Game On

My husband, Barry, and I both love dancing and traveling, so we often try to combine our favorite activities by visiting other cities where we stay at a nice hotel with a dance club nearby.

We arrived in Baltimore earlier that day. We don't know anybody there, so it might seem to be an odd choice, but some of our greatest adventures have been to places that aren't the top tourist destinations.

After checking in at the hotel and getting some dinner, we put on our dance clothes, black slacks and a dark red button up for him, and a black, knee-length dress for me, and went to the attached club, which was supposed to have a pretty good DJ tonight; at least, that's what I read on the website when booking the trip.

It was still a bit early for the crowds, though the music had definitely started. We lucked out and found a small table near the dance floor. Barry went to get drinks while I secured the table.

While I was waiting, a guy came up and asked me to dance. I declined, pointing to my wedding ring, and gave the guy an apologetic shoulder shrug. I didn't feel too bad. He was cute, and I'm sure he'll find someone by the end of the night if he is seriously looking.

Just as I watched him head back to his buddies, who all pretended not to notice his rejection, Barry came back with drinks. "What did that guy want?" He asked as he sat down, wagging his eyebrows since he knew exactly what the guy wanted.

"Just asked for a dance. He was a gentleman."

"You should have gone. I would have held your drink."

I laughed, but Barry didn't; just looked me in the eyes and waggled his eyebrows again. My laughter stopped as the realization that he wasn't kidding shocked me.

He let out a loud laugh. "Got you!"

I swatted his shoulder, "Whatever. Maybe next time I'll accept if you're going to be a jerk."

"Oh, I doubt if you would have the courage to dance with a stranger."

That sounded like a challenge. Damn it! He knows how I am about a challenge. When I was little, my older brother's tormented me. I always wanted to hang out with them, and they made me do these stupid challenges to see if I was "cool enough." The jerks.

It was just silly stuff, like I had to hop on one foot if I wanted to go anywhere, but it led to something almost like an obsession with accepting challenges.

Barry was dead wrong if he thought I wouldn't dance with another guy. It's not like I hadn't danced with other guys before, though it's different when you are just a group of friends going out than when being asked by a stranger.

"Oh yeah, I'll dance with the next guy that asks," I announced bravely, knowing that it wouldn't come to anything. Barry and I were always together most of the night anyway, and single guys seemed to have a way to identify the unavailable women and avoid them, though some jerks don't get the hint.

"Show me!" He got up, grabbed his drink, and left. I watched with my mouth slightly open while he went and sat at the bar, grinning at me like he had just pulled a fast one.

I tried covering myself by taking a sip of my drink. Well, sip might have been a bit of an understatement. In just a couple minutes, I drank half my Long-Island. After that, I nursed my drink, wondering how long Barry was going to carry this on for. I'm sure most of the guys in the place already saw us together and wouldn't be asking me to dance.

As I was getting to the bottom of my drink and was starting to feel the warm, pleasant side-effects of alcohol, along with the beat of the thumping dance music, I started getting irritated. I just wanted to have some fun and dance with my husband. This was beginning to feel like a lame way to spend our evening.

"Would you like to dance?" A tan guy wearing a black t-shirt, jeans, and a baseball cap asked.

I almost instinctively brushed him off before I remembered the little challenge that Barry had made. I stood up, looked towards my husband, who was watching intently, and let this stranger lead me to the dance floor.

We danced for a while, but nothing crazy. He kept it polite and barely touched me at all, other than an occasional hand on my back. After a while, I noticed Barry sitting back at the table, watching me. I thanked the guy I was dancing with and went back to sit down with Barry.

"So, did you have fun?" Barry asked as soon as I sat down.

It was a little awkward with a stranger, but I loved to dance; however, I was pretty sure that wasn't what Barry was asking me. Quite frankly, I hadn't thought much about it. I was just enjoying the music and dancing.

"I would rather have been dancing with you," I replied, which was true. Barry was a great dancer, he could really turn me on with his moves, and I knew I would be getting lucky with him later, which helped sweeten the deal.

