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LINKS
HOT LINKS     |
06/08/2009
Hi again. I’m Dan and my wife’s name is Vicky. If you read my story “Supermarket Dare”, you know we like to play games…well, most of the time Vicky plays games and I just watch with a hard on.
I mentioned before that Vicky is 5’4”, about 115 lbs, blonde, and absolutely gorgeous. Naturally, she gets lots of attention from other guys when we go out and she loves it. She teases guys and gets them all worked up. She seems to get herself worked up, too, and then we come home and she fucks me like there’s no tomorrow. Obviously, I never complain.
One of her favorite games when we go out is that she wears a really short skirt or dress, at least 4 inches above her knees. With her legs, that’s pretty hot by itself. But, I’ve got to tell you, the woman doesn’t own but 4 pair of underwear, and they’re all thongs. So, when we go out clubbing, the underwear stays at home. And don’t even think about a bra…I’ve never seen one in her dresser.
So, she puts on a short skirt and a thin top, or a short dress. Other than that, the only thing she has on are her “Hooker Heels”, spiked heels about 4” high. Ever notice how heels stretch out a woman’s leg? Damn that looks good…on anyone…but especially on Vicky.
Sometimes, if we’re going to a nicer club, she’ll wear thigh-high stockings…never pantyhose. She likes that guys can see above the top of her stockings when she sits down in her short skirts. On this night, a cool night two winters ago, she wore her dark thigh-highs. It kept her legs warmer when we were outside and we had never been to this club before, so we didn’t know exactly what to expect.
She also decided to wear a black silky skirt and a red semi-sheer top. She was hoping the club was fairly dark so her top wouldn’t attract too much attention – before she wanted it to, anyhow. So with the red top, black skirt, dark thigh-highs, and red Hooker Heels, she wrapped her red rain coat around her for some warmth and we drove to the city and toward the south end of town to a club called “Kitty’s”.
I parked in the very back row of the parking lot, halfway between two “street lights”. I didn’t know what to expect from this place, but from the way she dressed, I knew Vicky intended to play and I wanted to be sure that when we left we didn’t have too much light but plenty of room for her to work. Remember, I’ve been out with her before.
Oh, I’d tell you what I wore, but by now no one cares – not even me.
We walked up to the door and walked into Kitty’s. It was soon apparent that to call it a club was a bit of an overkill. It was more like an upscale neighborhood bar…a nice bar, but not a nightclub. There were probably two dozen tables scattered around the room and a large L-shaped bar at the far end. There were several open seats at the bar, two of them on either side of the corner of the “L”. We decided to sit there. I sat along the long leg of the “L” while Vicky sat on the short leg. It was pretty dark, with colored lights scattered about the walls and over the open area between the tables. I figured that was a small dance floor where people could get up and dance to the recorded music that was playing rather loudly.
As I was looking around the bar, Vicky removed her rain coat and hung it over the back of her bar stool. The bartender, a young, hot brunette with a name tag that said “Susie” walked up and said, “So, what are you two having tonight?”
I looked at Vicky and she said “Patron margarita on the rocks. Double.”
I would have been happy with Cuervo, but said, “Might as well make it two.”
“Two Patron Silver margaritas, double and on the rocks, coming up,” answered Susie.
While we waited for Susie to do her magic, Vicky leaned over and said, “Nice place, but not too many single guys. There are 4 old codgers sitting on my side of the bar and about 6 couples on your side.”
I looked up and down the bar. She was right, but I told her, “Hey, it’s not even 9 yet. Maybe more guys will come in.” Then I laughed a little, “Or, you could give these old guys the night of their life.”
Vicky stuck her tongue out at me, then said, “Yeah, you mean give them the last night of their life. They’re liable to have a coronary if they get a peek under my skirt.”
I smiled at her, about to give her some smart-ass remark when Susie came back with our drinks. “Two double margaritas, rocks”, she repeated. One of the couples at the end of the bar held up their empty glasses, so she just smiled and practically ran to their end of the bar and started making them two more drinks.
After taking a couple of sips of my margarita, I asked Vicky, “So what are you going to do now?”
She drank about half her drink and then smiled at me. “Think I’ll go to the ladies room”, she said, and winked.
Now I need to give you some background here about Vicky’s movements when she starts to play. If she decides to flash some guy at the bar when she’s going to the bathroom or getting up to dance, she turns in her bar stool to face him, with both feet on an upper rail of the bar stool. Then she steps down and out with one leg, leaving the other on the upper rail. Since her skirt is already over halfway up her thigh, this creates one exciting peek at her naked, shaved pussy. Of course, she never looks down, so the guy thinks that she doesn’t know she’s exposing herself to him. But Vicky never leaves it to chance; she’s practiced this move dozens of times on our bar stools at home, so she knows exactly what he’s getting to see. If she wants to extend his view, she’ll make some excuse not to lower her other foot for a few extra seconds.
