Blondie's First Bar Pickup

"I was just bein' a total pute (slut). I hadn't known him but a half hour an' here I was suckin' his dick an' jackin' him off like some cheap hooker while he drove right up to our house."

She grinned wickedly, "I was jackin' him off when we pulled into our driveway." She paused then teased, "An' I absolutely loved it—bein' such a total slut an' all—you know, cher?

"By the way, speakin' of his friends, when we were kissin' goodbye this mornin' he reminded me of what I said last night about it bein' okay to tell his friends what happened, an' I told him to go ahead, we weren't exactly foolin' any of 'em in that bar last night; any damn fool could see I was pickin' him up for sex."

Still grinning naughtily, she snickered, "Then he said yeah but they were gonna love all the juicy details, like how sexy I looked dancin' an' strippin' an' how tight my pussy is an' how good a blowjob I gave him."

"An' there I was thinkin' he just wants to brag about bein' the one who got to fuck the pretty, married, white chica, but then I found out what he's really after." She smiled lewdly,

"We were kissin' there at the front door, with me standin' there bare-assed, an' he was fingerin' me nice an' easy when he asked me if I'd mind doin' a striptease for his buddies sometime."

I raised my face from her crotch, sat up, and looked at her. "What? What did you tell him?"

She smiled salaciously, and after a lengthy pause, teased, "Told him I'd think about it, why?"

Astounded at that, I said, "Blondie, you do realize that he's talking about setting your sweet little white ass up for getting gangbanged by that bunch of Chicanos, don't you?"

"Hey, he had his finger in my pussy an' his tongue in my ear an' we'd just finished fuckin', so I was still all hot 'n bothered—but yes, of course I knew what the kid was gettin' at—the wicked little devil's tryin' to get me to fuck his buddies. I'm not that dense, sugar."

Disbelieving, I asked, "And you told him you'd think about it? Seriously, Blondie? C'mon, there were what, five, maybe six of them?"

With that crooked naughty smile, she just nodded slowly, looking deeply into my eyes, before taunting me defiantly, "Well, you are the one wants to watch me fuck other men, aren't you? Who knows, might be real interestin' invitin' a few young guys over here some evenin' an' dancin' an' strippin' for' 'em." Still smiling naughtily she murmured, "Idea sure turns me on."

Then, with a positively diabolical grin, she concluded, "An' maybe even fuckin' 'em, hmm? Let those cute Mexican boys fuck me, one right after the other—especially if they can all fuck as good as Ronnie did last night." She grinned diabolically, "And this mornin'."

Still reclining against the pillows with her legs spread, she leered down at me, snapping her fingers mock-imperiously and pointing to her hairy patch. "You're not finished yet, mister!"

As I dutifully resumed my ministrations to her clit and her labia, Blondie pressed my head down, grinding her groin against my mouth. She moaned and purred,

"You want me to be your little pute so why not let me be a total pute an' pull a train?"

In a rather dreamy voice, she mused, "This girl I knew in high school, Yvette, she called it that, pullin' a train. Told me one night when we got drunk on her daddy's bourbon, that she'd done it before—more 'n once, too—said it was really excitin' bein' the only girl, stoned out of her mind an' bare-ass naked, in a motel room with a buncha horny boys, lettin' 'em all take turns on her."

"An' she was from good family, too. I was kinda shocked, but ever since then it always gets me all lubrique (randy) thinkin' about doin' somethin' vraiment coquine (really naughty) like that."

"Yvette could take the risk 'cause she was on the pill," Blondie smirked, "And so am I now."

She was really fucking my face as she moaned, "Oh yeah, baby, I think I could really get into havin' sex with a buncha young guys like that, gettin' all that strange cock. I remember how they were all sittin' over there last night, givin' me the eye after Ronnie came over to our table."

"Those boys were strippin' me naked with their eyes an' I liked it—fuck, I loved it, even wondered then what it would feel like to actually get naked in front of 'em all, if it would be as excitin' as Yvette told me. All four of 'em, just plain as day, sittin' there wantin' to fuck this married white chick, knowin' she's about to take their buddy home an' screw his butt off." After a lengthy pause she candidly confessed,

"It actually did cross my mind, sittin' there last night lookin' back at' em—the idea of fuckin' all of 'em. I admit it, cher, the thought really did turn me on. Kinda surprised me that I could even consider doin' somethin' like that, babe, me, little ol' Blondie Le Monde from Baton Rouge, no angel for sure—a girl who would put out for the right guy, sure, in the right mood and under the right circumstances—but never ever for more than one guy at a time."

