Strangers in a Bar Pt. 02

After leaving you at the bar with your "friend" Lexi, I head outside with my drink to a table on the patio. As I walk through the restaurant, crowded with MILFs and their mostly zero dates, I can feel that my boxers are wet from all the pre-cum that's dribbled out after each erection I've had while talking to you and surreptitiously looking at your sexy body. I sit so that I can see you at the bar.

I watch you as you talk to Lexi. You put on a good show, animated and friendly, laughing and touching her arm and leg with feigned affection. I can look at your amazing tits now, unencumbered by the fear of getting caught. I can mostly see them from the side, and they look glorious in that sexy top you chose. But they're too far away. I want to see them closer. I want to see them freed. I want to see them heave with your sighs and jiggle with your gasps. I want to touch them, and kiss them, and lick them. I want your hard nipples in my mouth. I have another erection. I feel like maybe I'm getting out of control of myself. I'm ogling and fantasyzing about a complete stranger I only met a few hours ago. I'm treating you like a piece of meat and I know you're so much more than that. But then I think that maybe, just for one night, you want to be a piece of meat. A hot piece of ass that has a stranger cuming in his pants just from talking to you. My erection grows stronger.

As I watch you and Lexi talk and touching each other, I imagine that it's more than just faked social cues of affection and respect. I imagine that you two have had a torrid affair in the past. I see you both passionately kissing as you rub your hands over each other's naked bodies. I see you locked in a 69, the smaller woman wriggling on top of you as you expertly eat her pussy out. Her flat, warm, muscular stomach is mashing against your tits, stimulating your nipples as she tongues your pussy and licks your clit. You're both moaning and gyrating as you try to pull each other further inside of you. I can smell the musky scent of pussy juice and hear the wet slurping of your frantic mouths. Then I see you sitting on the now sheetless bed, facing each other, legs scissored and entwined around each other as you grind your pussies together. The look on both of your faces is pure lust before you both fall back on the bed squirming and shuddering from a mutual, powerful orgasm. My dick is so hard now that I'm uncomfortable. I try to adjust myself in my seat, but it doesn't help. I'm afraid that when I stand up I'll have a large visible wet spot on my jeans.

I'm driving myself crazy. You're driving me crazy. I try to relax and reflect upon our conversation so far. You're shown yourself to be smart and unique. You're your own woman, which is really sexy. While that does tell me something about you, something I like a lot, I don't know all that much about who you are. What I do know, is that what I "know" about you is mostly made up in my head as I fill in all the holes with the information I want to be there. There's no denying that I am fascinated by you. I want to know you better, but I don't know if you want that. I don't know what you want, if anything. I'm not even sure if I'll talk to you again. Do I go back to the bar after Lexi leaves? What if she doesn't leave? Despite how much fun I've had talking to you, and how great it feels, I also feel all my old insecurities coming back up to the surface. I'm giddy and scared and horny as hell. I feel like I'm in high school again. It feels both wonderful and terrible. I feel powerful and vulnerable at the same time.

I decide to pull out my phone as a distraction, and to help relieve the pressure of my raging hard-on. After 10 or 15 minutes I look up and you're no longer at the bar. Lexi is gone too. I'm disappointed, sad really. I feel kind of like crying. I reach for my drink but realize it's empty. Should I get another one, or just go home and furiously masturbate thinking about you? Do I go back to the bar and try to make another hookup, or just sit here and see if any of those hot MILFs come to take a nibble? At least my hard-on is gone, and I don't see a wet spot on my pants. So, I got that going for me tonight.

"Excuse me, is this seat taken?"

I turn to see you standing over me with two fresh drinks. You look like an angel from heaven. My sadness bursts into joy and I smile hoping that I'm not looking to happy to see you again. Desperation is never a good look.

"No. Please join me," I say.

I notice you've reapplied your lipstick. You're holding your clutch in your arm so that it's pressing up against the side of your breast. You lean over to set down the glasses and I finally get a long drink of you breasts as you do. Instead of slaking my thirst however, it just makes it worse. I adjust my chair to more readily face you and now I can get a better look at you. Your about 5'4" but have three to four inch heels on. Your outfit, like you, is both cute and sexy. It's hard to tell with the loose skirt but you look to have a full, round ass that tapers down to a pair of sexy and shapely legs. Your heel straps go up past your ankles, highlighting how thin they are and how positively delicious your calves look. I want to run my finger tips over them. I want to lick them while your ankles are by my ears. You sit down and cross your legs so they're right in front of me.