The two of us danced for a couple more hours before going back to the hotel room. That night, Barry was particularly passionate. I was a few orgasms in before I realized what he was probably thinking about. This caused me to start imagining being with a stranger, not my first time, but it seemed more real tonight than usual, especially as I thought about my dance partner from earlier. Neither of us admitted our fantasies, but considering some of the things that were said and done to each other that night, I was sure we were both having them.

The next night, after a few drinks during dinner, Barry proposed 'The Game.' The rules were simple. I danced with a guy, and we would see how far he would get before either I chickened out, or Barry did.

"No!" I responded without even considering it. What was he thinking? Of course, I did enjoy fantasizing about being with a stranger. I shook my head; what am I thinking? No, this is real life, not some sex video. I couldn't do something like that. Could I?

"Sorry." He looked embarrassed, and the conversation faltered as I tried to sort out my feelings, and he was probably trying to figure out how to laugh it off.

I felt a bit bad, and it was just a bit of fun; we probably wouldn't actually go through with it. It really isn't all that different than talking about our fantasies, which we've done before. "I don't know," I allowed, allowing him the opportunity to talk me into it.

And he did. That night, we went in together, but quickly found places across the dance floor from each other. I felt awkward, sitting there alone in a new city. I tapped my foot to the music and sipped my drink, hoping Barry would call it off and we could just get back to enjoying the evening together.

A guy sat down and held out his hand, announcing, "Shane!" over the bass line.

I looked at his hand for a second, not sure what I wanted to do. If I took him up on it, it would be the start of the game. And he was sort of pushy, though not too bad on the eyes.

I shrugged, grabbed his hand in a light, feminine grip, "Becky."

"Drink?"

That wasn't the right line. He was supposed to ask me to dance. I wasn't sure what to say. "Um, sure."

He ran off to get drinks, and I looked over to Barry, who was laughing. I spread my hands and shrugged my shoulders in a "not sure" kind of gesture. He shrugged back. Game still on.

Shane came back quicker than expected and carefully handed my drink to me before sitting back down himself and taking a swig of beer. Perhaps I had judged him a bit harshly. He didn't seem to be as brash as before.

We sat there without talking, which would have been difficult considering the volume of the music, drinking our drinks and watching the dancers for a little bit. I was beginning to wonder if the guy just wanted a good seat to watch the dance floor when he finally asks me, "Dance?" It was the third syllable I heard him say. Perhaps he was running short of words for the day?

But dancing was part of the game. I got up and followed him out.

We danced for a while. Shane wasn't great, but he seemed to be having fun. He kept trying to dance close to me, but I would back off, keeping our bodies separated.

I looked up and saw Barry smirking. Damn it! He was winning.

The next time Shane started dancing close again, I let him. It wasn't long before neither of us were actually dancing. I wasn't turned on or anything, but I wasn't going to let Barry know that. Not until he admitted defeat anyway.

Shane was pretty good at keeping his hands in polite places, but we did have our arms around one another, and I could feel something stiff poking me through his slacks. Well, maybe I was just a tiny bit turned on.

I kept waiting for Barry to cut in. I wondered how he would do it. Would he announce himself as my husband? Just ask to cut in? I hoped it didn't lead to a scene, that would be embarrassing. I looked up and saw him watching us with what I think of as his "hungry eyes;" the look he gives me when things get steamy in the bedroom.

I looked up to make sure Shane didn't notice me looking over at Barry. He had been looking a different direction but turned his head when I did. Our eyes connected, and he leaned down to kiss me on the lips. I let him, though I kept my lips closed.

Soon, I felt the tip of his tongue lick between my lips, trying to find a way in. My lips seemed to part on their own, my tongue met Shane's, and I felt little shivers run through my body. This would get my husband's attention; he'll be cutting in any moment now.

We made out for several minutes, his hands getting friskier, my foot up, toes curled, but still no Barry. I was beginning to get uncomfortable, so quickly backed off Shane, "Sorry, I've got to go." I practically ran from the club. It took Barry a few minutes to meet me in the lobby of the hotel. We both burst out laughing.

"You win," I managed through the chuckles as we were recovering. "What do you want?"

He just grabbed my hand, pulled me into the elevator, and started kissing me before the doors even closed. The sex tonight made last night seem like an evening at the convent.

