My wife might just be the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Long black hair, big blue eyes and a smile that can light up an entire room. I watch as she strides, hips swaying, across the crowded bar. Although she is wearing flat, practical pumps she struts like a runaway model in heels. She’s holding hands with a man, leading him through the crowd. At a guess I would say he was early to mid twenties with sandy hair; attractive enough to have been with his fair share of women. Still he looks like he can’t believe his luck to have attracted the attention of someone so knockout beautiful as Cynthia. I watch his hungry eyes watching her cheeks swing back and forth under skin tight jeans, and I know how badly he wants her.
They sit down in the booth tucked away to one corner. It’s across the room from me and directly in my eyeline. Cynthia slides in first, eagerly followed by the young man. He wastes no time wrapping his arm round her shoulder and whispers something in her ear. Resting her hand on his biceps Cynthia laughs, throwing her head back and exposing her long, slender neck. She looks so free and uninhibited. Over the pulsing music and the jumble chatter of the bar, I almost imagine that I can hear laugh making its way over to me.
They toast their glasses together, golden brown liquid sloshing around inside. As they both take a taste of their drinks, I have a sip of my orange juice. Cynthia is free to drink as much as she likes, but I’m the designated driver, and besides I’d rather keep a clear head. My wife can look after herself, but I promised to love, cherish and protect her always, and I am after all a man of my word.
Placing her drink back on the table, Cynthia’s hand disappears under the table. She looks up for the first time and smiles with a wink in my my direction as the man’s eyes widen in surprise, before looking back down under the table. They’re too obscured for me to see what is going on, but I can only imagine Cynthia’s long elegant fingers rubbing up against the inside of his inner thigh, perhaps gently brushing against his crotch. She likes to tease.
The man leans in and whispers something else in her ear, his eyes glancing nervously around the room. But he doesn’t see me sitting here by myself, watching. Cynthia grins, and placing a kiss on his stubbly cheek she nestles in closer to him. Taking the hint, his arm drops from around her shoulder and down under the table.
I watch in awe, my excitement growing, as Cynthia arches back, a moan escaping her lips. With a reaction like that must mean that he’s gone straight under her jeans, I know that she hasn’t got an underwear on underneath, his fingers rubbing against her swollen clit. She looks up her eyes locking on mine as she squirms in her seat, biting down on her lower lip. She’s clearly enjoying the feel of his fingers brushing up against her sex, and she’s hungry for him, desperate. My only question is is he being gentle with her, taking his time, softly teasing her,? Or is he rough and firm, pressing his finger hard and eager against her beautiful lips? Either way it doesn’t matter as long as my wife enjoys it. I hope he makes her cum for him, and then she can tell me all about it.
The man then leans in kissing her with increasing passion on the nape of her neck. I’m not sure if he’s saying something to her, but she looks so radiate, her blue eyes wide and her cheeks flushed, as she basks in his attention. She looks at me questioningly and I give her my nod of approval. This is a new development in out relationship, and I don’t think she quite believes me when I tell her that I get off to the thought of other men appreciating and worshipping her body, and giving her the satisfaction she deserves. But tonight should prove it.
It’s all the encouragement she needs as she turns and kisses her new lover hard on the lips. At first he seems caught off by the sudden passion, more so than he had been by her hand under the table. After all Cynthia’s lips might be the most intoxicating thing known to man. If things go to plan, perhaps he’ll get to experience how they feel wrapped his cock. He kisses her back, but not for long before Cynthia pulls back, and leaning forwards in a way so that I can read her lips whispers to him, follow me.
They both gulp back their drinks as they abandon the moderate privacy of the booth. Cynthia takes him by the hand and leads him back across the bar. I can’t help noticing where the top button of Cynthia’s jeans have come undone, or the conspicuous bulge in the man’s jeans. I watch as they disappear together through the doors marked toilets, and as much as I want to follow I remain sitting alone at my table.
Cynthia’s leather jacket is draped across my lap, hiding my growing erection; not that anyone is paying any attention to me. I reach down and rub my hand across my crotch. I’m not about to pleasure myself here in the middle of the bar, I just want to savour the feeling as I think about my wife in the toilet stall with a perfect stranger. How far will they go? I told Cynthia is nothing off limits for her, but I don’t think she’ll fuck him. Not tonight anyway. That will likely be something we’ll need to work up to. I take another sip of my orange juice, it tastes so deliciously bitter sweet.
After a while Cynthia finally walks back out of the bathroom with the man in tow. He has a huge grin on his face, his arm wrapped round her slender waist. She’s slightly more reserved, her eyes scanning the bar until she spots me. Then she smiles, and I know for certain that she enjoyed her time locked away.
The man leans and says something to her. She turns and smiles while shaking her head at him. He says something else, a pleading look on his flushed face. Cynthia must have done a real number on him. But she shakes her head again. Giving him one last parting kiss on the cheek she squeezes his hand before releasing herself from his hold and making her way towards the exit.
Although she doesn’t look back, I watch him watch her go. Once Cynthia is out through the doors he takes a deep sigh and returns back to the bar. Picking up her jacket, I take my leave and follow her out.
“Lance,” Cynthia calls out my name as I step out onto the street.
Before I have a chance to respond, she wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me deeply. She tastes like spunk and expensive whiskey, and I can smell the musky scent another man’s cologne in her ruffled hair. Kissing her back, I savour the rich, peaty, salty taste of her, my hands running across her bare arms. Her flushed skin is beginning to goosepimple.
“Here,” I say, wrapping her jacket round her shoulders.
“You’re always taking care of me.” As she pulls the collar up round her neck, I notice the dark stains splattered against her cream coloured camisole.
“Successful night then?” I ask, fingering the neckline of her top. I can see right down, and her pinkish red nipples stand fully erect. Perhaps from the cold, or perhaps from arousal.
Cynthia looks down at the pavement covered in cigarette butts and nods. I can see her blushing in the warm glow of the neon bar sign. As strong and sexy as my wife is, sometimes she can be utterly adorable.
“Good,” I tell her. Placing my hand on the small of her back I usher along down the street. “I want you to enjoy yourself. That’s the whole point.”
“I know,” she sighs, resting her head on my shoulder. “It’s all just so new.” I rub her back, encouraging her talk to me. I had planned to wait till we were home, but if she wants to talk now she can. “His name is Avery. I told him I have husband, but you don’t mind. He said he wants to see me again.”
“Do you want to see him again?” I ask trying to keep the excitement from my voice.
“I don’t know. Maybe.” I feel her shrug against me, but I know that tone. She wants to see him again, just as much as I want her to.
“Then I think you should,” I decide, kissing her on top of her head.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/12ywyte/h_is_for_hotwife