My Wife at the Bachelor Party

I've had it with community college teaching and I'm packing it in at the end of the contract year. Anyone who's ever taught in one of these places knows why. After talking things over with Nancy, I've decided to go on for my Ph.D. Maybe it will allow me to get a real college teaching job. We've been able to put away a little money over the past two years, and a fellowship is likely, so it's just a question now of what program to enter. One school I'm considering is the University of Oregon, so a couple of weeks ago I canceled my Thursday and Friday classes and we flew to Eugene to chat with people in the history department, check out housing, transportation options, and so forth.

We also left some time to play a sex game to satisfy Nancy's sexual adventures (exhibitionism and sexual contact short of actual intercourse or fellatio) and my love of watching her in action. On the plane, we went over some ideas for a sex game, but we came up with nothing definite since we knew so little about Eugene.

First, for those readers new to my little reports, let me describe Nancy. She turned 26 in August but looks much younger because she has a youthful, very pretty face and a petite figure – 5'4" and less than 110 pounds. Many people assume she's a teenager. She recently got a haircut, so her blonde hair is now rather short (I like it longer and hope she'll let it grow out). Best of all, she has a wonderful figure. Her breasts are high, firm, and not very large. Her nipples are light pink and I, and other men, love to watch them in varying degrees of erectness under a tight sweater or thin blouse. She almost never wears a bra. I'm especially fond of her ass, which is absolutely gorgeous. It's the sort of ass you just want to spread with your hands and bury your face in. Finally, Nancy has a beautiful, tight-lipped cunt surrounded by wispy brownish-blonde cunt hair that she trims just enough to contain within a skimpy bikini bottom. I, and several other men I've watched perform cunnilingus on her, will attest that her cunt tastes wonderful.

Anyway, we arrived in Eugene Thursday afternoon and rented a car at the airport. We drove around the area for a while (very nice) and found a pretty good motel near the campus. We settled in at the motel, went out for a not-very-good dinner, and returned to the room for a while. At about 9:00 o'clock, after watching TV and snoozing for a while – the flight had been a little wearing since we'd had several long airport layovers – we got ready to go out.

Nancy put on a short black skirt and a tight, rather thin, yellow sweater with a crew neck. I knew the sweater would be a real attention-getter since it revealed every curve and bounce of her pretty but not large breasts. Naturally, she wasn't wearing a bra. Her nipples showed quite prominently, and the outline of her pink areolas could be seen well or poorly depending on the light she was in. Her skirt was flared, pleated, and came to her upper thighs, which were deliciously bare. Beneath the skirt she'd put on a pair of her sheerest white panties. On her feet, Nancy wore plain brown leather shoes. As we left the motel room, we each put on light-weight jackets.

At a little past 10:00 o'clock, after driving around for a while, we located a bar near the university that seemed pretty busy and loud for a Thursday night. I parked just around the corner from it and had Nancy wait a few minutes before coming in so I could establish myself in the bar as an unattached man (we'd agreed on this earlier). As I took a seat at the crowded bar, my first thought was that I hoped not many of the students had Friday morning classes. The beer and booze were flowing pretty freely.

Most of the customers were young men, but there were a few girls, too. Some were definitely cute, but most were on the chunky side. The best looking of them seemed to be with their boyfriends. And every last one of them was wearing pants, jeans mostly.

So when Nancy entered the bar ten minutes after I did, her bare legs alone were enough to attract male attention, though her total package (the blue eyes, the short blonde hair) assured that this attention was pretty intense. About fifteen sets of eyes fixed on her instantly. Standing just inside the entrance, she removed her jacket and laid it over her arm. She then walked down the bar without acknowledging me, as though looking for something or someone. Most of the guys at the bar noticed, with quick little sidelong glances, the way my wife's pretty little tits bounced in her tight sweater as she walked, but no one tried speaking to her. It was obviously assumed that she was there to meet some lucky bastard.