We checked out near eleven in the morning, but I still didn't feel like I got that much sleep, and I was desperately hoping that the gate at the airport wasn't a long walk.

***

Six weeks later, we found ourselves back at the airport with no idea where we were going to end up. We took the first cheap flight that went somewhere warm and ended up in Dallas, Texas.

Our relationship changed a lot since that night in Baltimore when I kissed that stranger. We talk more frequently and intimately, have sex more often and passionately, and just all around seemed to get along better. Not that we had problems before, it was just that we were more comfortable around one another.

We talked a lot about the game. Each joking about how far the other would let it go. Neither one of us believed it would go very far, but when we were talking about fantasies, we discussed what it would be like if it did. We even watched videos together of wives having sex with other men while their husband watched. It was a fun fantasy.

The first night in Dallas, we found a club not too far from the hotel that wasn't exactly our typical scene. More like country meets rave. The music was definitely EDM, but it had a lot of country music mixed into it. We tried a couple of line dances that seemed to break out spontaneously from time-to-time and had a great time. We joked with each other about the game, such as pointing out men that I should be dancing with, but neither of us initiated it.

After a few hours, we were both pretty tired, so we went back to the hotel and just fell asleep. We did have sex in the morning, which was enjoyable since he was a generous lover, then off to lunch (we had missed breakfast) and a tour of the city before heading back to the hotel to get ready for the evening.

As we were changing for dinner, we noticed that the windows of the hotel room had a very odd feature that we hadn't paid much attention to before. It was like they put them in backward or something, with the reflective surface on the inside so you couldn't see out, but if you were out on the patio, you could see in just fine. We had fun posting a picture of our "view" on Facebook, which was just the reflection of the two of us in the room, with me taking a picture. Of course, the real view just looked out on to an industrial complex, so it probably was intentional.

That evening, after dinner and a couple of drinks, we went to the club inside our hotel (we didn't pick this hotel for the view). They were playing the kind of music we usually danced to, and it seemed to be a lively party. After bringing me my typical Long Island, he said, "Game on," and left me. I had a good buzz going from dinner, so I was more open to the game than I would have been otherwise.

I looked over the crowd and saw several attractive men that appeared to be unattached, and it wasn't long before one of them came over and asked me to dance. He seemed to be a bit of a douche, with wavy, blonde hair, and a stupid smile like he thought I should be thankful for his attention. I shook my head and turned away from him, hoping he would get the hint.

He asked again; I held up my hand and said, "No, thanks." I was getting a bit nervous that he was going to be an ass about it. I looked around the dance floor for Barry, hoping he would rescue me. I couldn't find him, but a cute guy was sitting alone a few tables away. He looked at me sympathetically.

I walked over, hoping that the jerk wouldn't follow; he did. I threw my arms around the sympathetic guy as if I already knew him. He hugged me back and put his arm around me, glancing at the other guy, "Is he bothering you?"

I nodded slightly, "Yeah, sorry. Do you mind if I hang out here for a bit? My friend is supposed to meet me here, but she's running late."

"Sure." The other guy seemed to lose interest and left, but I stuck around, in case he decided to come back. That douche really sapped the fun out of the evening quickly. If I could just find Barry, we could end this silly game.

After finishing my Long Island, my new table buddy asked, "Want to dance?"

Well, that's certainly an invitation to the game, and he seemed nice, not to mention being my hero from saving me from that jerk. He took my hand and led me out to the dance floor.

Before I knew it, I was lost to the beat of the music. We danced for a while, coming closer during some of the slower, more sensual beats, then separating and dancing more apart when the beat got quicker.

During one of the slow beats, I found my hand on his broad chest. I'm not entirely sure how they got there, I blamed the booze, which was definitely having an effect on me, though so was being so close to this guy. I found myself hoping that Barry wouldn't break us up too soon.

I felt his hand move from my waist, down to my ass, pulling me into him. I could feel his muscled thigh rubbing between my legs. We were just dancing close. Plenty of other couples were dancing close together, nothing unusual here. At least that's what I told myself, but if I hadn't been turned on before, I definitely was now. A brief mental image of him, naked, thrusting into me as my pussy rubbed against his leg made me gasp.

