"I was just thinking how inappropriate that dress was for a nice place like this," I gestured around the club. As I did so, a heavily overweight girl stumbled past, her gut dangling out between the tops of her jeans and her cropped top. As she walked past, we could see her thong sticking at a jaunty angle over the top of her jeans. I caught the eye of my mysterious new cohort and we both snickered.
"Classy," she said, pursing her lips and nodding with an air of seriousness.
"You see - this is what the kids are doing these days," I pressed on. Fuck it - I was enjoying the banter. "Never fancied that look yourself?" She snorted.
"Yeah - can't wait to show the world my knickers, me!" she paused as if thinking about it. "Unfortunately I don't own any. Joke," she added, quickly as she caught perhaps a certain look in my eye.
For a minute or two we sat in silence amidst the to sturm-und-drang of the bass, the dry ice and the flashing lights. It was she who broke the silence.
"So what you doing here then?" she asked. "Shouldn't you be at home sucking Werther’s Originals?"
"Yeah I know - snooker's on too," I said, pretending to look at my watch. "Nah - it's my mate's birthday. They're all single or... lightly attached. I'm something of a doughty traditionalist." I said. The last bit escaped her and she shook her head as if misunderstanding.
"Yeah I know," she said, holding up her ring finger to show me an engagement ring. "You get set aside a bit when you're not on the pull." I nodded.
"By rights, I should be sat having a pint of sticky beer in a quiet pub somewhere, picking apart a beermat and reminiscing about stuff." I said.
"Yeah, me too."
"Get fucked!" I exclaimed. She faked an outraged glare, again with that smile. "You're young enough to be my daughter." She tittered.
"Who are you? Cary Grant? I'm 31 - so unless you're even older than you look..." I tipped my head at her.
"You don't look a day over 28." She lightly punched my arm.
"You're a nob-head." She said, simply and went for a sip of her lager. She was right, of course. I was a nob-head. Sitting around, flirting in a nightclub. All of a sudden I felt tired again. The music was incessant, and the weight of the long day - up at 5:30 with the kids - was beginning to catch up with me again. The conversation had been a welcome diversion, but I was still tired and realizing that what I wanted to do was head back to the hotel.
For this birthday we'd decided to do it properly like the old days. We'd headed into Leeds and all got rooms at the cheapest Etap hotel in the whole city. That way we could come and go as we please without the confusion of taxis, and who was sleeping at whose. Tomorrow, we'd reconvene for breakfast and a game of five-a-side to sweat out the hangover before heading back to our normal lives. A good thing to do to maintain the camaraderie that is so important amongst men.
I realised that I was lolling again, and my companion's attention had drifted back to the crowd. I tapped her lightly on the shoulder.
"Listen, it's been lovely chinwagging, but I'm going out for some fresh air. My bloody head's killing me." She smiled again, then paused as if in thought.
"Mind if I join you?" she said simply, clasping her handbag in her lap.
"What about your mates?" I asked. She shrugged.
"What about yours?"
"Didn't your mother warn you about going off with strange older men?" I asked. She nodded.
"I never listened to my mother. Come on." She stood up and looped her arm through mine. I anxiously looked over to where Gary and the chaps were frugging in loose-limbed confusion with a gaggle of underdressed girls. If they saw me, I knew I'd never hear the end of it. It seemed unlikely that they would, given as they were to their dancing. This wouldn't be the first night I'd sidled off early to get some much needed shuteye. I'd text them later.
Following my companion's lead, we squeezed through the crowds, up the stairs, past the massive but polite bouncers ("Good night, Sir") and out onto the street. The cold air hit me like a slap. Beautiful. Cold, clear air. The cacophony of the club reduced to a background thud-thud-thud. I spread my arms, feeling the sweat drying on my skin.
"Aahh... bliss," I said. I turned to the woman and saw her heading to sit down on the step of the building next door. She sat down and scissored one leg over the other, slipped off her high-heeled shoe and began to rub the sole of her foot. As she did so, I caught a heartstopping glance of thigh. I warned myself to stop it, but stepped over to her anyway. She pushed her hair out of her eyes and looked up at me.
