THE BARTENDER | ADULT STORIES

 "Whaddya think, Danny?"


A perfect summer's dream. My wife wore the flowy, strapless dress she bought at the marketplace the other day. I couldn't help but smile because her charm was just so goddamned contagious.


"You light up the room, sweetheart."


Pretentious, yes. But true.


"Aw, you're so sweet." She planted a wet kiss on my forehead.


"I assure you," I said, "I'm still picturing you naked, though."


"I know." Her laughter was light as the breeze. "You always do."


I stood up and hooked my arm in hers.


"Let's get something to eat, shall we?"


We walked to the restaurant and filled our plates with exotic fruits, a big chunk of warm rice, bread, and fresh lettuce leaves. Emma kept throwing lingering glances at me while we stuffed ourselves. Her warm hand rested on my hairy thigh.


"Can you believe," she said, "we still have another week ahead of us?"


"Wish it was longer." I took a big bite of the bread roll. "I love it here."


"Do you know what I think?" She squeezed my thigh.


"What?"


"I think we're gonna need to," she reached further up my shorts, "get me all wet again."


After a refreshing swim in the Andaman Sea, we ambled across the hot sand and stopped at the next outdoor bar that crossed our path. 'The Royal Horse' the sign said. I bought a beer and leaned back while she ordered her favorite drink. The bartender laughed and mixed up some vodka, peach liqueur, and orange juice in a tall glass. He was shirtless and fit, most likely in his mid-twenties.


Emma was the complete package. A 5'3" petite woman with a curtain of long, dark blonde hair cascading down to her lower back. Slim, but not scrawny. As my late mother would've put it: a woman in good health and high spirits. In my own words: a cutie with a booty. Sometimes I joked that "you had to be sitting in sugar, because how else would you get a sweet ass like that"?


Just the type of chauvinistic comment she loved to hate.


When she strutted back to our table I raised my bottle of Singha and took a big sip of the ice-cold lager. It went down smoother than a lubed-up penguin on a glacier.


"So?" I grinned. "Did ya?"


"Yes! Just like you told me."


"I wanna have..?"


".. sex on the beach!" You looked embarrassed. "Word for word."


I lowered my voice when I noticed the bartender; he glanced in our direction.


"What did he say?"


"He said, and I quote: 'if I was your boyfriend, I would make it happen."


She nodded at the drink. That name had made girls blush for decades.


"Oh, that's cute." I glared at him.


"I said 'He's my husband. Not my boyfriend.'"


"Geesh!" I laughed.


"I know!" You grinned from ear to ear. "What a douche!"


"Can't blame him though."


"Oh, shut up, you."


I leaned back and took another sip. Studied my topless rival.


"What, you don't think he's hot?"


"Don't be ridiculous." She glanced back. "He's young. And besides.."


She directed her attention back at me. Those big green eyes sparkled with joy. My libido came back to life in mere seconds. Schwing!


".. you know I only have eyes for you."


And before I knew it, she cheekily flashed me one of her breasts.


The day was warm and sultry, but occasionally a sporadic breeze found its way to us. I thought about asking if she wanted to go dancing. I had a nice buzz and I didn't want it to go to waste. A foreign male voice interrupted my trivial thoughts.


"Can I get you anything else?"


The bartender showed up from nowhere. He had a smooth british accent, brown shoulder-length hair accompanied by a pair of steel blue eyes, and a perfectly defined jawline attached to cheekbones that would've made Adonis green with envy. It was the type of guy you shouldn't let anywhere near your wife. He was trouble with a capital T.


And why wouldn't he put on a fucking shirt?


"Something from the menu?" He looked at my wife. "The clam - sorry, the Manila clam - is delicious this time of year. At least that's what the chef tells me."


"We're fine," I smiled politely, "but thank you."


"I wouldn't mind.." Emma looked at me. "I'm a bit peckish. Do you.."


I shrugged my shoulders. Go ahead.


"Could I get a chicken salad, please? Small?"


When she uttered the last word she threw a glance at his nether regions. I wasn't completely blind, you know. So you were curious if he was packing or not, I thought.


"Of course."


I could tell the smug son of a bitch had noticed the cheeky look.


"Why not." I surrendered. "Might as well get something too."


"Whaddya have, sir?"


"I could go for a burger." I cleared my throat. "Something greasy, lots of bacon."


"Coming right up." He nodded to her. "M'lady."


