Hot Dates: Becoming a Shared Wife

by McCurran, Kirsten

  Dave warned me he would be waiting a long time to come into the bar. As neither of us were regulars—and thus stood out—Dave wanted to leave a nice long gap between our entrances so no one connected us. He had been there once, which was how we found the place. The company had a building project in the area last year and Dave bought the guys drinks for happy hour on the final afternoon of the project.

  I paced myself, but I was down to the end of my first beer and still no Dave. That was also all the time it took for someone to hit on me. Pat seemed to come out of nowhere, but there really was just a wall of people around me. Pat was short and muscular, very Italian, and about my age. His thick black hair was carefully jelled and his goatee meticulously trimmed. He wore an Italia soccer t-shirt and baggy jeans. He really was not my type at all, but he had a charming smile and his obvious confidence was attractive.

  “Hey beautiful, don’t tell me you’re here alone,” he said.

  I smiled and tried not to hold the hey beautiful opening against him. “That wasn’t the plan.”

  “Oh? Who would be crazy enough to stand you up, honey?”

  “My boyfriend can’t help it if he’s stuck at work, can he?”

  I decided on a different tactic this time. It really wouldn’t be believable that I’d go to a place like Kelly’s Pub for a drink by myself, so I invented a boyfriend who didn’t show up to meet me, thinking a husband might be pushing it. I suspected a boyfriend wouldn’t slow a guy like Pat down. I rubbed my thumb on the back of my ring finger as we talked. I still was not used to being without my wedding and engagement rings.

  “I’d quit my job to be with you. I’m Pat.”

  “I’m Dani,” I lied. I’d decided that using a fake name completed my transformation into my tramp persona. We awkwardly shook hands in the cramp conditions. “So you’re the kind of guy who’d be looking to me to support him?”

  “You got me all wrong, Dani. I’m just saying nothing would keep me from being with you.”

  “Aww, that’s sweet, Pat.”

  “Is he still coming, or are you stuck here by yourself?”

  “He says he’s going to try.”

  “Why don’t you come over and join us? You don’t want to sit here by yourself. Some of the guys in this place can be assholes.”

  “My boyfriend might not like coming in to find me with another guy.”

  “Then he shouldn’t leave a hot chick like you alone in a bar, should he?”

  I smiled. As cheesy as Pat was, he had his charm. “You have a point, but I think I’ll wait here and give him a little longer.”

  “If you change your mind, we’re back there.” Pat point to a spot in the back, against the wall, where three other guys and two women were hanging out.

  “Okay, maybe I’ll come over if I really get stood up.”

  The bartender came over and took Pat’s order, which included another drink for me. I tried to beg off, but Pat would have none of it. I thanked him before he returned to his friends. And the bait was dangled out again.

  Dave came into the bar about twenty minutes later and I spotted him taking a seat at the far end while some really skeevy older guy tried to chat me up. I don’t know why some man who seemed like he hadn’t bathed in a few days and was old enough to be my father thought he had any shot at picking me up, but he gave it a try. He was persistent, but I shook him off. It took a while after that for another guy to approach me and I could see Dave getting impatient there on the other side of the bar. He really wanted to see me hook up, and I don’t think he was as choosy as I am. I was hit on by a couple other men I had zero interest in, and by then a couple hours had passed. I’d also had more than a couple drinks. I certainly was not drunk the way I had been that night with Charles, but I was feeling good and flirty, which is probably why I decided to go see what Pat and his friends were doing.

  “Hey you. Looks like Prince Charming came to rescue you,” Pat shouted. The music was very loud. They were only feet from the DJ’s blaring amp and it was impossible to be heard without leaning close as you would to pass a whisper.

  “Nope. He left me all on my own.”