"That," she said, "feels fucking ace. If a little cold," she added with a shiver. It was next to impossible for me not to notice that her small, braless breasts were crowned now by rapidly hardening nipples. She caught me looking and glanced down.
"Bruce Lees," she said and then, for clarification: "Hard nips." I laughed out loud. She was completely unabashed, which disarmed me totally. This was hardly appropriate, but the unease was giddily exciting.
"Haven't heard that for ages," I said and indicated for her to scootch up. "Mind if I sit down too?" She shuffled up as I sat down.
"So," she asked, still rubbing her bare foot, "I'm Caroline. And you are...?"
"Paul," I said. I proffered my hand. "Pleased to meet you." The question sounded stupid, but smilingly she took my hand - then suddenly pulled it away.
"Shit - sorry. Been rubbing my sweaty foot with that." She looked at her hand with an expression of amused distaste.
"Doesn't bother me. I'm not exactly a Right Guard advert am I?" I asked - lifting my arms to reveal the sweat patches. She giggled.
"You're funny. Listen," she said, and now she was looking directly at me, and there was a subtle shift in the atmosphere between us. "I know a nice bar. Quiet music this time of night. Suitable for oldies like us. Fancy one more before beddie-byes?" I couldn't help myself now. There was definitely some excitement coursing through my veins. The stop-start tiredness had vanished as I read the look in her eyes.
"OK." I said simply. She nodded. We stood up and she put a slender arm around my waist to steady herself as she got back in her shoe. As we walked, we exchanged further laughs, with an increasing edge of double entendre. I knew before long we were likely to be crossing a line. We halted at the top of the steps that led down to the bar.
"You sure you want to do... this?" she asked. In context she meant 'are you sure you want to go here and have a drink' but I was sure that she was thinking something else. I knew I was. I nodded and we went in.
The bar was dark and warm and snug. As she promised, it was quiet and the music played at a discreet volume. Stax Atlantic soul records. Right up my alley. We found a table and sat down opposite each other when she said, suddenly.
"I need a wee. Be right back." I watched her slide back out from under the table and sashay over to the toilets. Her arse moved slickly under the sheer white dress. If she was wearing knickers, they were pretty small. Everything looked smooth from here. As she pushed her way threw the door, I started to realise what I was doing. I was a married man, in a bar with an engaged woman I'd known for about half an hour. We'd left behind the people we were out with for some seclusion. Whilst we'd said nothing implicit, sex was increasingly behind our conversation. We were flirting. And seriously. Maybe it was best if I just got up and left? Walked back to the hotel and had nothing to hide from my friends or my wife when I woke up. At the same time, I was aware that my cock was sitting, more than flaccid in my trousers. This was one of those moments that told you what kind of man you were.
Even as I mulled it over she was back. As she sat back down, she reached under the table and pressed something into my hand. Something warm and silky. She said nothing, but her eyes were fixated on mine, shining with what looked horribly like sexual excitement.
"I thought you might have speculating about my knickers from behind." she said. "Just to answer your question." She nodded downwards at the table. Suddenly, my cock wasn't just slightly alert, but was pulsing. Hard. Filling with pressure a
nd sudden desire.
I pulled back from the table slightly and drew my hand back into my lap. A tiny white silk thong sat there. I pulled it open between my fingers and then looked back to her. Her eyes were still fixed on mine.
"My foot's still dirty," she said, illogically. But then I felt a bare foot on my thigh. I reached down and ran a finger along the arch of her foot, and then between her big toe and the other toes. She closed her eyes and her head sagged back a little. She let out a small 'mmm'. Then, she snapped her gaze back to mine and her foot slid further along my thigh.
