The night was young and we were drunk. Even better, it was St Patrick's Day and we were celebrating. Five years ago, the last time St Patty's day had been a Saturday, we'd met for the first time. Two years after that, Claire and I had married. Now here we were.
She pulled me into a bush as we walked up the road, instantly her wet lips and hot breath were all over me. Her hands grabbed me and I grabbed her. Oh yeah, I was getting laid tonight. My hands had no trouble reaching up her short dress and feeling her ass, naked except for the thin lacy strip of her g-string.
"Why don't we fuck right here baby?" She asked. I instantly felt nervous. I really wasn't sure about having sex in public - I could hear the cars driving past nearby. I also felt worried about seeming weak.
It was Claire's favorite joke to tease me about how she thought I was weak and unassertive. She even called me names. It didn't help that it seemed she was able to get me into a compromising position at will. Often she'd down-trail me, or she'd pin me on my front and spank me. Embarrassments like that made me worried that she might think I was actually a bit of a sissy.
"Uhh... what about we get to the bar and have a drink first? I'm almost starting to get sober for christ-sakes!"
She laughed,
"Well we can't be having that!" With one last hot kiss she broke off and stepped out of the bush, back onto the footpath.
I followed her, watching her long, fit legs and swinging ass as she walked. She paused and turned, my eyes were instantly drawn to her chest.
I had a group of mates who I met up with every Friday after work for drinks. We'd started out as high school buddies but over the years a few guys had dropped out and a few more had joined. Now we were early thirties professionals who weren't quite ready to let go of the feeling that we could still have wild parties at any time even though a few of the guys actually had kids.
Amongst our boyish chats, whenever it was necessary to refer to my wife the group always called her "Tits Magee". We'd actually had whole conversations about how epic my wife's tits were. The general consensus was that it wasn't just their size, although that was certainly a consideration, it was the way they seemed to actually defy gravity that made them so impressive. Claire was 32 and had better tits than most 20 year olds.
Naturally I couldn't help but stare as she stood there. God. How on earth did a loser like me end up married to her?
"Come on slowpoke!" She called.
We walked a short way up the street and came up to our neighborhood Irish bar, the "Rose & Thistle". I wouldn't have called it the most Irish of Irish bars. Like all Irish bars however, it served beer and that was all we really needed.
I walked past the two bouncers easily enough, into the dark, crowded and hot interior. The music was loud. Laser lights flashed from the dance floor. I turned to look for Claire and sure enough, the bouncers were talking to her, looking her up and down. She was a bit drunk to be fair, however we all knew this would end with a certain type of smile from her. Soon enough it did and she walked in.
"Where should we sit?" Claire asked, yelling. I looked around. Absolutely no tables, or even stools were available.
"You can sit with us," came a gruff male voice from off to the side.
I turned to look at the guy and yep, suspicion confirmed - he had that dodgy, pervert type of look to him. He must have been in his mid fifties, more than twenty years older than us, yet he was clearly giving my wife the look. He was a bit heavy but also quite solid, taller and larger than me. He had a much deeper voice too. He seemed able to yell without yelling if that makes sense. It probably doesn't.
Before I could say "no thanks" Claire had already accepted his offer and was trotting over to the empty stools opposite him. I felt quite intimidated by this situation.
We sat there and he made light conversation with us. What were our names, what did we do, how was our night going.
Through each answer he replied "Oh yep," with a nod. His eyes were intense and they were clearly focussed on Claire's chest. Pervert. He introduced his brother and father who were sitting next to him.
Brother was younger, perhaps ten years older than us. He was completely drunk, nothing he said made any sense. He clearly thought my wife was hot though. In fact I think he might have even been trying to say so. His laugh told me he also thought I was a loser.
Father was more reserved. He must have been at least seventy but still seemed pretty sharp. In fact he was sufficiently built that I wouldn't want a piece of him. Like the others he spent a lot of time looking intently at my wife's chest.
The next question was "What brought us out tonight?" Claire lit up as she explained that it was the anniversary of the first time we'd met. This finally bought a reaction out of him.
"Yeah? You met on Saint Patty's day five years ago? Well how about that! Congratulations! Why don't I buy you both a drink!"
Claire smiled again,
"Thank you! That would be nice!"
He pulled out a fat, leather wallet and fished a note from it, this he passed to me.
"There you go, go get the misses and you a couple of Dublin's finest!" I must admit, I was slightly taken aback. In my book 'buying you a drink' meant you would also go to the bar and get it. Also, this meant I would have to leave my hot wife with three perverts.
Claire smiled at me. I wasn't going to get out of this. Damn.
Predictably, the bar was packed. It took a long time to even talk to a barman. I kept looking back at the group. Claire was in an intense, apparently also very light hearted conversation. The look on his face was dangerous. It was the look of a man who expected to get a fuck. Was I about to get cuckolded?
I must admit, the idea had appeal. I would want it to happen with a guy I felt comfortable with however, not one who intimidated me. Plus he was an absolute pervert. Clearly, he was here to take advantage. I was a bit concerned for Claire to be honest.
I finally got the drinks and rushed back. Just as I got there, Claire was walking in the direction of the dance floor holding his fucking hand!
She gave me one of those hot, wet kisses as I walked up. She was still turned on as fuck. My heart was racing.
"We're just going for a dance" she declared. I tried to tell her not to but I wasn't quick enough. She was on her way to the dance floor with her hand in his. I was stunned. All I could do was watch her sexy ass as she followed him. He briefly flashed me a look, it was a fucking arrogant grin.
I knew I really should have, no, needed to walk over there, grab her and lead her away but equally I felt really intimidated by this guy. I also felt fucking turned on by this whole thing. It was really embarrassing. I had to sit down.
