We had been talking about it for a while. Not seriously of course, just like "dirty talk," while we laid in bed. It was a sort of foreplay. He would stroke my body and I would purr for a while and then start to talk about it.
My fantasy had always been two men. For years that was my go-to dirty talk get worked up and ready for sex spiel. I guess it got old or something because I started to notice he didn't react the same way to it. It was like he got pissed. He didn't say anything. He wouldn't stop petting me. He just didn't pet me the same way. He would stop paying attention and just pet the same couple of inches over and over.
That was when I changed it up. It helped that we had a dirty movie on. I had never really thought about being with a woman other than to say, a few years ago when the song was popular, that I wasn't going to kiss a girl and if I did, I wasn't going to like it. The woman on the screen was being made love to by both a man and a woman and I guess that was what made it acceptable. She was sucking a cock as a hotter than shit brunette went down on her. I watched, described what was happening, and put myself into it, "Oh, I have his cock so deep in my throat with her tongue on my clitty!" I purred. He stopped petting me and moved down between my legs and pressed his tongue to me.
"Go slow," I told him softly. I stopped talking and just let my head roll the idea around for a while. It wasn't my husband licking my clitty, it was a woman.
I had opened Pandora's box.
It became all I could think about.
It brought a whole new dimension to my trips to the gym. I found myself fantasizing about the Zumba Instructor and her long skinny legs. I found myself wondering about the stout little blonde that did the weight machines on Mondays and Wednesdays. I even thought about the older woman who dressed up to work out going so far as to wear makeup to the gym. She was probably close to sixty. I imagined she would know what she was doing.
I didn't think Mike had noticed. I was wrong of course. He notices everything. I am far from a neglected wife. He watches me, he listens to me, he notices.
We were just at a Chilis. It was stupid. It was a Sunday evening and we were waiting for our son to get done at youth group. We slipped in to have a beer and an appetizer. It turned into two.
"Yours are better," he said suddenly out of nowhere. I had to look up at him. He was smiling at me gently.
"That's nice of you,"I told him, "But no, they aren't."
"Sure they are. Hers are all push up bra and low cut top. Your's would look that good without any help.
"Would?" I asked him. "Why don't they."
"I'm sure they do, and an hour from now I plan to spend a good long time admiring them. They are just kind of hidden in that sweater.
The next day I dressed the same way I always did and as I passed the mirror, I heard his voice from the night before and thought about it. I went back into my closet and found a top with a plunging neckline. I went to my dresser and found a bra that added a cup size rather than strapped the girls down. I looked at myself in the mirror. Not bad for an old broad.
Over the course of the week, I sorted through all my clothes. I boxed up the oversized sweaters and moved the tighter clothes to the front.
Mike appreciated the change. He was a whole other level of affectionate. That Thursday he caught me fresh out of the shower and drug me to lunch. It was fun. We had a couple of beers and were whispering quietly about the naughty things we could get up to before our song got home from school that evening.
And then he busted me again.
The bartender's name is Maggie. She is a short little thing with red curly hair. She has an immense chest and no ass.
She delivered each of us a third beer. It was way more than I ever drink in the afternoon.
"What are you thinking about?" he asked me.
"Nothing."
"Liar." He smiled at me in that way he does. "You are thinking about her perfect breasts.
"Mmm," I replied.
"Are you thinking about sucking them?" he was whispering. I couldn't take my eyes off of her. I stared at her neck.
"Nuh-huh," I mumbled.
"Tell me."
"Pinching," I whispered back.
"Yeah?"
I felt my excitement between my legs.
"I want to kiss her neck."
"It is a nice neck."
"And pull her hair," I whispered.
"She has great hair."
"While she cums."
"Are you going to make her cum?"
"Mmmm," I couldn't speak.
"Are you going to finger her?"
"Mmmm!" I was nearly growling.
"Or are you going to eat her sweet little pussy?"
"Mmmmm!"
I hated myself for wondering if it was shaved. I wondered if it was shaved bald like mine, or if she kept a little bush, just because it was ginger.
"I'd need to be stoned?"
"Just to relax you. You are such a good little fuck toy when you are stoned."
"Mmmmm." I gripped his thigh.
"Maggie?" he said suddenly, his voice was back to full volume. "It's Maggie, right?"
"Uh yeah," she replied. "You need another one?"
"We just have a quick question," he said. She wandered down and stood in front of us. I tried not to stare but I couldn't help it. Her flesh was pale and lightly freckled. I imagined her soft belly. I imagined running my cheeks along with her flawless, youthful, hairless skin. "So... this is awkward because we have never asked this sort of thing before..." My heart raced. He couldn't possibly just say it, could he? "But a friend of ours once told us, that if you were in a new city or something, and were looking to score, just some weed is all, that the best person to ask is a bartender."
"Ha!" she laughed at him. She wasn't mean about it, just amused. "No, all we serve is booze."
"No - no," he said. I didn't mean that you might sell it, I think she just meant that bartenders knew who did sell it. Like a busboy or someone."
"Oh," she said. Fuck she had the thinnest little pink lips. "Well yeah. There is a kid at the Italian place next door. That's where I get mine."
"See? Bartenders know all." My husband replied. He pulled out his wallet, produced a twenty, and pushed it across the bar to her."
"Okay," she said. She poured him another beer and handed it to him and then slipped through a door and was gone.
"I can't believe you did that!" I said.
"We still have time before Benji gets home."
"Will you lick me?" I whispered to him.
"Yes,"
"All night?"
"As long as you want... and then a little while longer."
"Mmmmm!"
We were sitting and drinking silently when the little redhead reappeared. She looked left and right, at three thirty in the afternoon we were the only ones there. She produced two little baggies. "These two are just normal," she said. "Indica I think. This one though, it's like a blend. He calls them 'fuck sticks'," she explained.
"Well, thank you. I didn't mean for you to go buy it." Mike said.
"What was the twenty for?"
"Just a tip, like, for the information.
"Oh!" she said, giggling a little.
She left us alone for a while and we drank in silence.
"What are you thinking about?" I asked him when it was too quiet for too long.
