This story has a slightly different end to it than most, but I thought it would be interesting to see what the readers want. A "choose-your-own-adventure" style, if you will. Could be very fun to see where it goes.
This is my first story. I know it has a different tone than many of the others on the site; but I see no reason that these stories cannot be written without a strong narrative voice and some more classic elements of "real literature" even if their topic is smut. :)
I hope that you enjoy.
*****
The lies that he told himself were mostly anchored in truth. That his wife of ten years and two kids would still love him when his plan had been realized, for example.
That her secret beast of wanton yearning had simply lain in slumber all these years, waiting only for his prodding at the proper moment to release its fiery lust upon the eager loins of the world.
That he was sober enough to be having this level of discourse with himself while driving her aimlessly about the suburban hell into which their middle-aged marriage had thrust them, within which they now slowly bobbed like flies caught in the outermost strands of an insidious web.
All of these untruths spun within the tightening fist of his mind while his wife's laughter bounced rhythmically to the beat of her hand on his thigh.
"Don't you just love date nights?," she asked of her reflection in the mirror. "Oh, I do. I most certainly do."
He checked the rearview mirror again for flashing lights. It had been twenty years since he had received so much as a traffic ticket, yet the spectre of a looming cop hung behind the gently swaying tree-shaped air freshener whose pungency was just enough to cover the smell of his supposedly secret smoking habit. Another falsehood nestled within the cozy comforts of unquestioned pretense.
"Where are we going?," she asked. His eyes still scanned the receding horizon behind them. A pause came between songs, and she repeated her question. He shrugged and said, "Oh, I don't know. Where do you want to go?"
Suddenly, like a dam bursting on a clear spring morning, she began to sob.
"I - don't - know!"
Words of a most devilish sort flooded his mind. But of course, he responded sweetly with: "Sweetie, what is the problem?"
For, like most husbands whose wives are fiendishly more attractive than they are, our man lived with his balls in the eternal vice of her threats to leave him. It was in fact what he wanted, but only for one night at a time: and preferably if he could watch the proceedings.
But that would have to wait for later, he hoped. He had successfully intoxicated her at not one, but two fine drinking establishments earlier that mid-summer's evening, and she had giggled most demonically as he commented that a pair of men at the second bar could not remove their eyes from her. The smoldering grin that she flashed him lit within his heart the flame that, admit it or not, burned within the fantasies of every groom: the secret desire to see his mate, his most prized trophy, ridden hard by another stallion.
But now they were back to her proverbial plea: "I am so fucking bored with our lives."
It was not an uncommon expression within the long history of their romantic affairs. But it's presence had swollen in recent months, as they ventured, unrequited, through the bars of the 'burbs. And within her cries, he had always seen the razor gleaming above the neck of their marriage.
He was just about to speak in defense of their choice to move into this land of matching houses and PTA meetings when he caught a distant gleam within the murky shadows of his own unspoken dreams. In vain, for years he had tried to tap the deeply hidden artery of her longing for lunacy, that urge that he knew dwelt within her heart in the decades before their children came. But ever she had shut him down: such quests were the domain of younger, less established folk, she quipped; by this, he knew that she meant folk with nothing to lose from being caught in the net of debauchery into which he sought to thrust them headlong.
But perhaps here, within the abyss of her boredom, he could at last uncover the secret to shedding her guard against his ploys. Perhaps, if he posed such journeys not as a grasping for a peak but a thrusting away from a valley, he could catapult her into the lair of his lust.
"I know what you mean," he began. And then he looked coyly at her. "But at least we have each other."
"Horseshit," she retorted. "I'm bored. All we have out here is Mexican restaurants and chain brands. God, what I wouldn't give for a dive bar with a broken sign!"
"Some place like Arnie's," he offered. And she sighed longingly while rolling down the window.
Right after they had been married, the couple had lived in a tiny apartment on the East side of town. It was miles to any good grocery store, but there was a little place across the street where they used to crash on most afternoons and almost as many evenings. The crowd was just sketchy enough to keep you on your toes, but the place had a charm that just pulled you in.
"Oh, God, remember when we used to go dancing on the patio back there?" She laughed, her mood instantly improved. Zero to pissed off and back again in sixty seconds, he thought to himself. Typical fucking woman.
"Oh, honey, let's go dancing!"
