This stag tells the story of his hotwife and how she toyed with two bulls to the brink — right there in the bar.
One of our SDC members submitted the following story to our “Hottest Hotwife Experience!” Erotic Writing Contest. Sign up today to submit your own amateur erotica.
It was years ago, but I still think of it. She was nervous. I could see it in the way she wrung her hands together, though I could barely keep my eyes on just that. Her brown mini-dress was just long enough not to show the bare skin at the fork of her thighs, her legs so long and shapely, calves flexing as she stood in four-inch heels. Blue eyes showed excitement, bright against her pale skin framed by strawberry blonde hair. She was gorgeous as she always is. “Where do you think I should go?” I grinned at the question and pulled her to me as we stood on the front breezeway in the glow of a setting sun.
I listed off a few close bars as my fingers slipped up and under the dress to caress barely hidden skin. Her hands were on my chest now. “Do you think I’ll find anyone who really wants to play?” My grin turned into a chuckle. Of course, she would. Who could possibly resist her? My fingers traced the hemline of her dress until they were between us. I could feel her wetness, her warmth, as I began to tell her what she’d likely find. “No panties at a bar and looking like you do? It could be one guy, maybe more. They might be fighting over you.” I continued to describe the image in my thoughts, far more than one, as my fingers brought her to an obvious edge. I watched as the nerves disappeared and something else took their place, something that would prove to be far more enjoyable.
One More Place
Hours later. A text that said most of the bars were basically empty. I replied as I lay in bed, both exhausted from the workday and incredibly aroused at what might happen, though I did wonder if the lack of prospects would lead to a less exciting time for her. She would try one more place. I wished her luck, laid back, realized how close to sleep I was despite my own excitement.
A touch, urgent in the night, woke me. She was there, in bed with me, her skin flushed and those blue eyes so alive — her hand on me, her thighs over mine. I wasn’t sure how long she’d been there, but it was long enough to wake the part of me she was sliding against the folds of her warmth. She was talking as I felt that all too familiar sensation of being inside of her. As her hips moved, she told me what happened at that last bar. It started with ordering a last drink to finish the night. People were milling about, some dancing and laughing while others just stood watching the crowd. She was toward the back of the bar when a younger guy moved beside her to order his own drink. He tried making conversation. It wasn’t an incredibly interesting tact, but she liked the way he looked, how his body showed signs of hours spent at the gym. Soon a friend of his was at her other side, the three of them talking. She wasn’t sure how it happened, but the two men moved closer to her, one repeating actions that my own hands had been performing earlier in the night.
He realized that she wasn’t wearing panties, and soon her legs were spreading just slightly, letting him touch her. Another moment and the friend was doing the same from behind her, the dress raising so that anyone could see what was going on. A few probably did notice the purely sexy woman letting two men touch her so publicly and so aggressively. Her hands were busy as well, touching the growing bulges beneath their pants, squeezing each in time with the dueling fingers that kept bringing her so close to orgasm. “Did you come?” I asked, as my own hands began to drive her hips even harder than before against me. She shook her head. So close, but they were fumbling against one another too much. The men knew what they wanted but had no idea how to work together toward that common goal. She thought she might have made one of them ruin his pants as they played but couldn’t be sure.
Will She Do it Again?
She rode me, talking about how sexy it was, how close she’d been to taking one of them to the car, to the bathroom, letting them do whatever they wanted with her. “Why didn’t you?” I asked, feeling her muscles grip me in the way that told me she’d just felt release once again. She couldn’t speak, could only move against me faster. I helped from below her, touched her, pulled and twisted at her nipples. When she spoke again, I understood. “This. Oh God, this!” She’d left them there, more turned on than she would have expected at the idea of leaving both men wanting. As we lay there, spent and satisfied, I had to ask. “Will you do it again?” “I don’t know, but one of them slipped his card into my purse.”
This story was submitted by one of our members to the My Hottest Hotwife Experience! Erotic Writing Contest. SDC announced the winner of this contest on September 18th, 2020. Our editor made minor adjustments to this story for length and clarity.
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