I sat there, stupidly. Holding her knickers in my hand while her foot groped along my inner leg. She was having to slump back in her chair to reach any higher. Through the dense bunch of denim around my crotch, I felt her toes wiggling sensuously against the tip of my cock. I inhaled sharply. Every muscle in me was trembling with barely-suppressed excitement as her toes continued to gyrate slowly over my swollen penis. The look in her eyes - previously one of light-hearted flirting - was now one of deadly seriousness. Hardly believing what I was doing, I slipped off one of my own shoes and socks, and ran a toenail along the back of her calf. I smiled as I did so. She wasn't going to have the upper hand completely.
My foot ran up along the soft, smooth skin of her leg and past her knee until I felt the caress of her dress resting on the top. She looked at me now with eyes that said: 'I dare you.' She moved back in her seat a little bit. Her legs were shorter than mine and if I was to pleasure her, I'd have to make a sacrifice myself. Plenty of time, I thought to myself, and let my foot slip along her thigh. Again she closed her eyes and this time she gulped as my foot crept further up under her dress. And then she started as my big toe found a patch of wiry pubic hair. Even before I'd touched her properly, I could feel a hot wetness just below the spot where my toe rested.
"With age comes experience." I said challengingly over the table. Her eyes met mine, and this time held them as my toe slipped down amongst the curly tangle and along the edge of her engorged outer lips. She gripped the edge of the table, and even in the dim light of the bar I could see her knuckles whitening as my toe slid between the soft folds of her pussy. She was slick with excitement. I could feel trails of wetness across the back of my big toe as I began to nudge it around her clitoris, exploring the topography of her pleasure. She bit her lip and nodded slightly, her arms stiffening as she grabbed the table tighter still.
Suddenly, I felt her orgasm. Her pussy spasming rhythmically under my toe. Electric jerks of pleasure as I gently kneaded her clit with the blunt end of my toes. Her head sagged forward, and her hair swung over her face as she came. Then her hand was softly pulling my foot away from her as the orgasm receded into spastic reflexes. It had taken under a minute. Slowly, and panting softly, she looked back up to me.
"I want you." she said, simply. There was no denying it now. Whatever the consequences, I wanted her too. I wanted her in ways I'd rarely wanted anyone else. Something animal, magnetic, was coursing between us. I could feel that all semblance of normal behaviour was now past us, and there was nothing we couldn't do with each other. I hurriedly replaced my shoe and sock.
"Come with me," she said, suddenly. She stood up with such careless speed that her half finished gin and tonic sloshed over the table. Her hand grabbed mine, and before I knew it she was pulling me over to the darkened corner when she'd gone to the toilet earlier. She swung the door open and pulled me in. I was almost ready to protest, but before I knew it she'd pulled me into a cubicle and was kissing me. Our tongues writhed around each other and I let me hand slide down her back... feeling her spine under my fingertips... down to the small of her back. I started to pull up her dress and she stood on tip toes to help the process. She took her hands from around my waist and began to fumble with my belt and buttons.
Those moments as you are undressed are among my favourite precursors to sex. Tonight, the feel of those buttons popping open under urgent fingers caused a splurge of clear fluid to leak out uncontrollably into my boxer shorts. She sat down on the toilet a look of sheer hunger in her clear blue eyes as she pulled out my cock. She licked her lips and looked up at me. I had never seen anything as wanton as this blue-eyed stranger sat skinnily on a toilet with my cock in her hand, next to her face.
"Be quick," she said. "I want to do lots of things with you." And then she plunged her mouth greedily onto my cock. Her left hand began to pump the base of my shaft and I could feel her prehensile tongue slide lasciviously under my foreskin, lapping up the fluids that were coursing from the tip. I inhaled sharply as her other hand grabbed my testicles, rotating the balls softly and lazily as she did so. There was no doubt now that this *was* going to be quick. I was starting to feel the first rumblings of orgasm running along my legs when her hand released my balls and slipped between my thighs. I felt a sharp fingernail between my buttocks... surely not...?
