This story involves a wife's infidelity. Without any repercussions. If you do not like these types of stories ... please move on to something you do like. However if such stories are something you can or do appreciate - realizing they are mere fiction and fantasy - please enjoy.
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It was late into the night when she noticed her girlfriends had disappeared, leaving her at the bar without back-up. Thinking about it over the following days she'd realize she should've expected it. After all, the two single girls often regaled her with stories about random hook-ups, while the married one had recently started up an affair with a co-worker. So why had she agreed to join them for a night out? Why this particular trio and not some other group of friends? That question would haunt her emotional struggles over the coming days.
Her and Tom were going through a rough patch and she'd decided to get out for a night, have a little fun and blow off some steam. So she hooked up with the three girlfriends. And if Tom hadn't been over at his buddy's drinking, he might have taken issue with her outfit. But he was, so he didn't, so she wore what she wanted.
The blue dress clung to the curves of her large C-cup breasts and taut little ass; its low, scoop front displaying ample cleavage and its mid-thigh hem showing plenty of leg. Underneath the dress she wore a pair of lacy, light-blue panties, but her breasts were firm and the dress' material thick, so she didn't wear a bra. For stability's sake she wore a pair of low heels that added very little to her demure height but allowed her to feel confident in her ability to walk after a few drinks. Her bleach-blond hair was cut in a shag and she went mostly make-up free on her fresh, mid-western features, using only a hint of eyeshadow to accentuate her bright eyes and a soft lipstick on her delicate lips.
They'd barely arrived at the bar when men started buying her drinks and asking her to dance. Enjoying the attention, she accepted several of their offers with absolutely no intentions of doing anything inappropriate, no matter how mad she was at Tom.
By the time she realized her friends were gone, there were three men paying her particular attention; taking turns dancing with her and making thinly veiled comments. They were buddies of one another with Frank being the best looking, Bill the best dancer, and Ken the sweetest. During the slow songs they would take the opportunity to hold her close, pressing their bodies against hers. They were all taller than her and she'd lay her head against their chests as the heat of their hands radiated through her dress to simmer against the flesh of her hips, or lower back . . . or her ass during more daring moments. Even though she had no intentions of misbehaving, she did feel certain stirrings being awoken deep inside her and she unconsciously pressed herself back against the men.
With the realization that her friends had abandoned her, she thought it was probably time to make her own exit. She didn't really want to, but knew it was probably for the best . . . considering.
"I guess I should call a cab," she told the men.
"Oh, not yet," Ken pouted playfully. "Stay for just a couple more dances."
"Yea, just a couple more," Frank pressed.
She thought about it for a minute. Now that she was alone, she knew she should leave. It was the proper thing to do. But she was still having fun. And besides, for all she knew her friends had disappeared nearly an hour earlier, so what difference would a few more dances make.
"Yea, I suppose so," she smiled, taking a sip of her drink.
"Great," Ken smiled, then led her onto the dancefloor where the up-tempo of a fast song kept him from pulling her close, although he found plenty of opportunities to touch her hip.
Afterwards Bill allowed her to finish her drink before leading her back out for another fast number. Leaving the dancefloor after that song she realized she was feeling a little fuzzy, her mind drifting into a murky haze. She didn't think she'd drank that much and tried counting how many she had consumed. A fresh drink waited at the table for her, adding to the number. Without thinking she thanked the men for getting it for her and lifted it to her lips, sipping at the cool, refreshing liquid.
Then Frank took her hand and led her to the dancefloor once more. As a slow number started playing he pulled her to him, one hand pressing on her lower back. Draping her arms around his shoulders she laid her head on his chest. Swaying to the music she absently allowed him to slip his thigh between her legs while pressing an obvious bulge against her abdomen.
"Ya know, ya don't have to take a cab," he leaned down to whisper in her ear. "We could give ya a ride home."
"Hmm, that's sweet," she smiled. "But I don't think strange men bringing me home would go over too well with my husband."
"Who says he'd even know? From what you said, he's probably passed out drunk right now. He'd never even see how ya got home."
"Hmm, true," she agreed. "Still, I don't think it'd be a good idea."
The song ended. As she and Frank were leaving the dancefloor another slow number started and Bill appeared, taking her hand to lead her back out. As they pressed their bodies together she was aware of Bill's own bulge pressing against her and she sighed, a warmth flowing through her, making her flesh simmer beneath the clingy dress as her mind drifted back into the murky haze. Somewhere in that haze she recognized that Bill's thigh had worked its way between her legs and that his hand had slid down to cup her ass, applying pressure to push her against his thigh. She thought about how she should stop it, that she shouldn't be allowing such advances.
But she didn't . . . she couldn't.
His tensing fingers felt nice on her little tush . . . so strong and domineering. So she remained with her arms over his shoulders and her body laying against his, the haze thickening. Once the song ended, she tried to push the haze back as he led her to the table where she sipped at her drink.
"I think it's time we got outta here," Frank announced.
"Yea, um-," she started, his statement making her realize . . . something. But she couldn't quite grasp it through the haze.
"Come on, we'll give you a ride." Frank slid an arm around her waist and started leading her toward the door with Bill and Ken right behind them.
"No, um... Where's my phone?" She found a small break in the fog. "I'll call a cab."
"I got your phone right here," Ken told her. "But ya can't trust the cabs at this hour, they rip ya off."
"Besides, what kind of gentlemen would we be if we let a lady fend for herself?" Frank asked as they stepped outside.
