Free Erotic Stories

Date Night (part one)

So, here I am, on my knees in a small booth in the back of a porn shop. My face two inches away from the wall. My mouth open before a crudely fashioned hole in the thin partition separating the booth next to ours…

My wife is kneeling next to me. Her little black cocktail dress, hiked up well above her knees. Her body pressed close to mine. Awaiting her turn.

This started as a conversation over drinks an hour ago.

We met a couple we know from our kids’ school for drinks. You know, the totally chill couple you keep running into at school events. Each time, walking out afterward, your wife, she says, “Those guys are so cool. We need to hang with them outside of school.”

The last time, I’d laughed and said, “So, invite them for a double-date!”

And she did.

Skip ahead to tonight. Friday night. Our Kids with sitters. Theirs, with family. The women made the plan: Dress up for a night out. No agenda. Just meet for drinks and see where it goes from there.

We didn’t want to go to a movie. Nice for a shared experience, but lousy for conversation.

I’d thought of one of those trendy studio movie theaters where you can reserve a four-person sofa and order cocktails.

Maybe too cozy for a “first date”.

And, as cool as they are, we hadn’t gotten to the point of asking, or even hinting at, their intimate preferences or interests.

My wife and I have had a few (s)experiences with a couple in the past. But since the kids arrived, that has been only relived a few times in our imaginations. Always while fucking quietly as the kids slept next door. She’d replay what she saw the other woman do to me. Narrating as she lowered herself onto my cock. Gyrating her hips just as she had watched the woman do it: Slowly bringing me to the edge. Suddenly, holding completely still as my impulse to ejaculate into her faded just enough.

Then the slow gyration began again.

The pressure building. My cock filling and my hips twitching with involuntary thrusts. The slow wave rolling across my body as the woman began grinding her pubic bone down hard against mine. Rocking her hips, working my cock against her g-spot. Every so often, leaning in to my chest to offer her nipples to my mouth.

My wife had been laying on her side next to me. Resting her head on her left hand. Her right hand reaching out, held flat against the small of the woman’s back. Feeling every move and shift of the woman’s body as she impaled herself on her husband’s cock. My cock.

And as the woman found her sweet spot, cresting her own building wave, she began to bear down. Pouring and squirting a flood down onto me.

My wife’s voice set me off, “Go, baby! Let me feel you come into her!”

And, god, did I ever…

The whole time, I had no idea that the woman’s husband was laying behind my wife with his hands tight upon her hips. Holding her stationary as he thrust up and inside her. Watching his wife and matching her movements. His hips grinding in unison with hers.

Such was the focused coordination that my wife found her own orgasm hitting just after my own. Instantly, feeling the deep thrust and hold as the man jetted his cum hard against my wife’s cervix…

THIS was what was in OUR heads as we walked into the bar that night. Excited to meet new friends. And horny as hell for the possibility of a fresh encounter to add to our library of memories.

We all settled on Scotch. Partially to look cool. Partially, to imagine the taste on the other couples’ mouths. (If it ever came to that.)

We ordered a flight of single malt tastes. Passing the glasses between us as we tasted and compared.

Finally choosing to go with two single malts. Two snifters of each.

We continued to share tastes. And stories of our misadventures before parenting. Her husband was telling his favorite story of how she lost her bikini top at the beach on their first date and simply walked out of the waves smiling. Unashamed and exhilarated as she walked up to her date/future husband.

Smiling at the memory, he ended the story with, “She’s fearless.”

All eyes moved to her at that moment. Hers were looking at me. Raising her snifter as if to propose a toast. I Instead, she extended her arm, reaching across the table, offering her glass to me. Holding it close enough to smell the rich aroma of the malt.

“Want a taste?”

The double-entendre hung in the air as I took the glass from her hand. The bright red lipstick print of her mouth on the rim nearest to her.

As our spouses watched, looking back into her eyes, I turned the thin-walled glass in my hand, and lowered my lips directly onto the outline of her mouth on the rim.

I raised the stern of the glass and poured the amber liquid into my open mouth. Making a show of savoring the taste before swallowing.

All the while, her eyes never left mine.

No one spoke for a long few seconds.

“That was fucking…” My wife began. Joined in the word, “Hot!” by the other woman. Still looking into my eyes.

“OK, guys.” My wife taking in a deep breath. “We need to talk.”

Looking aside to me for any sign of disagreement, she turned to the couple and continued, “Please forgive us for being overly flirty with you. We’ve been cooped-up with toddlers for the past three years and are literally twitching with excitement to be out on the town. And in the company of two very cool and beautiful people.”

“Wow…” The woman replied. Looking to her husband and then back to my wife. She reached for her husband’s glass. He started smiling as he released it to her hand.

Reaching across the table, she held the glass out to my wife, just in front and below her chin. As of to offer her a whiff of the Scotch they were drinking.

Then added, “Would you like a taste from my husband’s glass?”

My wife looked from the woman to the husband.

As she looked into his eyes, she slowly opened her mouth and tipped her head back. The woman raised the glass, bringing the rim to my wife’s lips. Reaching out with her tongue. Eyes fixed upon the other man’s. She gently cradled the edge of the glass. My wife, my mate, mother of my children, waited in supplication as the woman tipped the amber liquid onto her cupped tongue. She responded physically. Her body clenching slightly, betraying her excitement. Her back involuntarily stretching like a cat. Her chest rising even as her jaw opened to press her tongue farther forward. Almost begging for it. Allowing the liquor to flow fully across her tongue and into her throat…

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as I watched my wife swallow their offering.