"I..." I began and then I felt her finger probing my arsehole, rubbing the puckered knot of flesh urgently. No one had *ever* done that to me. For a few heady seconds I surfed a mental wave of sheer filthiness as she fucked my arse with her finger and I fucked her face with my cock. And then, in a seismic, spastic second I was stood dumbly, my mouth hanging open as I unloaded all that pleasure in one sticky gob of ropey cum. I stood up on my toes as electric flashes of pleasure flashed behind my eyelids and my knees bucked uncontrollably. Wave after wave of sperm shot warmly into her mouth, and I could feel her tongue rolling it around the tip of my cock - sublime in its slickness. Then it was over, and I stood shivering. I leaned forward to steady myself against the wall of the cubicle over the cistern, the tip of my cock still sending weak pulses of seed into her mouth.
She pushed me back so I stood on my own two feet. I looked at her face. A smear of cum leered rudely at me from the corner of her mouth. She didn't open her mouth to speak, but leaned into me urgently. I returned the kiss, and was stunned to feel my own semen still in her mouth. She was pushing it into me with a hot tongue, feeding me my own sperm. I'd never tasted it before. Although it had a distant unpleasant saltiness that I suspected would normally make me gag, at this moment, with this girl, nothing had ever tasted so right. With incredulity I felt it sliding queasily down my gullet until there was nothing left but our tongues, suddenly much drier, wrapped around each other tenderly. She broke the kiss and we looked at each other.
In our passion, sperm had dribbled out of our mouths and was spreading as a stain on the white material between her small breasts. She looked down at it and then back up to me, biting her lower lip sexily.
"Whoops." she said finally, and broke into a smile again. An infinitely more knowing smile than those we'd exchanged earlier. Her hand slipped down between my legs again and she softly cupped my balls. We hugged.
"Is that all?" she finally whispered in my ear. The mere intimacy of a whisper in this vulnerable state was enough to send erotic shivers running down my spine.
"Not a fucking chance." I whispered back. She nodded, almost businesslike.
"We can't go back to mine," she said, finally.
"It's OK," I reassured her, "I've got a hotel room…"
"Your mates?" she asked - motioning at the door with her head as if they might come bursting through any minute.
"Different floor." I answered. Reaching into my pocket, I found the tiny scrap of silk that had passed for her underwear. I held them up next to my face.
"You still want these?" I asked. She giggled, a girlish giggle that intoxicated my senses again.
"What on earth for?" she asked. Then, pulling the thong from my hand and throwing it over her shoulder onto the floor of the toilet cubicle, she leant back in to kiss me. I glanced down at my mobile phone. Just gone 3 o'clock. Several hours till dawn.
Susan’s Femininity
I was married at 20, a big wedding with all the trimmings even though I was still studying for my degree in developmental biology. Steve, my husband, wanted me for my looks and innocence. I lived up to my name that d
ay. I have always been ambivalent about being called Susan, but love it that it means princess.
I was a faithful loving wife even if I was somewhat bored in my marriage. I worked hard at university and supported my husband in the home. He was my first and only lover. He inherited wealth through a large property portfolio. He only has to go into his office to oversee his finances once every few weeks as he has a team to manage his day to day affairs. You would think that this would allow him to become a free spirit - but no, he is obsessive and likes to stay close to home and stick to a regular routine.
His money has given me freedom to choose and pursue my own ambitions. I recently completed a PhD in cellular genetics. I realized that I won’t be able to win a Nobel prize and that most research is very focused and often driven by others who provide the funds. I don’t like the idea of not being in control and I decided that I would use my skills in the pharmaceutical industry. I figured that I would opt for a marketing division - power in the pharma. industry lies in marketing and not science where I would be doing others’ bidding. As well as my science background I am very good with people and without sounding too proud am definitely good looking - an asset in this end of the business. My plan is to make my way up through the company, regardless of glass ceilings, to the very top. I want to be the first female CEO of an international pharmaceutical company. I guess that you would call me ambitious! I am also very focused and maybe a bit ruthless, though always fair with others. How I came to marry a drifter I don’t know!
Cheating Husbands and Wives - 18 Hot Short Stories Page 8