Looking a little lost, Nancy found an empty table near the rear of the room and sat down. I think it was the only unoccupied table in the place. I watched several guys who had noticed her (not everyone had yet) shift their positions slightly to see whom it was she was there to meet. It was still inconceivable to them, I suspect, that anyone looking this good could be there alone. She sat facing the bar, and I and the others sitting there got a tantalizing though brief glimpse of her bare upper thighs as she spread her legs slightly to lay her coat over one of the chairs.

There was no bar maid, but the bartender (a young out-of-shape guy) interrupted what he was doing to walk around the far end of the bar and over to her table. She ordered something and he went back behind the bar to get it for her. It was a glass of some kind of white wine. To spare him another trip to her table, Nancy stood up and, wallet in hand, walked to the bar to pay. I noticed that she went to the most crowded part of the bar, where a group of jock-types were standing rather than sitting down, to pick up her drink. She put a hand on a very large guy's back to let him know she was behind him (he hadn't noticed her before, I guess) and I heard him say, rather drunkenly, "Well, hello!" He then muscled the guy he'd been talking to a few inches away from him to make way for her at the bar. I couldn't be sure from where I was sitting, but I think she brushed her tits against the big guy's arm as she turned sideways and wedged her way in between the knot of guys. I noticed that the guy who had been shoved away took a step back from the bar to leer appreciatively at my wife's body, especially her ass and legs. Another guy who had been standing nearby came closer to get a better look, too. I lost sight of her briefly as she was temporarily hemmed in.

The bartender started to slide the glass of wine across the bar to her, but he hesitated. I heard him ask her, rather apologetically, for identification. I couldn't blame him. The way she looked, she easily could've been a teenager. She opened her wallet and showed him her driver's license. She was about to pay him when the large guy said, "I'll get this," and pushed some money toward the bartender. Nancy thanked him, picked up her drink, and I again lost sight of her as she pushed her way back through the guys to get back to her table. They didn't given her much space to pass, I noticed, and I think there was quite a lot of light, apparently innocent, body contact.

When she got back to her table, about ten feet from the jocks at the bar, she sat down demurely to sip her wine. After watching her so obviously alone there for several minutes, the big guy who'd paid for her drink picked up his glass of beer and walked over to her table. Towering over her, he asked her if he could join her. She smiled and indicated with a gesture that this was fine with her. Meanwhile, and gratuitously, I noticed that a table right next to hers had opened up, so I took the opportunity to pick up my drink and move over to it. As I sat down, a couple of chubby girls swooped in to pick up two unoccupied chairs from my table and move them to where they were sitting with friends.

I soon discovered that, sitting so close to my wife and her large companion (he must have been about six-foot-four and somewhere around 230 pounds), it wasn't hard to hear what they were saying. The noisiness around them forced them to speak fairly loudly.

He introduced himself as Paul and he said he'd gone to the university but was sitting out a year to work construction. She gave her real name. He'd probably seen it when she'd shown her I.D. at the bar, so there was no point in giving an alias. She lied to him about being an elementary school teacher in town for a conference. She said she'd gotten separated from the group of teachers she'd been out partying with. She hoped they'd find her soon because she was getting tired and needed a ride back to her motel.

Paul said, "No problem." By that, I assumed he meant he could drive her to her (well, our) motel. His back was to me so I couldn't judge how drunk he was. If he was really drunk, I wasn't about to let him drive her anywhere. We had a rule about that.

They talked for a while longer. Paul was pumping her for information about herself and Nancy laid out her consistent but untrue story for him. Yes, she was married, but it was relief to get away by herself. Yes, she was a school teacher (she lied), but she hoped one day to get into something a little more exciting. She complained about her life being altogether too dull. He commented on how beautiful she was and asked if she'd ever done any acting or modeling. The perfect opening! Well, yes, she said, she had modeled, but it wasn't the kind she was proud of and it was something her principal would certainly never hear about.

All this was turning Paul on, of course. It was meant to. He bought her a second glass of wine and tried to get more out of her. But all she would say was how awkward it was to be separated from her conference mates and how she really needed to get to her motel.