She tugged my ears, and when I looked up from pleasuring her pussy, she grinned salaciously,

"But I was sure thinkin' about it last night in that bar and it sure 'nuf got my panties wet. That's prolly why I was so bold talkin' to Ronnie about what I was gonna do to him, you know, cher?"

"An' when he asked me last night about tellin' his buddies, he was pickin' up my vibes, as you saw—he knows I want 'em to know, babe, he knows—that's why he asked again this mornin'."

She gasped when I sucked her clit between my teeth, then asked me in a mocking voice,

"How about it, Rick, wanna watch your wife get gangbanged by a buncha young Chicanos?"

Blondie was fucking my face furiously now as the idea consumed her. She groaned,

"Think about that, sugar, those young boys gettin' their nuts off in your wife while you watch. Soon as one comes and climbs off me, the next one gets on an' I get another très nouvelle bite dans ma chatte (brand new cock in my pussy), an' when I milk a load outta him, then the next one, an' so on an' so on till I get 'em all off." Pressing my face into her groin, she giggled,

"Then we take a little break an' they start fuckin' me all over again, prolly all night long, hmm?"

My little French floozy seemed to ponder that for a moment, then, "Wonder if I could handle that many guys for a weekend? Mon Dieu, I wonder just how many times that buncha horny young boys could get off over a weekend? Be a helluva lot of Latin lovin' goin' on that's for sure."

Picturing that image, I moaned as well, and she responded with,

"Well my body prolly couldn't take that much fuckin' but I bet if we invite 'em over just for the night, I could get 'em all off at least once—after all, I made Ronnie come twice last night, an' then milked another good one out of him this mornin' so je suis certain (I'm sure) I could get all those boys off au moins une fois (at least one time), don't you think?"

Blondie frequently used the milking analogy in reference to making her partners climax and sometimes teasingly referred to her snug vagina as her petite machine à traire poilue (her hairy little milking machine). Now she lay back sighing, contemplating her gangbang fantasy until her raunchy ramblings and my talented tongue finally took her over the edge to a hugely explosive climax. She was delirious with depraved desire and sudden sexual release, fucking my face furiously until she was spent.

Hearing Blondie's recounting of the previous evening's pickup events and this new gangbang fantasy/proposal had me ecstatic with how quickly and completely my sexy young swamp fox had taken to her new hotwife role. But perhaps we should temporarily revert to an account of the actual pick-up activities which had led us to where we now were, here in our bedroom casually, and quite seriously it seemed, discussing setting her up for a gangbang.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Our first actual pick up in a bar hadn't taken place until few months after Blondie had her first hotwife adventure with the handsome cop, Franco. Our original fantasy had been built around the idea of obtaining casual lovers for her by picking them up in bars and dance clubs, the tawdry aspect of which held its own particular prurient appeal in our decadent dreaming. But I had in the meantime discovered how relatively easy and confidential it was to contact men through ads, and we'd decided that, for the immediate term, this was safer than more public procurement.

Although we'd had all of our initial face to face meetings with the few guys we'd thus far met through such ads on neutral ground in bars, we hadn't yet gone to a bar with a specific intention of her picking up some lucky dude. But in spite of our initial success using ads, my wayward young Cajun cutie still had that bad girl itch to flaunt her goodies and her naughtiness in public while seducing some lucky man into coming home with us for a night of debauchery.

So for the very first time, this sexy little French fox and I went hunting.

For our first such outing, Blondie wore a bright red mini-dress with black and white, heart shaped polka dots, which looked really hot on her, but was far too short for her to wear a garter belt and nylons, so she instead wore dark pantyhose with her bright red heels. With her piled-up platinum hair and glossy red lipstick, my very desirable young wife was indeed a stone fox, a very hot-looking head-turner.

When we stepped into the club, she drew many admiring glances, including several from a table of several young Hispanic males next to the table we selected. One of them was dark blonde, what the Mexicans call a guero, but with skin as swarthy as his raven-haired buddies. A fair-haired female is a gueraand as I held Blondie's chair for her, I heard low mutters from their table,

"¡Mira! ¡Mira! La chica guera es muy guapa!" which meant roughly, "Hey check out the gorgeous blond chick!"

