Date Night - Part 1

Your marriage had gotten...well, boring.

It wasn't anyone's fault. Not really. It wasn't even a bad thing. You and your wife had simply settled into a routine the way that most married couples do when they've been together for more than a decade. It was a nice routine, too, and there was no question you were both happy.

Date night was your favorite part of the routine. You'd pick a restaurant, you'd both get dressed up, and you'd enjoy a fine meal - and a few drinks - before coming home and making love. It was the highlight of your week, each and every week.

Even date night had gotten a little stale after a while, though. You got a little less adventurous with your restaurant choices. The conversation wasn't quite as interesting, mostly because you knew absolutely everything about each other. The lovemaking was always pleasurable, but the longer your marriage went on the less satisfying it felt.

Things changed – for the better – on a Saturday night like any other. There was just one difference on this particular night. On most date nights, you drove to the restaurant together. On this Saturday you'd gone into work to finish up a project and told your wife you'd meet her at the restaurant. That was all it took to set in motion a monumental shift in your marriage.

You ended up being a little late that night. Your wife had texted that she'd get a drink in the bar and that you should meet her there when you arrived, so that's where you went upon arriving at the restaurant roughly thirty minutes after the agreed upon time.

Your wife was sitting at the bar in a low cut black dress that was one of your favorites, largely because of how spectacular it made her breasts look. Her shoulder length blonde hair was swept to one side and looked both elegant and sexy. A half-finished drink sat on the bar in front of her.

More importantly, though - and what stood out to you more than anything - was the man sitting next to your wife. Or, more appropriately, the man that appeared to be flirting with your wife, at least based on how close they were and how his hand rested on her forearm as you walked into the bar.

You couldn't see her face - she was turned towards her partner in conversation - but your wife offered no signs of distress. In fact, it seemed that she enjoyed talking with the flirty, handsome man sitting next to her. That became perfectly clear when she reached over and rested her hand on top of his, affirming that she enjoyed his touch and that she was keen on returning the simple delight of physical contact.

It wasn't like your wife to flirt with other men, at least not as far as you knew. And yet, everything about her body language said she was enjoying herself. She kept leaning towards him, she ran her fingers through her hair a few times, she laughed a handful of times, and when he pulled his hand from her arm, she initiated contact several more times. There was no question she was having fun flirting with him.

Of course, you enjoyed watching, too. If you hadn't enjoyed it, you would have gone over and interrupted their conversation. You didn't, though. Instead, you slid into a booth with a view of the bar and watched your wife flirt with another man.

You chose not to interrupt her flirting because you were excited. Excited in a way you hadn't been in years. Excited in a way you didn't understand, but excited nonetheless.

Every time he touched her - or she touched him - your heart beat a little harder. Every time she leaned towards him you felt a delightful tingling between your legs. The longer you watched, the more excited you got.

"Sir? Sir?"

You turned your head and saw an impatient-looking waitress standing next to the booth with a pad and pen in her hand.

"Oh...uh...what?" you asked as you glanced towards your wife and saw that her partner in flirtation was now running his fingers over the smooth skin of her forearm.

"I said, can I get you something to drink?" she asked.

You were so focused on your wife that you hadn't even noticed the waitress walk over and you wanted to tell her to walk away, but it was unlikely you'd get to remain in the bar without ordering a drink, so you asked for a Scotch on the rocks and she left without saying a word.

You turned your attention to your wife once more and saw the guy lean in and say something as his hand moved under the bar and came to rest on her knee. You leaned in and watched as his fingers moved in slow circles over her knee, shifting ever-so-slightly towards her thigh, as if he was testing your wife's willingness to be touched in a far more intimate manner.

You were astounded to feel your cock grow as you watched another man caress your wife's leg. It was so wrong, and yet for some reason it felt so right.

A drink appeared in front of you, though you didn't notice the waitress place it on the table. You were too focused on your wife, on another man's continued gentle caressing of her leg.

Your heart pounded as you picked up the drink and swallowed half the dark liquid in one go. The taste lingered on your tongue as you watched him lean in and once again say something to your wife.

You couldn't begin to guess at the words that left his lips, but they inspired your wife to spread her legs a little. You leaned back, once more feeling utterly astounded. It wasn't an overtly scandalous parting of her legs, but whether intentional or not, your wife had just invited her flirty friend to run his fingers a little further up her leg, which he wasted no time in doing.