Tonight she got the attention of the old guy closest to her by asking him where the restrooms were, telling him it was our first time here. He looked at her, obviously impressed by what he saw, and pointed over his shoulder at the neon sign that glowed the word “Restrooms” in glorious, bright pink letters. Of course, Vicky acted like she was shocked that the sign was so obvious and she didn’t see it. She giggled out a “Thank you” as she stepped off the bar stool with her right leg, leaving her left foot on the upper rail. The old guy’s eyes dropped straight down toward her crotch.
Vicky turned slightly to her left in her chair, looking over her left shoulder at me. Although I couldn’t see, since I was now behind her, I’m sure this little move opened up her legs even farther.
“Honey, I’m going to the restroom. Keep an eye on my purse,” she said, patting the purse she left on the bar in front of her. Then she stood up on both feet and walked towards the ladies room. Normally, after she gets off a bar stool, she casually pushes her skirt down, but not tonight. Tonight the skirt stayed high enough that you could see the bottom part of the wide black bands at the top of her stockings. The old guy’s eyes followed her all the way to the ladies room. I don’t believe he took another breath until she stepped inside the restroom door.
I acted as though I wasn’t aware of a thing. The old guy looked at me and then moved over a seat. When Vicky returned he would now be sitting next to her.
“Hi,” he said, “My name’s John. John Strother.”
“Hi, John,” I replied, “I’m Dan and that was Vicky, my wife.” John looked a little disheartened at the word, “wife”, but only a little. “This is our first time here.”
“That’s what Vicky told me,” he answered, being sure to use her first name. “This is a friendly little place. Good food, good drinks, and a bunch of nice people.”
“That’s great,” I said, “That’s just the kind of place we’ve been looking for.” Okay, I lied. But he was such a nice guy!
About that time we heard the restroom door open, it squeaked, and Vicky started walking towards us.
“Looks like she found it okay,” said John with a smile.
“Yeah, she did,” I said. But I was looking at her skirt. It was now even shorter than when she went into the restroom. Now you could see most of the black bands of her stockings as she walked. It took me a moment to figure it out. She had rolled her skirt. She must have rolled her waistband over to raise the skirt another inch or two. She had also opened a button or two on her blouse so you could see the tops of her breasts. Now I knew she was starting to play, but I didn’t have any idea where she was taking this with poor old John.
Vicky walked up to us and I said, “Vicky, this is John. I get the impression John is something of a regular here.”
Vicky smiled and took his hand. “Hi, John. Well, I’m really glad you knew where the bathroom was. I could have peed myself before I found it. I can’t believe I can be that blind. Just another Blonde Moment.”
We all laughed and John turned towards Vicky’s bar stool slightly to give her room to sit down. And, of course, she did it in a way only Vicky knows how to do. She pushed herself up onto the stool, keeping one leg on the floor. Then she put that upper foot on the upper rail and scooted herself back on the stool. The other foot was still on the floor, giving John the pussy shot of a lifetime. I’m pretty sure he stopped breathing again. Finally, she lifted the other foot off the floor and turned herself around on the bar stool. Of course, she made sure her knees rubbed against John’s thighs as she turned. An artiste at work!
Vicky picked up her margarita and finished what was left of it. When she sat it down, John immediately called the bartender over. “You want another drink, too, Dan?”
Vicky looked at me smiling, but her eyes moved back and forth, our little signal for “No.”
“Tequila isn’t really my poison, John. How about a Coors Light?”
“Okay,” he said to Susie, “A Coors Light for him, and make that two margaritas.”
“Both doubles?” she asked.
“Double them up,” said John, getting more enthusiastic about his new-found friends. Well, about one of them, anyhow.
Susie brought us our drinks and John started to tell us about himself. Without dragging this story out to give you the details, the main points were that John was 71, a retired corporate lawyer (“Didn’t ever step inside a courtroom,” he told us.) and his wife had died about 10 years ago. He lived alone in a small house a few blocks from Kitty’s.
Now, while he was telling us his life story in detail, Vicky was sucking town her margaritas and John was keeping up with her. I didn’t even try to keep count. I just played around with my beer, drinking two or three the whole night long.
After hearing his story, Vicky excused herself for the restroom, again. She went through the whole procedure of stepping down with one leg to give John a perfect view of her pussy. To stretch out the view this time, she turned and asked me to get her another margarita while she was gone. Of course, John jumped in and said he was buying tonight, but it gave him an additional 10 to 15 seconds to look at her pussy.
While Vicky was in the restroom this time, it was pretty obvious that old John was feeling his tequila. He went on and on about what a wonderful woman Vicky was. I agreed with everything he said. First, because it was all true, and secondly, because I wanted to let him know that I was not put off by all the attention he was giving my wife. It must have worked, because at one point he said that she was “the sexiest woman I have ever met.” I smiled and told him that he obviously knew his women.
The restroom door squeaked and Vicky walked towards us, a little less sure on her feet than after the first trip to the restroom. I looked at her skirt again. It was even higher. In fact, it barely covered her ass. Then I realized I didn’t see the black bands of her stockings. She must have rolled her skirt up again and realized that all of the stocking showed as she walked, so she took them off. I don’t know if she threw them in the trash or buried them in the purse she had taken with her this time. It looked like she opened another two buttons on her blouse, so you could actually see between her breasts and almost to her nipples. She had even redone her makeup. She was HOT!