  “Maybe another prince will ride to your rescue.” Pat took my hand and pulled me closer to the group. “Guys, this is Dani.” He introduced his friends, but I couldn’t hear their names clearly. Two of them were a married couple about my age, while another of the men was probably forty, but was with a girl who had to be in her early twenties. That always makes me smirk because I know exactly what's going on. The girl thinks she's so worldly because she's dating an older guy and that guys her own age just aren't mature enough. I know because I was that girl. What I know now that I'm older—that I couldn’t understand as a twenty year old girl—is that the older guy doesn’t think of you as worldly, or this incredibly mature woman. He may be fifteen, twenty years older than you, but he still wants to fuck a twenty year old and he wants your tight, young body. He doesn’t care that you can’t truly have anything in common—you’re at different stages in your lives—he just wants what he wants. I wished I could shake some sense into that girl, but she would have just thought I was pushy and might have even thought I wanted to steal her man. Besides, that was not the mission for the night.

  Pat and his friends were pretty nice and made an effort to make me feel included, but there could not be much chit-chat with the music pounding right beside us. Pat was attentive and asked me all about myself, which caused me to invent a web of lies. I tried to keep it simple so I wouldn’t trip up. My name was Dani, I’d just moved to the neighborhood and I was divorced and single. I think the only reason I mentioned I’d been married was because it seemed like I should have been at my age—that, and although I know I have a nice body I also feel it’s obvious I’ve had kids and if Pat should happen to be lucky enough to see me without any of my clothes he would notice. It’s funny how we over-think things when we’re lying.

  I had to stay close to him while we talked, and when his lips brushed my ear or I felt his warm breath on my neck it gave me the chills and it mattered less and less that Pat was not my usual type. His hand began on my hip, but I didn’t object when he moved it to my butt and he left it there. I liked how he was just groping me there in the bar without a second thought. Like Charles before him, Pat had begun treating me like I was already his. I turned so my body pressed along the length of his and ran my red-painted fingernails up and down his back. It was already obvious I’d be hooking up with Pat, the only question was how and where. I’d been to the bathroom in Kelly’s, and it was tiny and filthy. I would not be fooling around in there.

  Over the next hour, Pat’s friends slowly drifted out of the bar, saying they had to get home. I snuck quick peeks back at my husband when I could see him through the crowd. Dave looked very pleased to see me with Pat. His eyes flicked down to Pat’s hand on my ass and he smiled. I’m sure if I’d been close enough I would have seen a big hard on in his pants. When Pat’s friends were gone we moved closer to the corner, where a pillar partially blocked Dave’s view. I hoped he’d be able to see enough.

  “Looks like it’s just us now,” I said. Pat had me in a tight corner where the wall met the corner and I couldn’t see my husband at all. It was after midnight, but the bar was still crowded enough that no one seemed to take notice of us there in our corner.

  “That’s what I was hoping for all night.” His hand was on the wall right beside my head and he leaned in closer.

  “Why is that? You know I have a boyfriend.”

  “Seems to me you’re single tonight.”

  “Is that how it works?” I couldn’t help smiling. Pat thought he had it all figured out.

  “You’re still here with me, not rushing home to see him. I think that says it all.”

  “And what do you think that means?”

  Pat’s answer was a kiss. It was surprisingly tentative. He did not want to push himself on me, but wanted to be sure he was right about me. He was. I tickled the back of his neck wi
th my nails as I pulled him into a deeper kiss, my tongue flicking out to draw in his. He pressed his weight against me and now I really was pinned into the corner. He kneaded my butt and I sensuously pressed harder into him, turning it into a full body kiss. The music still pounded in my ears, but I didn’t care about any of the other people in the bar. Funny how quickly it had become normal to be making out with strangers in public.

  I pulled my lips from his to catch my breath, but Pat’s hands stayed busy. He casually cupped by breast, stroking his thumb across it and my tingling nipple rose to his touch, even through my bra and sweater. I don’t think he was out to tease me—he was just enjoying my body. It really was a throwback to meeting a guy in a bar and hooking up, and I loved the simplicity of it. It felt right, as dirty as it was. I leaned my forehead on his shoulder, but Pat was still kissing me. His lips brushed my cheek, he nibbled on my ear, and then he was nibbling my neck. I cooed. I loved that.

  “Careful,” I warned him. “Don’t leave a mark.”

  “Don’t worry, honey. I don’t want to jam you up.”