Your excitement had transformed fully into arousal as you watched him run his fingers under her dress. You wished you could see her face, but a profile view was the best you were offered, and that was only when she turned towards him. Everything indicated she was enjoying herself, though. It was a bit of a leap, but you were absolutely certain that your wife was turned on, that the man sitting at the bar had tapped into some part of her that was willing to travel a few steps beyond what was appropriate for a married woman.

Then he leaned in again. This time, though, your wife turned her head. They paused, neither of them moving for a few moments, before he went in for a kiss.

For you - sitting there in the booth with your fingers wrapped tightly around a glass of Scotch - it felt like time slowed. You watched as your wife tilted her head ever-so-slightly in anticipation of his lips meeting hers. Your eyes darted to her legs and you saw his hand move just a little further under her dress. You looked back up and saw their lips connect. You saw your wife share a kiss with another man.

It was a soft, gentle sort of kiss. It was hugely erotic, too, as your loins tingled in a most pleasurable way while your cock reached a fully erect state and began to throb in a manner that demanded attention.

You weren't sure how long the kiss went on, but eventually he pulled away and his hand moved out from under her dress. Your wife looked down at her drink for a few moments and then turned towards him. Her body language changed and you wondered if she was awash in a sense of regret.

You pulled out your phone and sent a quick text: "Meet me in the parking lot. It's important."

You sent it, finished your drink, and slid out of the booth. You did your best to hide your erection - and were thankful for the boxer briefs you'd chosen, as their tight fit ensured you didn't have an unsightly bulge - and rushed out of the bar. You turned back to see your wife check her phone, look towards her flirty friend, and say something.

You didn't wait to see if she actually excused herself. Instead, you left the restaurant and headed for your car, which was parked in the far corner of the lot. You leaned against the trunk and waited as the image of your wife kissing another man played out over and over in your head.

She emerged from the restaurant a few minutes later and surveyed the parking lot. You raised your hand and beckoned her over. She hesitated and then stepped off the curb and walked towards you. She looked nervous as she approached and you couldn't help but wonder what was running through her mind. Was she guilt-stricken? Was she excited? Was she feeling a little of both?

She stopped just out of your reach, gently rubbed the toe of her heel into the pavement, and wrapped both hands tightly around her delicate purse. She glanced at you but quickly looked down. "Honey...I..."

You closed the distance between the two of you, reached up to caress her beautiful face, and kissed your wife the moment she looked up at you. You ran a hand down her back and pulled her close as you grasped her ass through the soft, thin fabric of her dress. She moaned, perhaps because she felt your erection pressing into her or perhaps because your lips had parted and your tongue was delicately probing her mouth in an attempt to demonstrate the overwhelming lust you felt.

You both stepped back - kissing the entire time - until you were leaning against the trunk once more. "I want you, Anna," you said. "I need you."

You understood the confusion on her face. After all, in her mind, she'd just betrayed you. She had no idea that you'd watched and that you'd found her flirtation with another man to be overwhelmingly exciting.

You moved behind your wife and she rested her hands on the trunk of the car. You kissed her neck and gently pulled up the bottom of her dress before running your hand up the soft, warm skin of her thigh. You touched her where he'd touched her, only your fingers kept going until they were pressed against the delicate lace of her panties.

You pulled her underwear aside, kissed her neck, and slid two fingers into your wife's wet - exceedingly wet, in fact - pussy as you whispered, "I was there. In the bar. I watched. I saw you."

You pressed your crotch into her ass and fingered her. You kissed her neck and your wife moaned as she pushed back, grinding her ass into your stiffness.

"I want you, Anna," you said. "I have to have you. Right here. Right now. I can't wait."

She turned her head and your lips met. Her tongue snaked into your mouth as she reached back to massage your cock through your slacks. You fingered her pussy faster and she moaned for you.

"In the car," she said. "In the backseat."

You unlocked the car and opened the door. Your wife gestured for you to get in and followed. She pulled the door shut and straddled you. Your tongues entwined once more as she deftly lowered your zipper and freed your cock.

You were inside her a moment later. You moaned into your wife's mouth as the intense heat and wetness of her pussy surrounded your stiff shaft.

"Fuck, you feel so good," you said. The truth was, her pussy felt better than good. It felt unimaginably pleasurable. It was the same pussy you'd fucked so often for the past decade, and yet it felt better in that moment as she rode you in the backseat of your car. It felt so much better.

She rode your cock as you kissed. She bounced on your stiffness, bathing you in her slick juices while your hands roamed over her body, grasping the bare flesh of her ass under her dress and reaching into the top to play with her tits, eliciting a series of beautiful moans in the process.