I looked up and saw my husband watching nearby, clearly having no intention of cutting in. Perhaps he didn't understand what was going on between us.

I felt the guys dick slowly harden against my stomach. I did nothing to separate us, in fact, I pressed a little harder. My hand slipped down a bit from his chest before I stopped myself from going further. Damn, that was a close call. As fun as the game might be, I'm not actually going to have sex with a stranger.

We continued to dance like this for several minutes, him gently pulling on my ass, pressing me into him rhythmically. Oh god, I think I might cum right here on the dance floor. I leaned my head onto his shoulder, biting my lower lip as I let the sensation move me closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy.

Fuck, I had to get Barry to end the game, but no way was I going to let him win. I needed him to take me back to the hotel room and fuck me hard.

I looked over to Barry, and our eyes met. He had to see what was going on, but he wasn't getting up. He watched as I finally let my hand go down his chest, his waist, then over his tight ass, pulling him more firmly into me. I saw nothing indicating my husband was going to get up and stop this. I couldn't let him win.

New tactic. I reached up and pulled this perfect stranger into a kiss, our tongues meeting right away. This would get Barry to cut in so I could win the game. Hopefully, it will be soon; this kiss was making me pant, him grabbing my tit wasn't helping matters either. I turned a bit to make sure Barry could see where his hand was.

He still just sat there watching. This wasn't working; I was getting desperate for a release. As difficult as it was to pull my body away from this hot guy, I told him, "I need to use the restroom. I'll be right back."

I headed in the general direction of the restrooms, hoping Barry would come and take me back to the hotel.

He found me and said, "Are you giving up?"

"No! But if you don't give up soon, I'm taking him back to the room. Is that what you want?" Ha, that would get him to call the game.

"Um, OK. Give me a fifteen-minute head start." I watched his quickly receding back as he made his way out of the club.

What the hell just happened? Did he want me to take this stranger back to the room? When was he going to stop this? Was it fair to the stranger to take this any further if nothing was going to happen between us?

I worried that I was going to regret this, but my good judgment had left a long time ago. After going to the restroom, I found my dance partner waiting for me near the table we had met at.

When he saw me, he asked: "Want a drink?"

"Um, no, I better not." My thinking was already impaired enough.

We were soon back out on the dance floor, and it took almost no time to get back into our previous positions, my body responding once again to him.

As the minutes ticked away, I became nervous about how I should invite him back to my room. I mean, should I just ask him to come up? Perhaps I should invent some reason? Maybe wait for him to ask me?

It had been a little over fifteen minutes since my husband had left; I was going to have to do something soon. My heart started beating faster. Best to just make it simple.

I blushed, embarrassed about what I was about to say, and having difficulty looking him in the eye, but just went ahead with it, "Um, want to go somewhere a bit more private. Uh, I've got a hotel room here." I cringed. God, what if he says no? What if he says yes? Why hasn't he said anything yet? Why did I think this was a good idea? Damn Barry and his stupid game.

I looked up at him, and he seemed to be at a loss for words. I was just about to try to play it off as a joke or something when he said, "OK. That sounds good." We walked out hand-in-hand.

Once we got into the lobby where it was much quieter, he said, "Oh, I haven't gotten your name yet."

For some reason, I didn't want to tell him. "I won't tell you mine if you don't tell me yours," I said with a smirk.

I don't think he knew what to say. Good, the fewer words, the easier this was going to be. Especially since I was pretty sure he was leaving with blue balls this evening once Barry came to his senses and admitted defeat. I felt terrible for this guy, but he didn't even have a name, so that should hopefully make it easier (though I didn't think it actually would).

We stood awkwardly waiting for the elevator, me hoping nobody noticed that I was with somebody other than my husband. We got on the elevator and, once I picked the floor and the doors started to close, he grabbed me and kissed me passionately.

At first, I was startled at his aggressiveness, but I soon melted into him as my desire was quickly rekindled. The doors opened, and we staggered out, a bit more disheveled than when we got in. Luckily my room wasn't too far down the hall, and I soon found myself inside a hotel room with a perfect stranger.