She went through her standard procedure for getting back onto her bar stool. Only this time, when she slid back on her seat, I could see that she was sitting bare-assed on the bar stool. And, after she got on the stool, she didn’t turn around towards the bar, but stayed facing John. He gave her the margarita he had ordered while she was gone and they toasted to something. I noticed she now had her right foot on the bottom rail of John’s bar stool and her left on the top rail of hers. Obviously, she was giving him a continuous view of her pussy, while they laughed, talked, and downed more double margaritas.
I decided to give them a few minutes of privacy, just to see where Vicky was going with this. I told them I had to go return the beer I had already drank and walked to the men’s room. As I stepped past Vicky’s bar stool, I was shocked to see that old John had himself one hell of a woody. And unless he was sticking beer bottles into his pants, the old geezer was seriously hung! I knew Vicky and I knew this little tidbit of information hadn’t slipped past her unnoticed.
In the restroom, I took a long, slow leak. Read all the graffiti on the walls. Read the information on the condom machine (If you never have, you should take the time to do it. Amazing what information that little metal box contains.) I washed my hands, washed my face, and combed my hair. I even took a try at sitting in a stall to see if I need that…but no joy there. After the stall, I had to go back through the hand washing and drying routine again. I figured I had spent about as much time in the restroom as I could. I was probably gone for about 10 minutes or so.
When I stepped out of the men’s room, the first thing I noticed was that the door didn’t squeak like the ladies room. Vicky and John were still sitting at the bar, so I wasted some time looking at the posters on the wall while I watched them.
From my angle, I could see that Vicky was definitely showing everything she had. In fact, it looked like she may have pushed her skirt up some more while I was gone, since it was almost up to her waist. As my eyes adjusted to the bar light, I realized that Vicky’s right knee was pressed firmly into John’s crotch and that his right hand, closest to the bar, was up her skirt on the outside of her left thigh – or at least up what little bit of her skirt still covered that thigh.
Well, I couldn’t find any other way to waste time back there without starting to look obvious, so I walked up to my bar stool and sat down. They were into some sort of intense conversation, with Vicky leaning in close to John’s face so they could hear each other over the music – and John could see down her blouse. I had a fresh beer sitting on the bar and they had obviously had several more margaritas. I could see movement between Vicky’s leg and the bar, so I figured John was rubbing her thigh while they talked.
Now, I wasn’t overly surprised by this. As I said before, it wasn’t unusual for Vicky to tease guys and it often became a touchy-feely moment. This was a bar where we didn’t know anyone, so she wasn’t worried about her reputation. The part that amazed me is that she was doing this with a 71 year old man.
Susie brought them another pair of margaritas and asked me if I wanted another beer. I said no, and she looked at me for a moment, but figured I wasn’t going to make any trouble about John and my wife, so she went back to cleaning her bar.
After John and Vicky drank about half of their margaritas, Vicky sat up and turned towards me. I could tell by her eyes that she was seriously wasted. And now I could see that beautiful hot pussy, too.
“I think we need to leave, sweetie,” she said. “I’ve had MORE than enough margaritas for one night”, she laughed.
“Okay,” I answered, “Let’s drink up”.
She and John toasted with their glasses one more time and chugged the last of their margaritas, their arms interlocked like they were newlyweds drinking French wine. Then John stumbled around to the far side of the bar to settle up with Susie. I don’t know how much he spent, but he pulled out a credit card to pay for it.
“You okay?” I asked Vicky.
“I’m really drunk, honey. You didn’t drink too much did you, ‘cause I sure can’t drive home,” she answered.
“I’m fine,” I said. “What’s next on the agenda?”
“We have to get John home, sweetie. I don’t want him to get in an accident.”
“No problem,” I said. “We have room in the back seat.”
“Thanks, sweetie, you’re the best,” she slurred as she held onto me getting off the bar stool. Her skirt stayed up near her waist and I thought of pulling it down for her, but by now there were only a few people left in the bar and I figured we’d never see them again. Let her give them a show. I retrieved her rain coat from the back of the chair and carried it with us.
John came back, took Vicky’s other arm – I’m not sure which of them was holding the other up at this point – and we walked out the door toward the car. I told John we’d give him a ride home and he said thanks and the three of us moved toward our car at the back of the lot.
As we passed under one of the lights illuminating the parking lot, I glanced behind and saw that John’s hand was firmly implanted between the back of Vicky’s thighs. She obviously didn’t mind and I started to feel my dick getting hard, too.
We got to the car. I went to the passenger side, opened the door, and pulled the seat forward so John could climb into the back. Somehow he made it. I was about to put the seat back up when Vicky pushed past me and climbed into the back seat, too. Okay, I thought, this ought to be an interesting ride home.
