The Night at That Bar I Never Told Anyone About

Every time we passed in front of that place, the entrance stopped us dead in our tracks. There was something magnetic about the photos hanging on the outside wall: naked women, breasts on display, some in provocative poses and others in the middle of the act, apparently inside the bar itself. Beneath each image, a single word in large letters: «Dare». It was impossible not to look.

With my husband, it had become almost a ritual. Every week, on the way back from our walk, we would stop in front of those photos. And there was always something new: a different face, a brasher pose, another level of boldness. It filled me with dirty excitement; I couldn’t deny it. I looked at the images and my mind drifted to places it shouldn’t. Sometimes, with a nervous laugh, I told him:

—I can’t believe all that happens in there.

And he, with that conspiratorial smile I know so well, would answer:

—There’s only one way to find out.

Despite my curiosity, part of me resisted. It was a game between the urge to try something new and the fear of the unknown. But every week as we passed, the desire to discover what was happening behind that door grew a little stronger.

***

That night we went out for our usual walk. I wanted to look sexy for him, so I chose something special: a short, very short skirt that barely covered the lace of my garters. Black stockings, thin high heels that lengthened my legs, and above, a fitted white shirt with the buttons straining over the size of my breasts, which were nearly spilling out.

When we reached the bar, I noticed something different. At the door stood a PR guy, a young, well-dressed man who seemed to be there to bring in customers. As soon as he saw us, he came over with a smile and stopped us.

—Do you know this place? —he asked kindly, first looking at my husband and then, without even pretending not to, fixing his eyes on me.

—We’ve passed by many times —my husband replied calmly.

—Then you have to come in. It’s a unique place. Inside, everyone is free to do whatever they want.

As he spoke, I couldn’t help glancing at the photos at the entrance. They were still there, daring me to take the next step. Curiosity won out over shame, and I dared to ask:

—Those photos… are they real? Were they really taken in here?

The guy smiled even wider, as if he had been waiting for exactly that question.

—Completely real. They’re taken by the owner, whom everyone calls the Fox. But no one ends up in a photo without giving permission. You choose: whether you want the image to be just for you, or whether you want to be part of the wall.

That last line made my breathing quicken. I looked at my husband, searching for his reaction, and in his eyes I found that spark of mischief that drives me crazy.

—What do you say? —I asked in a teasing tone, though my voice trembled a little.

—Let’s have a beer, baby —he replied casually, but with a heated look.

My heart raced. Are we really going in? I thought, though my body was already as hot as my mind. And without even realizing it, we were already crossing the threshold.

***

The bar had a thick, almost electric atmosphere. So many people, laughter, music, the constant murmur of conversations. The high tables were packed, and in the middle of the room some people were dancing. Off to one side, on a pool table, a completely naked girl moved with a sensuality that was hypnotic, while the dim light played across the shadows of her body.

We managed to get a pair of empty stools at the bar. My husband brushed my waist.

—Sit here, love.

I obeyed, intimidated and aroused in equal measure. In front of us, a huge wall was covered with photographs impossible to ignore: naked women, couples, groups, each image more explicit than the last. I stared, trying to take in the sheer number of stories that wall was telling.

—What can I get you? —asked the bartender, a tall, broad man who came over drying a glass.

He had a cheeky smile, but what caught my attention most was how openly he looked at my cleavage. My husband ordered a beer. I, a little nervous, asked for a whisky on the rocks.

—This round’s on the house —he said, winking.— Are you from around here?

—No, we’re on vacation —my husband replied, with that wicked glint I love so much.

The bartender let out a short laugh and leaned toward us, like someone about to share a secret, his eyes once again on my chest.

—Do you have life insurance? —he asked my husband.

—For what? —my husband replied, half confused, half amused.

—Man, with a front end like that… if she puts it on top of you, you’ll drown, mate.

I felt my whole body tighten between surprise, a flicker of discomfort, and the dirty excitement beginning to creep in. Rather than answer him, I leaned toward my husband, grabbed the back of his neck, and pulled him to me. Our lips met in a kiss that started soft and quickly turned intense, my tongue teasing his while my fingers played with his hair. When we pulled apart, the bartender was serving the drinks with a smile that betrayed how much he had enjoyed the show.

—The music, the atmosphere… —I whispered in my husband’s ear—. Everything here feels so right.

And even though I didn’t say it out loud, I knew that night would be different from all the others.

***

The scene was charged with tension. I took a sip from my glass, letting the alcohol warm my throat, while my husband slid his fingers along my thigh with that skill of his that drives me wild. The touch was subtle, but the intentions were crystal clear. His lips found mine in a slow, wet kiss, and his hand kept moving up under my skirt. I didn’t care anymore if anyone saw us; the dirty thrill only made me hotter.

Without thinking, my hand went for the bulge in his trousers. I found him hard and started stroking him slowly through the fabric. He pulled back just a few inches from my mouth and whispered in a hoarse voice:

—What if I want you to do it right here, at the bar?

A shiver ran through me. I unzipped him with trembling fingers, set him free, and began to stroke him while my eyes challenged him. Then I felt something else. A firm hand slipped under my skirt and caressed my bare ass. It wasn’t my husband’s hands: his were still gripping my hips. Someone else was touching me, without asking permission.

I whispered it to him, torn between panic and arousal.

—Baby… there’s someone else. He’s touching me.

He didn’t stop. On the contrary, he smiled.

—I know, love. He’s pressed up against you. Nice body, isn’t he?

The filthy tone of his voice left me breathless. The stranger’s hand kept exploring, bold and daring, and I, instead of pulling away, stayed still, letting it happen while my husband devoured my mouth.

