My Shared Wife Misbehaving

My husband shares me, a lifestyle he chose. He enjoys my solo adventures and it excites him when I tell him the details of being taken by another man. He did decide later that Coach may have been too exciting -- for me. You'll soon see why. It starts in an upscale suburban bar with dance floor. My husband is actually sitting at a table in a far corner of the room, watching the pick-up.

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I'm sitting on a barstool, feeling sexy in a little yellow sundress. It's short, so I'm a non-stop leg show, and it's coolest feature is bow-tied straps holding up a low-cut top. And I'm braless. The only problem is that the guy sitting beside me,, trying to chat me up, is so boring I'm tempted to see if I can pull my dress to below knee level and tell him he's the reason.

Suddenly I can sense a presence behind me. The boring chatter guy looks up as if awestruck. The guy steps between us, basically having his back turned to Mr. Chat. I look up (and up and up, I'm only 5'2") I can barely believe it, but I'm almost sure that he's the offensive coach of our NFL team.

He smiles. The eyes are deep gray. Hair is black, close cropped. His face is angular, ruggedly handsome.. He exudes confidence. "I assume you don't mind me standing here."

I laugh out loud. "That would be fair to say."

"How 'bout I take you away from all this? Grab your purse."

I was surprised and flattered, and smiled to myself. 'I would follow this guy anywhere.' It turns out he was only taking me as far as his table, actually a mini-booth. He buys me another drink, leaving my previous G&T to sit undrunk next to Mr. Chat. I spend a surprisingly comfortable few minutes talking about the upcoming season, and the 'who will start at quarterback' decision. I admit that my football knowledge extends to cheerleading in college. I make him laugh when I admit I once megaphoned the offensive team to 'hold that line.'

He is studying me while we both sip. "You are a very attractive lady." I could feel my face get warm. It was nice to hear but I'm usually called something like cute or perky or bubbly.

I manage to come up with, "Why thank you, you are a very attractive man." We both laugh. I'm getting more and more comfortable.

He suddenly furrows his brow, looking like he's deep in thought. "Know what I wish?"

"No, what do you wish?"

"I wish I could untie both those bows."

Now I know I'm blushing, but I amazed myself. "But if you did, my whole top might fall down." I put my hands at my neckline pretending to hold it up, but I also realize how low cut my top is... and that my nipples are totally erect under the thin fabric.

He laughs a great, hearty guy laugh. "I wasn't expecting that." He stands up, "Let's dance."

I slide toward his side of the booth, preparing to exit, and I realize I've let my dress hike up to the top of my thighs. It wasn't intentional, but the dress is short and I've always been a little careless about exits. I look up to meet his eyes, which are clearly not meeting my eyes. "Sorry about that."

Now he does meet my eyes and grins at me, warmly, nothing like a lech might. "It's okay, you look good in matching yellows." And he leads me to the dance floor.

The place is large with a slow-dance kind of atmosphere, spacious and very dimly lit. I'm aware that my husband is still watching, almost certainly having the feelings of sweet jealousy he loves for some reason. I'm having feelings, too. Our dance is more like a 'sway.' Coach's hands are at my waist. I can feel huge fingers extending nearly to my butt-cheeks. I'm 5'2. Coach is at least as tall as my husband, 6'3" Now I'm aware that stretching to put my arms on his shoulders is pulling my hem way up. I hear a whistle and "you go girl" from a dancer somewhere behind me.

Coach says, "You do have a cheerleader's legs. I thank him, but say, "It's been awhile." He smiles down at me. "If it was up to me, you'd be on our cheerleading squad tomorrow." I know that his flattery is way over the top, but I love it. At first we were dancing a little apart, to make it easier to talk I see another of his appreciative smiles as he looks down at my neckline. I realize he may be looking all the way to my belly button. I'm vividly aware of my nipples pushing against the thin fabric of my top. Then he pulls me closer, chest-to-chest, or maybe more like chest-to-tummy. I'm almost embarrassed at how hot I'm getting. My nipples are radiating. I run my hands from his shoulders to his arms to his chest and back to his shoulders. All solid muscle. An athlete's body.

We dance another song, then another. I'm glowing and know it, starting to feel like this is physical heaven and this man has brought me here. He leans down to whisper in my ear, "I hope you can excuse Mr. Pecker. He seems to want to dance with you, too." If there's such a thing as a loud giggle, that was me at that moment. I had definitely noticed the increasing bulge, pressing against me.

"It's okay, I'm not pissed. But you'd better keep him in the locker room." That earns me another manly laugh, which I love. We dance on and I feel his hands shifting from my hips to lower on my buns. He pulls me toward him, his thigh between my legs, and he holds me there for long enough that I thought I might cum, right there on the dance floor.