I opened the driver’s side door and got in. I started the engine and turned around to ask John how we got to his place. He was slumped across the back seat with his legs on the floor and Vicky was on top of him, kissing him and unbuttoning his shirt.
“John, hate to interrupt, my friend, but how do we get to your house?”
“Turn left out of the lot. Go eight blocks to Walnut Street. Turn left, again. Third house on the left. Number 323”, was his answer.
I turned around, and started out of the parking lot. I wanted to just ignore what was going on in the back seat, but I couldn’t. I moved the rear view mirror so I could watch while I drove. And I drove very slowly.
Vicky’s skirt was now completely above her waist and John had both hands pushed between her ass cheeks and into her crotch. She had already succeeded in opening his shirt and was in the final stages of pulling her top off. That done, she ground her nipples into Johns chest, while bumping and humping his hands between her widely spread legs. She was still kissing him and from the sounds she was making, I knew she was really into this.
I got to Walnut Street and turned left and the third house on the left was numbered 323. The house itself was dark, but the front door light was on. There was a driveway on the near side of the house. Since it was empty (duh, John’s car was still at Kitty’s), I pulled in and turned off the lights and engine. The front door light threw just enough illumination that I could see the action in the back seat.
After a few minutes of watching in the mirror, I thought, “The Hell with it. They aren’t ashamed.” I pulled the passenger seat forward and turned in my seat so I could watch the two of them directly. Right about then Vicky sat up and pulled her skirt up over her head. She was now completely naked. She threw the skirt into the front passenger seat without even looking at me. She reached down, unbuckled John’s belt, and unzipped his pants. Then she pulled his pants and shorts down below his knees.
Now that woody he’d been building was exposed. I was actually envious. His cock was a good 11 inches long and as thick as a beer bottle. Vicky wasted no time bending over and shoving that whole thing into her mouth. She’d pull it back out, lick around it a little, suck on the head, and then suddenly shove the whole thing in her mouth again. Every time she shoved it in, John would let out a loud, primal moan.
Vicky started kissing him again. She shoved her tongue deep into his mouth while he rammed his tongue as far down her throat as he could. This went on for several minutes when suddenly Vicky sat up – riding his cock. She had jammed that rod up her cunt and started rocking back and forth like she was riding a bucking bronco. And the way John was moving his whole lower body up and down, that’s what he looked like.
Now both of them were making loud, synchronized groans. Between groans, Vicky would let out piercing high pitch cries, while John would inhale deeply like it was the last breath he’d ever take. I was starting to get concerned that it might be.
Finally the two of them came – at exactly the same time. This was something Vicky and I had accomplished only a few times in our years together and this old goat was doing it the first time he fucked her. Yep, I was envious. Not jealous, but definitely envious.
Vicky collapsed on top of him. John just sort of collapsed on himself. They started kissing gently, so I turned back around to give them some privacy. I even readjusted the mirror so I could see out the back window and not into the back seat.
After about 15 minutes, Vicky crawled into the front passenger seat. “We need to get him to bed, “ she said.
“What about his house keys?” I asked.
She dangled a key chain from her right hand. She had already found them in his pants pocket and pulled them out.
I got out the driver’s side and Vicky got out the passenger side. She was completely naked, but really didn’t care. She bent inside the car and removed John’s shoes and pulled his pants the rest of the way off. Now he was naked, too, except for his open shirt. At this point he was completely passed out.
With a little pulling and lifting we finally worked him out of the back seat and laid him down in the lawn beside the driveway. Vicky went up to the front door with the light on, and opened the door. She went inside, turned on some lights and then came back out.
“His bedroom’s upstairs,” she said. “Let’s just put him on the sofa. It’s just inside the front door.”
Sounded good to me. I didn’t want to drag this poor man up a flight of stairs.
Between the two of us, we managed to get him in the house and up on the sofa. While Vicky went outside to retrieve his shoes, pants, and underwear, I found a blanket in the hall closet and put it over him as he started to snore quietly. Vicky remembered to check the thermostat before we left. Then we turned out the lights and got back in the car.
“You going to ride home naked?” I asked, knowing this was one of the things she really loved to do.
“Yep,” she answered. “Then you’ll going to fuck me again. Poor old John only had one fuck in him. It was a really GOOD fuck, but I’m still horny.”
We both laughed. We drove home without saying much. I kept looking over at Vicky’s creamy white body in the seat beside me as she slowly rubbed her pussy all the way home.
When we stopped in the driveway and turned off the engine, Vicky got up on her knees in the front seat and started kissing me.
“You know,” she said softly, “we’ve done a lot of things together, but this was the first time I actually fucked another guy since we’ve been married.”
She was right. We’d often talked about it, and she had given guys blow jobs and done all sorts of other sexual acts. But this was the first guy she’d fucked.
“We should celebrate,” she said, smiling.
“And how do you want to celebrate?” I asked her.
“I want you to fuck me in the back seat, right where John did,” she said.
Somehow I found this unbelievably erotic and my cock got long and hard almost instantly.
“You want the bottom or top?” I asked.