Blondie understood very little Spanish, so, grinning, I said "Those dudes think you're pretty hot stuff, sweetie," to which she smiled saucily and replied,

"Well they're all kinda cute, too, an' that blond kid is very hot stuff himself."

I glanced over at their table and the guero was indeed a handsome young man in a rugged sort of way. They all looked very fit, not a group you'd want to anger. We found out later that they were a construction crew, which accounted for those muscular builds and sun-bronzed bodies. While we waited to order our drinks, I sat looking around the place for other prospects, as those boys looked just a trifle rough around the edges and appeared to have been drinking for a good while.

However, as I surveyed the rest of the room, I could see that my comely young wife seemed to have eyes only for that nearby table, more particularly for the swarthy, golden-haired, broad-shouldered, narrow-waisted guero. I said to her,

"You know that kid looks like one of those swashbuckler types on the covers of those women's bodice-ripping, romance novels."

Blondie chuckled in agreement then made a murmured, most important, observation,

"Yeah, sugar, 'cept that boy's available—he's sittin' right here in this bar at the very next table to us, not on some silly-ass book cover somewhere, tu sais ce que je veux dire, cher (you know what I mean, dear)?"

As we quickly downed our first round, Blondie was moving her body to the music and casting frequent, furtive glances at the neighboring table. She smirked at me and said in a low voice,

"Your little blonde Cajun babe's caught that boy's interest, for sure; he keeps lookin' over here."

I looked at her, smiling, not quite believing it could be this easy our first time out hunting and said, "Well, be awfully hard to blame the boy as good as you look sitting there, not to mention the obviously flirty way you're looking back at him, babe."

She gave the kid another look and smiled this time as she caught him looking back. She turned back to me and said, "Mmm, hmm, I most definitely am interested and he apparently is, too." She paused then mused,

"He really is muscular. I've never fucked a guy with muscles like that. He really is cute, too."

Her gaze swiveled back his direction and suddenly I felt a kick under the table. With her lovely hazel eyes riveted that way and an inviting smile on her face, she picked up her drink and said to me from behind the poised glass, without looking at me,

"He's lookin' me right in the eye now, not even botherin' to look away like he was before."

She faced me and smiled impishly, "Well mama thinks it's about time we invite that handsome hunk over here for a drink."

I grinned back at my naughty wife, who was taking to this newfound freedom of the hotwife role so readily and enthusiastically, and agreed, "Sure thing, sweetie; be right back."

I stood and when I turned towards their table, I saw more than one worried glance: I'm no small guy, over six feet at about 215 and in good shape, back then. Several hushed voices muttered back and forth and every one of them had those hard, obsidian eyes warily locked on me as I took the few steps to their table. You could have heard a pin drop when I leaned over young señor guero and with my hand on the back of his chair, said quietly,

"My wife thinks you're very handsome—she wants you to join us for a drink, está bien (okay)?"

Suddenly all the worried looks turned to sly grins as the somewhat startled, disbelieving, young man, looked up, then over at Blondie who was smiling openly at him and said, "Well, sure."

She was eyeing him like a piece of sweet chocolate as he sat down at our table, across from me and diagonal to her. I said, "I'm Rick and this is my wife, Blondie. And you are?"

His name was Ronaldo—Ronnie, and as we found out later, he was only twenty, almost six years younger than my saucy spouse. I hailed the waitress for another round and we made small talk, Blondie flirting ferociously with her dark, long-lashed, blue-shadowed eyes and small seductive smiles. Deciding quick was best, I said,

"Ronnie, my wife thinks you are a very attractive young man." He grinned at her, and said,

"And she is very easy on the eyes as well, señor; you are a very lucky man."

I laughed, "I hear that a lot, but I'm betting that you are going to be the lucky man tonight."

He eyed me with interest as I continued, "My lovely wife likes to dance," causing him to look at me like, "So?"

I grinned, "She dances alone," causing him to look at her with a lifted eyebrow, like, "Oh yeah?"

