6. The Bar:
I'm Melanie. I'm a 30 year old, married slut who cheats on her husband almost daily, if not even more often than that, because he can't come close to satisfying me and I can't possibly get enough cock anyway. This is another entry in my memoirs.
At the time I'm writing this, I've got about eight to ten guys who I count as "boyfriends" -- guys I fuck somewhat regularly. I decided to write down how I got here -- the doting, boring suburban housewife to the cheating, cock-loving little bitch that I know I am -- because I know how impressed many guys are with me. I've done some really, ridiculously naughty things. Really depraved, outrageous things. Two years ago, before all this started, I barely even had fantasies about some of the things I've done.
I can't get enough attention from hung, sexy men (and hot ladies too!). I want every reader of this to crave me, as much as I crave the men in my life. Don't you want me? My petite 125 pound frame, my long dark hair and slender, triangular face, my hot small ass, my gorgeous C-cup tits. I'm here for you, baby, are you man enough to please me, hmm?
So go on, grab your dick (or jam your fingers in your twat), read on and I hope you get off as hard as I have!
* * * *
(This happened about two weeks after I met Michael, my very perverted fuck buddy who picked me up in a grocery story. My night at the bar was about in the middle of this past March, maybe two and a half weeks ago.)
Sucks being a married slut, with an ignorant husband. All of my sexual adventures necessarily had to be confined to daylight hours -- from the moment my husband left the house for work, until the moment around dinner time he'd get back. When hubby was home, I was the good, doting wife. I knew I was missing a lot of sex, most of the men who send me emails wanted to meet at night, or on weekends.
So opportunities to cheat on my husband in the evening were extremely limited, to the point of being nonexistent basically. From the time I started having cybersex and phonesex with men in my life, almost a year and a half ago, there was only one night where I got to play. Well, two nights actually, back-to-back, but only one is worth remembering.
My husband had a corporate meeting at headquarters, he'd be gone for two nights. The first night was insanely frustrating and a complete missed opportunity. I arranged for a date with a married guy from online, but he stood me up, I was in a parking lot outside a restaurant all dressed for sex, but he never showed up. In fact, he never returned my emails. Must have chickened out, I figured. The loser. So, fuck that.
The second night, I decided to really have some fun. All the male attention on my big tits and firm small ass made me feel so powerful and feminine, so I had tons of confidence that I could attract sexy men. I had the seed of an idea planted in my pretty little head from a local chat room, where guys and a woman were discussing which bars were the best "pick up spots" for horny adults to hook up. There was a clear favorite, about thirty minutes from my house, it was a large dance club next to a row of motels, and several chatters in the room agreed it was a meat market for getting laid. I started thinking, what would it be like to go to it, and get picked up?
But a sexy woman can't go into a bar alone, that just wasn't right. I needed a partner in crime. So a week earlier, when I found out my husband was going out of town, I posted a "want ad" in the website with adult personal ads, saying I wanted to find a woman in her 20s or 30s who'd go with me to this club to hunt for cock. As you can guess, the most responses to my ad came from men -- hey baby, why go to the club, I got what you need right here, etc. And of course, Michael and Roger offered their "services" for the night. But I wanted to give it a try, to go to a club and have men hitting on me, maybe select one for a night of hot sex with a stranger.
Really, I got only one meaningful response from a female, so I accepted it. She said her name was Telly, she was 35 and married but she'd been thinking about "stepping out." She was going to tell her husband she was having a girl's night out, which apparently she did time to time, but she'd meet me at a restaurant near the bar, then head into the bar.
Telly wasn't my match. She looked worn, her hair was mousy and colorless, her rounded face had wrinkles already, her body could stand to use a bit treadmill more often. She wasn't ugly or anything, but with me next to her, I was definitely going to get a lot more attention. Dressing for the hunt, I had a plunging neckline white babydoll top with a black bra underneath it, the combination showing off a fleshy valley of my cleavage; below, my black miniskirt revealed almost all of my slender, sleek legs. If I bent over, half of my ass cheeks would be on display. By contrast, Telly had a strapless leather dress that hugged her tits and rounded hips, it would have been hot if she was 30 pounds lighter. I'm not being judgmental, I'm just saying the facts.
Not that I cared what she looked like. A little past 9 pm, when my husband thought I was going to be early, I was walking into the singles' bar with another horny married woman, looking for men to fuck us.
I had a blast that night. We already had men on our arm before we made it to the bar. I tried to keep the alcohol intake low, so I didn't lose control, I wanted to enjoy the evening, but through the course of a couple of hours, I had probably a dozen different mixed drinks served to me. I sipped a few of them, that was about it. Telly, however, drank a bit too much. Meanwhile, studs were buzzing like vultures around both of us, walking right up to us, leaning to talk over the loud music, putting arms around my shoulders all the time. Men who hadn't said a word to me. I was like meat in a lion's den.
