Wife Fingered by Another Woman in a Bar

The upscale bar held its light low, smoked glass and warm brass, the kind of place where a hand could vanish under a table and nobody across the room would look twice. Elise, twenty-eight and married, sat in a silk dress the color of spilled wine, one knee crossed, pulse already too quick. Her husband Andre, thirty-one, occupied the seat across the small high-top, sleeves rolled, watching her the way he did when he wanted her to take something she was almost too shy to ask for. Neither of them had been drinking. They were sharp, awake, and hungry.

Rosa took the empty stool beside Elise without asking whose it was. Thirty-two, striking enough that the room seemed to tilt toward her, she wore her dark hair off her throat and a black dress cut to bare the long line of her back. She turned. Their eyes locked. Attraction hit Elise like a hot drop low in her stomach, instant and mutual, and Rosa's mouth curved as if she had felt the same strike.

"There you are," Rosa said, voice low and confident, pitched for Elise and for the man across the table. "I have been looking at that mouth since I walked in. Unfair, carrying a mouth like that and a husband who knows exactly what he has."

Andre's gaze stayed steady and approving. He didn't interrupt. He only lifted his brows at his wife, permission and dare in one small motion.

Rosa's fingers found Elise's forearm, light and deliberate, thumb drawing a slow line over warm skin. "I'm Rosa. Tell me your name before I decide how much trouble I'm starting."

"Elise." The touch sent a shiver up her arm. "This is Andre."

"Andre." Rosa didn't look away from her. "You don't mind me touching your wife."

"I mind if you stop," he said, easy, pleased. "She wants it. Look at her."

Elise's face heated. She didn't deny it. Rosa's hand stayed on her arm, thumb stroking, and the tension thickened until the air felt sweet and close. Bold compliments kept landing, specific and warm, about her throat, her mouth, the way her thighs had pressed together the second Rosa sat down. Each light touch made Elise's nipples tighten under the silk. Andre watched, approving, a slow smile on his mouth, and Elise sat flushed and wanting, already wet from a stranger's eyes and a hand on her wrist.

Rosa leaned in until her breath warmed the shell of Elise's ear. The low light hid them, and none of the quiet reached the heat gathering under the table.

"I want to touch you," Rosa whispered. "Not your arm. I want my hand between your thighs, and I want your husband watching your face while I do it. Tell me yes."

Elise's breathing hitched. She looked at Andre. His eyes were dark and steady, and he gave her a small nod, the kind that said he was already hard and proud of her for wanting this out loud.

"Yes," Elise said. The word came thin and certain. "Touch me. I want it."

Rosa's hand left her arm and slipped beneath the table, out of sight. Warm fingers found the bare skin above Elise's knee. The first caress was slow, a palm smoothing up the inside of her thigh, spreading so Elise could feel each fingertip. Heat rushed through her. Her breathing quickened, shallow and obvious, and she had to set her glass down before her hand shook it.

"Part your legs," Rosa murmured, close enough that her lips nearly brushed Elise's cheek. "If you want me higher, open. Show me you mean it."

Elise shifted on the stool and let her knees fall apart, an invitation she would not take back. Cool air moved under the silk. She had left her panties in the apartment on purpose, a choice she and Andre had grinned about on the way, and now Rosa's fingertips met nothing but warm skin and the first slick trace of arousal.

A soft moan escaped her. Rosa's eyes caught hers and held, heated, filthy, pleased. Those fingers traced higher, skating the tender crease where thigh met pussy, not quite inside her yet, circling, threatening, promising. Elise moaned again, quieter, trying to keep it between them. Across the table Andre's grip tightened on his glass. He could not see the hand. He could see his wife's mouth go slack and her chest rise too fast.

"You're soaked," Rosa whispered, and the words landed like another stroke. "Sitting beside your husband, dripping for a woman you met ten minutes ago. I can feel how messy you are. I'm going to put my fingers in this cunt, and you are going to sit there and take it."

Elise nodded, desperate, thighs trembling open. Their eye contact didn't break. Rosa's fingers pushed higher, tracing her outer lips, spreading the wetness, rubbing slow circles over her clit that made Elise's hips twitch toward the pressure. Another soft moan slipped out, and Rosa answered with one of her own, low and hungry, as if the feel of that slick heat was already getting her off. The last of the polite flirtation burned away. What remained was open lust, wanted and agreed, Rosa's hand claiming the married woman's pussy under the dim bar while Andre watched his wife come apart.

Under the table, Rosa's middle finger slid between Elise's swollen lips and found her entrance, hot, slippery, already clutching. She pressed in slow, one long stroke to the knuckle, and held Elise's eyes while she did it. Elise's mouth opened. A shudder ran through her as that finger filled her cunt, and she locked her jaw to keep the cry in.

"Feel that," Rosa said. "Deep. I'm going to finger this wet pussy right here, and you are going to look at me the whole time. Don't look away."

