The Race

I was in the garage, slightly winded and flat-backed on my old weight bench, looking precariously up at a couple hundred pounds. No sooner had I gotten it off the rack, locked elbows, and exhaled sharply, my wife came strolling in. I slid my eyes in her direction, then back to the bar as I lowered it once and heaved it. My wife, love her as I do, is a hassler. She prides herself on it, but she's different about it than other girls I've known. Her nature has always been playful and positive, and I don't know, it makes you, well me... love to be around her.

So mid-rep, she throws a leg over and sits right on my junk, which unfortunately was hanging down and not riding high, "Hey honey, remember tonight is the wine walk, you can still come, right?"

I had told her I would, her and some friends typically went, but they were out for this month's edition. Partly because they had a sketchy Uber driver last time that had freaked them out (which is easy to do). I tossed the bar back on the rack and said, "Yeah, I'm in.... now get off me, at least until later."

Normally we'd go back and forth, but she rushed off to get ready, and I finished up, showered, and proceeded to endlessly wait for her to get ready. She picked out a dress that she knew I had a thing for, which was her way of signaling me. I won't bore you with the rest, we left, we arrived, we walked to bar after bar, in a moderate-sized herd. If you've never done a wine walk, it's essentially like a food crawl. Local bars participate, you buy a wristband, and then meander to each stop, trying their wine and/or their specialty drink, and you just mingle. Or not, but we're minglers.

Well, I have a wife who's not only a hassler, but also a certified mingler, which by extension makes me a mingler. Half way through, which was stop six, we were at this place named something like Baby Huey's or something stupid like that. Big, open place, non-smoking, pool tables downstairs, bowling upstairs, with lots of furniture sets around where groups can set up camp. We both decided that's where we'd wind down towards the end. See, what you do is you scout bars that you enjoy throughout the night, and then when things are wrapping up, you go back to your favorite one and finish strong.

Well, we were having fun, and had talked just damn near every group of people on the wine walk by the 13th stop. That's what we call the place you go back to, the wine walks always have twelve stops. My wife was just getting hammered, so we ordered some food at the oyster bar once we'd gotten back to Baby Huey's. Well, I barely drink, and I don't do oysters, so my normally barely-sexual wife starts in on me. We're standing at one of those tiny two person tables like you see at music shows, the kind without the accompaniment of chairs. I had ordered bruschetta, and she'd gotten a dozen oysters, on some sort of sampler.

She says, "Try one of these oysters for me."

"Nope."

"They're an aphrodisiac, you know," she said, placing another one in her mouth.

"People just say that so you'll eat them,"

"Well, it's working," she said, pausing to eat another one, "not me eating them, the aphrodisiac part," she continued, doing that thing where you half open your mouth and click your tongue against the top of a molar.

"I'm always ready, I don't need those nasty little things," I said.

"I'll gargle your cum tonight if you try one," she said with her eyebrows raised.

"No means no," I didn't say, picking one up and eating it like it was a fucking Oreo. She hated when I went in her mouth, so I locked that shit up immediately. Her face went a light shade of pink, she was glad she'd won the battle, and with her ramping up the sex-talk, we drifted down that road of conversation.

I had finally gotten her away from the entirety of the wine walkers, which had taken me most of the evening. She had just seemed hell-bent of meeting and learning the life story of all 40ish of the walkers, something she came by honestly. She had another specialty drink that she was nursing, so just out of earshot of a nearby group, and continuing a conversation we started during a recent romp, I lean in and nonchalantly ask her, "Why is it when you get a few glasses in you, you always want me to finish inside you?"

She looked shocked, turned to see if anyone at the bar nearby had heard me, and then hit me, "Stop! Someone could hear."

"That might play into your threesome stuff you like to watch. I could say it a little louder if you want me to."

"Oh my God, I'm not telling you anything else," she said, blushing as she stirred the cubes around and around in her nearly empty drink.

"I'm not messing with you, I think it's hot. I want to know, is it just because you want to get pregnant, or that's just like, your thing or whatever? You know with mine though, you'd be pregnant as soon as I go," and then I said something dumb like 'why drop them off at the bus stop if you can just bring them all the way to school?'. Definitely something that had sounded better in my head.