But he got the full picture when I said, "But she likes to dance for an audience—an appreciative audience—in fact, this little chica hermosa (gorgeous chick) gets really turned on dancing for a really appreciative audience, say, like for me and maybe another guy." I paused for effect, then,

"And she thinks you just might be the right man to be that other guy in her audience tonight."

Blondie was downright radiating sexual heat now as I continued, "And when she dances, Ronnie, she likes to do it in sexy dresses like this one, wearing sexy underwear underneath and do sexy stripteases." The kid's eyes were wide with awareness as I quit teasing and made the pitch,

"How would you like to come over to our place right now and watch this foxy lady take her clothes off? Do a slow, sexy, little striptease, just for you and me?"

The kid was grinning broadly, his dark, Latin eyes darting back and forth between Blondie and me. She leaned closer to him and murmured,

"I may look proper, Ronnie, but I'm actually a bad little girl—a very bad little girl. Just ask my husband," she said, smiling conspiratorially at our shared connivance.

I grinned my affirmation of that and said, "Una chica muy mala, (a very bad girl)," as she said,

"And when I show you my body, pretty boy, you gotta show me yours. I don't want you two men just sittin' there with all your clothes on while I'm takin' mine off for your pleasure, okay?"

Ronnie smiled as she teased, "After all, us bad girls like to look at naked men, too, okay, cher?"

"So my husband will give you a robe to wear an' you can just leave it open so mama can make sure her dancin's havin' the proper effect—you know, that you're gettin' une érection while I'm strippin' for you, okay, mon beau garçon (my handsome boy)?"

Ronnie just nodded happily, his sun-bronzed face breaking into a huge grin when my wife said,

"I wanna see you sit there an' play with your cock while I'm dancin' for you, handsome. Jerkin' off, baby, jerkin' off—how would you like to sit on my couch an' jackoff while I strip for you?"

He grinned, "Fuckin'A! I'll jackoff for you, mama, give you whatever you want, pretty lady."

I found myself glancing about to see if anyone was close enough to hear this porn flick dialogue. To say I was stunned by Blondie's brazen come-on to this young vato would have been a major understatement. Sure, my little Cajun cockteaser had a bit of a sassy mouth on her, even a trashy mouth when she was drinking and a sometimes very dirty mouth when she was hotly engaged in sexual activities, but she'd never spoken this boldly to any guy in public to my knowledge.

Blondie gave me a smug smile as if to say, "See how easy this pickup stuff is?" Then, looking deep into his wide eyes, she stunned me further when she purred seductively to this kid,

"Okay then, Ronnie, what I want, what I really want, is for you to fuck me, soon as I've danced for you, just want you to lay me down on our couch and fuck me hard right there in our livin' room, then take me to our bed an' fuck me all night, then stay an' fuck me all weekend if you can handle it. But if you can't do all that, can you at least spend the night, mon beau garçon?"

Here she hit her first snag—Ronnie shook his head and said, "Gotta work tomorrow and I'm takin' my girlfrien' to a dance tomorrow night, but I promise you, I'll fuck you all night tonight, pretty lady, an' fuck you so good you gonna want me to come back an' fuck you some more."

Beaming at his confident, macho response, Blondie asked, "No contagious diseases, venereal warts, anything like that?"

He feigned offense, "Hell no! I don't have none a' that shit!" With a look of smug satisfaction my little hottie shocked me even further but definitely sealed the deal with,

"Good, cause I don't want you to wear a rubber, baby—I want to feel you come in me—as many times as I can get you off." She smiled lewdly, "I suppose you're okay with that, cher?"

Ronnie grinned, "Fuck yeah, lady—my girlfrien' say I got cojones de toro (a bull's balls) cause they big an' I come like one, so I make lotsa la leche (milk-Spanish slang for semen). Don' you worry, pretty lady, Ronnie gonna give it to you real good—you be real happy you picked me."

My wife looked at me, grinning wickedly, "Sounds like a great offer to me—okay with you?"

Was it ever! With neither of us quite believing how easy this had been, we were out of there in minutes with all his buddies watching in muttering disbelief as their guero pal departed with the blonde fox who'd just waltzed in here and picked him up in a matter of minutes. Ronnie drove a bright red Trans Am and Blondie rode with him so he wouldn't get lost following me, something I thought a bit reckless, but she didn't want to take a chance on losing her handsome hottie.