“Oh, I get the top,” she said. “You get to lie in the wet spot.”
And I did. And I loved it. And I love her.
I mentioned before that Vicky is 5’4”, about 115 lbs, blonde, and absolutely gorgeous. Naturally, she gets lots of attention from other guys when we go out and she loves it. She teases guys and gets them all worked up. She seems to get herself worked up, too, and then we come home and she fucks me like there’s no tomorrow. Obviously, I never complain.
One of her favorite games when we go out is that she wears a really short skirt or dress, at least 4 inches above her knees. With her legs, that’s pretty hot by itself. But, I’ve got to tell you, the woman doesn’t own but 4 pair of underwear, and they’re all thongs. So, when we go out clubbing, the underwear stays at home. And don’t even think about a bra…I’ve never seen one in her dresser.
So, she puts on a short skirt and a thin top, or a short dress. Other than that, the only thing she has on are her “Hooker Heels”, spiked heels about 4” high. Ever notice how heels stretch out a woman’s leg? Damn that looks good…on anyone…but especially on Vicky.
Sometimes, if we’re going to a nicer club, she’ll wear thigh-high stockings…never pantyhose. She likes that guys can see above the top of her stockings when she sits down in her short skirts. On this night, a cool night two winters ago, she wore her dark thigh-highs. It kept her legs warmer when we were outside and we had never been to this club before, so we didn’t know exactly what to expect.
She also decided to wear a black silky skirt and a red semi-sheer top. She was hoping the club was fairly dark so her top wouldn’t attract too much attention – before she wanted it to, anyhow. So with the red top, black skirt, dark thigh-highs, and red Hooker Heels, she wrapped her red rain coat around her for some warmth and we drove to the city and toward the south end of town to a club called “Kitty’s”.
I parked in the very back row of the parking lot, halfway between two “street lights”. I didn’t know what to expect from this place, but from the way she dressed, I knew Vicky intended to play and I wanted to be sure that when we left we didn’t have too much light but plenty of room for her to work. Remember, I’ve been out with her before.
Oh, I’d tell you what I wore, but by now no one cares – not even me.
We walked up to the door and walked into Kitty’s. It was soon apparent that to call it a club was a bit of an overkill. It was more like an upscale neighborhood bar…a nice bar, but not a nightclub. There were probably two dozen tables scattered around the room and a large L-shaped bar at the far end. There were several open seats at the bar, two of them on either side of the corner of the “L”. We decided to sit there. I sat along the long leg of the “L” while Vicky sat on the short leg. It was pretty dark, with colored lights scattered about the walls and over the open area between the tables. I figured that was a small dance floor where people could get up and dance to the recorded music that was playing rather loudly.
As I was looking around the bar, Vicky removed her rain coat and hung it over the back of her bar stool. The bartender, a young, hot brunette with a name tag that said “Susie” walked up and said, “So, what are you two having tonight?”
I looked at Vicky and she said “Patron margarita on the rocks. Double.”
I would have been happy with Cuervo, but said, “Might as well make it two.”
“Two Patron Silver margaritas, double and on the rocks, coming up,” answered Susie.
While we waited for Susie to do her magic, Vicky leaned over and said, “Nice place, but not too many single guys. There are 4 old codgers sitting on my side of the bar and about 6 couples on your side.”
I looked up and down the bar. She was right, but I told her, “Hey, it’s not even 9 yet. Maybe more guys will come in.” Then I laughed a little, “Or, you could give these old guys the night of their life.”
Vicky stuck her tongue out at me, then said, “Yeah, you mean give them the last night of their life. They’re liable to have a coronary if they get a peek under my skirt.”
I smiled at her, about to give her some smart-ass remark when Susie came back with our drinks. “Two double margaritas, rocks”, she repeated. One of the couples at the end of the bar held up their empty glasses, so she just smiled and practically ran to their end of the bar and started making them two more drinks.
After taking a couple of sips of my margarita, I asked Vicky, “So what are you going to do now?”
She drank about half her drink and then smiled at me. “Think I’ll go to the ladies room”, she said, and winked.
Now I need to give you some background here about Vicky’s movements when she starts to play. If she decides to flash some guy at the bar when she’s going to the bathroom or getting up to dance, she turns in her bar stool to face him, with both feet on an upper rail of the bar stool. Then she steps down and out with one leg, leaving the other on the upper rail. Since her skirt is already over halfway up her thigh, this creates one exciting peek at her naked, shaved pussy. Of course, she never looks down, so the guy thinks that she doesn’t know she’s exposing herself to him. But Vicky never leaves it to chance; she’s practiced this move dozens of times on our bar stools at home, so she knows exactly what he’s getting to see. If she wants to extend his view, she’ll make some excuse not to lower her other foot for a few extra seconds.
Tonight she got the attention of the old guy closest to her by asking him where the restrooms were, telling him it was our first time here. He looked at her, obviously impressed by what he saw, and pointed over his shoulder at the neon sign that glowed the word “Restrooms” in glorious, bright pink letters. Of course, Vicky acted like she was shocked that the sign was so obvious and she didn’t see it. She giggled out a “Thank you” as she stepped off the bar stool with her right leg, leaving her left foot on the upper rail. The old guy’s eyes dropped straight down toward her crotch.