She was blushing brightly, and grinning mischievously. "Both, can it be both?"

"Sure, it can be whatever you want tonight, I like talking to you like this. You know what I like, I'm just trying to, you know, get you drunk and see what you're really like."

She had an argument ready to go, "Oh, what I'm really like? You don't think I'm as adventurous as I used to be, do you?"

"Stop, I'm just trying to see why you like certain things, so I can see how we can work them in. And... I find that you get more adventurous as you drink so...."

She saw it as a challenge, I could tell. I only meant that I wanted to know, not that she wasn't as crazy or as bad as when we'd first met. She let her guard back down a bit when I put it that way, "Well, I like... how it feels a lot, but what it means more. That I made you finish, and it's, you know... risky. Like you couldn't help it, you have to finish in me to... I don't know."

"No, that's good," I said, glancing down at her nipples as they hardened and were jutting out, the fabric stretching over them, enhancing the effect. With her dresses, she always wears these thin, soft-fabric bras that you could spot a breadcrumb through if it fell just right. I put my hand on her thigh and traced it back and forth, as I looked back to her eyes and how she looks when she gets flustered, "I love watching you get turned on, it's really... fucking... hot. And if filling you up is what turns you on, then I guess tonight after I get you drunk, I will." She never broke eye contact, even though she was fidgeting with her freshly refilled drink non-stop.

I guess I should mention (before I switched the topic of conversation) that we had recently gone out to celebrate, and ran into this girl who reminded her of herself, but her polar opposite, if that makes sense. They talked for most of that night, and I had been using that instance to get her closer and closer to agreeing to bring in a girl to, you know, help out. This other girl was very hot, Pulp Fiction bob cut, jet black hair, pale white skin, very feisty looking, and 100% down to fuck; my wife, me, whoever. So with that, and the porn we'd been watching together still firmly in mind, ".....And what about the threesome stuff?"

It only took her a second, she paused and then seductively and simply stated, "Him," nodding over to one of the guys we had been talking to earlier.

"That's it? Him? Him what?"

She was taking a long sip from her refilled Moscow Mule, looking over the rim of her glass and eyefucking him, and I mean full on right here, right on that pool table ...now... eyefucking him. Her legs were probably wrapped around him, her ass on the edge of the pool table, poorly hidden by the hem of her dress, nonchalantly taking everything he had to give. He caught her looking, but neither of them blunk. "Him," she said with more certainty, still maintaining eye contact, but talking to me. "I want him to fuck me."

I was taken aback. A bit by what she said, but mostly the conviction in which she said it, and the fact that she was that crude about it. "And where would I be during all this?" I was beginning to think she didn't know what a threesome was, had I stuttered?

"Sitting right here, pretending to not notice him fucking your wife's tight, wet pussy in those chairs by the door. Pretending not to see me cumming all over his cock, or that he's making me take it in the middle of a bar with everyone just walking by, trying as hard as I can to moan under my breath so no one except you notices."

"So you've actually thought about it?" I asked in disbelief.

"I'm thinking about it right now, about him cumming inside of me. I mean, you brought it up, about cumming inside me. You should feel how wet I am, how hot it's making me. You said you'd think about a threesome, what if he just.... fucks me?"

"I meant with a girl, obviously. You're really drunk," I said putting my hand over hers on her glass.

"I know, but I know what I want, and..." she raised her pointer finger like she was going to say 'and another thing', "and, can he just fuck me? I want him to just.... bend me over something, lift my dress up, and just fuck me, you know, take me, and just really fuck me."

My blood was cold, and I wasn't sure my heart was even still beating, or at least it wasn't beating properly. I envisioned my heart as a wet paper bag with a hamster in it, trying to get out, that's the best way I can describe the feeling, in terms of its effectiveness. "No, if anything, I'd want to watch you take more than one at a time, like in the porn we watch." I didn't mean watch though, I meant be a highly active participant in her taking on double duty, so long as I got a threesome with that particular girl after.

"Really!?! You never told me that."

"Well when exactly am I supposed to bring that up?"

"Now's a good time," she said, still looking him over, "as long as he's involved, god he's fucking hot."

