A Different Kind of Happy Hour

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Richie got more than cheap drinks.
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During happy hour at Nick's Nook, drinks were 2 for 1 every night from 4 to 7. On one particular Friday night, Richie Jensen got more than a little buzz when he stopped by the place after work.

...

Chapter One: Spotting a cougar.

I had arrived a little bit later than usual at Nick's Nook on that Friday night. The regulars had all departed and the place was in its transitional mode around that time, evolving from sort of a working man's bar to a nightspot for the hip and those trying to be.

The bartenders were also changing as happy hour wound down. I liked Ginny, the cute, chubby happy hour barkeep, but wasn't too fond of Tommy, who replaced her at seven, so I figured I would just pound down a couple of quick ones and head home for an evening with Vince McMahon or watching a couple of Neanderthals slug it out on the Testosterone Channel.

Scanning around the long horseshoe-shaped bar, there were only a middle aged guy sitting at the far end and a woman about that man's age sitting down near the taps. Since I usually sat down near the beer anyway to make it easier for Ginny, I went in that direction, sitting down just a few seats away from the woman just in time for Ginny to slide a frosty cold mug of Sam Adams in front of me.

After admonishing me for being late and lamenting the lack of business, Ginny went off to tend to the guy at the other end of the bar. Glancing over at the woman, I watched her nervously look away as our eyes met. It was clear that she had been checking me out, and while I didn't look my best after just doing electrical work for 9 hours, it was clear that she didn't mind my scruffy appearance because her eyes came back up to meet mine while smiling and nodding.

She was probably in her mid forties, which made her about twice my age. She had short blonde hair that was swept back a little and had pleasant enough features. A full figured gal, I noticed, because although what she was wearing wasn't very erotic, there was no denying the presence of a pair of tits that stuck out like torpedoes in the purple and black sweater they were encased in.

She got up and went around the corner to the bathroom, allowing me to get a good view of a nice round ass that looked pretty firm. She was a little thick but not fat, and while she was not a spectacular looking woman, her body bordered on voluptuous.

"Cougar hunting, Richie?" Ginny asked with a grin as she reappeared and caught me checking out my fellow bar patron.

"You know me too well," I told her, draining the beer so I could squeeze in a couple more before happy hour ended and Tommy took over.

"She's been here for about an hour," Ginny informed me. "Jeff hit on her but struck out."

"What's new?"

"I think that she's with that guy down at the other end," Ginny mused.

"Not exactly rubbing butt cheeks, are they? They couldn't sit any further away if they tried. What gives you that impression?"

"Just a feeling," Ginny opined. "Never saw either of them before, and they seem to be making eye contact a lot."

"Maybe he wants to make a run at her," I suggested.

"I don't think so," Ginny said before moving to take care of a new arrival. "Just a feeling I have that something up."

Having gotten to know Ginny well over the years, I knew that her instincts were usually spot on, so I tried to keep my eye out for what she had seen while the bar began to fill up a little.

The woman returned, and as she sat down I smiled at her and went behind the partition to the hallway where the rest rooms were located. Taking a spot at the end of the long trough and letting loose with a torrent of used beer, I hardly noticed that I had company until I was nearly through.

It was the guy who was down at the end of the bar, and although he averted his eyes there was no doubt as to what he was looking for. A pecker checker, no doubt. I gave mine a wiggle before putting it away and gave him a dirty look before heading to the sink and then back out into the bar.

...

Chapter Two: More beer.

When I went back to my seat at the bar, I noticed a couple of things right away. The blonde woman who was three seats away from me when I had left, was now two seats away. The second thing was that there was another mug of Sam Adams in front of me, along with a little cup that indicated I had another one coming to me.

"That's from this lady,' Ginny indicated with a nod. "Joan, I believe."

I looked over at the woman, who was smiling at me nervously, and when I nodded and smiled back at her she seemed to relax a little.

"Hope you were planning to have another," the woman said in an accent that sounded vaguely New England. "I would have waited for you to return to ask you if you did, but if I did that I would have run the risk of being refused."

"Refuse a beer?" I chuckled. "Not likely - Joan was it?"

She nodded, smiling and exposing a set of teeth that looked flawless.