Vicky turned slightly to her left in her chair, looking over her left shoulder at me. Although I couldn’t see, since I was now behind her, I’m sure this little move opened up her legs even farther.
“Honey, I’m going to the restroom. Keep an eye on my purse,” she said, patting the purse she left on the bar in front of her. Then she stood up on both feet and walked towards the ladies room. Normally, after she gets off a bar stool, she casually pushes her skirt down, but not tonight. Tonight the skirt stayed high enough that you could see the bottom part of the wide black bands at the top of her stockings. The old guy’s eyes followed her all the way to the ladies room. I don’t believe he took another breath until she stepped inside the restroom door.
I acted as though I wasn’t aware of a thing. The old guy looked at me and then moved over a seat. When Vicky returned he would now be sitting next to her.
“Hi,” he said, “My name’s John. John Strother.”
“Hi, John,” I replied, “I’m Dan and that was Vicky, my wife.” John looked a little disheartened at the word, “wife”, but only a little. “This is our first time here.”
“That’s what Vicky told me,” he answered, being sure to use her first name. “This is a friendly little place. Good food, good drinks, and a bunch of nice people.”
“That’s great,” I said, “That’s just the kind of place we’ve been looking for.” Okay, I lied. But he was such a nice guy!
About that time we heard the restroom door open, it squeaked, and Vicky started walking towards us.
“Looks like she found it okay,” said John with a smile.
“Yeah, she did,” I said. But I was looking at her skirt. It was now even shorter than when she went into the restroom. Now you could see most of the black bands of her stockings as she walked. It took me a moment to figure it out. She had rolled her skirt. She must have rolled her waistband over to raise the skirt another inch or two. She had also opened a button or two on her blouse so you could see the tops of her breasts. Now I knew she was starting to play, but I didn’t have any idea where she was taking this with poor old John.
Vicky walked up to us and I said, “Vicky, this is John. I get the impression John is something of a regular here.”
Vicky smiled and took his hand. “Hi, John. Well, I’m really glad you knew where the bathroom was. I could have peed myself before I found it. I can’t believe I can be that blind. Just another Blonde Moment.”
We all laughed and John turned towards Vicky’s bar stool slightly to give her room to sit down. And, of course, she did it in a way only Vicky knows how to do. She pushed herself up onto the stool, keeping one leg on the floor. Then she put that upper foot on the upper rail and scooted herself back on the stool. The other foot was still on the floor, giving John the pussy shot of a lifetime. I’m pretty sure he stopped breathing again. Finally, she lifted the other foot off the floor and turned herself around on the bar stool. Of course, she made sure her knees rubbed against John’s thighs as she turned. An artiste at work!
Vicky picked up her margarita and finished what was left of it. When she sat it down, John immediately called the bartender over. “You want another drink, too, Dan?”
Vicky looked at me smiling, but her eyes moved back and forth, our little signal for “No.”
“Tequila isn’t really my poison, John. How about a Coors Light?”
“Okay,” he said to Susie, “A Coors Light for him, and make that two margaritas.”
“Both doubles?” she asked.
“Double them up,” said John, getting more enthusiastic about his new-found friends. Well, about one of them, anyhow.
Susie brought us our drinks and John started to tell us about himself. Without dragging this story out to give you the details, the main points were that John was 71, a retired corporate lawyer (“Didn’t ever step inside a courtroom,” he told us.) and his wife had died about 10 years ago. He lived alone in a small house a few blocks from Kitty’s.
Now, while he was telling us his life story in detail, Vicky was sucking town her margaritas and John was keeping up with her. I didn’t even try to keep count. I just played around with my beer, drinking two or three the whole night long.
After hearing his story, Vicky excused herself for the restroom, again. She went through the whole procedure of stepping down with one leg to give John a perfect view of her pussy. To stretch out the view this time, she turned and asked me to get her another margarita while she was gone. Of course, John jumped in and said he was buying tonight, but it gave him an additional 10 to 15 seconds to look at her pussy.
While Vicky was in the restroom this time, it was pretty obvious that old John was feeling his tequila. He went on and on about what a wonderful woman Vicky was. I agreed with everything he said. First, because it was all true, and secondly, because I wanted to let him know that I was not put off by all the attention he was giving my wife. It must have worked, because at one point he said that she was “the sexiest woman I have ever met.” I smiled and told him that he obviously knew his women.
The restroom door squeaked and Vicky walked towards us, a little less sure on her feet than after the first trip to the restroom. I looked at her skirt again. It was even higher. In fact, it barely covered her ass. Then I realized I didn’t see the black bands of her stockings. She must have rolled her skirt up again and realized that all of the stocking showed as she walked, so she took them off. I don’t know if she threw them in the trash or buried them in the purse she had taken with her this time. It looked like she opened another two buttons on her blouse, so you could actually see between her breasts and almost to her nipples. She had even redone her makeup. She was HOT!
