I found this crude talk quite stimulating . And so was the fact that what the drunk was saying happened to be true. From where we sat, we could both see very far up her skirt. As she chatted with the guys on either side of her, Nancy crossed and recrossed her legs several times, but there were times when she spread her knees about a foot apart. “Yes, I see what you mean,” I said. “I think she’s wearing panties, though.”

“Maybe,” he said. “But they’re pretty thin.”

Then he began muttering things to himself. Mostly they were obscene remarks about how he’d like to eat her cunt, fuck her till she screamed, that sort of thing. He sounded almost hostile, knowing he had no chance of actually doing any of these things. The hostility began to be a turn-off for me.

Turning sideways again at the bar (with my back to the drunk, who continued muttering), I noticed that Nancy had her new friends’ full attention. As the four of them talked and drank for almost an hour, Tall Guy, who was sitting at her left, kept looking down her blouse and I knew, from his angle, he had to be getting great looks at her sometimes exposed right nipple. Nancy pretended not to notice, of course, that she was letting too much tit show.

They finished a third pitcher of beer and the conversation in the booth was getting louder and more animated. The short guy especially kept saying things that made the rest of them crack up. Finally, despite the hilarity, Nancy must have said something about leaving because the three guys slid out of the booth so she could get out. They stood together watching her slide her ass around the table and, pretending greater difficulty than she was really having, struggle to stand up. This apparent struggle involved her awkwardly throwing her legs wide open to give all three of them a quick look at her sheer-white-pantied cunt. I couldn’t see because the stocky one was blocking my view, but I knew they could see plenty and I was loving it. So was the old drunk. He groaned and cursed appreciatively, summing up my feelings perfectly.

Nancy went to the women’s room while Nordic Guy went to the men’s room. Tall Guy and the Ex-Wrestler stood watching my wife walk to the can. Ex-Wrestler said something in a quiet voice about her. Then he rolled his eyes comically and they both laughed. I could only guess at the sort of comment it had been.

I finished my drink, which I’d nursed for the past forty-five minutes, and went out to our car in the parking lot. Minutes later the four emerged from the bar, my wife, now wearing her light sweater, walking unsteadily and leaning on Nordic Guy for support. Ex-Wrestler gave her a bear-hug, said goodnight, and climbed into his car. I thought I heard him say something about his wife. Then Tall Guy opened the passenger door of a large pickup truck and Nordic Guy helped Nancy climb up on to the seat. As he did, his hands were all over her naked thighs. Then he climbed up beside her and Tall Guy walked around to the driver’s side and got in.

I followed the pickup truck as it climbed on to the interstate and headed for our house twenty miles away. I continued following them for several miles, noticing that Nancy’s head was resting on Nordic Guy’s shoulder. She must have been playing drunk. Then I accelerated and passed them. I had no trouble getting home before they did since Tall Guy was only going around 60 mph.

I wondered how much thigh she was showing in Tall Guy’s truck as she pretended to be passed out or on the verge of it. I wondered if male hands had found their way up that short skirt of hers.