Regifted

A Hotwife Introduction

It’s not that I don’t enjoy it. I do, but sometimes I wish we could just skip the games. A nice dinner out, followed by a good fuck, is just fine in my book. Even a quickie, before dining out, would be enough for me on occasion. My husband, on the other hand? He likes to play. He always has something up his sleeve. God bless him, he does keep things interesting.

I scan the dimly lit lounge, as I wait for him. The room bustles with activity, while a light jazz music cascades through the room, keeping a relaxed atmosphere. Candles on the tables, flicker warmly upon the faces of the diners.

My attention is drawn to an older couple sharing a laugh. There’s a lot of stories behind that relationship, I’m sure. They look as if they’ve been together for a lifetime and would stay together for another lifetime, if they get the chance.

I hope we still have that connection in our golden years.

My gaze turns to another, equally vibrant, but very young couple. The woman, or should I say girl, is wearing a stunning, low cut red dress that falls just above her knees. She casually drinks a glass of red wine as her foot caresses her beau's leg under the table. Someone is clearly getting lucky tonight. From the look in the young ladies eyes, very lucky.

I hope to still have this connection in our twilight years, also.

This is the third time we’ve tried this “hotel bar game.” My husband claims, frequenting the restaurant and lounge areas of upscale hotels, increases our likelihood of meeting strangers. I’m not a hundred percent sure what he expects to really happen, but I do my best to play along. I appreciate his effort. Besides, it’s not every night that I get to dress to the nines.

I feel glamorous. I run my hand down the side of my short black dress, as if to remind myself how sexy I’m feeling. It fits snugly to my curves, heightening my awareness of how little there is between the outside world and my naked body. I quiver, slightly, as I remember what I’m wearing underneath.

He nervously made excuses, when he handed the box to me earlier. He claimed it was kind of a joke gift. I gotta say, I was a little taken aback when I pulled out this evenings “game night” lingerie.

I scoffed at first, but figured it’s harmless, so I put it on for him. I must admit, the naughtiness turned me on. We talk about his fantasies and I play along with him, but this was more forward than usual.

Finally, I see my husband enter the restaurant from across the room. He’s been off parking the car for what seemed like an hour.

“Where did you park the car, Guam?” I joke.

“Ha, ha. Very funny.” He says as he settles up to the bar. “Any luck?”

I feign disappointment, “Can you believe it? Not one offer.”

“Oh well, the night is young!” He smiles. “And so are the men.” He points across the room to a few “just out of college” aged men sitting in a booth watching a game on the bar flat screen.

“What do you think? Should I get a room?” He jokes.

“Those boys aren’t interested in an old woman like me, sweetheart.” I reply.

“Oh, cut it out! Those strapping young lads would die to get under that dress of yours.” His eyes narrow a little, as they’re prone to do, when his mind goes into its dirty place. He leans in and whispers, “Imagine what they would do, if they did get under that dress.”

I laugh him off, but my pussy does not. Yes, the thought of three young men having their way with me is appealing. Appealing in an adult film, fantasy world kind of way. I allow my mind to drift for a moment, before a nearby voice snaps me out of it.

“What can I get you?” The bartender asks my husband.

“Jim Beam on the rocks , please.”

He rarely orders me a drink in these situations. I presume he is hopeful that someone else may offer to buy me one.

My husband looks out over the dining hall. “It’s not too busy tonight,” he states. “Doesn’t look like we’ll have to wait long for a table. Want to finish our drinks here first?”

“Sure,” I answer.

We spend a few moments catching up, as only seasoned parents can on a rare night out, sans children. It’s nice to have a few moments together, but I sense my husband is a little distracted. He’s reacting to the conversation, but his mind seems to be consumed with something else. It’s not too long before hubby finishes his drink and gets up from the bar.

“I’ve got to hit the head, maybe we can get a table when I get back. Sound good?”

I nod and take a sip from my, almost finished, glass of wine. I spy on the crowd again, wondering what their lives are like. What are they up to tonight? The young couple is paying their check. They’ll be heading straight to their room, from the looks of them. The older couple are still enjoying their dessert. Making it last.

“Excuse me, miss?”

Startled, I turn to the voice. The bartender places a full glass of wine in front of me.

“Yes?” I reply.

“Compliments of the gentleman,” He says, then directs my attention to the opposite end of the bar.

A handsome man, in a sharp suit, sits smiling at me. He gives a slight wave. I smile nervously and quickly turn away. It may have been rude, but I didn’t know how else to react. I ask the bartender to thank him.

“Well, you can thank him yourself.” He points again. “He’s right here.”

I turn and confront the gentleman in front of me. He’s very well dressed and devastatingly gorgeous.