His heart leapt. How many times had he asked her to drive into Downtown to go someplace to dance, in the hopes of skipping out to the restroom and pretending to lose her so that she would get caught grinding on the dance floor with the horny hunks that he would send her way? How many times had he fantasized about walking into the restroom and spreading a rumor among the men there that he was just her driver, and that she was a wealthy widow hunting the city for some anonymous cock?
But, right as he was about to spin the car around in the middle of the highway, she stopped him. "Oh, God, I don't wanna go dancing. Let's just get plowed."
"Where you want to go?" He rattled off a list of names of places within 15 miles of them. She shut them all down.
"Well, what about we go up to Porter? There are some little places around that old town square that are cute." He almost smacked himself for using the word "cute." But she didn't notice.
She grunted her assent and started playing with her phone.
"Who are you texting?," he asked.
"My boyfriend," she replied.
He sighed. That was their code language for her boss: a lawyer who would notoriously be sitting in his office working every night, sending her emails and texts. Our man had long ago abandoned the notion that her boss had an affection for her; the fat bastard would more eagerly fuck the hole of a donut than the firm asshole of his sexy bride. Not that she would be interested, of course.
Though, as our man sighed, that would be his luck. He finally gets what he wants - and the fantasy is ruined by images of his wife being smothered under the pale, greasy blubber-rolls of Mr. Curtis.
********
Our man had sufficiently sobered up when they finally pulled into a spot a few blocks away from the old town square, where parking was actually a larger problem than he had imagined. A good sign, he thought, that there was actually some nightlife in this place. His wife, on the other hand, had slipped into a fitful, snoring nap in the passenger seat.
"I guess that tequila was a lot stronger than we realized," he sighed as he threw the car into park. He ran through the various options before him.
He could pull into some darker spot behind the buildings and fuck her. Of course, that would be a challenge, because the back seat was filled with the children's carseats and fucking in the front seat never seemed to work. She would just get pissed off and demand to go home... where, he imagined, he could fuck her pretty good on the living room sofa where she always crashed as he paid the babysitter. He considered that a backup plan.
He imagined that he could probably get her to suck him off right here if the music were right. But then they would have to go home, and he would just go to bed. And as much as he liked blowjobs in the park, she gave terrible ones when she was this drunk. A few week's ago after going to a movie, he'd basically used her mouth like a loose Fleshlight in the parking lot. The only exciting part was imagining that they would get caught by the mallcop. But they didn't, and he drove home listening to 70s soft rock while she snored with his cum on her chin.
Or, he surmised, he could try to wake her up in a way that would get her interested in going out. There was a strong possibility that she could shut down the whole affair right here and now if he didn't handle this appropriately.
He looked up at the rooftop deck of the bar in the distance. A number of people sat outside smoking, a number of them possibly female. He raised an eyebrow and pondered sneaking over there for a smoke while she slept, then going home to pound one out. He didn't waste time with any fascination that he could lure one of those damsels into a sordid tryst before his betrothed arose from her slumber. Even if he had all night, he'd likely still go home alone.
"Ahhhhh, the burdens of being a man," he sighed. And he thought of how easily his wife could get laid if their roles were reversed. A girl with a smackable ass and a nice rack o' squeezies just has an easier way in life.
He closed his eyes and tried to imagine a scenario in which he could not only get her into the bar, but get her awake enough to flirt with strangers. If, that is, he could find strangers that would meet her unknown criteria. All that he was ever able to wrestle out of her during their dirty talk was that she got turned on by the idea of men with "strong abs and large cocks."
These were, of course, the two things that were least easily discerned from across the room when first walking into a bar (at least the kinds of bars that they visited).
And then, the real puzzler - how to get those strangers both aware of, and interested in, his debauched plans? It seemed an insufferably rough journey.
But that was his plight, and he would not abandon the quest tonight.
And so he leaned over and gently whispered in her ear, "We're heeeeee-ere! It's time for a drinky." At which point, he was shocked to see, she opened her eyes with a smile.
"Thank God. I thought that you were driving me out into some field to kill me, that took so long to drive up here."
"I thought we would try a new scene. Some place we haven't been, where we don't know anyone. I thought you'd like to try something new," he said as he leaned over and opened her door. He promptly popped out of his side of the car, bounced over to her side and extended an elbow.