***

At that moment a bell rang behind the bar and the bartender grabbed a microphone. His voice rose above the noise.

—Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we’ve got something special! Make some room, because there’s action here!

The lights focused on me. I wanted to look at my husband for support, but he, fully surrendered to the moment, took my face in his hands.

—Relax, Carla —he whispered with a wicked smile.

The bartender came over with a phone in his hand while people moved aside to make space for us. Whistles, shouts, everything blended into electric chaos.

—This is her husband —he announced, pointing at him—. And this gentleman —he continued, indicating the man standing behind me—, a stranger, has dared to touch your woman! How far can she go?

The tension was unbearable. The bartender turned to me.

—What’s your name?

—Carla… —I answered in a thin voice.

The entire bar erupted in a single chant: “Carla! Carla! Carla!” I was scared, very scared. But there was something terribly erotic about being there, exposed, watched, desired by everyone at once.

My husband took advantage of the distraction to turn me firmly, until I was facing the man who had been behind my back until then. I looked at him for the first time. He was mature, strong, with an imposing presence. He wore an open shirt that revealed a tanned, well-kept chest, and on his lips a smile of pure satisfaction.

—Do you want Carla to suck his dick? —the bartender shouted.

The bar roared:

—Yes!

My breath caught for a second. My whole body was trembling, my mind fighting between surrendering or putting a stop to everything. But the heat between my legs, my husband’s gaze, and the crowd’s clamour had me trapped.

—Do it, baby —he whispered in my ear.

***

I spread my legs so my husband could move better inside me, while my hand went down toward the stranger’s trousers. The bulge was so big that, even through the fabric, it stole my breath. I slowly pulled down the zipper, gradually freeing his erection. When I finally took it in my hand, a moan escaped my lips before I could stop it.

—What’s your name? —I asked, barely able to speak.

—Adriano —he answered in a deep voice, bringing his face closer to mine—. Want to taste it?

His words went through me. My breathing sped up and, unable to help myself, an orgasm ran through me from head to toe, arching me against my husband’s body.

—Carla has had an orgasm! —the bartender shouted, and the whole bar cheered.

My husband, still inside me, gave me a gentle push.

—Suck his dick, baby.

My gaze moved between Adriano’s erection, firm in my hand, and my husband’s eyes, urging me on. Feeling his approval made everything even more intense. I leaned in, letting my lips travel over Adriano’s body until I knelt in front of him. I teased him first with my tongue, circling the tip with soft motions, and little by little I took him into my mouth, feeling him fill every corner. My hands worked the base while my lips set the pace.

—God, Carla… —he gasped, running a hand through my hair, guiding me carefully.

The crowd was shouting and clapping, but I could barely hear them. I was consumed by the pleasure of having his attention, of feeling like the center of every gaze, of seeing him melt under my touch. My husband leaned in beside me.

—Suck him like only you know how, baby.

His words made me moan against Adriano, and the vibrations seemed to drive him even crazier.

***

I stood up and whispered in his ear, brushing my lips against it.

—Tell me when you’re close. I want to finish how I…

I turned around, rested one hand on the back of the stool and the other on the back of my husband’s neck, and he kissed me hungrily. While our mouths merged, Adriano positioned himself behind me, held my hips, and started thrusting slowly.

A moan escaped my lips. He gave my ass a hard smack and a tremor ran through me.

—Do you like it? —my husband asked in my ear, in a naughty tone.

—Yes… I love it —I panted, feeling Adriano make his way deeper into me.

—Is he fucking you all the way? —whispered my husband, his hot breath on my neck.

—Yes, baby, all the way —I answered, shaking.

Adriano started moving hard, each thrust deeper than the last. My husband never took his eyes off my face.

—Then tell him.

—Don’t stop! Don’t go easy on me! —I screamed, almost out of my mind.

Every удар of his hips against mine was a trigger. I felt a crushing orgasm shake me completely, and I screamed uncontrollably as the walls of the bar echoed with our gasps. Then my husband, right against my ear, let out another filthy line:

—What if we invite him home tomorrow?

The idea of having that stranger in our most intimate space sent a shiver through me that culminated in a second orgasm. My moans grew louder.

—Who would you fuck more, him or me? —my husband insisted.

—You, you idiot… shut up —I answered, looking him in the eyes, just as a third orgasm split me open.

Adriano was moaning hard behind me.

—I’m close…

When he came out of me, I felt a strange emptiness, as if my body missed him immediately. I turned around, knelt again, and took him in my mouth, licking him while my hands held him firmly. His broken breathing and my gasps filled the air. When he came, I let it flow out slowly, and the people around us chanted like accomplices to our little madness.

The pleasure was so intense I felt my body could no longer contain it.

***

When I caught my breath, Adriano leaned toward me, the heat of his voice raising goose bumps on my skin.

—I’m on vacation here —he whispered—. If you want, we could meet tomorrow. You, my husband, and me. Calmly, no audience.

His proposal left me speechless, but it also lit me up all over again. I felt his hand slowly rising toward my chest. The bartender, who hadn’t moved away, let his gaze slide over my cleavage.

—And I’d offer you anything you want for showing off those beauties in my place —he said quietly, trying to guide my hand toward him.

But at that moment I decided I’d reached my limit for the night. I smiled at him, provocatively, and turned to my husband.

—I think it’s time to go. Will you call a taxi?

He nodded, with a smile that said everything. Once inside the car, the silence between us didn’t last long. He rested his hand on my still-hot thigh and looked at me as if he had just discovered another woman inside me. And in a way, that was true. That night I learned something I never confessed to anyone except these lines: that the thrill of being desired in front of everyone, with him watching me, was a drug I would find very hard to quit.