A Night Out in Black

The bar was loud and the bass heavy, My husband and I where on a rare night out, and I’d dressed to command attention—a black dress so tight it was practically painted on, molding to my curves . Its sheer sleeves teased glimpses of skin, while beneath, a black bra pushed me up, stockings gripped my thighs, and black stilettos that Hubby loved.

We claimed a spot near the bar, and my husband, always steady, went to wrestle drinks from the chaos. As he disappeared into the crowd, I leaned against the table, my body a deliberate invitation—hips cocked, lips parted. That’s when they appeared: two tall, rugged guys in jeans that hugged thick thighs and blue shirts stretched taut over chiselled chests. Their eyes locked onto me like predators, and I met them head-on, my smile a slow, wicked challenge.

“Mind some company?” the first one growled, His friend, all sharp jaw and smouldering stare, didn’t wait for an answer, stepping close. I arched a brow, letting my gaze drag over them.

“Only if you can keep up,” I shot back, voice dripping with heat. They flanked me, their bodies so close I could feel their warmth, and I stood between them, a queen holding court. The air crackled as we talked—small talk at first, but I twisted it, my words laced with innuendo, my laugh low and suggestive. I brushed my fingers against one’s arm, leaned into the other’s space, my breasts grazing his chest. Their eyes devoured me, tracing the way my dress clung to my hips, and I fed on it, flirting like a woman possessed.

I was shameless, every move calculated to stoke the fire. My tongue flicked over my lips as I teased them, my body swaying to the music, daring them to cross the line. They matched me, their voices dropping, hands hovering just shy of touching. My husband was still at the bar, lost in the crowd, and I caught his eye once, flashing a grin that promised chaos before diving back into my game.

Then he excused himself to the restroom, his lips brushing my neck as he left. The second he was gone, the air turned molten. The darker-haired one—broad shoulders, leaned in, his breath hot against my ear. “Outside. Now.” It wasn’t a question; it was a command, and my body answered before my mind could catch up.

“Let’s go,” I whispered, my voice thick with want. I followed him, heels clicking like a countdown, leaving his friend behind with a smirk that knew too much. We pushed through the back door into the alley, the night air sharp against my flushed skin. The alley was a gritty sanctuary—dark, narrow, reeking of danger and promise under a stuttering streetlamp.

He didn’t wait. His hands gripped my hips, slamming me against the brick wall, the rough texture biting through my dress. “You’re fucking wild,” he rasped, his mouth hovering over mine. I laughed, my hands already tearing at his belt, fingers greedy for what I knew was waiting.

“Shut up and find out,” I hissed. I dropped to my knees, the pavement scraping my stockings, and freed him—hard, thick, pulsing with need. My breath caught, a hungry sound, and I looked up, locking eyes as I took him in, my lips stretching around him. The taste was raw, primal, and I attacked him with a hunger that bordered on savage. My tongue swirled, my throat opened, and I worked his cock in my mouth fast, relentless, every moan he let out fuelling me. His hands fisted in my hair, pulling hard, and I loved it.

The distant thud of the bar’s music a faint echo against our ragged breaths. I was lost in it—the risk, the filth of it all—sucking him deeper, my nails digging into his thighs. He tried to hold on, but I was merciless, driving him to the edge until he broke, a guttural curse tearing from him as he came, hot and heavy, flooding my throat. I swallowed every drop, my eyes never leaving his, claiming the moment as mine.

I stood, lips swollen, breath uneven, and wiped my mouth with a defiant smirk. “Not bad,” I purred, adjusting my dress like I hadn’t just unravelled him. He was wrecked, chest heaving, staring at me. We slipped back inside, the bar’s heat hitting us like a wave, and I rejoined his friend, picking up my flirtation as if I hadn’t just had my knees in the dirt.

Hubby was already there talking to the other guy I leaned into him, letting him kiss me, knowing he’d taste it—the sharp, musky edge of another man on my breath. His gaze darkened as he smelt my breath, his hand tightening on my waist. He didn’t ask, but he knew, and that unspoken truth hung between us, heavy with promise.