"Well, thank you Joan," I said. "My name's Richie."

I stuck out my beefy paw and took her pale white hand in mine, making it disappear for a moment. I saw and felt the rather large diamond in her wedding ring when our hands clasped, and noticed her looking at my arms in the tight black t-shirt I was wearing.

My arms get a lot of attention, probably due to the amount of physical work I do, and while a lot of women these days don't seem to care for the hair that covers them, most seem to like the shoulders and the biceps which are pretty well developed.

"Would you mind if I slid over?" I asked. "It's getting a little crowded in here."

"Please do," Joan said.

"Wouldn't want anybody sliding in and ruining the view for me," I added, making an obvious glance at her breasts, a look that she didn't miss any more than I had missed the look she had given me.

"I don't know anybody here," Joan said. "I feel safer now. A couple of guys hit on me before."

"Does that bother you?"

"Depends on the guy," Joan said, swiveling her stool so that her leg bumped up against mine.

"What if somebody - like me for instance - said something like you look really good to me?" I thought out loud. "What would you say about that?"

"I guess that first I would ask you if you got off on fucking women old enough to be your mother," Joan said, the four-letter word flowing off of her tongue without flinching.

"And what if I told you that I've been called a motherfucker many times in the past?" I joked. "Then I would tell you that I don't give a damn about the mileage as long as the body's good and the motor still runs, and besides that you look to be in mint condition."

"Flatterer," Joan said with a wink, adding, "Now I wish I had worn something a little more interesting."

"When you're built like you are, you don't need to do that sort of thing," I said.

"I'm married, you know."

"So I noticed," I said, nodding toward the impressive wedding ring which sparkled under the neon lights of the beer sign behind the bar.

"Does that bother you?" Joan asked coyly.

"Why should it?" I asked. "I'm not the one that's married."

"You've got a point there." Joan admitted with a chuckle, rocking in her chair so that her legs brushed up against mine some more.

"I'm going to go the men's room one last time," I said after draining the last of my beer. "If you're still out here when I get back, maybe you would like to go have some fun with me."

"If I'm still here," Joan said. "Maybe we will."

I slid off of the stool and walked behind Joan, letting my hand slide along her shoulders as I moved toward the bathroom. As I looked back at her for her reaction, I saw that the little weasel that had been at the end of the bar, and who had followed me into the bathroom before, was hot on my trail once more.

...

Chapter Three: Confrontation.

After I slipped into the bathroom, I ducked behind the door as it closed. When it opened again, the guy entered, and I slammed the door shut behind him, startling him as I slid the latch over and moved him against the wall.

"Come in for another peek?" I asked, wanting to poke the guy just on general principals.

"No sir," the guy said quietly, holding his hand up as if to fend me off. "I wanted to talk."

The guy reminded me of Peter Lorre in Casablanca, with black slicked back hair and dressed in clothes that were casual but expensive. Couldn't be much more than 5'6" and 130 pounds, and I figured that I could snap him like a twig in a matter of seconds, but all I wanted to do was take a piss without somebody looking at me doing it.

"We don't have anything to talk about, and I don't like to talk in bathrooms all that much."

"Perhaps we could step outside then?"

"I've got to piss."

"I'll wait for you out in the hall," he said, leaving me to my business.

While I relieved myself, I tried to figure out what this guy was up to. I didn't like him, but then again I didn't like a lot of people. After washing my hands and fixing my hair, I went out to see Peter Lorre again.

He was standing at the end of the hall, near the seldom used rear entrance of the bar. As I approached him, he stepped outside, holding the door open for me before lighting a cigarette.

"Make it fast, pal," I told him. "There's somebody waiting for me in there."

"That's the subject of our conversation," he said calmly. "The woman. You seem to have taken a fancy to her."

"You seem to enjoy keeping an eye on me for some reason," I mentioned.

"She's quite a bit older than you," I offered. "She's more my age than yours."

"Well, if you were interested in her, you should have done something about it yourself."

"Oh, I am interested in her," he said. "Very interested."

"So?"

"She's my wife."

....

Chapter Four: Joan's husband Herb

"Then I suggest you keep a shorter leash on her," I said, momentarily taken aback by this.

