"Did you know that four out of ten men in committed relationships fantasize about their wife or girlfriend getting fucked by someone else?"
This was my wife talking. Tiffany. Petite, gorgeous dark hair, hazel eyes, and with lips that can curl into a hint of a smile and promise you a world of sin. In the lacy black thing that she had on she looked devastating
"I can believe that," I said looking up from my book. "Men can get turned on thinking about their wife getting down and dirty with another guy. Men are visual and the sight of your wife naked, the throes of an orgasm can be the basis of an erotic fantasy."
"Do you fantasize about me?"
"Constantly," I replied.
"Really? Mr. Carter, you surprise me."
"You know me. I'm the ultimate pervert. No taboo is so sacred that it won't turn me on. I am a student of the Marquis de Sade I'll have you know."
"Humor me. Pretend you're pimping me to some guy at a bar you just met," she said licking her finger tips.
Tiffany lay back on the couch and lifted her dress and slid out of her panties. Shaved pussy on display.. One leg bent on the side, and the other one on the floor. She opened wide for effect. Her lick moistened fingers went in and she gave me a really dirty look.
"Umhh, yeah," she gasped for effect pumping her fingers in and out. "Tell him what you want him to do to me!"
I was hard like Gibraltar. I loosened my collar and let my imagination run.
"She's a slut, man. Take her! She wants to feel your cock in her. Fuck her real good for me. Take your hard cock and ram into that sexy pussy. My wife's soft white breasts ... Oh yeah, they're for you dude. Go for it. Squeeze 'em!"
"You're good!"
She was really getting off on this. Her fingers were masturbating harder now, and her other hand squeezing her alabaster breasts, which were conveniently exposed now. The nipples were hard. Like chestnuts to pop in your mouth.
She now had this crazy "Come fuck me now you son of a gun" look in her eyes.
I abandoned the story and jumped her. I kissed her hard. I squeezed her breasts. She felt dirty and needed to be used like a whore. I entered her with a vengeance. We fucked like crazy teenagers, falling off the couch and rolling on the carpet.
"You'll let me ... fuck ... You'll let me be fucked by a man. Just like that!"
"Yeah, you bitch. I'd pimp you for a beer!"
The thought of my haute couture loving, first class flying, businesswoman wife being pimped for a beer turned us both on.
She screamed as the climax hit her digging her nails into my back. I let myself come. We kissed soft, wet kisses. I noticed her eyes were moist with emotion. I kissed her teary eyes. She averted my gaze and relished the afterglow of her climax silently, hugging me tight.
I kissed her fingers next, still sticky and smelling like her pussy. I took a whiff and drew them to her nose. Her gaze now met mine as the smell took her back to her naughty thoughts.
"What kind of man are you who would take me to a bar and get me fucked by another guy?"
"A horny dude. And a very lucky man."
I really meant it. I knew Tiffany would never leave me, and she had a dirty mind. It's not easy to find both in the same woman.
Many days passed before we enacted our fantasy.
It was a foggy evening that developed into a foggy night. There was a light drizzle. We drove two hours on the highway, with no apparent destination in mind, except for a deep longing for sex. Strange that we cannot satisfy this longing ourselves I thought. We need a man to make it happen. Except it needed to be far from home where nobody knew us.
We had rehearsed the plot and worked out the many twists and turns it could take. It was crazy and we knew it.
Suddenly, she said, "This town. Yes, take this exit."
Some small towns have a hotel with a bar attached, and some don't. It was a gamble. We drove around for a bit crawling through the night peering through the wet glass. She spotted it first. A motel called the "Sleep Inn" next to a pub called "Prince Edward."
Tiffany took a bag from the trunk and walked to the motel to check in. I parked and went into the bar. It was a jolly, English pub with a local crowd that was beginning to pick up. We picked a week night because we didn't want it to be too crowded. We needed just enough men to notice her but not too many for it to get out of control. Five guys playing pool. Three guys at the bar who seemed like regulars, and one guy sitting alone. A few couples eating at the tables on the side. Perfect, I thought.