  “Good. I like a man who has some self control.”

  “You make that hard, Dani. You look fucking hot tonight. I love those boots.”

  His fingers combed through my thick mane of chestnut hair and he brought my lips back to his. Pat was more confident and forceful now. There was no doubt I wanted this, too. His leg pushed between mine, raising my kilt. I knew all anyone could really see was his back, and the fact that he was making out with some woman. I let him carry my kilt higher and grinded into his strong thigh. I wondered if he could feel the damp heat through his jeans. I was so wet. Playing Dani, the drunken slut hooking up in a bar was so hot.

  “We should get out of here,” he breathed in my ear between kisses.

  “Okay.” It was hard to stop kissing long enough to answer.

  “I’m only about a fifteen minute drive from here.”

  It was so tempting. I pictured a barebones bachelor pad, tripping over clothes on his bedroom floor as we stumbled toward his bed. I could just imagine Pat throwing my down on his unmade bed and then undressing me. I knew Pat would fuck me like a bull, given the chance, and I strongly suspected my husband would not mind if that happened. But I was not going to go back to Pat’s place. I can’t say I didn’t want to, but I was not going to do it.

  “Sorry, baby. I just don’t know you well enough,” I replied, followed by a deep, long kiss.

  “We’ve got to get out of here, Dani.”

  “I know, baby.”

  I nudged Pat away from me and immediately saw Dave, leaning against the wall opposite us. It appeared he was watching a heated game of pool, but I knew better. He was watching his wife with another man. I felt a stone in the pit of my stomach—that feeling when you’re caught with your hand in the cookie jar. It was a visceral reaction, it didn’t matter that I was doing what my husband wanted. Would I ever get past that? I didn’t think so, but it was not entirely a bad thing. That feeling gave me chills and made my heart pound. It made me want to be bad.

  Dave had the strangest look on his face. It was like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He wasn’t seeing me as his wife. What could he be thinking?

  I led Pat out of the bar and around the corner to where I’d parked my Prius V. I hoped Dave would be close behind. If our plan worked out, he should have a front row seat. I was parked directly under a streetlight in a small lot and Dave had parked our big Expedition right beside it. If he was careful and quiet, he should be able to slip into the truck and watched through the tinted rear window.

  “Where are we going, Dani?” Pat asked.

  “When’s the last time you fooled around in the backseat of a car?”

  Pat laughed. “More recently than you’d think.”

  The lights flashed when I clicked the Prius to unlock, but Pat sat me up on the hood. I wrapped my arms and legs around him and thrust my tongue into his mouth. The street was deserted, but passersby would not have stopped us. I try and failed to run my fingers through Pat’s stiff, gelled hair. But I held him there, caught in my passionate kiss. His hands were everywhere, keeping me simmering, and I could barely stand the heat. He tried forcing his hands under my sweater and I slowed him down—momentarily.

  “Not out here,” I breathed.

  “Doesn’t seem like you care about that sort of thing.”

  “I might not be as wild as you think I am,” I warned.

  I swung my legs around him and hopped off the hood. He stood there dumbly for a second while I stood with the rear driver’s side door open. “Coming?” I asked. Before I slid into the car I saw Dave lurking in the shadows up the block.

  Pat jumped in the car and dragged me across to him. He didn’t seem to notice the indentations where the booster seats would usually be. He had other things on his mind. I’d spent over an hour scrubbing the back of that car to get it clean. There were Cheerios everywhere! I half-straddled his lap and his back was against the door. He whipped my sweater over my head and a nervous thrill shot through me. It had been a long time since I was undressed in front of anyone but my husband. I managed to keep my clothes on with Charles, but things were taking on a life of their own in the backseat with Pat. There was not much room between us, but Pat held me back a second to look me over. My chest heaved with my labored breathing and he watched the rise and fall of my breasts encased in their black lace-trimmed bra. It created nice cleavage and gave me a great silhouette in the sweater that was now crumpled on the floor. He palmed my tits and could just feel the rise of my nipples through the lightly padded cups. As great as I looked in the lingerie—that really was one of my favorite bras—I think we both wanted it out of the way. I reached back and unhooked it.

