Just a little foreword before you take the time to read this mainly fictional tale it's a cuckold story. At the very least, a stag and vixen narrative, as there's no humiliation, though it does feature a wife enjoying some... extracurricular activities in the bedroom without her husband being present. If that offends you, well, you probably shouldn't bother reading any further.
For those who do continue, happy to hear any criticism from those who have shared a story. Always happy to refine.
The Anklet
Nix had been looking forward to our Date-night for weeks. She'd planned it all, drop off the kids at there friends straight after school for a sleepover, meet me for cocktails and sushi, with the intention of enjoying a rare evening with no responsibilities, no interruptions. Just the two of us.
She'd treated herself to a little shopping and make over spree beforehand, she returned home with her hair done, gel nails, a whole new outfit, earrings and a delicate silver anklet.
What do you think giving me a twirl, stunning I replied. wait till you see me in my new dress too. I look hot. is that right a hot wife? I said wondering if she had the slightest clue what it meant.
Standing on one leg and bending the other back to her bum. Her fingers ran a
over the fine chain around her ankle. "Do you like my new accessory? When I saw it, I had to try it on. It feels... sexy."
I noticed the change in her tone, the way she seemed almost self-conscious about admitting it.
"The sales assistant was very attentive," she continued. " in fact Bit of a charmer, I suppose that's his job. But then there was this other guy a complete stranger who started flirting with me out of nowhere while I was getting coffee."
I just smiled, amused. "Did he mention the anklet?"
She looked at me, surprised. "Yeah, actually... how did you know that?
He complemented me on the Anklet thats how we started talking."
I grinned. "You really have no idea, do you?"
Nix frowned, the wheels turning in her head.
It's flattering," she said after a moment. You're just jealous. I'm 35, and men still find me attractive."
I chuckled, shaking my head. "Oh, I don't doubt that for a second.
We had planned to meet at 5 p.m. at the close of the workday. But, as always, work had other ideas.
I had to call her to say I'd be late just as she was ordering her first drink.
Nix sat alone at the bar, sipping a cocktail, waiting for me.
Nix told herself that she she would leave after finishing her drink. What was the point in staying anyway if I wasn't there? She could go home, ditch the heels, slip into comfy pyjamas, and watch some rubbish TV. She'd given me a real hard time about it late.
Brooding, Nix thought, What am I even doing out on my own we should've just met at home. It was his idea to meet at this bar, to pretend they were strangers role-playing a first date or some cheeky pickup line. And now he was late.
Instead, because of him a married mother of two, was sitting alone in a bar, drinking by herself, while the office boys stared at her. His plan sucked. Distracted by the idea A little voice in her head chimed in, Surely not they're not looking at me.
She took another sip, swearing to herself they weren't and it was in her head. But she wasn't naive. The dress she'd bought specially for the night hugged her in all the right places, the neckline plunging just enough to turn heads, the hem sitting higher than usual.
she wasn't wearing a bra she couldn't, not with this outfit. The cups and straps would have shown.
There eas one very handsome fella sat at the other end of the bar, swirling the last of his beer in his bottle, his attention flicking between his drink, his colleague, and... her.
The occasional eye contact made her wonder.
Did he know she thought he was handsome?
Did he know her date was late?
Did he know she was married?
Plenty of things crossed her mind as she sat there, sipping her cocktail.
Nix's new dress was tight, shimmering under the bar's soft lighting. Her outfit was finished off with heels and the pearl necklace I had bought her last Christmas. Her stockings were black, slightly hatched mesh in style, and her lace garters were thick and obvious.
Being brave on her supposed date night with me, she had taken the risk of leaving her knickers at home.
Again, she thought Did he know
Did he know she was planning on getting laid by her husband? No, he didn't, she told herself again.but she did!
She knew there was nothing more exciting than getting fucked with stockings and her heels still on.
She loved looking at them either side of my body as she held her legs in the air, dangling out of control. It had been a long time since that had happened, but she planned for it to happen tonight.
She wondered if he could tell she wasn't wearing anything under the dress? no bra, no knickers. Of course he didn't but she did and she liked it.
She laughed to herself. The absurdity of it all. A married man eyeing up a married woman, alone at a bar on a Friday night.
Despite his lingering glances, he didn't move. Maybe it was her wedding ring keeping him at bay.
Then another thought.
Hotel bars were designed for romantic liaisons. They were neutral ground, discreet. A place where businessmen, new couples, old flames, and strangers could meet without judgment. No one would even notice if she left with another man. If they did, who's to say it wasn't her husband?
Daydreaming, she glanced back.
He was gone. Subconsciously, she scanned the bar. Her pulse quickened as he walked towards her.
Then he walked right past, greeting a Friend at the far end of the bar with a giant bear hug before striking up a conversation.
She exhaled, shaking her head. Get a grip, Nix. Sinking the last of her drink, Nix turned to leave only for the bartender to slide another cocktail in front of her.
"Compliments of the gentleman."
Her stomach flipped.
Which gentleman?
Her husband?
Or... her gentleman?
Feeling her pulse quicken and her temperature rise, she hopped down from the bar stool and made her way to the ladies.
In front of the mirror, she fiddled with her necklace and adjusted her garter belts, letting one of the thick straps snap back against her skin. She winced, her eyes dilating.
Are you a little tipsy? she asked herself. Or has no bra, no knickers, and no husband got to you?
Flattening her dress, she tugged the hem down it had ridden up slightly, probably attracting his attention in the first place.
"You're being silly," she muttered to herself in the reflection. Obviously
The "handsome man." Is your husband.
When you go back to your seat, he'll be sitting there, smirking.
And if not, he'd better get here quick.
Returning to her stool, Nix glanced around the bar still no sign of her husband. She hopped up, glancing over her left shoulder, where she'd been daydreaming, watching her handsome eye candy.
As she turned, she heard a deep voice behind her:
"So, I have to ask what exactly is a beautiful lady like you doing alone in a bar full of drunken office workers?"
She turned back just as he took the stool beside her, signalling to the bartender for another round.
"Well, I was waiting for my husband," she admitted, "but it seems he had a better offer to stay late at work."
His lips curled into a grin. "Perhaps I could be his stand-in, so I can do my part well. What was the plan? A few drinks, dinner, stumble home, have some messy, drunken sex?"
