This happened a long time ago, back when we were kids. We had been married only a couple years and were still mighty playful. We had fun with semi-public (and safe) sex like this a number of times.
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Our favorite Mexican restaurant has a really good bar. A very, very crowded bar on weekends. People are jammed in like on a Japanese subway. I can hardly move. It takes minutes to squeeze over to the bar to get a drink.
On summer nights like this, everyone drinks frozen margaritas or cold beer just to stay cool. The air conditioning can't possibly cope with this many people, especially on people on alcohol.
I'm used to being touched by the crowd there, my hips, my ass, just trying to make my way across the floor. Happens every time, I usually don't mind much. A couple times I've even had guys reach up and fondle my boob. Yes, right there in the bar, in front of everyone. The bodies are jammed together so tight that you can't see much below the neck. Certainly not below the waist. Tonight is no different.
No different except that I'm wearing a rather short dress, a one-piece knit shift, no belt. It moves when I do which is why I like it. So does my husband. It moves when I move, molding boobs here, hips there, and always ass, tight on my ass. He calls me his slinky broad and loves it when I slink around in this dress.
Well, as I said it is short. Really short. Less than six inches below my crotch when I'm standing up straight, "below the goodies," as he says. It gets a lot shorter when I move, not quite immodest just interesting. Well, if you are watching while I raise both hands over my head, it gets truly immodest. My panty crotch is clearly visible when it comes up. So I try not to do that too often. It *is* fun at the grocery store when I have to reach for something on a high shelf, he tells me. And I have noticed a lot of other men following me around the store hoping I have to reach for something. But I digress.
This particular evening, the wait for a table is going to be more than an hour. We ooze over to the bar for a drink, then ooze our way back into the crowd a few feet. On the way, several hands rub deliberately across my ass and hips. One touches my butt way down. Near the hem of the dress. Ooh, that's bold.
Then I feel a palm on ass, squeeze. Ooh, more bold. I can't push his hand away, with a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other. (Everyone smoked back then, me no exception. Yes, dumb, but I'm smarter now.) And I can't move much. At most, I can reach over to the ashtray on a nearby table. Of course, when I do reach over to the ashtray, the dress moves up with my arm. This gives the man with the hand a better target. Better watch that.
I put up with this while I finish my drink. It's too loud to hear anyway, and we are a little separated. I leave my husband and start to mosey back toward the bar to get a refill. It's only like eight or ten feet away, but it takes a couple minutes, incredibly, moving ever so slowly, nudging people to move past. Mr. Hand follows me. He is decent looking, dressed casually, about our age. I stub out my cigarette in an ashtray on the bar. As I raise my arm to reach it, the dress comes up. That hand is firmly on my buttock now. I wave to the bartender for another drink. The dress comes up even higher. Now his hand is at the hem and he reaches under it. He rests his palm firmly on my panties now and rubs my butt gently, more firmly, squeezing, fondling. That feels great! What am I doing? I am really getting into this. Somehow he can tell. When I don't object, don't even squirm, he takes it as acceptance. Well, I guess that's right. He reaches down under my butt trying to get his hand between my legs. Oh, god, not this is getting serious. What do I do now?
When the bartender returns with my drink, I have to use both hands to pay her and take the glass. This makes the dress come up much farther. His hand is completely under my skirt and pushing between my thighs. Christ, that's intimate. But my body is enjoying being touched like that. What the hell, go for it. To reach the bar better, I have to shift my weight, move my foot much closer to the bar side. A lot closer. A couple feet. My feet are now wide apart, my legs well open. He uses the opportunity to reach under me right onto my pussy. He presses his fingers hard into my pussy teasing my lips apart through the fabric. I feel him pressing on top of my clit, he moves rhythmically, he wants to fuck me with his hand. By this time I want him to, too. I lean forward, I open my legs more to his touch. He knows I want to continue.
I inhale that drink and wave to the bartender for another. While she's mixing it, I decide that I might as well give in completely to this experience and cooperate. There's a foot rail in front of every bar. Convenient. I lift my foot and hook the rail with my high heel, just as you would do if you were leaning on the bar. For me, tonight, however, it opens my legs much wider. It makes my sex much more accessible, available to his touch, for anything he wants to do with it. He knows right away that I am spreading for him. He slips his hand down inside my panties over my bare ass, and down between my legs, and right onto my pussy. Oh, god, he is between my lips. I'm so wet by this time that his fingers slide easily between my lips. He scrapes my clit with his fingertips, I jerk my hips to his rhythm. Then a finger comes into me, into my hole, inside my pussy, oh, god, this is real sex. A guy I don't know is finger fucking me in a public bar. His hand is under my short skirt, he's inside my panties, he's inside my labia, he's inside my vagina, he's penetrating my body for god's sake, he's pushing a finger into my cunt and is fucking me with it.
My husband is only five or ten feet away but in this crowd he can't see what is happening to me. He's making small talk anyway with another couple. He would be so turned on if he knew. He would encourage it. He would probably join the stranger in fingering me. Yes, both of them would finger me at the same time. He would happily stick his finger into my vagina alongside the stranger's, and saw it in and out of me. Yes, stranger in back, husband in front, openly pushing into my crotch not caring who was watching. He would love that. The perv.