"She's not doing anything that I disapprove of, if that's what you mean," he said. "By the way, my name's Herb. And your name is Richard?"

"Richie - yeah," I said, puzzled. "How did you know that?"

"The woman tending bar called you that when you arrived," Herb said. "Back to my wife. I take it that you find her attractive? Don't know why I'm posing that as a question, because you made it quite obvious that you are."

"So?"

"So it means that you have good taste," Herb opined. "She's a very lovely woman. Doesn't look her age. Did she tell you her age? Care to guess?"

"I don't know - 43 maybe?" I guessed, loping off a couple of years off my real guess to be generous.

"55," he said with pride. "And that's all her too, if you know what I mean. She's had a little work done around her eyes, but outside of that she's all natural, especially the part that you seemed to find most compelling."

"So what is this all about?" I asked. "Is this some kind of game, or a shakedown? Because if it is, you picked the wrong guy. I haven't got any money to speak of."

"No no!" Herb said, shaking his head at the idea that he wanted something from me. "As a matter-of-fact, it's you that can stand to profit from all of this."

"Profit?"

"Here," Herb said, reaching into his pocket and extracting a wad of bills folded in half.

He offered them to me, and I looked at the wad of crisp bills in confusion, noticing the denomination of the outside bills, which were not the type that I was used to dealing with.

"What's that for?" I asked.

"You want to fuck my wife," he said stoically. "My wife wants you to fuck her."

"You mean?" I started to ask before checking myself. "What do you think I am? Some kind of whore?"

"No, but aren't we all in one way or another?" Herb suggested.

"I don't know about that. I do know that you're insulting that woman you claim to be married to. You don't have to pay anybody to have sex with her. She's damn good looking and I'll be glad to do it for nothing."

"The money isn't for you to have sex with my wife," I explained. "I totally agree that if anybody was going to be financially compensated for a tryst between the two of you it would be her. She is very fuckable. The money is for you allowing me to watch you fuck her."

"HUH?"

"You won't even know I'm there most of the time," Herb said. "I'll be well out of the way, just observing, unless you want my participation, that is."

"This is crazy," I said.

"Hardly. Think about it, Richard. Joan's an attractive woman with a rather high sex drive for a woman of any age, and she fancies young, well built men. You appear to be attracted to older women, and you seem to be a breast man as well, and both of those are qualities that my wife possesses."

"What do you get out of this?"

"I get the thrill of watching my wife make love to a virile young man," Herb explained. "I have a bit of a back problem that makes some things difficult, but even at my best and at your age there would be no comparison between the two of us physically. Also, Joan fancies men that are more - how shall I put this - well endowed than the norm. Another quality that I fall short in, unfortunately."

"This is too weird," I told him. "I can't perform in front of somebody like a porn star."

"I'm sure you could," he said. "I've already observed that you have nothing to be ashamed of. Think of the rush you would get, driving a man's wife crazy while her husband watches from the corner, green with envy."

"What's to stop me from just going in there and walking out with her?" I asked.

"You could try," Herb suggested. "It won't happen though. Trust me. There's only two ways that Joan is leaving that bar tonight. With me, or with us. You decide."

I stood there, dazed, as my mind spun. This was the kind of stuff that happens in porn movies or stories, and when you see it or read about it, you always think about what you would do in that situation, but when it hits you in real life, it ain't necessarily so. For the first time in a long time I was unsure of myself.

"You seem like an honest man," Herb said. "Here's what I'll do."

Reaching over, he stuck the wad of bills in the pocket of my t-shirt and handed me a swipe key.

"You're familiar with the Crowne Plaza Hotel?" he asked, and of course I was, because in fact there was only one real hotel in town and that was it, the rest being chains of mediocre quality.

"This is my key to our room," Herb continued. "If you're interested, let's just go inside and get Joan and we can go."

"What's to stop me from just taking off?"

"Not a thing," Herb said. "It's just that like I said, you seem like an honest hard-working guy. Hell, I used to be one too back in the day. Remember the big "dot com" explosion back several years ago? I got in before the 'boom' and got out before the 'bust' so money is really not an issue for us. Now I'm just a guy with an imagination and enough dough to make it all come true."