We both chuckled when he left. Emma raised her eyebrows in a flustered, ambiguous gesture. Her cheeks were red and my prying eyes made her look away. I thought about asking what she was up to, but I didn't know how to phrase the question without sounding like a complete and total ass.


We enjoyed the food in silence. It was one of the best meals I've ever had. The combination of soft, warm bread with juicy, well-cooked meat was nothing but a culinary experience out of the ordinary. We made sure to tip generously and promised to be back soon.


After a short walk on the beach, we couldn't take it anymore, so we hurried back to the hotel and ripped each other's clothes off.


----


We went back the next day.


After a few hours of wakeboarding, she proved to be a natural talent. I was a total disaster and couldn't remain standing for more than twenty seconds at a time. We walked back to the hotel. Emma asked if I wanted to grab a bite at The Royal Horse. I said sure. I wouldn't miss the chance to sink my teeth into that luscious burger again.


We showered. I put on a casual shirt and a pair of chinos while she changed into the sexiest outfit she could find in her suitcase wardrobe; a short, tight cocktail dress. A more expensive nightie, more or less.


The charming brit was more than happy to see us. He complimented Emma's outfit and gave us a table close to the bathroom but near the beach. We were treated to a stunning view of the sun setting over the ocean. She presented us and asked for his name. Daniel and Emma - James. We clicked with him instantly.


James was a touchy-feely kinda guy, at least with Emma. I guess it should've bothered me, but it was hard to get mad at him - he was such a charming fella. He was too confident for his own good. You know the guy; admired by the boys, desired by the ladies. He spent so much time at our table that his boss eventually asked him to give some of the other guests his attention too.


After we had paid the bill James asked if we wanted to hang out at his apartment, maybe get some more drinks under our belts, and then he could show us around town. His shift ended soon and he had access to all the best nightclubs in the area. Of course, we said yes. Well, my wife did. She accepted the invitation on my behalf. I had such a great time I just smiled and shrugged my shoulders.


----


"Where are you guys from?"


James apologized and gave us each a cold beer. He'd slipped into something more comfortable, i.e. short and a loose tank top. You know when people say "excuse the mess" but everything looks neat and tidy? His bachelor pad was like that. There were some fitness magazines in the living room and a couple of beer cans stacked up next to the sink, but that was it. The floors were clean and it smelled nice.


We admired the view from his balcony. The guy even had plants, believe it or not. When you looked down the people on the street couldn't easily spot you due to the high angle. The side walls also gave some privacy from the neighbors. Busy nightlife, down there. We heard laughing and shouting. Somebody broke a glass bottle.


"Maybe.. Norway?"


"Close enough," I said. "Sweden."


"Cool, cool." He scratched his muscular chest under the shirt. He had his long hair set up in a man bun. "I have an aunt in Stockholm. You know about 'Gamla Stan'? Awesome. I've visited once. What a beautiful place."


He talked fast and gestured with his restless hands.


"Born and raised in Birmingham. Dreadful place, had to get out of there. I've been working the bars here for a couple of seasons now. Started out as a stripper, believe it or not.." He chuckled.


"Do you work at different bars? Or clubs?" Emma asked.


"I'm a prostitute, you've got me." James leaned back in his chair. "Insomnia, The Roof, you name it. But I do most of my gigs at the Royal. The owner is such a great bloke, I've known him for years."


We listened to a hen party passing by. They laughed hysterically every time one of them - most likely the bride to be - shouted something about how much she loved dicks. Small, big, long, short, straight, and even crooked ones; pretty much all of them.


"So, what about you guys?" James asked.


"I love dicks too." Emma laughed. "In case you're wondering."


"Don't we all?" James raised his eyebrows.


We laughed and toasted. To dicks.


"What brings you to Pattaya?"


We looked at each other. She waved her fingers.


"Married ten years. Second honeymoon."


"Honeymoon schmoneymoon." James laughed.


She met his blue, playful eyes.


"We decided we could use a break.."


"Yeah, I don't buy that." He interrupted. "Do you know what I think? You, Emma, need some vitamin D and Danny here oughta visit the taco shop a bit more often, am I right?"


"I don't get it." She gave me a confused look.


I shook my head, but couldn't hide the smile.


"Oh." She hit me on the shoulder. "Naughty boys."


"I didn't say anything!"


"So, ten years?" James interfered with our banter. "Impressive. How young did you marry?"


"Well," she hesitated. "How old do you think we are?"


He tilted his head and peered at us.