I played nice to everyone who came to say hi, but I was finding it was hard to get rid of guys when she nestle up next to you. So I would lead Telly and me around the bar, instead of staying up, otherwise we'd have been captured by the first guys to approach us.
Quick learner at the meat market, I proved to be. I enjoyed the male attention, having two or three men at a time standing around me, touching my shoulders and back, some even "accidentally" brushing their crotches or hands against my miniskirt. But it was more fun to find a hot guy at the bar and approach him myself, instead of being the hunted prey. A couple of taller, well-built guys stole my attention, but neither panned out.
But later, I spied two guys in white dress shirts and dark slacks, standing at the bar talking, not really paying attention to females around them. They were in their early 30s, I thought, and both looked like athletes. Their shoulders were brawny, they had firm powerful chests, slender waists, well-groomed appearances. One had dark short hair and one pierced ear, the other had longer blondish hair, a day's worth of stubble on his chin (love it!), and obviously hairy chest from the whisps of golden hair visible where his shirt wasn't buttoned. I tapped Telly on the shoulder, "Look at those hunks," and I broke off a pointless conversation with other men to lead her around the bar.
I was pretty aggressive. "You boys need some female company?" I asked, nestling right up to the guy with the stubbled chin and hairy chest. He wasn't the hotter of the two, but I liked his style, and I figured the other guy probably got more attention than he did. Spread the wealth, so to speak. I was wearing my wedding ring, as was Telly, and I made sure to flash it by taking a sip of the drink in my hand. I thought that would signal I was there only for sex, right; a married woman at a meat market isn't shopping for an LTR.
Our presence was accepted, the two guys -- Brad (the better-looking guy with short dark hair) and Tommy (of the stubbled chin and hairy chest) -- bought us drinks. Sodas, actually, because were both thirsty, and Telly was already a bit tipsy. Standing between the two studs, I was so little, they were definitely over six foot and thus about a foot taller than me if not more. When a bar stool opened up, I scooted onto it so I could at least be closer to eye level. Telly, about medium height, just kept leaning against Brad while I was rubbing shoulders with Tommy.
I couldn't hear half of what they said, the place was so noisy. There was a dance floor on the other side of the place, and the excessively loud beating music made my ears pound. The place was half dark, but the bar area was lit from high above. It was small talk at first -- where you from, what do you do -- and the guys didn't seem phased when I said Telly and I were both married, our husbands were "away" so we came out to "play." Tommy flashed me a friendly smile at that news. The guys were former teammates in some sport but I couldn't hear what they said, now Tommy was an "analyst" and Brad was a high school coach of some kind.
After fifteen or twenty minutes, Telly was more intoxicated, and the guys were really into us. Brad kept groping Telly's ass through her leather dress, making Telly blush at him, but she didn't stop him. Tommy, standing next to my bar stool, kept looking down my ample cleavage of my top. I arched my back to give him as much a view as possible. His hand wandered down my back, starting at my shoulders but ending up just above my skirt where I sat on it. Damn, his hand felt good on me, he was a sexy man and my eyes were already sizing him up underneath his clothing. He looked like he had a great, fit body, as did Brad, and my horny brain was trying to size their dicks from the limited bulges in their loose slacks.
Is this how a pick-up goes? I hadn't done it since college, but those all involved keg parties at fraternities, not quite the scene here. I hoped that was where it was leading, it seemed we were waiting for a moment for Brad and Tommy to take Telly and I home.
I needed to encourage it. I stood up from the bar stool, standing next to much-taller Tommy. His hand stayed on my lower back, as was mine on his. His hand slipped down, over my mini-skirt. I gulped, feeling it, wanting him to explore. I curled my small hand around his exquisitely tight asscheek, gasping at how firm it was in his slacks, hoping that gave him the signal. It did, and a moment later, his hand slipped underneath my mini-skirt, his big paw was groping the soft cheeks of my nude buttocks.
Maybe other people noticed, maybe no one did; I didn't care, I loved his attention. We pretended to keep talking to Brad and Telly (not that Telly was talking much now), but I was just concentrating on Tommy's warm palm and fingers groping my married asscheeks under my mini-skirt. That went on about fifteen minutes, or so, until he pushed his hand down farther, sticking fingers from behind into the triangle of flesh between my crotch and upper thighs, almost stretching his long fingers to find my crotch from the backside. He really had to lean down for that. I yelped, but instead of pulling away, I spread my knees a bit, and pushed my butt towards his hand, so his fingers could momentarily slide over the very damp front of my thong. The pressure of his fingertips on my pussylips and clitoris made my knees tremble.
My blue eyes looked up at him, and he stared down at me, and we needed to get going, didn't we?