Hubbys gaze still smoldering from what he’d tasted on my lips, but he played it cool, sipping his drink like he wasn’t imagining me on my knees. I was buzzing, high on the alley’s aftershock.

patting the stools beside me. The 2 guys sat, the dark-haired one close enough that his thigh pressed mine under the table, the blond leaning in across from me, his stare peeling my dress off. My husband stayed quiet, watching, his hand resting on my lower back—possessive, but not stopping the show.

Drinks flowed, whiskey burning my throat as I turned the heat up. I was shamelessly flirting, leaning toward the blond so my tits brushed the table’s edge, my laugh low and filthy as I teased him about his shirt being too tight. “Bet it’d look better off,” I said, loud enough for my husband to hear. The blond grinned, his hand grazing my wrist, fingers lingering on my pulse. I didn’t pull away—I let him feel it race.

With the dark-haired one, I was worse. I shifted so my thigh pressed harder against his, my hand “accidentally” landing on his knee under the table, nails dragging up his jeans slow enough to make him shift in his seat. “You’re trouble,” he muttered, voice rough, his hand sliding to my thigh, fingers bold on my stocking’s lace edge. I parted my legs just enough to dare him further, my eyes locked on his, lips wet as I sipped my drink.

My husband watched it all, his fingers tightening on my spine, but he didn’t stop me. I caught his eye, flashing a smile that said I’m yours, but I’m playing. He raised his glass, a silent toast, and I knew he was as turned on as I was. The blond’s hand found my other thigh, squeezing through the dress, and I let out a soft hum, loud enough to make both guys tense. I was a live wire, flirting with words and body—tossing my hair so it grazed the dark-haired one’s arm, whispering dirty jokes that made the blond’s eyes darken, my fingers brushing their hands, their wrists, anything I could reach.

The night blurred into a haze of touches and heat. The dark-haired one’s fingers slipped higher, brushing the bare skin above my stocking, and I didn’t flinch, my breath hitching loud enough for my husband to hear. The blond leaned in, his lips close to my ear his hand sliding to my hip, thumb pressing hard. I laughed, tossing my head back, letting my dress ride up just enough to flash more thigh, knowing all three men were hooked.

It was close to closing time, and we stumbled out, the night air sharp after the bar’s fever. The guys lingered, joking about sharing a cab, but Hubby guided me out before they had finished their drinks. He steered me back toward the alley—the same stretch where I’d knelt a couple of hours ago. My pulse hammered, my cunt already wet as he pushed me against the brick wall, the grit scraping my back through the dress.

“You think I didn’t see you?” he growled, his mouth crashing onto mine, tasting whiskey and the faint ghost of cum. His hands were rough, yanking my dress up to my hips, tearing my panties aside like they offended him. “Fucking tease,”, freeing his cock—hard, thick, ready to punish. I moaned, loud and raw, as he hooked my leg over his hip and slammed into me, no warning, no mercy. The brick clawed my skin, and I didn’t care—every thrust was a claim, his cock splitting me open, stretching me till I was gasping.

“Harder,” I begged, nails raking his shoulders, my voice echoing in the alley. He fucked me like he owned me, deep and brutal, the wet slap of our bodies louder than the distant bar noise. I clawed at him, my pussy clenching as he hit every spot, my moans turning to cries. “Fuck, yes—don’t stop—” I gasped, and he didn’t, driving me to the edge until I shattered, my orgasm ripping through me, legs shaking as I screamed his name.

He wasn’t done. He pounded harder, chasing his own release, and I felt it coming—his breath ragged, his grip bruising He snarled, and then he came, hot and thick, flooding me with a creampie that spilled down my thighs as he kept thrusting, milking every drop. I was trembling, pinned to the wall, my dress bunched, stockings tops soaked, cum dripping as he pulled out, leaving me wrecked and claimed.

He tugged my dress down, kissed me hard, and led me back to the street, my legs unsteady, the wet heat between my thighs a filthy reminder. The two guys were waiting by the curb, eyes wide like they’d heard every sound. I smirked, leaning into my husband, my breath still uneven, cum slick on my skin under the dress. We stood there, all four of us, the air thick with unspoken tension, waiting for a cab like it was just another night.