When we went to the bar that night, my wife was dressed to kill. She was in a tight, thin low-cut top, with a thin bra underneath. Her pierced nipples were clearly visible through the materials, and plenty of cleavage was on display. Her skirt barely covered her ass, which meant that any time she bent over, her smooth, bare cunt was plainly visible under crotchless panties. The dim light of the bar probably wasn't enough to see how wet her slit was, but from the right angle someone could certainly see the glint of her clit hood piercing.
The deal was this: she'd flash her cunt, letting anyone cop a feel that wanted to, and if it was someone we might want to take back to our hotel, I'd give her a sign. Then she'd turn her head and give them her best sexy smile, and we'd see what happened next.
Of course, my wife doesn't realize just how sexy she is; she didn't think she'd get a lot of attention. She was very surprised at just how quickly she was approached after we got there. We got a couple of drinks and sat down at a high top. My back was to the wall, and she was standing, leaning over the table, her ass pointing out into the bar. Eyes were on her from the moment we walked in, but once she bent over a couple of guys started to stare.
She had barely had a sip of her drink when she got a surprised expression on her face and I knew someone was taking advantage of her exposure. There were a couple of guys behind her - the place was pretty packed - so I couldn't tell exactly who it was. She was staring into my eyes, searching for a signal, but I had no signal to give. Instead I just sipped my drink and enjoyed watching her squirm.
It only lasted a moment, though it seemed longer, but soon the guys moved on. Where we were positioned there was a lot of foot traffic, people coming and going from the bar and the restrooms. I could tell she got a few "accidental" gropings from passers-by but only briefly.
Then suddenly she gasped, and I saw her hips move involuntarily. I looked behind her and saw a young guy, short, baby-faced - not her type. I shook my head slightly. That didn't mean he didn't get to take advantage of her position for a minute; later she would tell me he got two fingers inside her before he moved on. I wonder what he thought about later, jacking off as he reminisced about the slut that let him finger her out in the open without even needing to see his face.
The next punter was a tall black man; still not her type. Again I gave the tiniest shake of my head, and again she stayed where she was, letting him enjoy her freely-offered hole until he too moved on. At this point, she had finished her drink, so I went to the bar to get another. She turned around to face me, her back to the table, to protect her cunt while I wasn't there next to her. This also offered the side benefit of putting her gorgeous tits on display to the room, hard nipples pressing against her shirt, threatening to escape the low neckline.
When I got back, she told me about a couple of guys "accidentally" brushing up against her chest as they walked by, but none that interested her. We got back into position, and were halfway through our second round when she got her next serious contender. This guy was fairly subtle, his side to her backside, his arm appearing limp by his hip but actually running a fingertip along her slit.
He was tall, not my height, but probably at least six feet. He was white, middle-aged, reasonably fit; not bad for our purposes. Her eyes went wide for a moment as he slid his fingertip into her dripping opening. I gave her the slightest of nods, and she turned her head to face him, leaving her ass pressed into his hand, grinding her hips against him. He was looking at her from the corner of his eye, and when she looked at him, he looked back. She gave him that sexy smile, her full lips parting slightly, then she bit her bottom lip and stared him in the eye.
He smiled back, removed his finger from her, and brought it to his lips to taste her wetness. He smiled again, then as the line for the bar moved up, he moved with it. She looked back to me, and I shrugged - we knew it might take a few tries to find just the right guy. But, as luck would have it, the man returned a few minutes later, drink in hand, and walked right up to our table.
"Joe," he said, and reached out his hand to shake hers. She stifled a laugh as she shook his hand, the absurdity of such a greeting after he had been fingering her just a few minutes before catching her off guard.
"Lucy," she said, taking his hand.
He turned to me. "And you?"
"Angus," I said. Using a fake name always felt awkward to me, but it was a necessity. "Her husband."
He looked at her, then back at me, trying to figure out if I knew what had transpired.
"So... what brings you out here tonight?" he asked nervously.
"We're just out looking for a good time," I said, smiling. He got the drift, and relaxed a little.
"Aren't we all," he said. "I'm just here with a few friends myself." He nodded toward a group of guys a couple of tables over, just doing a round of shots.
"Just here to drink," my wife asked, "or are you on the prowl?"
"I don't know that I'm on the prowl, but if an opportunity presented itself, I can't say I'd turn it down."
"Why don't you introduce us to your friends?" I asked.
As the three of us made our way to their table, I wrapped my arm around my wife's waist and whispered in her ear. "Everything OK?"
"Yeah," she said, "nervous, but... yeah. What now? Get him to ditch his friends?"
"Let's just take it slow and see where it goes," I said, squeezing her ass as we got to the table.
The guys, clearly fairly drunk, cheered when their friend returned, and shoved a shot glass into his hand. He shrugged at "Lucy", smiled, and downed the shot.
"And who is this fine young specimen?" one of the guys slurred to Joe.