"Okay? Now's a good time?"

"Mmmm, now's a great time."

"Well, if he's in your pussy, I want your mouth and your ass. I want you to bend over with him behind you and your dress up over your ass, and I'm going to fuck your mouth while he takes you from behind. As long as I'm in your mouth, you can. That's my fantasy, you pinned between me and another guy, eventually on your hands and knees while we fuck you from both ends. We'd just tear your clothes off, force you down, and just take you and use you. Then, you can gargle my cum like you said."

"Whaaat? Who ARE you!?"

"I want you to have me down your throat while you cum from getting pounded doggy style, hear you moan from getting fucked while you try to blow me."

"You should have told me before, guys are always hitting on me when I'm out," she said, making eye contact again with the guy.

I leaned over to her while she did, her head was turned towards him, and I was nearly against her ear, "I want to DP you too, I've been wanting to for years. While you get fucked, I want to finally make you take me back there, while he's still inside you. Every time you're done and you want me to hurry up and finish, that's what I imagine. Or that you're face down between Liz's (said girl) legs while I'm hitting you from behind. Her hands in your hair, making you go down on her."

She was blushing, mouth open in astonishment, still staring at him, imagining him taking her, despite what I was saying.

"You think we could get away with it in here?" I asked her, trying to see exactly how drunk she was and knowing we couldn't.

"Yours back there while he's fucking me? Oh god, I don't think yours would fit back there, remember, we tried. Why don't you go get me another one of these, I want to play a game."

"Okay, what's the game?" I asked, wanting her to get drunker and wetter as we talked about it. I touched her hand, going for her glass, and I could instantly foresee me on top of her in our bed the second we got home, filling her up, and telling her she should have done it, she should have fucked him.

"A race."

I spit out my Coke as she said it and laughed, "What kind of race? You know I'm... never mind, what kind of race? Let's hear it." I assumed she was talking about a race to go pick up on him before I could get back, which was something she'd have to pay me back for later, and as dirty as she was being, I was desperate to see what I could get my normally barely-sexual wife to agree to terms on. Whether she knew it or not, we were deep into negotiations here.

"Well, a race where you both cum inside of me, and we see who wins, see whose is faster; that kind of race," she said, darting an eyebrow playfully up, then looking back at him, making sure he hadn't budged, "Go get me another drink," she demanded.

We're not sexually weird, at all. Perhaps I'm underselling my astonishment, I mean, I don't see how I couldn't be. No one else has been involved with our bedroom activities, although we flirt using fantasies quite a bit. She didn't sound like she normally does, her ideas tonight were more concrete than they'd ever seemed. And with Liz's dark painted lips practically nipping at my lobe, I continued with it, "And if I go get you a drink-"

"-When- you go and get me another mule thingy, I'm going to walk over to him, and tell him I need him to come over to those chairs by the door," she said pointing to the high-backed black leather chairs near the entrance, "and when he asks why, I'm going to tell him because I'm as wet as I've ever been, thinking about how his cock would feel inside me, and that I want to slip it in right under my dress and ride him until he cums inside my pussy. And then as soon as he's done, I'm going to come over to whichever chair you're in, and ride you until you cum in my pussy too, and whoever wins..."

"Whoever wins? Like gets you pregnant? That's insane, why in the fuck would I ever agree to that? Why would you?!""

"You don't have to agree to it, you could just sit here and watch. But I'm really drunk, and I'm really wet, and I'm really going to fuck him until he cums in me. Besides, I know how competitive you are. I thought you said the reason you knew I was pregnant right away last time was because you were all the way in and still had two inches that weren't in me yet. You scared that his is just as big? That he's going to win? That he's going to fuck me so good I'll just up and leave you?"

"No, why even-"

She pulled me over to her, tilted her head and kissed me, but she was secretly making eye contact with him the whole time, thinking about how good it would feel with him. When she had made her point, she whispered, "Because I need it, right now. Everything down there is throbbing, from just thinking about fucking him, and I need that guy, over there, to fuck me, and go inside of me, and then when I'm full of his cum, I'm going to tell you how good it felt, and how much I love having his cum in my pussy, and when you get worked up enough, I want you fuck to me, and cum in there too. And after... I'll do anything you want me to."