“Hello,” the stranger says. “I couldn’t help but notice you from afar and was hoping you might like some company.”

I briefly looked around for my husband. Where is he? He’ll probably be back any second now.

“Umm, sure. Take a seat,” I stammer.

Just about every bone in my body tells me this is wrong, but a hint of excitement wallows somewhere deep inside me. My husband often jokes about hot men buying me drinks, but I’m not completely sure how he’ll react to it actually happening.

The stranger sits next to me and confidently, introduces himself, “Nice to meet you, I’m Jake.” He raises his glass. Instinctively, I raise my glass to meet his, “Hello, I’m Danielle.”

Spying my ring, as I raise my glass, he pauses, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you were married.” He begins to get up.

I’m not sure why, but I quickly blurt out, “No, no, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Please feel free to stay.”

Jake slowly sits back down. “Ok, if you’re sure. Last thing I want to do is make you uncomfortable.”

“Not at all. My husband…” I almost tell Jake that my husband just stepped out to the men’s room, but remember that this is part of “the game”. This is what he hopes for, so I finish, “ he wouldn’t mind at all.”

Jake and I proceed to hit it off with a pleasant exchange about our backgrounds. His charm is overwhelming, he is extremely at ease and comforting. I, on the other hand, am a bundle of nerves. It’s been a long time since I’ve conversed with a handsome stranger, without my husband. I nervously sip my wine, trying my best to hide my attraction.

A vibration comes from my wristlet. I reach inside and take out my phone. A text message on the screen reads,

“Don’t get up right away, but in a few minutes, go to the ladies room. I’ll text you further instructions.”

Oh lord. What does he have up his sleeves now?

“Something urgent?”, Jake asks.

“No. Nothing pressing.” I put the phone away.

We chat a little longer before I excuse myself to bathroom. Just short of sprinting, I race to restroom.

Once inside, I check myself in the mirror. I look good. It’s not often that I feel this way these days, but the way my husband dressed me tonight and the attention Jake is giving me; I feel good. Desirable.

The wristlet buzzes. I take out the phone and stare at the message on the screen. Half angry and half laughing, I type back,

“You must be joking! No way!”

I pause and look into the mirror again. I feel a twinge down below. It is kind of hot. Harmless really. Why should I be such a prude?

He responds back,

“C’mon! Just do it. It’ll be fun. I’ll come over and join you two soon.”

Screw it. I type,

“Ok, I’ll do it.”

I walk into one of the stalls and close the door behind me. After hesitating for a moment, I reach under my dress and slide my new thong off. My pussy tingles from the exposure. I realize, now, how wet I am as the cool air brushes across my moistness. I rub my fingers over the message embroidered on my husband’s gift. It seemed rather silly at first, but now, as I read the words once more, I feel mesmerized.

“If you can read this, my pussy is yours.”

I have only ever given my pussy to one man. My husband. Could I gift it to another man?

Walking back through the restaurant, I am convinced that everyone knows there is nothing on under my dress. It’s frightening and exhilarating. When I get back, I mount the barstool, careful not to give Jake a glimpse by accident.

Our conversation carries on without a hitch. Jake is a natural charmer. Soon he is joking, then casually flirting. After another round of drinks, he becomes a little more frisky. First a brush of my shoulder. Then the arm. In one instance, during conversation, he leans into me and places his hand on my knee. He leaves it there for what seems like an eternity, then gently squeezes my leg before sitting back. I feel myself swell with his hand so close to my exposed pussy.

I’m not sure if it’s the wine, but I think, “Maybe I could do a little more with Jake. Maybe I could give hubby a little show and begin to flirt back.” No sooner do I finish that thought, I receive another text.

“You like him, don’t you?”

Jake gets up to go to the bathroom. “Don’t go anywhere,” he begs.

“He’s very nice,”

I text back to my husband.

“Nice enough to do a little more?”

I hesitate, but can’t resist. What does he have in mind?

“Like what?”

His text is almost immediate.

“Why don’t you give him those panties?”

He can’t be serious. I don’t think my husband knows how aroused I really am. If he keeps this up, he may get his wish.

“Stop it! You’re not serious.”

I send the text and moments later I feel a hand on my shoulder.

“Do it,” my husband says. “I’ve never been so sure of something in my life. Trust me.”

He is not usually so commanding. I like it. I look up into his eyes and smile. He smiles back and walks away.

I pull the panties out and fondle them in my hands. I couldn’t, could I? What will Jakes reaction be? He’s definitely into me. I start to put them back in my bag, when Jake returns.

“What do you have there?” He says.

I pause briefly, then slowly, I hand the thong to him. I watch, intently, as he reads the message. We lock eyes. He smiles and extends his hand to mine. I give my hand to him, knowing that, with this gesture, I will be giving him so much more.