The sounds of pleasure filled the car. You both moaned, groaned, and even grunted a few times, but neither of you spoke. You were lost in the kind of excitement that had become increasingly rare in your sex life.

Images of her flirtation, touching, and kissing with the guy at the bar danced through your head as you fucked your wife. You saw his fingers slowly moving up her leg. You saw her hand resting on top of his. Most importantly, you saw their lips meet for a kiss, a kiss that your wife both welcomed and clearly enjoyed.

The idea that she'd enjoyed it - that the flirting and kissing was what had left her so wet when your fingers entered her - provided an unexpected level of pleasure. It felt like the driving force behind your desire, in fact. You couldn't begin to understand why and you didn't care at all. All that mattered was that you were having the best sex you'd had in a long, long time.

"I'm close, baby," your wife said after just a few minutes of vigorous sex in the backseat of the car.

She was having good sex too, as she rarely climaxed in just a few minutes. That made the whole thing so much hotter. It was further proof of her arousal, of her enjoyment at the flirting at kissing with another man. It was so fucking hot you could barely hold back your orgasm long enough for her to cum.

"Cum for me, Anna," you said. "Cum on my cock."

She took your head in her hands, smiled, and kissed you with great vigor. She rode you hard and worked your cock with her slick, intensely hot pussy.

"Cum in me," she said softly. "Fuck...cum in my pussy."

She kissed you and you thought of the moment where his lips met hers. You thought of your wife welcoming another man's kiss - not pulling away the moment his lips touched hers, but truly enjoying it - as that other man caressed her thigh. You let your mind wander just a little and imagined that he'd made it all the way to her panties, that he'd pressed his fingers against her wet pussy, that he'd felt the heat of desire emanating from between her legs, that he'd thought he had a chance of fucking her before the night was over.

At that moment - when you imagined another man's desire to fuck your wife - you came inside her. You came hard, too. So hard that you saw stars for a moment, that your head spun with utter delight, that you let out a series of grunts and groans that sounded unlike any you'd ever uttered.

You were so lost in your pleasure that it took you a few seconds to realize that your wife was cumming too. And, judging by the sound of it, cumming awfully hard. Her thighs trembled hard enough that some of it transferred to your legs and her moans very nearly matched yours in volume, signaling that her orgasm was far better than usual, just like yours.

Your bodies remained entwined for a few minutes as you both came down from the heights of pleasure you'd reached. You said nothing, though, instead choosing to share soft kisses and the occasional gentle caress of your face or hers.

"I think we've missed the window for our reservation," your wife said.

You laughed. "I think so too."

She smiled, kissed you again, and said, "How about a burger? I don't know why, but I have a sudden craving for red meat."

You stole another kiss. "That sounds great."

She lifted her pussy from your cock and pulled her panties back into place before any of your cum leaked out of her. While you zipped up, your wife crawled into the front seat, flashing her ass for a moment in the process. You crawled into the driver's seat, leaned over to give her yet another kiss, and started the car to head to your favorite burger place.

Neither of you said a word about what you'd seen in the bar. You didn't even think about it that much. Not that night, at least.

You didn't speak about it during the week, either. You thought about bringing it up once or twice - you couldn't help but get a little bit excited each time you thought about it - but you weren't sure how she'd feel about it, so you kept quiet.

Then date night rolled around again. Your wife emerged from the bedroom dressed in a tight, cropped, dark red sleeveless top and a pleated leather skirt paired with strappy three inch heels. You couldn't ever remember her dressing in such an overtly sexy manner, even when you were much younger.

"Anna, you look...you look stunning...you look so...so hot," you said as your eyes roamed over her body.

She smile, sauntered closer, and gave you a soft kiss on the cheek. "I was thinking it would be fun if we traveled separately to the restaurant tonight, and I wouldn’t mind if you were a little late getting there."

"Really?" you asked. She hadn't come right out and said it, but you knew what she was talking about, what she was suggesting.

She stepped back, smiled playfully, and nodded. "I was thinking I'd get a drink at the bar while I waited for you."

Every guy in the bar would hit on her. Even the married ones would hit on her, or at least they'd want to. She looked astoundingly hot. Of course they would.

"That sounds good," you said. "I guess I'll be half an hour, maybe an hour late."

She blew you a kiss, turned, and walked out the door.

Suddenly, date night seemed as though it was going to be a lot more interesting.