I can feel your eyes, on me, from across the patio of the bar. Your gaze, stonefaced and unwavering despite the flurry of waitresses, the giggling of groups of girls that pass by, and the drunken guffawing of men at each others' outlandish stories. You're watching me as I sit in his lap, arm thrown around his neck, his hands wandering across and around my body as I pretend to laugh along with the story being told to my group. In one final burst of laughter the story ends. Someone shouts "another round at the bar!" and suddenly it's just me and him left at the table, alone. He grabs my face and kisses me hard, pulling me in close to his body. Just before my eyes close in ecstasy I see you moving towards us, ready to approach.
"Hey buddy, are you trying to fuck my wife?" I feel him pull away, his eyes wide with panic, searching for his friends.
"I-I-didn't know, I'm so sorry," he stammers. You smirk, I know how much you love this part, watching them squirm in fear.
"You wanna fuck my wife?" Your deep voice booms again, but softer this time. "There's only two rules. First, I watch everything, and second, no matter what, you have to make her cum."
He looks first at your face, a hint of a smile in your eyes. Then he looks at me, I'm beaming. "If this is for real," he ventures, "I'm in."
"Follow me," you say. We stand up and he grabs my hand, pulling me along behind him as you part the crowds on our way to the hotel lobby.
The elevator is ours. You stand casual, easy leaning against the elevator's back wall. We are tight and uneasy, backs pressed against the opposite walls we stand against. Something about the jarring lobby lights and the stillness of this elevator has brought an uneasy tension. "Kiss," you command, gesturing between us. I cross the elevator awkwardly, clumsy even but the moment my lips touch his, the desire and anticipation return. I press myself against him as his tongue thrusts into my mouth. He slides his hands down my body, over the curve of my breasts and around until his hands rest tightly squeezing my bum. You can see how excited I am, flushed and breathing heavily, eagerly pulling him into me, his breath on my neck as he kisses along my taut skin. I lock eyes with you over his shoulder as the elevator dings. "821," you say as you follow us out. We walk down the hall, anticipation thick as a knife, your eyes on his hand as it rests on my bottom, jostling gently as we walk down the hall. You, I know, are ready for the show.
You slide the key card and the door clicks open. "Ladies first," you say. I grab him by the hand and eagerly pull him after me. I head down the little hall, past the bathroom. He says something about it being a nice room and I turn back to smile at him. Instead, I catch your gaze. I love the way you look at me; hungrily, proudly. I turn back to keep moving forward but your voice stops me in my tracks.
"Now, now," you admonish me. "Is that any way to greet a guest?" I push him to the wall and drop to my knees. I grab him by the belt, unbuckling both it and his pants. I ease them over his butt and let his heavy jeans fall to the floor. I'm greeted by tight boxer briefs. I trace the bulge of his cock with my fingertips and look up at you. You nod and I pull the front of his underwear down until his cock springs free. "Thick," you say. "You're going to enjoy that."