"Thank you so much for that back there," you say, pointing over your shoulder at the bar with your thumb. You lean forward giving me another look at your breasts and you put your hand on my leg, briefly. "I really appreciate it. Ugh. She is really the worst gossip," you say as you lean back. "If she thought she saw me here with another man besides my...well it'd be all over the school by tomorrow morning." You take a drink before adding, "I don't really give a fuck what that fake bitch thinks of me, but I don't want to have to put up with all the other moms' hypocritical bullshit. And I especially don't want my kids to have to deal with it." You catch yourself and take a deep breath. "I'm sorry," you sigh. "Let's start over." I find that I like hearing you swear like this. It gives you a confidence and strength that's sexy and maybe a little aggressive.

"Well you certainly looked like you were enjoying your conversation."

You lean forward and turn your head to look in the restaurant so you can see my perspective. "You were watching me?" you ask with a smile.

"Ummm. Is there a way for me to say yes that doesn't sound creepy?"

"Nooo," you say, making a face that says you're suddenly uncomfortable.

"Uh. OK. Well, what happened was, I sat down here and found that my attention was repeatedly drawn towards your captivating beauty."

"Oh my. That's really good." You put down your drink and clap for me. "But now I'm thinking that you're an excellent liar."

I smile at you playing with me.

"It's the truth though. To be honest, I couldn't stop looking at you."

"Ohhhh," you say making a disappointed look. "Creepy again."

I laugh. "I don't think I can win this, can I?"

"Nope," you say taking a sip.

I laugh again. I can see your eyes smiling over the lip of your glass.

"To be honest in return," you reply setting down your drink again. "I couldn't see where you went, but I hoped you hadn't left, and I was wondering if you were watching me." You seem proud of yourself for commanding my full attention. You wave your hand back towards the bar to indicate a change of subject. "I've gotten really used to acting that way, living in this part of town. I hate it really. Everyone is so fake. But you gotta do what you gotta do to survive." You screw up your face in an incredibly adorable way. I laugh.

"So, um, I'm married," you tell me sheepishly. You hold up your hand with the big rock on it. "You probably guessed that." Neither of us has mentioned any partners up to this point, current or ex.

"I did." I hold up my hand with the wedding band on it. "Me too." I shrug sheepishly to match you.

You proceed to tell me about your husband and your unhappy marriage. You married after college when you found you were pregnant. You had another kid quickly after the first. But after two children you put on weight and your husband lost interest. He sounded to me like a type-A control freak. He spent all of his time working, which made him lots of money. That's what he cared about most. You had always suspected that he was banging his succession of young, hot personal assistants. You tried getting yourself back into shape to win his attention back, but he'd moved on. Finally, he got caught at a school auction event fucking one of the caterers in a closet. It was very humiliating and very public. You'd had enough and kicked him out. But you still weren't sure if you wanted to divorce him or not.

Now he had the kids for a week long trip to Disney World to buy back some of their love. But as usual he was only thinking with his wallet and his dick. You were pretty sure from talking to the kids that he'd brought a girlfriend on the trip too. He had enough sense to put her up in another room, but still, what a fuck up. And you were plenty pissed about it.

"It sounds like you have lots of reasons to be pissed. So is this the final straw?" I ask.

"I don't know? I know how stupid I must sound saying that, but we've been married for over 20 years. That's hard to throw away. So you think I should divorce him?"

"Oh no, not at all. I understand how hard a decision like that is. Nobody else can tell you what to do. But I will tell you that in the little time I've known you I can tell that you are anything but stupid. I'm sure you already know what you need to do, you just need time to process everything and let the answer seep in. Either way, it's going to affect who you are and you'll have to have time to adjust to that."

My hand is resting on the table and you reach over and put your hand on mine. You don't say anything, but you look deeply grateful. I guess it's been a long time since anyone has listened to you too.