I sat near the guy at the bar. He was about thirty five and good looking in a rough, suntanned kind of way. Tanned, with big muscles and tall. Quite my antithesis I thought. I almost felt inadequate as I regarded his physique. I smiled at him and reached over to grab a menu letting him see my ring. Didn't want him thinking I was gay.
I ordered a beer and started the small talk. We talked about the game on the TV, sports in general, and the lousy economy. I moved over to avoid having to yell over the TV. His name was Kent. He was out of work. He told me about the lumber yard closing down. I told him about my made up dead end job. I was dressed in an old shirt, faded jeans, and my hair looked rather messy. We developed the camaraderie of a two guys whom life had messed with sharing a beer.
"You married?" he asked
"Yup," I laughed, "unfortunately!" I took my ring out and played with it. "Maybe I should put it away."
"From out of town?"
"Yes, just driving through. I stopped for a beer and bite ... and maybe a babe and blowjob ... before I hit the road."
It was his turn to laugh. "No babes here bud, and get in line! I was here first. Local guys get first dibs."
"Hey, I don't mind being second. I'm a desperate married guy. You enjoy her and then I'll take what's left."
"Settled!" he said, and we knocked our glasses together. We'd established who the alpha male was.
This was my cue. I texted Tiffany a short message, and got back to the conversation.
Tiffany walked in 5 minutes later. She looked gorgeous, but carefully decked not to appear immodest.
She had a raincoat which she hung on a hook. Expensive coat, on a well cut black dress, and a string of pearls. She looked loaded and scanned the room as if trying to see where she should sit.
"Check that out," I whistled. All eyes were upon her as she made her way to the bar.
"She's looking for some action," he said.
Before anyone made a move I smiled and waved to her.
Kent seemed impressed with my boldness. Tiffany walked over slowly.
"Do I know you?" she asked.
"No, but you seemed hesitant. We wanted to make you feel welcome. And Kent here would like to buy you a drink."
"You'd do that for me?" she asked breaking into an impish smile and getting a little close to him.
"I sure would," he said warming up to the pickup. "Please have a seat."
I moved so that she could sit between us.
"I don't know what to say," she said, laughing. "Sure!"
She took off her coat and we got a nice glimpse of her low cut dress with a lacy bra showing. She smiled as she caught us looking.
"Boys, boys," she shook her head in mock anger. And then slowly she leaned towards him bringing her breasts close enough to touch, and whispered loud enough for me to hear, "But maybe if you both are nice to me."
If she wasn't clearly so wealthy you'd think she was a hooker tempting her client. The gold earrings, the pearl necklace, the Louis Vuitton bag, and expensive perfume lent her an air of legitimacy.
Kent got closer to her, and she didn't draw away. "I'm got to treat you real nice babe,"
"Trisha. Trisha's my name, but you can call me babe if like."
He gave her a squeeze, which she evidently enjoyed. Seeing another man touch my wife gave me a twinge. This was my precious Tiffany. What was I doing!
A cocktail was ordered. She said, "Here's to you two. Making a poor girl feel welcome and loved. I feel warm and fuzzy all over." She giggled and thrust her breasts forward as she said that. Even the bartender noticed.
Kent had a lot of questions to ask. Where did she live? How long was she in town for?
She shook her head, "Guys, I'm not here to talk about me. I'm here to have fun. And the next round of fun is on me!"
She looked around and then quietly slid her hand under the table, and then down our thighs. A light touch. She was careful not to be too bold, and barely grazed our cocks. Mine was super erect. Kent nearly fell off his seat.
"So you DO like me! You both like me a lot!" she said slowly drawing back her hand.
She continued to sip her drink, retreating a bit.
"I'm flattered. Really flattered, guys. Two hard ons. Never had that before!" She shook her head and look straight ahead, as if she were confused and embarrassed.
At this point Kent was right next to her pressing his hard cock against her side. His hand was raising her skirt and on her thigh.
"Easy cowboy! Do you want to get us arrested?" She pushed him away.
She looked him directly in the eye. "Do you want to fuck me?"
"You bet." His voice was gruff with emotion.
