Like a lot of guys, it had always been a fantasy of mine to see my wife taken by another man. Of course, I brought this up to her a few times only to be rebuked. "I can't believe you would let me have sex with another guy!" she would say. "Don't you love me?"
"Of course I love you, Honey," I'd always reply, adding something about just joking around with her. The truth was that I wasn't joking, and she probably knew that.
Life went on as usual and the sex, compared to the complaints of my friends, was better than average.
One night, after a movie, we decided to grab a beer at a local pool hall. As usual, the pool hall was filled with your assortment of blue-collared men and the women who loved them. I was, and always will be, a white-collar guy and never have felt comfortable in such places. My wife, on the other hand, grew up in a blue collar family and was in her natural environment. I have always felt uneasy with this situation and always thought deep down that she would prefer a beer guzzling, deer hunting man than the Chardonnay sipping theatre goer that I was.
We quickly settled in, grabbed a beer and scoped the place out. My wife, with her shapely 5' 6" figure and beautiful brown eyes got more than her share of glances. One such glance came from a tall, well-built man (obviously a construction worker) who was walking toward us to line up his next shot. He shot a quick smile at my wife who promptly returned the courtesy with a sheepishly flirtatious smile of her own. The man paced back and forth in front of the table to line up his options, my wife watching him with interest and biting her lower lip. He eventually found his shot (right in front of us), bent over and took the shot -- sinking the ball. It was obvious that my wife's attention was more focussed on his tight butt than the game, but the rattle of the ball falling into the pocket brought her out of her trance.
"Woo hoo!" my wife cried, smiling and clapping in joy. The man tapped his cap and moved on, but his eyes never left my wife's and hers never left his.
"Excuse me," I said cynically, turning to my wife.
"Oh be real, I'm only having some fun," she said.
"Yeah, but this isn't much fun for me." At that, my wife shot me a glance and turned back to the game, which was just finishing up. The man came over to the bar where we were sitting.
"Did you win?" my wife asked.
"Sure did," he replied. "I don't lose."
"In anything?" my wife asked.
"In anything," he said, putting down his money and taking his beer. "My name is Bill," he said, holding out his hand. My wife took his hand, gave it a slow and casual shake, and gingerly removed her hands from his. "I'm Melinda," she said, as the tips of her fingers remained touching his. "And this is my husband, Al. He tries to play pool, but he really isn't any good. I beat him in that and almost everything else."
"In everything?" Bill asked, smiling.
"In everything," Melinda replied, smiling back at him.