"Emma," he said, "you are 23-24 tops." He turned to me. "And Danny, you old perv, you must be at least fifty?"


"You little rascal." I shook my fist at him. "Making fun of an old man.."


"We're both forty," she said. "But thanks."


"No way! I'm twenty-five."He shooked his head. "I've dated girls that look older than you!"


My wife was a sponge for compliments.


"So, does that make me a MILF?"


"Not.. technically," I said. "We've got no kids."


James grinned. "You're a WILF."


----


We talked about life, sex, and everything in between. Some of the more touchy subjects like politics and religion were naturally off the table, so we discussed various other topics like music, books, love, relationships, porn, and blowjobs. We weren't surprised when James felt the need to bring up a racy story from his past.


"So, I'm on her bed, alright? Pants around my ankles, BTS playlist on Spotify, and I'm holding her pretty blonde head between my ugly, hairy legs."


"They don't look that ugly to me," Emma said.


"Thank you, ma'am." James continued. "She knew what she was doing, let me tell ya. Holy shit. The door was locked, and her family was playing board games downstairs. All clear on the western front."


He let out a deep sigh.


"Turns out.. it wasn't. We forgot."


Emma shook her head, knowing very well where this was going.


"Man, I was so fucking close. It's like," he looked at me, "when you're just a few seconds away, about to hit the point of no return, if you know what I mean?"


I nodded because it was relatable. A guy doesn't build up to a climax, he works his ass off to keep it away, and then.. all of the sudden, it's just there. Like a bull, ready to charge.


"Her mother opens the door! My girl immediately stops and we both look at her." James sighed. "Well, the combination of my surprise, and the sensation when I quickly pulled out of her mouth, it was enough to.. you know."


Emma licked her lips.


"Oh my God.."


"She got one spurt on the side of her head. Pfft. The next one straight in the face when she looked back at me, 'cause she didn't have time to get her hands up."


He rubbed his face and moaned.


"Finally, finally.. I catch the rest and cover myself up."


James cupped his hands between his legs to illustrate. Emma gasped quietly when he removed them again. His body seemed to have recalled the memories physically. She gawked at the fat bulge in his shorts.


"Her mother should've cocked, I mean, knocked!"


"Totally. I suspect," James adjusted his briefs, "their dinner table conversations were pretty tense, post-cumshot."


"That was.." I scavenged my brain for the right words. ".. something else."


"Yeah, well.." James laughed. "That's why you always.."


"Check the lock, before you suck the cock?" Emma chuckled.


"Cum again?"


Time to join the fun.


"Cum on guys! You're nuts."


"You've got some balls," she giggled, "talking to him like that!"


"Guys, guys!" James raised his hands. "If you got a boner to pick.."


"Look who's getting cocky," I pointed at him.


"I've got a good one," Emma said.


"No," I smirked, "you don't."


"Shut up, dickhead."


"You suck," I said.


"You'd wish."


"That's not what you said last night."


"I never," she could barely hold her giggles in, "talk with my mouth full, honey."


We laughed together and it felt great. This day turned out to be one the best we've had for a long time. Luckily the night was still young.


"Do you guys know," James asked, "what the definition of trust is?"


"No, what?" Emma said.


He paused for effect.


"What is it?" She insisted.


"Yeah," I said. "Tell us."


"Two cannibals having oral sex."


"Nooo!" She punched his arm. "I'm peeing myself here!"


"Aren't you wet already?" I joked.


"Yeah," she shouted back. "So!?"


"You are?"


"So what!" She squeezed my leg. "James?"


Emma stood up and adjusted the skirt.


"What?" He asked.


"I really need to pee." She pressed her thighs together. "From mah pussy."


"Next to the bedroom."


"Thanks."


She stumbled over the balcony threshold. James waited until she had left and made a swift drinking gesture with his hand.


"Your wife's.."


"Yeah, well, she's.." I hesitated. "..not a heavy drinker."


"Wanna smoke, Danny?" James reached into his pocket.


"Sure, why not."


----


"Hey, boys?"


When Emma came back we were in the middle of settling an argument. When it really comes down to it, which 80's Maiden album was their greatest achievement? We went back and forth between "Piece of Mind" and "Somewhere in Time".


"Lookie lookie.."


Her bubbly laugh met us when we turned around. She had just enough time to pull the top of her dress back up before we got the chance to see anything. It looked like she was blushing from head to toe.


"Wait, what?"


I was stunned. This was so unlike her.