She went through her standard procedure for getting back onto her bar stool. Only this time, when she slid back on her seat, I could see that she was sitting bare-assed on the bar stool. And, after she got on the stool, she didn’t turn around towards the bar, but stayed facing John. He gave her the margarita he had ordered while she was gone and they toasted to something. I noticed she now had her right foot on the bottom rail of John’s bar stool and her left on the top rail of hers. Obviously, she was giving him a continuous view of her pussy, while they laughed, talked, and downed more double margaritas.
I decided to give them a few minutes of privacy, just to see where Vicky was going with this. I told them I had to go return the beer I had already drank and walked to the men’s room. As I stepped past Vicky’s bar stool, I was shocked to see that old John had himself one hell of a woody. And unless he was sticking beer bottles into his pants, the old geezer was seriously hung! I knew Vicky and I knew this little tidbit of information hadn’t slipped past her unnoticed.
In the restroom, I took a long, slow leak. Read all the graffiti on the walls. Read the information on the condom machine (If you never have, you should take the time to do it. Amazing what information that little metal box contains.) I washed my hands, washed my face, and combed my hair. I even took a try at sitting in a stall to see if I need that…but no joy there. After the stall, I had to go back through the hand washing and drying routine again. I figured I had spent about as much time in the restroom as I could. I was probably gone for about 10 minutes or so.
When I stepped out of the men’s room, the first thing I noticed was that the door didn’t squeak like the ladies room. Vicky and John were still sitting at the bar, so I wasted some time looking at the posters on the wall while I watched them.
From my angle, I could see that Vicky was definitely showing everything she had. In fact, it looked like she may have pushed her skirt up some more while I was gone, since it was almost up to her waist. As my eyes adjusted to the bar light, I realized that Vicky’s right knee was pressed firmly into John’s crotch and that his right hand, closest to the bar, was up her skirt on the outside of her left thigh – or at least up what little bit of her skirt still covered that thigh.
Well, I couldn’t find any other way to waste time back there without starting to look obvious, so I walked up to my bar stool and sat down. They were into some sort of intense conversation, with Vicky leaning in close to John’s face so they could hear each other over the music – and John could see down her blouse. I had a fresh beer sitting on the bar and they had obviously had several more margaritas. I could see movement between Vicky’s leg and the bar, so I figured John was rubbing her thigh while they talked.
Now, I wasn’t overly surprised by this. As I said before, it wasn’t unusual for Vicky to tease guys and it often became a touchy-feely moment. This was a bar where we didn’t know anyone, so she wasn’t worried about her reputation. The part that amazed me is that she was doing this with a 71 year old man.
Susie brought them another pair of margaritas and asked me if I wanted another beer. I said no, and she looked at me for a moment, but figured I wasn’t going to make any trouble about John and my wife, so she went back to cleaning her bar.
After John and Vicky drank about half of their margaritas, Vicky sat up and turned towards me. I could tell by her eyes that she was seriously wasted. And now I could see that beautiful hot pussy, too.
“I think we need to leave, sweetie,” she said. “I’ve had MORE than enough margaritas for one night”, she laughed.
“Okay,” I answered, “Let’s drink up”.
She and John toasted with their glasses one more time and chugged the last of their margaritas, their arms interlocked like they were newlyweds drinking French wine. Then John stumbled around to the far side of the bar to settle up with Susie. I don’t know how much he spent, but he pulled out a credit card to pay for it.
“You okay?” I asked Vicky.
“I’m really drunk, honey. You didn’t drink too much did you, ‘cause I sure can’t drive home,” she answered.
“I’m fine,” I said. “What’s next on the agenda?”
“We have to get John home, sweetie. I don’t want him to get in an accident.”
“No problem,” I said. “We have room in the back seat.”
“Thanks, sweetie, you’re the best,” she slurred as she held onto me getting off the bar stool. Her skirt stayed up near her waist and I thought of pulling it down for her, but by now there were only a few people left in the bar and I figured we’d never see them again. Let her give them a show. I retrieved her rain coat from the back of the chair and carried it with us.
John came back, took Vicky’s other arm – I’m not sure which of them was holding the other up at this point – and we walked out the door toward the car. I told John we’d give him a ride home and he said thanks and the three of us moved toward our car at the back of the lot.
As we passed under one of the lights illuminating the parking lot, I glanced behind and saw that John’s hand was firmly implanted between the back of Vicky’s thighs. She obviously didn’t mind and I started to feel my dick getting hard, too.
We got to the car. I went to the passenger side, opened the door, and pulled the seat forward so John could climb into the back. Somehow he made it. I was about to put the seat back up when Vicky pushed past me and climbed into the back seat, too. Okay, I thought, this ought to be an interesting ride home.
I opened the driver’s side door and got in. I started the engine and turned around to ask John how we got to his place. He was slumped across the back seat with his legs on the floor and Vicky was on top of him, kissing him and unbuttoning his shirt.