You ask me about my wife and I tell you all about it. The complaining, the blame, the frustration, the stress, and the complete lack of affection and sex. It feels good to get it out and tell someone else instead of just fuming about it alone in my car. You tell me she sounds like your husband in some ways.

If the first part of the evening was playful and fun, the second part is more somber with hints of sadness and regret. But I enjoy this just as much, in some ways I like this better. I'm getting to know you and you're learning to trust me. It's intimate, and that's what I want. I mean yeah, I want to the fuck the shit out of you and make you cum like you've never cum before, but I also want to feel like somebody knows me and likes me and wants me around. Plus, I haven't had an erection in over an hour. I feel more calm now, more in control. I'm a mature man talking to a sexy, mature woman again, not an anxiety-ridden, sex-crazed high school kid.

"So why do you stay?" you ask.

"Because of my kids. I had children much later than you. Mine are still in grade school. And this is Texas, so my wife WILL get the kids. I don't want them being raised by her primarily alone. Also, she's vindictive and I'm pretty sure that she'd be trash talking me when she was alone with them. I can't have any of that."

You lean forward and put your hand on my leg. You didn't need to lean forward to do that, but I appreciated the brief show. "So you're stuck."

"Yep. Stuck."

"I do admire your dedication to your kids," you tell me finally removing your hand and leaning back. Your touch is electric and I miss it when you pull your hand away.

"So, no sex in five years? That's rough. How do you...deal with it?" I feel you starting to explore, which encourages me to do the same.

"I masturbate," I say matter-of-factly. "Sometimes a lot."

"Hmm. So which do you think is worse, five years of no sex or ten years of shitty sex?"

"How shitty?" I ask you wanting to know more about what sex with you is like.

"Sex with John has been boring since the kids were born. But about ten years ago it fell off a cliff. I think that's when he started fucking other women. Since then it's more perfunctory than passionate or even fun, and it's never satisfying. Maybe once a month, for ten or fifteen minutes. Mostly missionary, sometimes doggy. That's it." You take a sip of your drink. "The worst part is that I'm sure he's on Viagra. I found one of those blue pills in his suitcase after a business trip. He said it was an aspirin, but I described it to a friend and she said it was definitely Viagra. So that limp-dick bastard gets juiced up to fuck all his pretty little whores, and then comes home and I get the 10-minute special." You realize that your voice is getting raised and you look around to see if anyone heard you. "Excuse me."

I smile. I love that you used the word 'perfunctory'. You just keep getting sexier. "It's not necessary. You should be mad. And, yeah, you win."

"I'm sorry, no." You put your hand on my leg again and I feel warmth radiating through my whole body. "I wasn't trying to make it a contest."

"No that's fine. I get it." I briefly touch your hand on my leg before we both pull away. I miss you already. "So why didn't you ever tell John no?"

"Huh? I've asked myself that recently. I don't know really. I think it just never occurred to me that was an option. We got married so young, and it's not like things went from great to terrible overnight. It was a low progression and I guess I just got acclimated to it. John has always thought that being a man meant making lots of money, and buying lots of things, and fucking lots of little girls. His friends are all like that too, and their wives all go along with it. I guess I just started to believe it. Honestly, I do like the money, it makes everything else so much easier, but I guess in that way it's also a kind of like a drug that just covers up the symptoms but not the cause. Also, for a long time I thought it was my fault somehow. John would always talk about the other wives and how sexy they were as if I just didn't measure up to them."

"You don't." I say quickly. "You're way better than them, from what I can see. You are super sexy. Do you feel sexy?"

"I'm starting to." You shift in your chair and recross your legs with the other on top. Your high-heeled foot brushes against my calf. I wonder if your pussy is starting to send you signals? Is it getting damp? The warmth from your touches starts to gather in my crotch. I can feel it moving again.

"And what about you? Do you masturbate?" I'm interested in exploring how far I can go before you pull back. If at all.

"No."

"Why not?" I ask a little surprised.

"Well, like I said before, I guess I never thought of it as an option."

"It is," I assure you. "It's a great option. Tell me, when you go to the gym do you wear one of those sexy tight outfits? Like some yoga pants and a matching sports bra?"

