My wife and I have a tradition: every second Saturday is our date night at the local college bar. I signaled to me favorite bartender -- the one with a significantly lower-cut shirt than the others -- ordered our drinks and surveyed the crowd. In the middle of the bar was an obnoxious bunch of moderately drunk bros, a few of them with stereotypically slutty girls hanging off their arms. The corners were occupied by jersey-clad fans commiserating over the afternoon's loss, and a smattering of various small friend groups populated the rest of the place. The night was still young.
I settled into my stool as Liz complained about her incompetent coworker, but my interest was piqued when the door opened and a group of young women walked in, an array of short skirts and well-fitted tops. They were too old to be coeds, but not boisterous enough to be a bachelorette party. I concealed a smile when they made their way over to our end of the bar, and pretended not to notice when the most attractive one sat on the stool behind Liz.
A half hour went by while we talked and finished our drinks, and I stole more than a few glances over Liz's shoulder. The woman wore a dark purple dress with a neckline that revealed more of her ample breasts than it concealed. Liz turned to grab our new glasses from the bar, and finally seeing her neighbor, blurted out, "Woah, those are huge boobs!"
My wife usually has a poor filter, but this was surprising even for her. I maintained a passive face while waiting to see which way this went. Luckily, instead of getting upset at the random and obscene interruption, the woman flashed a big smile and replied "Thank you! They're all natural!"
Liz's face turned red as she realized what had happened. "Sorry, that was totally random and awkward. I just turned around and BAM! There they were. Kinda took my by surprise." She laughed nervously, still trying to recover. "They look nice though. Very soft-looking."
"Aw, thank you. And I have to say yours are looking pretty nice, too. Pert and perky!" The woman's eyes lingered on Liz's blue button-down blouse. It was a favorite of mine because it hugged tight to her curves -- something our new friend apparently appreciated, too. "I'm Julia."
"Thanks," Liz laughed, motioning to her own chest. "I grew them myself! I'm Liz, and this is my husband, Patrick."
"It's nice to meet you both, though I'm surprised to see a married couple at the college bar." We told her about our monthly date nights, and our occasional voyeuristic indulgence of watching the undergrads drunkenly fondle each other on the dance floor. "That sounds like fun," Julia said. "I'm here with some of my coworkers, though to be honest, you two sound more interesting than they are. You can imagine how boring the same old work stories get after a while."
We chatted for a while, and I did my best to keep my eyes from dipping below face-level too often. At one point, I thought Julia caught me staring, but instead of covering herself up, she leaned forward slightly to give me a better view. And maybe I was imagining it, but she seemed a little handsy with Liz, too. Nothing too obvious, but she kept placing a hand on my wife's arm or shoulder. Liz didn't seem to notice, especially not after her second -- or was it her third? -- drink disappeared.
After a while, Liz got up to use the restroom, and Julia followed, giving me a wink as she rose from her stool. I watched them both go, my eyes flicking between my wife's round ass and Julia's slender legs. This was certainly shaping up to be an entertaining night, though I wasn't sure exactly where it was going from here. Julia was definitely hot, and Liz seemed to like her well enough not to get jealous on those times when she caught me staring. I could tell she was having fun, but what would that translate to when we got home?
That question was answered when they returned from the restroom. As they walked toward me, Liz reached out and slapped Julia on the butt -- her telltale sign that she was both drunk enough and horny enough to do things she wouldn't normally do. Julia flashed her a wicked smile, then leaned in close to me and whispered, "I've got an Uber waiting. We'll be out front." Her hand slid down my chest briefly before she stepped back and grabbed Liz by the arm to lead her to the door.
I closed out our tab and hurried after them, watching Julia's hand slip almost to Liz's ass as they passed through the door. We climbed into the back of the Uber, the cramped back seat forced us to squeeze in tightly together with Julia in the middle. I noticed the driver's GPS was set to my home address, and raised a questioning eyebrow at Julia. "She told me she wanted to show me your guys' pet rabbit," she explained. "I thought that sounded like a great idea." She winked at me again, placing a hand on my thigh and squeezing.
"Hope you don't mind getting a bit friendly. It's a little crowded back here," Liz apologized drunkenly.
Julia pressed her body against Liz's and purred, "Not at all. I can get very friendly." Her face was an inch away from Liz's, and I caught a spark of curiosity in my wife's eyes. She leaned into Liz's ear, whispering so softly I could barely hear, "Very friendly, indeed." Julia giggled, a small chorus of bubbly notes infused with flirtation and sensuality. Liz gasped, and I leaned forward to see Julia gently biting her earlobe. Liz's eyes went wide and she stared at me nervously, trying to suppress a smile.
"This is how I treat my closest friends," Julia said. Her lips brushed Liz's cheek and paused just above her mouth. "I'm a very friendly person once you get to know me." With that, her tongue darted out and teased Liz's bottom lip, which parted hesitatingly. A moment more, and Liz leaned in, eagerly tasting Julia's whiskey-tinged lips on her own. I could hardly believe what I was seeing; a quick glance up at our driver told me he couldn't believe it either.
Now it was a full-on make-out session: bodies pressing closely together, hands grasping at each other's arms and waists. I could hear small gasps of pleasure, though which one was making what noises I couldn't tell. At some point, Julia undid her seatbelt and climbed on top of Liz, pinning her against the seat. The Uber rolled to a stop, and I thought we were about to be thrown out, but then I saw we were at my house. I touched Liz on the shoulder and said "We're here," and they pulled apart with embarrassed looks and tousled hair. The driver's eyes were wide in astonishment as the three of us slipped out of the car, and he gave me a congratulatory grin as I closed the door.
