My one time with a married woman [Part 1 – ff]

*(This story is from a couple of years ago, again some of the details may be a bit off. Apologies. And it’s long, so here’s part 1. Part 2 is on its way. I promise.) *

Spring was finally here. It was a dreary winter that dragged on and on and on but it was finally over. It was probably the first chance we had that spring to actually go out. Plus it was a Friday, so it was a perfect chance to unwind. We ended up going to a pretty shady bar that at least had an outdoor area right by the river for some fresh air, which was awesome. The biggest selling point of the place was that it had cheap beer. But I don’t drink really like drinking beer, so that was no help to me. I had a couple of overly watery margaritas, so at least I stayed hydrated, if not a little more sober than I had planned to be.

I was out with a couple of friends from work, but I honestly didn’t pay too much attention to them, because pretty soon after I had gotten there I noticed a woman that I knew from somewhere but I couldn’t figure out exactly where. She must have noticed I was looking at her because she was returning my stares without questioning a thing. She was short. Shorter than I am, which is saying something. Probably 4’10” on a good day. That said, and don’t take this the wrong way, but she wasn’t exactly small. Curvy all over, in a very good way. She had a white tee shirt on and a short blue jean skirt. She was very very pale skinned, freckles scattered across her face, with long straight blonde hair and blue eyes. She was drinking beer like it was water, and, I know I hadn’t been there long, but she seemed to somehow finish off a six pack all on her own. She seemed to be there with a couple of friends too, but I didn’t pay them any more mind than I did my own friends.

After probably an hour or so, I wandered by the bar on my way to the bathroom or something and made sure to slow down and give her a lingering smile at her as I passed by. I racked my brain to figure out where I had met her before. As I walked back the other way, I again paused to make eye contact with her. As I did, she reached out and put her hand on my shoulder. “How are you managing here if they don’t have a spicy margarita?” she asked. And it clicked. She was Amy. She usually worked the bar at what had been my usual Friday-night haunt. But out of the usual black top and with her hair down instead of all tucked away, I barely recognized her. I apologized. Over and over. So embarrassed.

She pulled me away into a darker corner booth and we just sat and talked for a while. Now when I had been to her bar, and been there on my own, she had always been kinda flirty. I always just chalked that up to her service style, trying to get tips and all that, but suddenly there was a part of me that started to wonder about her. We made small talk, all the while my mind wandering around and wondering whether she had picked up on my … shall I say my taste for women? It seemed that she had, as she managed to position herself close to me initially and she didn’t really pull away when I leaned in much more closely than I honestly needed to. I caught myself mindlessly nudging my knee back and forth against her thigh and she had the smoothest softest skin. If she caught on to what I was doing, she didn’t say anything.

And she amped up her flirty side again. Even though she wasn’t on the job, so it might have been genuine after all. She had way too much make-up on, though I’ve been guilty of that once or twice myself. That night, I wasn’t dressed up fancy or anything at all. A couple of layers worth of tops, pants that I’d had for a while and no longer had any business wearing in public. Now that I think of it, this is the third story I’ve shared on here where I wasn’t too dressed up. I swear I clean up nicely. I just prefer being more myself. But this wasn’t a night when I had any ulterior motives or plans or desires, it was just a night out with friends, but talking with Amy, she made me feel at ease, and definitely was playing into my wild side.

We talked about dates–about the girls I’d brought to her bar and whether anything had happened with them. I’m not usually one to gossip but she just made me feel so comfortable so I gladly told her about how a couple of my nights had ended up after leaving her bar. About adventures with vibrators and fingers and tongues and hidden piercings (my nipple studs). She was married to some guy, she explained, but she definitely seemed eager to hear all about me and my temporary girlfriends. At some point the beer clearly entered her system and she just dropped all pretense and leaned in and whispered kinda loudly in my ear “I just haven’t had a good fuck in a while.” I didn’t know what to say. Again. Dumbfounded.

Right around then, one of her friends came by and explained that she was leaving. I politely said goodbye, and wondered if my own friends had any idea where I had disappeared to. Not that I cared. But almost on cue, Erin (one of my co-workers) said they were leaving to go to another bar and asked if I was coming. Without a though, I turned to Amy and asked “want to come?” “Can you give me a ride?” I almost died and nodded, and almost left without paying my tab.

As soon as we got to my car, she locked the door, even before I started the car, which I found odd at first. I opened my mouth to say … something, but before I could say anything, she blurted out “I’ve got to show you this.” I had no idea what in the world it could be. I half expected her to pull some pills or a needle out of her bag but I didn’t know what to say or how to react. Somehow that moment just hung in the air for abnormally long. Until she grabbed her skirt and hiked it up high enough so I could clearly see the outline of her pussy through her slightly seethru pink bikini cut panties. I didn’t do anything to hide the fact that I was staring down at what she was so gladly showing off. “You’re not the only one with a hidden piercing” she said as she tugged her panties down and still somehow managed to spread her legs wide enough to let her clit hood ring shine despite being crammed in the passenger seat. Short legs must have helped. I, the total world champion of smooth reactions, decided to ask “so do you want to go to (the other bar) or not?” Dumb. Dumb Maya.

Fucking dumb. Luckily, Amy was a little smarter about it all. “As long as I don’t need to bring these,” she said, slipping her panties to the floor and leaving them there. As I started to drive, she kept her skirt hiked up and I kept sneaking glimpses over at her crotch. It wasn’t a long drive, and I hadn’t had much to drink at all, so I was able to concentrate on the road and on her pussy. At first, at least. Then she reached over and slid her hand up under my top. And unfastened my bra. And started to tug at my nipple stud. Oh fuck. I could barely keep my eyes open let alone on the road. For a married woman, she certainly knew how to tease a girl. I mean I’ve made myself cum while waiting in traffic before but never driving down the road at full speed. Her other hand was between her legs, and she was just as lost in bliss. And then something terrible happened.

We arrived at the bar.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/4aq27v/my_one_time_with_a_married_woman_part_1_ff