He asked her if she'd like him to drive her to the motel and she looked at him dubiously. "To be honest, Paul, I'm not sure you're in shape to drive," she said. "I wouldn't want you getting a DUI on my account. Maybe one of your friends has had less to drink and could drive me. You could ride along as a chaperone."

He started to object but changed his mind, I guess. He stood up and walked (a little unsteadily) over to his friends at the bar. He grabbed one of them by the arm, a much shorter though well-muscled guy, and pulled him over to Nancy's table. "Will Frank do?" he asked. "He's only been here an hour or so and he's sober as Jesus."

Nancy sized up Frank and said, with a laugh, that she thought he'd do fine. He looked OK to me, too. He had a shock of red hair and seemed a little nerdy to be hanging out with jock-types. Paul sat back down with my wife and Frank joined them.

That's when Nancy pulled an interesting stunt. I watched her raise her nearly full glass of wine up to her mouth then pretend to lose control of it. The contents of the glass went all over the front of her sweater and the glass itself fell to the wooden floor and shattered. She gave a little squeal and said, "Oh, shit!" Naturally, every eye in the bar was on her as she stood up and pushed her chair back. At first she stood stiffly, as though in shock. Then, looking utterly dismayed, she brushed her hands over the front of her sweater, especially over her pretty breasts, where most of the wine had ended up. This motion had the delightful (and not at all unintentional) effect of calling attention to how erect her nipples had become as they bobbed and jiggled beneath her hands.

Nancy then began brushing her hands up and down her bare thighs, where some of the wine had fallen, and increased the enjoyment of her audience by "accidentally" flipping up the front of her short skirt to reveal, briefly, the crotch of her sheer white panties. Paul and Frank, sitting so close to her and with their eyes at crotch level, got especially good looks. From where I was sitting, just behind them, I could just make out my wife's brownish-blonde cunt hair through the thin material.

The bartender came running around the end of the bar with a rag. He handed it to Nancy, who spent another thirty seconds or so daubing and rubbing her sweater with it. Every male eye in the place observed the effect this daubing and rubbing was having on her breasts. Finally, Nancy said, "This isn't doing any good. I've got to get out of this."

Some guy sitting near me said, approvingly, "Yeah!" Maybe he thought she might remove the sweater right there.

Instead, she picked up her light jacket, which had her wallet in it, and headed for the women's room. As she walked away from her table, Paul said, "I'll get you another glass of wine, OK?" Nancy thanked him over her shoulder.

She was gone for almost five minutes during which time one of the guys Paul had been drinking with at the bar joined Frank and him at my wife's table. I pretended to ignore what they were saying, but it was a real turn-on listening to them talk about her. The newcomer to the table said he loved the way Nancy's tits looked without a bra. He said he'd love to get his hands on them. "And did you notice those great legs of hers?" asked Frank. "When she was rubbing that wine off her thighs, she showed them to us all the way up to her panties." Paul confirmed this and said she looked like she had a really sweet pussy. He said he'd love to get his tongue in it later before he gave her "the fucking of her life." He went on to say that she was married but had complained to him about having a dull life. He was pretty sure she was up for a little excitement.

When Nancy returned to the table, wearing her light gray jacket (which fit her very loosely and which she'd left unsnapped down to her breasts) and carrying her soaked sweater, she sat down with one more male companion than she'd had previously. The new guy, whose name I never learned, was sitting to her left side and was almost immediately treated to a view of my wife's naked right breast when her jacket gaped open as she leaned forward to pick up the fresh glass of wine Paul had bought for her. Even from where I sat at the next table I could see quite a bit of her breasts, so I knew his view was an especially good one.

I discreetly moved back to the bar then and ordered another drink for myself. I didn't want my looking-on to be too obvious. I couldn't hear all that was being said anymore, but, thanks to the customers thinning out a little and the noise level falling significantly, I could still hear enough to tell what was going on. Mainly, looking on from the bar, I was enjoying the way the three guys at my wife's table were trying to get better looks at her breasts, which came partially or fully into view as she moved her body this way and that. As for their conversation, after a few minutes of talking about Eugene (they said it was a great place, with lots of excitement), they (especially Paul) began getting her to say more about her work as a model, the work she said she didn't want her principal to know about.