I gasp, trying to keep it quiet. "God, I wasn't ready for that." He didn't reply.

I feel his hand at my hem, the dress sliding up, his fingers on the bare skin of my upper thighs. We were toward the side of the dance floor, it was dark or Coach wouldn't have dared those dance moves, but I wonder whether people can see me. I knew there was no way my husband could see me well, but I learned later that night that he could see well enough to guess what was happening to me.

Again Coach pulls me onto his thigh, my clit against his muscled leg. This time I feel my hips quivering. My knees are going wobbly. I take a long deep breath. "I...I need to sit down for a minute." He takes my arm and guides me back to our table.

As soon as we settle back into the booth he says, "I want to apologize to you. I was so into you -- and we were clicking so well tonight -- that I got carried away...that shouldn't have happened."

This time I had no snappy reply. I think for a moment and instinctively reach for his hand. "I've liked tonight...a lot." Then I meet his eyes, sensing his genuine concern. "We really were clicking, weren't we?"

He nods. "Yes, by any standard at all." He somehow knew then that I was over any temporary issues. I feel his hand go under the table, on my knee, but under my dress. And his hand is so large and his fingers so long, he's touching me way up my inner thigh. I can feel my heart beating as I wonder whether he might go higher. Knowing I'll spread for him if he does.

"I have an apartment here in town. I'd like to have you visit me, tonight." His hand seems to be burning into my thigh. I actually feel my legs spread a little, as if on their own. But he simply says, "Invitation accepted?"

I nod, "Yes, invitation accepted." He gives me a card, "Here's my address. I'll leave now, to clean up a little. Come as soon as you can."

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So I gathered my things, took several deep breaths and headed for the parking lot. My husband was waiting beside my car. "Nice score, it would appear."

Yes, he's Coach..."

"I know who he is."

"I won't be home for awhile."

"I figured that. I'll wait up."

"It might be really late. I think he likes me a lot."

"I'll wait up."

So we got into our separate cars and drove toward the rest of our evening.

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When I get to the apartment -- I knock lightly on the door. Coach opens the door and smiles down at me. "Welcome." We walk into the main living room of a huge apartment, all modern and rich looking. I guess that an interior decorator responsible for a coach's place look this cool but decide not to waste Coach time discussing his interior decorator. He says, "There's a full bathroom off the master suite if you'd like to freshen up."

My sometimes naughty mind resists asking him whether he has any unsoaked underwear I can change into. I visit an impressive full bath that is part of an impressive bedroom suite. Everything seems big, especially the bed.

I return to the living room and blurt out one of my many jumbled thoughts during the drive to his place, "I wish we could keep dancing."

"That can be easily arranged." He goes to a built-in sound system of some kind, pushes and twists a few controls and the room is filled with romantic-sounding music, an Italian orchestra I think. I didn't really care what it was. We are chest-to-tummy again. I'm hot enough to have been easily bedded as they say in old literature. But he seems to understand how much I love being near him like this, just swaying. We are deep into a second number, or maybe a third, when he says, "Okay, it's time, I can't wait any longer."

He separates from me, pushing me back a little. I stand there, feeling tiny, wondering what he can't wait for. Then his hand is on my shoulder, his fingers grasp the bow string.. And suddenly it's untied, the straps falling to my waist. I hold that side up while he unties the second bow. Only one hand is holding the dress on me at all, and he says, "Dance with me." I reach up with both arms, feeling the dress sliding, then feeling his hand push it the rest of the way to my waist. He takes off his shirt, a dark blue polo with team logo. He pulls me toward him. And when my nipples touch his bare skin, it is absolutely electric.

I try to be taller. To be closer. I really really like this guy. "Coach?"

"Yes?"

"Will you kiss me?"

He lowers his head and shoulders, I stand on tip-toes, and he kisses me tenderly, then harder...hotter. "You are a kissable little thing," he says softly. I'm melting. He reaches down to my waist and tugs the dress over my hips. It's soon pooled on the floor. He steps back to observe me, naked but for tiny yellow bikini panties. He reaches toward me, telling me we'll dance some more. I am on fire, my pussy almost throbbing. I can feel my juices flowing into my panties, onto my thighs. He pulls me toward him, like he did on the dance floor, but harder, more intense as his hands spread across my ass, while pulling me onto his thigh. "My pussy feels almost squashed against him. His hand goes into the back of my panties, exploring the curves and crevices of my ass. I'm gasping audibly, loving his touch.

I try to hold out for a few more minutes, but my orgasm overwhelms me radiating from my pussy through my whole body, "Oh God, Oh Fuck Coach, I can't help it....Oh Fuck." I'm clawing at him trying to find a way to kiss him,, then leaning into him for support. He holds me tight. I can barely breathe, my knees are buckling.

