The restaurant hummed with low chatter, the glow of candlelight reflecting in my wife's playful eyes. Wearing a low cut black top, matching trousers and shoes, she was always like this in public--flirty, teasing, keeping me on edge. Her red pedicure toes slid along my ankle beneath the table, a secret caress that sent a pulse of heat through me and my growing bulge.
We both flirted with our server, a waitress called Aaliyah, and I could sense where the evening was going. My wife swirled the contents of the cocktail glass, her glittery lips curling around the rim in a way that made my pulse quicken. "You're distracted," she murmured, her voice a purr. "Thinking about what I'll do to you later?"
I smirked adjusting my shirt, but before I could answer, I felt a gaze on me. Across the room, a young, twenty-something blond, her eyes locked onto mine. It took me a moment, but surprisingly I recognised her youthful face and tight frame, as I had danced with on a drunken night out. She sat alone at the bar, she was pert, perfect, bold and unwavering. She reminded me of my niece, I loved cumming and spunkimg over her panties, socks and shoes when she stayed overnight. The moment stretched between us, the air thick with unspoken challenge. My wife noticed, of course. She always did. Her lips twitched in amusement as she leaned in. "She's cute."
The night wore on, full of lingering glances and whispered touches. When I excused myself to the restroom, the corridor was dim, quiet--a perfect contrast to the lively atmosphere beyond. And then she was there. The young woman, wearing a silver bust and matching skirt in contrast to expensive pumps. Close. Her perfume was heady, intoxicating.
"You don't seem the type to look away," she murmured, stepping closer, the warmth of her body brushing mine. "Your wife is pretty, for an older woman."
I held my ground, smirking. "Emily! Great to see you, er, again," I said nervously, ogling her slight curves.
Her fingers grazed my cock trapped in my dark jeans, a fleeting touch before she leaned in, her lips just shy of mine. And I didn't waste a moment to grip her young ass. A tease. A promise. But the moment was brief--footsteps echoed down the hall, and just as quickly as she had appeared, she was gone.
Returning to my table, I found my wife deep in conversation with an old friend of hers, recently divorced, a stunning longhaired brunette with a knowing smile framed by natural pouty lips.
"You remember Sophie," my wife said, mischief dancing in her voice.
Curved Sophie wore a burgundy shimmering sequin short minidress and strappy black heels. She could be my wife's twin, only Sophie' makeup wasn't as smoky, and had softer rounded features compared to my wife's pointy striking look. Both perfect makeup, arched eyebrows and busty. I would have loved to spunk over both their shoes as well as their faces. By her slurred voice and sway resting on the table leaning over my wife's cleavage, you could tell Sophie had also been talking full advantage of the 2 for 1 cocktails.
A few more drinks later, we decided to take the night further. A bar, all flashing lights and pulsating music, where my wife danced between Sophie and me, the three of us moving as one. And then there was her--the stunning Emily from the restaurant bar. She found us again, her smirk daring. My wife caught my gaze, her fingers tracing up my arm. "She's old enough to be your daughter! Four is greedy, you'll have to have her another time you fucking old perv. But Sophie should come with us."