Pretending to be tipsy and talking a little too loud, my wife "revealed" things to them, over the next thirty minutes or so, that she knew would raise their interest even further. I heard her mention posing nude in a video and working with a male model (something that happened to be true). "Yes, with a guy," I heard her say in answer to some question. Then I saw her shaking her head vehemently and saying, "No, I never went that far. I just do that with my boring old husband." Then I heard her say, in response to some question, "Yes, I've done that at parties. I made good money doing that." Finally, I heard her ask, "You mean there's no one in Eugene?" and "Getting naked sure beats working as a waitress." What she was giving them about working nude at parties was bullshit, of course, but it was plausible bullshit.

During the next twenty minutes or so, the guys at my wife's table were obviously trying to talk her into helping them do something "for a buddy" at some other bar. He was getting married soon and they wanted a surprise for him. Would she mind? She appeared reluctant, then said maybe it might be fun, but she hadn't done anything like this since she'd gotten married. If he knew, her husband wouldn't ever allow such a thing. Furthermore, she said, she didn't have her costumes or music with her. They assured her that what she was wearing would perfectly all right and they could just use the jukebox at the bar if they needed music. Finally, after much discussion, she overcame her feeble objections and agreed to be a "surprise" for their friend. One of them clapped his hands together and said, "All right!" She made a point then of saying she couldn't be up all night and that she needed to get back to her motel by 1:30 a.m. or so. She couldn't be a total wreck tomorrow, she said. After all, she was expected to interact professionally with the others at the conference.

Paul said, "No problem! We can just stop by for a little while," and, taking a cell phone from his pocket, walked out the front door of the bar, dialing as he went.

Nancy and the three guys at her table all stood up then, getting ready to go somewhere. They were joined by several other guys from the bar and I heard them talking about "going over to surprise Billy." It looked like there might be a minor exodus from this place to the one where Billy was. I was still at the bar, of course, thinking of how I might best attach myself to this group of guys when Nancy suddenly walked over to me and said, in a voice loud enough for the others to hear, "Weren't you in one of my sessions today? Aren't you at the conference, too?"

I said that I was. I told her (and the others listening in) that I was a high school teacher from California. A plausible story, I figured.

She slapped her head and said, "Oh, shit! I hope you haven't been listening to any of this, about me going over to this little party, I mean. I'm afraid it'll be all over the place tomorrow."

I said (as Paul, who had returned from making his phone call, glowered at me) that, of course, I wouldn't say a word to anyone about it. I didn't even know anyone at the conference. What the guys were planning for their friend sounded like fun to me, I added. And her going along with it showed what a good sport she was. And, since I wasn't doing anything, I asked her, could I tag along?

She acted relieved. "Sure, I don't mind. But none of those teachers had better hear about this, OK? Not that I plan on being a teacher much longer." She shook hands with me and I introduced myself using my real name, Calvin. The guys, even though I was an outsider, seemed willing to accept me and resumed getting ready to go. It was about 12:15.

I was given directions to the bar our group was going to, only a few blocks away as it turned out. It was attached to a restaurant that had stopped serving an hour or so earlier. The soon-to-be-wedded Billy was tending bar there and had the option of closing early when business was slow or if there was a private party. Billy had told Paul over the phone that there wasn't anyone in the bar anyway, that his boss wouldn't mind if he had a few drinks with friends while setting up the bar for the next day. Billy apparently expected a few male companions to drop by.

I quickly went to the rental car and pulled it around in front of the bar just as Nancy emerged from it carrying her sweater in one hand and her wallet in the other. Just behind her were five or six guys, including Paul and Frank. She crossed the street, walking a little unsteadily for effect, and Frank unlocked the passenger side door of his car, which looked like a Toyota Matrix, and stood behind her to watch her climb in. From my angle I couldn't see exactly what Frank got to see, but I think she gave him a nice preview of her ass as she leaned forward to lay her sweater on the hump between the two front seats before climbing in.