He picks me up in his arms, and carries me into the bedroom. He lowers me onto the giant king-sized bed and pushes me onto my back. I'm looking up at him, loving the look on his face as he half smiles then lowers his head to my breasts and kisses and sucks and teases from one nipple to the other and back, over and over. I feel his hand entering the waistband of my panties. I can hear how wet I am. He teases my clit for a moment, then the fingers are deep inside me. "God, Coach, I'm going to cum again. Oh fuck this feels so good, OH GOD..." And I was gone again, my back arching, my hips rising to meet the invading fingers.

He lets me rest for just a moment, then he says, "Let's see how good you taste." I lift my hips as he slides my panties down and off. I open my thighs for him. I reach down to hold his head, claw at his hair, as his mouth covers my mound his tongue swirling around my clit. My back arches, my hips are bucking. Then the tongue enters me, and goes deeper than seemed possible. He's owning me. Opening me like a flower, I try to meet each thrust of his tongue, until orgasm sweeps through me again. He holds me until my breathing returns to something like normal. My thighs finally stop quivering.

He positions me in the center of the bed. I watched him undress. His cock is hard and big and I want it in me. Then he's between my legs, his cock resting on my pussy and stomach. He smiles down at me, "You are a warm-blooded little thing,"

I try to smile back, but I just whisper, hoarsely, "Please fuck me, Coach."

And he takes me on a physical ride unlike anything I had known before, fucking me face to face, then I'm on hands and knees while he fucks me from behind. I ride cowgirl. I turn backward and stuff his cock into me holding onto his thighs pumping and squeezing as hard as I can, until orgasm overpowers me again, and I fall backward onto his chest. I lose all track of how many orgasms, it's more like one continuous orgasm with me begging for more, always trying to find ways to feel closer to him."

"Ready to fly with me?" He whispers.

"Yes,." I whisper back, although not being able to imagine how I would fly higher.

He turns me on my back, helds my ankles while moving my feet to his shoulders. I loved that moment. I could look through my spread legs to see his muscled body, now glistening in sweat, his expression intense. He holds his cock for a moment, slapping my pussy, then positioning the head just inside my pussy lips. A squirm toward it. Wanting it. "Please, Coach."

Then he thrusts it into me, suddenly, deeply, and he pauses while I squeeze him inside me, my arms reaching toward him, my head thrown back, thrashing, my back arches, and my juices flood his invading cock. He doesn't slow down. Fuckiing me hard while every part of my body seems on fire. I hear him moan, from deep, I feel his cock growing inside me. I'm close to cumming again, "Oh, God. Coach, Oh God...Then I hear a deep guttural growl, He looks down at me, teeth clenched, expression intense. "Cum with me."

He fucks me faster, harder, deeper. And I came with him, feeling the hot gush inside me and he continued to thrust and cum for a really long time. I, wanted to be like this forever.

I stay flat on my back, legs raised but spread, while I wait for my body to feel anything like normal. He gets up, brings a box of tissue, and wipes away my juices and his dripping cum. I thought to myself, 'I've known this man for few hours and this seems totally fine. Like we've known each other forever.'

We had two more wonderful romps that night -- the first was all over the bed with a detour for my moment sprawled, ass up, over the arm of a giant easy chair. The second session, though, was more special. Gentle. Tender. Melting me with words that made me feel sexy in a way I hadn't known.

He walked me to my car, holding me one more time. Kissing me. He said, "I hope we'll meet again,"

I reached up to touch his cheek. "So do I, Coach. I really do."

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I got home at 3:30. As he promised, Phil was waiting up, actually sitting in a lawn chair beside our suburban driveway.

"How did it go" He looked at his watch. "Well, I gather."

"It was okay." But he could see my eyes and glow. I said, "Really okay, honey."

So we went to bed, and I told him details like I've promised to do, and he came once in my hand, before he meant to, and again inside me. We promised to talk more tomorrow, meaning more satisfying sex with my husband. I tried, but couldn't go to sleep.

"Phil?"

He mumbled, "What, babe"

"I really liked it."

"Meaning?"

"I don't know... usually this is about me playing your turn-on games. This was about me."

"Want to know what I think?"

"Of course, you're my husband."

"I think a small town girl got swept off her feet by a guy that probably has girls in every city in the country."

I thought about that, realizing that it was possible. "Know what I think?"

"What do you think?"

"I think you and Coach gave me a night I'll never forget."

He turned over, his back to me, mumbling, "Okay, let's talk tomorrow."

I was awake for a long time, staring at the ceiling. I had done what I was supposed to do by the rules of a game Phil had created for us. I even told the truth about it being a special night. What else is a girl to do?

In my heart, I knew the answer -- hope that Coach never contacts me or that I'd have the strength to run and hide if he does..

That didn't happen.