“John, hate to interrupt, my friend, but how do we get to your house?”
“Turn left out of the lot. Go eight blocks to Walnut Street. Turn left, again. Third house on the left. Number 323”, was his answer.
I turned around, and started out of the parking lot. I wanted to just ignore what was going on in the back seat, but I couldn’t. I moved the rear view mirror so I could watch while I drove. And I drove very slowly.
Vicky’s skirt was now completely above her waist and John had both hands pushed between her ass cheeks and into her crotch. She had already succeeded in opening his shirt and was in the final stages of pulling her top off. That done, she ground her nipples into Johns chest, while bumping and humping his hands between her widely spread legs. She was still kissing him and from the sounds she was making, I knew she was really into this.
I got to Walnut Street and turned left and the third house on the left was numbered 323. The house itself was dark, but the front door light was on. There was a driveway on the near side of the house. Since it was empty (duh, John’s car was still at Kitty’s), I pulled in and turned off the lights and engine. The front door light threw just enough illumination that I could see the action in the back seat.
After a few minutes of watching in the mirror, I thought, “The Hell with it. They aren’t ashamed.” I pulled the passenger seat forward and turned in my seat so I could watch the two of them directly. Right about then Vicky sat up and pulled her skirt up over her head. She was now completely naked. She threw the skirt into the front passenger seat without even looking at me. She reached down, unbuckled John’s belt, and unzipped his pants. Then she pulled his pants and shorts down below his knees.
Now that woody he’d been building was exposed. I was actually envious. His cock was a good 11 inches long and as thick as a beer bottle. Vicky wasted no time bending over and shoving that whole thing into her mouth. She’d pull it back out, lick around it a little, suck on the head, and then suddenly shove the whole thing in her mouth again. Every time she shoved it in, John would let out a loud, primal moan.
Vicky started kissing him again. She shoved her tongue deep into his mouth while he rammed his tongue as far down her throat as he could. This went on for several minutes when suddenly Vicky sat up – riding his cock. She had jammed that rod up her cunt and started rocking back and forth like she was riding a bucking bronco. And the way John was moving his whole lower body up and down, that’s what he looked like.
Now both of them were making loud, synchronized groans. Between groans, Vicky would let out piercing high pitch cries, while John would inhale deeply like it was the last breath he’d ever take. I was starting to get concerned that it might be.
Finally the two of them came – at exactly the same time. This was something Vicky and I had accomplished only a few times in our years together and this old goat was doing it the first time he fucked her. Yep, I was envious. Not jealous, but definitely envious.
Vicky collapsed on top of him. John just sort of collapsed on himself. They started kissing gently, so I turned back around to give them some privacy. I even readjusted the mirror so I could see out the back window and not into the back seat.
After about 15 minutes, Vicky crawled into the front passenger seat. “We need to get him to bed, “ she said.
“What about his house keys?” I asked.
She dangled a key chain from her right hand. She had already found them in his pants pocket and pulled them out.
I got out the driver’s side and Vicky got out the passenger side. She was completely naked, but really didn’t care. She bent inside the car and removed John’s shoes and pulled his pants the rest of the way off. Now he was naked, too, except for his open shirt. At this point he was completely passed out.
With a little pulling and lifting we finally worked him out of the back seat and laid him down in the lawn beside the driveway. Vicky went up to the front door with the light on, and opened the door. She went inside, turned on some lights and then came back out.
“His bedroom’s upstairs,” she said. “Let’s just put him on the sofa. It’s just inside the front door.”
Sounded good to me. I didn’t want to drag this poor man up a flight of stairs.
Between the two of us, we managed to get him in the house and up on the sofa. While Vicky went outside to retrieve his shoes, pants, and underwear, I found a blanket in the hall closet and put it over him as he started to snore quietly. Vicky remembered to check the thermostat before we left. Then we turned out the lights and got back in the car.
“You going to ride home naked?” I asked, knowing this was one of the things she really loved to do.
“Yep,” she answered. “Then you’ll going to fuck me again. Poor old John only had one fuck in him. It was a really GOOD fuck, but I’m still horny.”
We both laughed. We drove home without saying much. I kept looking over at Vicky’s creamy white body in the seat beside me as she slowly rubbed her pussy all the way home.
When we stopped in the driveway and turned off the engine, Vicky got up on her knees in the front seat and started kissing me.
“You know,” she said softly, “we’ve done a lot of things together, but this was the first time I actually fucked another guy since we’ve been married.”
She was right. We’d often talked about it, and she had given guys blow jobs and done all sorts of other sexual acts. But this was the first guy she’d fucked.
“We should celebrate,” she said, smiling.
“And how do you want to celebrate?” I asked her.
“I want you to fuck me in the back seat, right where John did,” she said.
Somehow I found this unbelievably erotic and my cock got long and hard almost instantly.
“You want the bottom or top?” I asked.
“Oh, I get the top,” she said. “You get to lie in the wet spot.”
And I did. And I loved it. And I love her.
Poster:
Dan