"Of course." You wave your hands around indicating the rest of the bar. "It's practically our day-time uniform."

I laugh. I love your wit. "Right. So do you feel sexy when you wear that?"

"Yes."

"I bet. I'd love to see that, frankly." You smile sheepishly. "And do you feel sexy when you're done working out? You know a little sore and sweaty?"

"Yes." You smile again.

"I'd love to see that too." You recross your legs and brush my calf with your foot again. It sends another jolt of electricity to my hardening crotch. "So that's when you do it. Go home and masturbate. Or get in the shower and masturbate. Or even better, masturbate in the shower at the gym. You wouldn't be the only one who's ever done that. Wait, no. Here's what you do. After the gym go to the grocery store in your sexy outfit. Shake your ass, bend over to look at things on the bottom shelf a lot. Give every guy in that place a great show, and a hard-on. You totally would. Then go home and masturbate."

You laugh, but I can tell you're interested. "I don't know that I could give every guy there a hard-on. Some of them are gay."

We both laugh.

"I'm serious though," I say putting my hand on your leg. I wonder if you feel the same jolt running up to your pussy that feel in my dick when we you touch me. "Watch all the guys, the straight ones, checking you out. It'll make you realize how powerful you are, and will be a real turn-on. I promise."

"OK. Maybe I'll try that."

I know that you'll try that. "Do you have any toys?" I keep pushing you.

"Toys?" You look surprised, but not put off. "I have a small vibrator."

"Is it waterproof?"

"I don't know."

"Get a waterproof one that you can use in the shower. You could also get a dildo while you're there." I'm getting a little nervous about pushing you too far, but you're still with me. How far will you go? "One with a suction cup so you can stick it to the wall."

"What for?" you ask coyly.

"So you can fuck it!" I forget where we are and say that a little too loudly as a man walks by the table. He turns to look at us.

"Oh shit," I say when he's out of earshot again. "Sorry about that."

You uncross your legs and lean way forward putting your hand on my leg again. I feel my cock twitch. You're laughing and you say, "Don't be. That was hilarious. Did you see his face?"

I laugh too. You are amazing. I tell you, "You are amazing." I put my hand on yours and we don't pull them away immediately. The touch lingers and I know you're getting as wet as I am hard. You sit back and rub my leg again as you recross.

"I find it hard to reconcile this woman sitting in front of me with the doormat you described in that one-sided marriage." Your face sours and I'm afraid I've spoiled the mood. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean doormat. I just mean..."

"No. You're right. I was a doormat. It makes me sad when I think about all the years I wasted letting myself be pushed into being someone I didn't want to be. But then, that's why I'm here now."

"How many times have you been here? Or someplace like this?" I ask you.

"This is my third time."

"And?"

"The first two times were a bust. I got some interest." You shake your tits a little and laugh. I feel like it's OK to look and watch hungrily as your beautiful breast sway and bounce. I only look for a second though, and then I laugh too. "But it was guys just like my husband."

"And?"

You lean forward giving me another look, but I don't take the bait. I'm looking into your beautiful green eyes. You put your hand on my leg. I think I may have actually jolted a little when you touched me. I hope not. I wonder if you're having a little fun trying to rev my engine. It would make sense that after all those years that you wanted to feel your own power to turn a man on. I want to oblige, but I also have to keep myself in some kind of control.

"You have potential." I want to ask you 'potential for what', but I think that might be pushing too hard, and I don't feel like I need to be stupidly coy at this point.

So I just say, "But?"

"But, I'm trying to figure out if you're real or a charming liar. I've known a lot of narcissists and psychocotics over the years. I am married to one." You look around like you suspect you are surrounded by them. You probably are in this part of town.

"That's fair," I say. Then I smile and lean forward and put my hand on your leg, but this time I rub it a little too. "But then, that's exactly what a charming liar would say. Isn't it?" I wink and lean back. You smile and recross your legs and brush me with your foot again. You're definitely getting wet, and I have a bulge in my pants. I hope you can see it. I look away to get my drink giving you a chance to look. I don't know if you do or not, but my whole crotch feels warm thinking of you looking at it lustfully.