She drew back and pushed in again, slow and deep, curling to drag over the soft front wall. Elise's cunt clenched. The wet sound stayed small under the music, but Elise heard it and flushed until her ears burned. Rosa added a second finger, stretching her, and pumped with a patient rhythm that made Elise's thighs shake. In and out. Slick coated Rosa's knuckles and crept toward her wrist. Elise gripped the bar edge, wood biting her palm, eyes locked on the woman finger-fucking her in the hush under the table.

"Andre," Rosa said, "she's dripping down my hand. Greedy little wife."

"I know," he said, rough. "Don't stop. She can take more."

Rosa worked her with skilled strokes, two fingers buried, twisting just enough to make Elise's hips jerk. Her thumb found Elise's clit and circled, firm and precise, never quite enough to let her come. Elise bit her lip. A thin whimper escaped. Her hips rolled in helpless little shifts, fucking herself onto those fingers. Pleasure coiled fast and bright, her pussy fluttering, soaking Rosa's hand until every stroke sounded wetter.

"Sit still and take it," Rosa murmured, pumping deeper. "Let him see what a stranger's fingers do to this cunt."

Elise nodded, eyes wet, obedient and wild. Each thrust dragged over that swollen spot and blurred her vision. She was close, shaking, gripping the bar, biting her lip to stifle the cries. Rosa slowed, held her fingers deep, and smiled.

"Turn a little. I want your ass."

Heat flashed through Elise. She wanted it. She shifted, dress riding, ass angling toward those slick fingers. Rosa gathered the mess from her cunt and dragged it back between her cheeks. The first touch on her asshole made Elise jolt. Rosa circled the tight ring with a shining fingertip, patient, pressing, smearing pussy-slick all over that clenched hole. Elise pushed back, breath breaking.

"Yes. Finger my ass. I want it."

Rosa pressed, steady, and the muscle gave. One slick finger slipped into Elise's ass. The stretch burned sweet and sudden. Elise's mouth fell open. She gripped the bar harder and bit her lip, stifling the cry as that finger sank in all the way, her ass clenching around it. Rosa held, letting her feel the fullness, then pumped. In and out, rhythmic and obscene. Each thrust worked more of Elise's own wetness into her ass, filthy and smooth and deep. Elise's breathing shattered. She could not look away. Rosa watched every flinch and fucked her ass like she meant to keep the hole open.

"Both," Rosa said. "Cunt and ass. Same time."

Two fingers pushed back into Elise's soaked pussy while the third stayed buried in her ass, and Rosa worked both holes with skilled, ruthless precision. The fingers in her cunt stroked deep and slow, curling over that swollen spot, while the finger in her ass pumped in counter-rhythm, then drove deep with them so Elise felt stuffed, split, owned under the table. Wetness ran down Rosa's wrist. Her ass fluttered. Her pussy squeezed so hard Rosa had to push to stay inside.

The dim hush did nothing to save her. Rosa's wrist flexed under the table, fucking both holes in a filthy little rhythm, pussy stuffed and ass stretched, Elise's dress bunched at her hips. Every time the finger in her ass pulled back, the two in her cunt drove deeper, and when they all sank in together Elise saw white behind her eyes. She was shaking apart in that hush, and the only thing holding her quiet was her teeth in her lip and Rosa's relentless hands.

"Look at me," Rosa ordered. Elise did, lip caught in her teeth. "Good wife. Taking a stranger's fingers in both holes while your husband watches. Come. Soak my hand. Squeeze that finger with your tight ass and come."

Elise broke. The orgasm tore through her, cunt and ass clenching in frantic pulses around Rosa's fingers. She gripped the bar and bit her lip to keep from crying out, a broken moan caught in her throat as Rosa kept pumping, merciless, fucking her through it. Her thighs shook. Her pussy gushed, slick spilling, and her ass spasmed on the finger buried deep, milking it. Rosa didn't stop until Elise was wrecked, twitching, eyes still locked on hers, coming in a dim bar with both holes full and her husband watching every second.

Rosa drew her fingers out slowly, pussy first, then the one still clutched by Elise's ass, and the sudden emptiness made Elise whimper. Those fingers shone, cunt-slick and darker from her ass. Rosa brought them to her lips. Her tongue dragged up the length of them. She sucked them clean, eyes on Elise, smiling seductively, filthy and sure, like she had just eaten something she intended to take again.

"Taste what I did to you," she said, and caught Elise's mouth.

The kiss was passionate and mean, open, deep, Rosa feeding Elise the flavor of her own wet cunt and her used ass. No softness in it. Just hunger, tongue and teeth, a claim in the middle of the bar. Andre watched his wife's wrecked mouth, then lifted a hand and paid the tab without looking away.

Rosa pressed a number into Elise's damp palm. "Text me. Next time I finger both holes until you can't walk out of wherever we are."

Elise nodded, flushed, thighs sticky, ass still fluttering around nothing. They stood. The three of them left the bar flushed and satisfied, numbers traded, another night already promised.

Elise walked out with her cunt still dripping down her thigh and her asshole clenching hungry for the finger that had just fucked it open.