  I slapped my palm on the window when he pulled me forward and sucked my hard nipple into his mouth. Pat wasn’t subtle. He sucked hard and even nibbled. It almost hurt, but it felt so good and my moans filled the car. I stared up at the opaque window of the Expedition beside us and wondered if my husband was already there in the truck, watching us. Would Dave jerk off as he watched us? I hoped he did. I wanted him to be so turned on watching me that he could not help himself. I wanted to be my husband’s perfect slut.

  I fumbled with Pat’s pants with my free hand and was able to work them open. It was awkward at that angle, but I shoved my hand inside and wrapped my fingers around his hard shaft. I love feeling how hard I can make a man. It makes me feel sexy and fills me with confidence. When your life most consists of carting the kids around and taking care of the house it’s easy to forget you’re also a woman and that someone might see you as more than a mom and a maid—even with a husband like Dave. I squeezed Pat’s cock, but I didn’t just want to touch it. I wanted to see it and taste it.

  Pat did not let me pull back and take out his prick. He instead pushed his hand up my skirt. He found it damp between my legs and the pressure on my mound made me gasp and press into him.

  “I fucking hate pantyhose,” he growled.

  “Sorry, honey.” I didn’t correct him that they were tights and not pantyhose.

  Rrrip!

  With a quick tear, Pat opened up a slit in my tights and pulled my panties aside. “That’s much better,” he said. His fingers mashed my lips, pressing down on my clit, and my head swam.

  “Yesss,” I grunted through gritted teeth.

  Two thick fingers pushed inside me, but Pat didn’t finger me so much as I rode his hand. I feel like a slut for admitting it, but I needed it. It was so hot to be fooling around in the back of the car and I could just imagine my husband rubbing himself while he watched us, and damn I needed to cum. Pat pinched and pulled my nipple and the rough handling made me hotter. I could hear my pussy wetly sucking his fingers in and I rode them harder.

  “Fuck, Dani. That’s it, baby,” he encouraged.

  “Fuck…fuck…yesss…yesss…yes!”

  I came fast and hard, clamping down on those wonderful fingers. My cries were deaf
ening in the confines of the Prius. I stared right out the window and hopefully into my husband’s eyes.

  I was so focused on Dave in the truck beside us that I wasn’t paying attention to Pat. I didn’t realize he’d worked his pants down or that his cock was out. I didn’t realize we were ready to fuck until I felt the head of his cock against my swollen, wet lips. My first reaction was weakness. Yes, the carnal part of my brain wanted a cock inside me. It would feel so much better than just his fingers had. I even sunk down, letting his head part my lips. And God, did it feel good! But then panic slapped me in the head and I abruptly shoved back from Pat.

  “No, we can’t!” I hoped it didn’t sounds as shrill to him as it did to me. Pat grabbed my wrists. He wasn’t going to let me go that easily.

  “Come on, Dani. Don’t be a fucking tease.” He didn’t sound happy.

  “I have a boyfriend,” I almost said husband, “I can’t fuck you. Fooling around is one thing, but…”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “Pat, sorry.”

  Pat pushed me and pulled my legs out from under me. I banged my head on the ceiling and fell back against the opposite door. My kilt was around my waist, my legs wide open. Fear seized my heart. Was he going to try to rape me? This was the risk of playing with fire. But he did not get on top of me. Instead he squeezed down and pulled my legs over his shoulders.

  “What are you doing?” Panic still tinged my voice.

  He did not speak, but buried his face between my thighs. I pushed at his shoulders out of instinct—I wasn’t ready for that. I was ready for Dave to come pounding on the window at any moment. I tapped my temple—giving our emergency signal—but I didn’t know if my husband could see it. Surely he could see things had gone wrong anyway and would intervene. But then Pat’s tongue circled my clit and he sucked on my juicy lips and my protests were replaced by moans. What he may have lacked in technique he made up for with enthusiasm. The immediate threat of being fucked was gone and I reacted shamelessly, urging him on, pushing myself at him.