It had been months since the St Patty's day incident, though it was seared into my brain. I remembered it as vividly as though it was yesterday evening. My wife screaming in ecstasy, how he thrust forward as he pumped his load deep inside her. The sheen of sweat on both their naked bodies, Me standing, stunned, helpless, weak, defeated. My cock, hard. My body tensing in another hands free orgasm.
"You ready?" Claire's voice broke through my daze. I snapped out of it. My heart was still racing, a mixture of dread and pure sexual pleasure.
"..yeah," I answered and took in her outfit, "you looking for another lover or something?"
High heels met thin pantyhose, which joined her tight dress at mid thigh level, accentuating her long legs. The black dress itself was nothing too spectacular, apart from there being very little too it. It wrapped tightly round her body, ending low enough to showcase her hugely sexual bosom. Her nickname was tits-magee, she deserved it. She wasn't a supermodel, curvy was definitely a more apt description but looking like that, she was certainly a knock out. I knew this meant only one thing.
"Why yes," she answered, grinning mischievously. "It's been months since I had decent cock, I'm fucking gagging for it!"
She walked out of the room dismissively, I wasn't meant to have any objections to any of that. I bowed my head and followed her, wearing my coat but grabbing hers. She paused for it the second she stepped out into the cool night, I bought her coat up over her shoulder and wrapped it around her. A satisfied smile was my reward.
"You'll always be the only man I need," she reassured me, "just not always the man I want."
She abruptly walked forward. It was meant as a compliment and that's how I took it buuuuuut I would definitely have liked a different sort of compliment, more favourable toward my physicality. I knew I wouldn't get that and that was just what I'd have to accept. I did.
The trip to the pub - the same neighbourhood, Irish themed pub - was quiet. I could see her anticipation building. When we arrived it was noticeably less Irish than it had been on St Patty's day although it was rowdy and in full Saturday night mode. Flags were draped over the exterior, those of the New Zealand All Blacks and the South African Springboks. Rugby's fiercest rivalry was about to get another chapter, no doubt one as brutal as the last. The atmosphere certainly held that expectation.
We stepped out of our taxi and walked up to the door, the bouncers looked over my wife but ignored me and said nothing to either of us. Inside the air was hot, dark and heavy. A massive screen displaying the teams warming up took centre stage. The voices of the announcers in their build up commentary boomed over every other sound.
We walked up to the bar and I was pretty surprised, nearly shocked to see that almost one half of the room was occupied by a big crowd of Springboks supporters. You almost never saw that many of them in New Zealand. Not only were they present, they were decked out from head to toe in green and gold.
The ladies wore tighter green shirts, an assortment of bottoms from skirts to pants but all had ribbons in their hair, held flags or streamers and many even had painted faces or temporary tattoos declaring support for the team.
It had to be noted that men in the group significantly outnumbered women. While the men were dressed somewhat more conservatively in springboks rugby jerseys and coats, with scarves and appropriately coloured pants, they accounted for the vast, vast majority of noise and excitement.
I looked at Claire, who seemed captivated by the group, almost to the point of seeming to forget her desire.
"Let's stand near to them, so we can laugh when they loose!" she declared as she took off her coat, revealing her tight black dress and All Blacks supporters broach. I took her coat and also took mine off, showing my All Blacks jersey and black pants. I passed our coats to the barman for coat check, he took them then passed me our drinks which I had already paid for.
I followed my wife toward the group and it didn't take long for a group of guys on the periphery to notice her. I saw how the three seemed to drink in her outfit and smile approvingly.
"Stand near to us," one of them said to her, "that way we can laugh when you loose!" the other two joined in on a hearty laugh.
"No way!" Claire said determinedly, "you're going to loose!"
The guy who had spoke looked at me and nodded,
"We'll see about that. This is hubby?" My wife nodded, Guy held out his beer glass toward me, "cheers! To hopefully a great game and the fact that you've got a fuckin sexy wife!" We never actually learned his real name.
Claire and the other two joined in and all glasses clinked. I didn't crack a smile. I could see the future. A mix of sexual excitement and deep dread built in my gut. The funny part was, looking at my wife, I wasn't sure she'd realised it yet. Bizarrely for her, she seemed intent on the screen.
Guy stepped toward me,
"So, do you guys come here often?" He asked in his thick South African accent,
"No," I answered, leaving out that we only came here when my wife wanted cock.
