I scanned the room for my wife and found her sitting at the bar sitting beside a large well dressed black gentleman. He appeared to be about 50 and looked to be my height or better but he was significantly heavier than me with a thick neck, broad shoulders, wide hips and a bit of a belly. My 31 year old wife had always had a thing for muscular older men and I might have been in trouble if he had been white but my wife was definitely a bit of a racist. She'd been raised north of Detroit and her parents, and everyone that I'd met from the small rural town she'd grown up in, was a redneck. Her views about black guys had certainly mellowed during the six years that we'd been married but she continued to insist that she wasn't attracted to black men at all and she still sometimes used racial slurs in private.
I took an empty seat a few spots away from her and ordered a beer. She and I had arrived separately as we sometimes did when we were out of town. It was a role playing game we both enjoyed where she would arrive at a club without me and I would come in and pick her up. I usually tried to show up twenty minutes after her but there had been an accident on I94 and my arrival had been delayed by almost an hour.
The bartender returned with my beer and handed me a menu. He took my credit card to start a tab and left while I tried to make eye contact with my wife in the mirror behind the bar but she and the man beside her were engrossed in conversation. Eventually she acknowledged my presence with a discrete smile and a subtle nod but she quickly turned her attention back to him. It was a strange greeting and I wondered if she was upset because it had taken me so long to arrive and I hadn't called or text messaged her because I feared it might ruin our ruse.
I quickly finished my beer and ordered a second as well as a plate of wings and a shot of bourbon. I could tell by the look in my wife's pretty green eyes that she had a bit of a buzz but that wasn't a surprise since she'd spent part of the afternoon with her sister at a local winery while my brother in law and I had shot a round of golf. We were all in town for her mother's 60th birthday and my wife was, as usual, stressed about seening her family. There was often drama when they got together and my wife loathed family drama.
The well dressed black man seemed to have my wife's undivided attention and he was also very touchy feely which somewhat unnerved me but given her racial views I was sure I was just imagining the chemistry between them.
His hand brushed against my wife's and she smiled brightly and laughed as he held her gaze. I was used to her getting hit on because it happened a lot. She always dressed sexy when she went out, with tight, low cut dresses that accentuated her generous curves and natural dd breasts. Her flirtatious, bubbly and outgoing personality was at times the bane of my existence and she loved to flirt with good looking men to try to make me jealous but she always flashed her big diamond at her admirers and sent them on their way before they felt like they had a chance at getting into her panties.
She had locked her ring in our hotel room safe as part of our role playing but even if she'd had it I doubt she'd have sent him packing. It was evident from her body langue that she was enjoying his company even though he was black. I couldn't hear most of what they were saying over the loud music in the club, though some words and phrases did make it through.
"You're bad," my wife giggled. Her bottom lip curled into her mouth and she chewed nervously on it as she teased and twirled several strands of her long auburn hair in her right hand. Her cheeks looked pink and flushed and she gazed at him with a troubling glimmer in her dazzling green eyes.
I slugged the shot of bourbon and killed my beer before ordering another of both. I'd had a few beers on the golf course and the two beers and a shot I'd imbibed at the bar in just 30 minutes had given me a buzz. I was surprised that I didn't feel jealous or upset watching my wife flirt with another man while completely ignoring me but I wasn't a particularly jealous person. Instead I was oddly excited by it and I watched them with wide eyed interest as I ate my dinner.
His fingers brushed the back of my wife's hand and then traveled slowly up her forearm. I could see goosebumps on her exposed flesh and my pulse quickened. I felt a familiar tingling between my legs and my cock grew bloated and heavy in my jeans.
My wife and I had sometimes joked about having a threesome but we were at odds with what gender the third party should be. Like most men I wanted two women while she, being very straight, preferred a two guy menage a trois and we both had agreed that it was probably best to just fantasize rather than risk our marriage on a night of passion.
"Let's dance," he said as he rose to his feet. He was taller than I'd thought and I laughed at the 15 inch difference between my curvaceous 5'2" wife and his hulking 6'6" frame. There weren't a lot of men who made me, at 6'3", feel small but he was one of them. He was built like an NFL Lineman and he had arm like my legs and his legs were like tree trunks.
"Okay," my wife said eagerly. She had alwaya loved to dance. She and I had met at a dance club when I was still technically married to my first wife and she was still dating her ex boyfriend. She'd been a 23 year old grad student at the time and I was a 38 year old engineer working for one of the big three. My first marriage had been in the toilet for years and I had moved out a month earlier but I hadn't yet started dating.
He led her onto the crowded dance floor and I watched them for a moment over my shoulder before paying my bill and heading to the bathroom to break the seal. I furtively eyed him as I walked past but I avoided eye contact with my sexy, full bodied wife. She'd been thick and curvy when we met but she'd gained 25 well placed pounds since we'd gotten married giving her an accentuated hour glass shape that I adored and he rested his ebony hands on her wide hips as they danced to the heavy bass of the trendy dance music. I'd spent most of my childhood in New England before going to college in Michigan and I had been surprised at how trendy the Motor City was when I arrived. New music and fashion trends hit Detroit long before they reached the conservative shores of Massachusetts where I'd grown up.
I walked out of the restroom and scanned the dance floor. It was easy to spot my wife's giant dance partner because his head was above the crowd. They had moved from the well lit front of the floor to a dark corner where their actions were somewhat hidden from prying eyes but I found a seat with a clear view of them and sat down.
His hands moved up and down my pretty wife's curves as they gyrated to the beat. They turned slowly as if on a turntable giving me a clear view of their raw sensual dance moves and my eyes widened. My wife's big taut nipples were clearly visible through her tight red dress. Her hands mimicked his and roamed over his strong muscular body as her hips and ass swayed and thrust to the pounding bass. They both had rhythm, something I lacked, and they danced very well together.
He spun my wife around so her ass was against his crotch and his hands moved up her body to her big beautiful breasts. Her eyes were half closed and her fat, juicy ass ground subtly against him. I felt my first pang of jealousy as he pawed at my wife's big tits. I wanted to march onto the dance floor and end her charade but I didn't. I couldn't. My legs were heavy and unwilling to move my dick was stiff, keeping me planted in my seat.
"Can I get you a drink?" A pretty young waitress asked me over the loud music. Her presence starled me and I reluctantly tore my eyes away from my wife and her new friend. My cheeks were warm and flushed and I needed to calm myself down.
"Yeah, a beer and a bourbon," I replied quickly. I felt beads of sweat run down from my forehead and my mouth was parched. My eyes were drawn to the waitress's slender but firm young ass. Her cheeks were encased in the tight black yoga pants, like the rest of the female staff, and I watched her ass sway gently when she walked away before turning my attention back to my sexy wife and her big hulking friend.
My wife was facing him again. Her neck craned back and she looked up into his eyes as she shamelessly ground her wide body against his. Her small hands clutched at his back as his big paws openly kneaded her fleshy ass and my fists clenched to the point where they started to ache.
They continued to dance and grope while I secretly watched. My heart was racing as if I'd just finished a marathon and my eyes were wide and unblinking. I couldn't believe what I was seeing but I couldn't look away. I was acutely aware of my rigid cock straining and throbbing against the zipper of my jeans and I gasped when he bent down and pressed his lips against hers.
"Here you go," the waitress said, again snapping me from my haze. She placed the two drinks on the small round table in front of me and I handed her a twenty.