"You know what I want."

She did too apparently, "Text her then, I mean anything," she said, and she got up to walk over to their group.

I grabbed her by the wrist as she tried and pulled her back, "Say it then."

"What?"

"Tell me what to text her."

She bit her lip, "Tell her whatever you want,"

But I didn't let go of her, she struggled against it then finally defiantly stood against me, "Tell her I want to go down on her, tell her I want to just watch, I don't care."

"Okay, whatever," I turned back towards the bar and started texting. That simple exchange was the start of everything for us, and my mind was made up to message another woman instead of chasing after my wife. Her mind was clearly clouded. Made up, but clouded.

She walked over, they chatted for a second, back and forth. I can't explain why it did, but it turned me on to no end, seeing her walk over to him, knowing what she was going to say and envisioning her saying it to me if I was some random guy she liked. And then she whispered into his ear, pointed to the chairs, and told him discreetly what she wanted. And in a couple of seconds she pulled him by the hand towards the chairs, but he stopped before they left his friends.

He pulled her back, and he began what looked to be introductions. She held out her hand as the other guys in their group shook her hand, or held it momentarily, as her guy spoke to them. She then led him over to the chair she had suggested earlier, he sat down, and she straddled his lap facing him. She leaned in and kissed him, and I could see him sneaking a hand under her dress as soon as she was on him.

She jumped as he traced his fingers through her slit, and immediately turned and made eye contact with me, panting already. Her eyes closed and I could see her fingers digging into his shoulders as he fingered her as sneakily as he could. It was obviously written across her face though. She bit her bottom lip hard and shuddered, the same way she did when she cums for me. Then her hands followed his as she took his cock out, the whole thing poorly hidden beneath her dress.

Then more kissing, and after a second, she looked over her shoulder at me again, smirked deviously, and lifted herself up at least half a foot and slid slowly back down his cock, guiding it into her slit while she looked at me watching back. She looked around, and seeing it was fairly clear, she began to slowly indulge herself. He whispered something to her, and then she faced away from him, he reclined more, and she got resituated on it, and slowly bounced while watching me.

When we made eye contact her mouth fell open then she bit her bottom lip and just barely writhed on his lap with him clearly inside her. It looked like a slow lap dance, but she was much too drunk to mask her expression. A twinge of pain and the pleading in her eyes, the loosening of her jaw as she took deep breaths while he penetrated her.

I couldn't take my eyes off of her, writhing on him but staring at me. It made me want her more than I ever had. Like I had a point I wanted to prove, that I was better, in every way, no matter what she wanted just then. I knew I was bigger, well, statistically I knew. I never saw, nor wanted to see that. I kept thinking about tying her up and making her watch Liz and I, and about making her do whatever we wanted to do to get even. Giving another girl what she wanted as payback. And if I'm being honest, I had every intention at that point in time forward of fucking Liz's brains out every chance I got. This was my trial, my way to keep our (previously) normal marriage intact, working, continuing, while giving me a carte blanche for my darker fantasies. But beyond that I had always wanted my wife to be more adventurous, mind you, not this, but watching was turning me on, and if this was her gateway into the things I actually wanted, so be it.

The whole time, any time she could open her eyes, we were locked on each other, even as she turned over her shoulder to him and mouthed 'fuck me' over and over and over, we still watched each other hungrily. And the more I watched, even as my phone was blowing up with sexts from Liz, the hotter it all seemed, and the more I wanted to take her and show her that no matter what she wanted or tried, I was better, no, the best, she was ever going to have. And I wanted her to remember that fact as she watched me when it was my turn to do the same.

After a few minutes she had her hands clutched tightly onto the arms of the chair, helping lift herself as he kept pumping her from below. The fact that some people were starting to notice only fueled her body towards her impending orgasm, which I could tell she was right on the edge of. She bounced harder while the guy under her suddenly grabbed her around the hips and held her down onto his cock, and from what I could tell from the locked, surprised, then pleased expression on her face, finished inside of her. She began cumming as soon as his sperm started flowing, his hand quickly covered her mouth as she forgot her place.