"Oh no," James looked at me. "Did we just miss what I think we missed?"


"I'm afraid so."


Emma almost fell off the chair when she sat down.


"Maybe you should.. " I nodded towards the drink. "..take it easy with that?"


"Don't tell me what do, Danny-boy."


Boobs or no boobs; we couldn't leave our nerdy debate hanging. I disputed it was impossible to compare a masterpiece like "Revelations" with the epic "Alexander the Great" because that's like comparing apples with oranges.


"Wait a second," she gasped. "Guys, what the fuck is that?"


"What?"


We looked in the direction she pointed.


"No no no, left.. not there. Higher up."


"I don't," James squinted, "see anything."


"What are we looking at?" I asked.


Emma giggled and that's when I realized we'd been tricked again. She adjusted her bust. It was obvious that our discussion about heavy metal bored her to death.


"Now you're just being mean," I said.


"I know.. I'm such a bad girl." Her eyes sparkled. "Somebody should spank me."


Where's my wife and who the hell are you?


"Oops."


A quick drop, barely a second, then back up again.


"What do you think?" She looked at James, not at me.


"I think you need to.."


He stopped in the middle of the sentence when Emma lowered her dress - slower this time - and kept it there. She looked provocatively at us and we just stared back. Her tits were.. out. Free. Unshackled and unrestrained. The tension dialed up a few notches.


".. show us," James continued, "a bit longer?"


We had turned into The Drooling Zombies. Booobieees.


"Beautiful." My tongue loosened up. "Amazing, right?"


Why was I looking at James to validate my wife's breasts?


"Magnificient." He swallowed with a clicking sound. "I mean, like.."


"Like what?"


Emma gave them a soft squeeze. Heavy B-cups. More than a handful. Her hands were small and delicate, just like the rest of her body.


"Like.. really.." James struggled.


"Sexy?"


"Oh yeah." He squirmed. "For sure."


She seemingly continued to undress us both with her eyes. From top to bottom. I couldn't tell if she was more excited or nervous. She looked like a cat on a hot tin roof.


"Two pretty boys."


I could only imagine the inner conflict she must be having, whether to continue the shenanigans or put her twins back to sleep. Maybe she had pushed things too far, to the point where she couldn't just "blame it on the booze" and laugh it all away.


She walked up close to me.


"Emma," I whispered. "What the fuck are you doing?"


"I don't know." She shook her head. "You tell me."


We fell into it a soft, warm embrace. She kissed me and I immediately grabbed her breasts. It was the most natural thing in the world, something we had done a zillion times before. But never in front of another human being. Knowing somebody else was present turned everything on its head.


She slipped a soft whimper into my mouth. It was barely audible. We parted and she looked at me for validation, but I could only respond with confusion. I let her go and she invaded James' personal space. He gawked. She worked up the nerve to press her soft tits against his hard chest.


"Emma, what.."


"Shhh." She shook her head.


She stroked his pecs, ventured further down, and reached underneath the tank top. She had that look - like she just hit the jackpot. A sting of jealousy pierced through me. With a powerful physique like that at her disposal.. why would she ever go back?


I hated to admit it, but I'd started to let myself go. Sugar cravings became habits. I drank more beer, so the belly grew. I used to run once or twice a week, and I worked out casually - for about a decade - but then I just quit one day. I don't know why. She said she didn't care and I believed her. But the sex lacked something. A boost of energy, a real spark. Happens to most couples, they say.


Watching another man french-kiss my wife was a completely new experience for me. When he touched her chest, she sighed with contentment. When he squeezed her ass, she moaned. It was like I wasn't even there anymore. But maybe, just maybe, she picked up on that thought somehow. Suddenly she reached out and grabbed my erection. She massaged it persistently through my pants.


"You can," she looked down, "if you want to?"


James wanted to. He took the left breast in his mouth and sucked on it - ever so gently - like it would break if he was too rough. Emma's firm grip hardened. She made me grunt with pent-up excitement because all I wanted was for her to unzip my pants and take the dog out for a walk. Instead, she pushed me towards the free parking lot on her chest and I gladly accepted the offer.


Her tits glistened with saliva. I gave the swollen nipple one last kiss goodbye before she pushed me away. And as if things couldn't get more surreal, she dropped to her knees right in front of James. The tall brit grabbed the railing.


"I can't believe I'm doing this," she said.


"That makes two of us."


And just like that, she pulled down his shorts.

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