"Besides," Herb added. "I saw the way you looked at Joan. You couldn't keep your eyes off those tits of hers, and believe me when I say that when they get out of the harness they are still amazing. You seem to have a bit of old school in you too, so you might like the fact that the carpet is full and lush, just like women used to be. It doesn't match the drapes either, which I think is kind of sexy. Don't you?"

I exhaled and looked at this little guy, who was busy trying to sell me something I was already interested in.

"Alright," I finally sighed.

"Great," Herb said, slapping me on the back as we went back inside. "You'll love her. She gives incredible head and is game for anything, even anal, although from what I was able to see you might be a bit too much for her back there."

Back in the bar, Joan was still there, ignoring somebody who was trying to strike up a conversation with her. The guy beat feet when I moved alongside of Joan, who seemed pleased that I returned.

Her husband whispered something in her ear that obviously made her happy, because her smile came back in full force. After whispering something else in his wife's ear he went down to his old seat at the bar and paid for his tab.

I threw a ten in Ginny's direction as she went past us, her shift over for the day, and she grabbed it without breaking stride, giving me a wink as she left. Turning to Joan, who was busy getting off of her stool, I asked her what Herb had been saying to her.

"He told me that you would be coming to the hotel with us," Joan said.

"You're good with that?" I asked.

"Very much so."

"What else did he say?" I asked.

"He told me that he got a look at you in the men's room," Joan said without blinking. "He told me that I would love you, because you're hung like a horse."

"Oh," I said, set back on my heels yet again.

Joan was real short, I noticed after seeing her off of the bar stool for the first time. Not much more than 5' tall, if that, I guessed as she walked toward the exit, but in that little package was a whole lot of woman, as I hoped to be finding out soon.

"You know the way, I trust?" Herb said. "I would drive you down, but it's only built for 2."

"I've got my wheels," I said, and headed toward my pick-up truck, watching as Joan and Herb went over to the car hidden on the far side of the lot.

It was a car the likes of which I was certain had never been seen in the parking lot of Nick's Nook before, and as I watched the two of them duck into the shiny new emerald green Porsche 911 Carrera Cabriolet, which was something that I couldn't afford even to pay the sales tax on, I pulled out the wad of Ben Franklin's which had started to rub against my nipple and stuck them in my wallet before climbing into my truck and heading downtown.

....

Chapter Five: The hotel.

I stood outside the hotel room for a minute before finally swiping the card key and watching the green light blink and hearing the click of the lock opening. Stepping inside as I eased the door open, I watched as Joan rose off of the edge of the bed where she had just been sitting.

In a chair in the corner, her husband Herb was now clad in a bathrobe and sat there calmly, giving me a casual wave as I stepped in and let the door click behind me. Joan looked a little bit nervous and a whole lot beautiful as she stood wearing a nervous smile, a sheer white nightie and nothing else.

Through the practically transparent silk of the nightie, her breasts looked every bit as incredible as her husband had suggested they were. Additionally, the very dark triangle that was visible was not only full and lush looking, but the dark brown or black color had no relation to the blonde hair that cascaded over the woman's shoulders.

55, I thought? I've been with women half that age who didn't look this young. She was hot, and her husband knew it as he said looking smug at us while we stood in the middle of the room.

"Glad you could join us, Rich," Herb said. "Care for a drink?"

"Maybe in a second, but what I would really like is to maybe take a quick shower," I suggested.

"If you must, go right ahead," Herb said.

"I don't mind a little grit and sweat, if that's what you're worried about," Joan whispered huskily. "I could even give you a tongue bath."

"Sounds good to me," I said, not really all that sweaty or gritty, but the idea of this woman licking me clean turned me on.

"I was hoping you would show up," Joan said. "I've been thinking about you. Wanna see?"

Joan took my hand and brought it down beneath the hem of her nightie, and I could feel the inferno of her pussy even before my hand got there. I slid a couple of fingers through the dampest part of her bush, enjoying Joan's eyes get glassy as I dipped them inside of her before pulling them out and raising my fingers to my nose.

"Smells nice," I said, hearing Joan's sharp intake of breath as I put the fingers into my mouth and sucked on them for a second before smiling. "Tastes better."

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