“What do you think of him, Connie?” I whispered. I nodded in the direction of a muscular, somewhat intimidating looking, black man sitting up at the bar. My wife and I were sitting in a little neighborhood tavern near our hotel looking for a likely candidate. We’d been fantasizing about having a threesome with another man for years and we’d finally gotten up the courage to try to go through with it.
Connie glanced over her shoulder and turned to me with a look of disbelief. “He’s really cute Mark …but he’s far too young. For Pete’s sakes, he’s only in his twenties! He’d never be interested in a middle aged woman like me!”
“Oh yeah?” I continued quietly. “Well that’s not stopping him from checking you out. When you got up to go to the washroom he watched you every step of the way!”
“Oh go on Mark!” she blushed. “You’re just teasing me!”
“No I’m not… Go play some music on that old Wurlitzer over there and you’ll see what I’m talking about.”
“Okay, I’ll just do that,”
Connie stood up and smoothed down her dress then, putting a little extra wiggle in her walk made her way over to the ancient jukebox in the corner. As she passed the bar, she surprised me by giving the kid a sultry ‘I’d like to fuck you,’ kind of look as she brushed past him. When she got to the jukebox she made a point of bending over and displaying her ass as she dropped in some money and punched in a few tunes. After making her selection, she returned to our table, smiling at me as the kid turned around on his barstool to watch her
“Mark, you’re right!” Connie whispered with a pleased smile as she sat down. “He ‘is’ looking at me, and he’s gorgeous! Do you really think he would want me?”
“Of course he would! The kid’s obviously got the hots for you! I bet he’d be easy to talk into a little fun if we could only figure out a way to meet him. I don’t even begin to know how to tell him I’d like him to fuck you.”
My name’s Mark Hargrove. Let me tell you how we got to this point. I’m fifty years old, with sandy, thinning hair, and a bit of a beer gut, so I’m just kind of average in the looks department but I think I really lucked out when I married Connie. Connie stands about five-four with shoulder length shiny black hair, and even after having two kids she has nice perky tits, great legs, and an ass that attracts men like a magnet. Tonight she was wearing a little black cocktail dress that was so tight it looked like it had been sprayed on, and on her legs she had on a pair of sexy black stay ups and four inch heels. Maybe I’m a little biased, but for a woman in her forties Connie is one hell of a hot looking chick.
Anyways, Connie and I are Canadian, and we’d come to the states on a mini holiday from our home town of Victoria B.C. because we were in desperate need of a break from our routine at home.
Our town’s not exactly known for its wild nightlife and we knew San Francisco had a reputation for being the kind of place you could let your hair down. The night we arrived I talked my wife into taking in a male strip show. Connie had never seen one before and it blew her away. She got the hots for the lead dancer, a good looking Rastafarian type with washboard abs. It must have been obvious to him because he’d picked her out of the crowd and done a strip tease just for her.
For whatever reason, the guy’s performance had really brought out the slut in Connie. Later that evening, when we returned to our hotel, she practically raped me in the elevator on the way up to our room. Our marriage had gotten kinkier over the years to keep it interesting and our favorite fantasy was her having sex with another man while I watched, but until the striptease, it never occurred to us the guy could be black.
I guess the dance brought out her darkest desires, because when we went to bed she told me she’d have loved to fuck him. Hearing her admission turned me on as much as her, so I decided to change our fantasy into reality. Here we were, in a bar in a strange city where no one knew us, and we’d never have a better opportunity.
