FICTION / HOTWIFE /CUCKOLD

I’m Not Your Type

After a woman makes him a sinfully wicked offer in a bar, he discovers the truth about her adulterous ways

“So what is your type?” [Image: and.one]

This was after work. He was sitting in a bar downtown, minding his own business, maybe even half-watching the game on the TV screen up in the corner over by the entrance to the restrooms.

He was startled by a tap on his shoulder, and then a woman popped herself down on the stool beside him.

‘You look like you could do with a seriously good blow job,’ she said.

Johnny nearly spat out his beer — in fact, he nearly choked himself just to avoid spraying Budweiser all over the place. ‘I’m sorry?’ He said, turning to her, eyebrows raised.

‘I said…’

‘I heard what you said,’ he laughed.

‘Well then,’ she smiled, and put a hand delicately on his shoulder. ‘You wanna go somewhere…’

In all honesty, he did find her attractive. She really had beautiful eyes, a warm smile and a very alluring figure in that little dress. But it was one of those too-good-to-be-true situations, like when you get an email from a Nigerian prince asking you to hold onto $5 million for him until he can get to the States, whereupon he’d give you half of it for being so helpful — if only you give him your bank account details.

He didn’t want to ask her if she was a hooker.

So he said, ‘You’re not my type.’

She gave him a dry smile. ‘Because I’m not a skinny little white girl?’

If he hadn’t had a couple of beers inside him already, he might have reacted to that. But he didn’t. He only shook his head casually, grinned, and said, ‘No, because you walked right up to me, in the middle of a bar, and asked me if I wanted a blow job.’

She laughed. He liked it when she laughed.

‘I didn’t ask you if you wanted a blow job. I said you look like you could do with one.’

‘Whereupon,’ he said, ‘You asked if I wanted to ‘go somewhere’.’

She shrugged. ‘Maybe I just want that seat.’