The Night at That Bar I Never Told Anyone About

Every time we passed in front of that place, the entrance stopped us dead. There was something magnetic about the photographs displayed on the outside wall: naked women, breasts bare, some in provocative poses and others in the middle of sex, apparently inside the bar itself. Beneath each image was 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 our way back from our walk, we would stop in front of those photographs. And there was always something new: a different face, a more shameless pose, another level of daring. I was filled with arousal; I couldn’t deny it. I would stare at the images and my mind would wander into places it shouldn’t. Sometimes, with a nervous laugh, I would say to him:

—I can’t believe all this goes on in there.

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

—There’s only one way to find out.

Despite my curiosity, part of me resisted. It was a tug-of-war between wanting to try something new and being afraid of the unknown. But every week, as we passed by, my desire to discover what happened behind that door grew a little stronger.

***

That night we went out for our usual walk. I wanted to look attractive for him, so I chose something special: a short skirt, very short, that barely covered the lace tops of my stockings. Black stockings, slender, high heels that lengthened my legs, and above them a fitted white blouse, its buttons straining against the size of my breasts, which were almost spilling out.

When we reached the front of the bar, I noticed something different. There was a public-relations man at the door, a young, well-dressed guy who seemed to be there to attract customers. As soon as he saw us, he approached with a smile and blocked our path.

—Do you know this place? —he asked pleasantly, looking first at my husband and then, without even trying to hide it, focusing on me.

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

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

As he spoke, I couldn’t help glancing at the photographs by the entrance. They were still there, challenging me to take the next step. Curiosity got the better of my embarrassment, and I dared to ask:

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

The guy smiled even more broadly, as though he had been waiting for precisely that question.

—Completely real. The owner takes them; everyone calls him the Fox. But no one appears in a photograph without giving permission. You choose: whether you want the picture kept just for you, or whether you want to become part of the wall.

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

—What do you say? —I asked playfully, although my voice trembled a little.

—Let’s have a beer, darling —he replied casually, but with a burning look in his eyes.

My heart began to race. Are we really going in? I thought, although my body was already as hot as my mind. And before I knew it, we were crossing the threshold.

***

The bar had a thick, almost electric atmosphere. Crowds, laughter, music, the constant murmur of conversation. The high tables were full, and in the center of the place 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 with the shadows on her body.

At the bar, we found a couple of empty stools. My husband brushed against my waist.

—Sit here, love.

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

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

He had a mischievous smile, but what caught my attention most was the way he looked at my cleavage, without the slightest attempt at discretion. My husband ordered a beer. I, somewhat nervous, asked for a whiskey 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 gleam I like so much.

The bartender gave a short laugh and leaned toward us as if he were about to share a secret, his eyes once again fixed on my breasts.

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

—What for? —he replied, half confused, half amused.

—Well, with a rack like that… if she put them on top of you, you’d suffocate, my friend.

I felt my body tense between surprise, a touch of discomfort, and the arousal that was beginning to seep through me. Instead of answering him, I leaned toward my husband, held the back of his neck, and pulled him toward me. Our lips met in a kiss that began gently and quickly grew intense, my tongue teasing his while my fingers played with his hair. When we parted, the bartender was serving the drinks with a smile that revealed how much he had enjoyed the show.

—The music, the atmosphere… —I whispered in my husband’s ear—. All of this is so fitting.

And although I didn’t say it aloud, 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 he had for driving me wild. The touch was subtle, but his intentions were perfectly clear. His lips sought mine in a slow, wet kiss, and his hand continued upward beneath my skirt. I no longer cared whether anyone saw us; the arousal only excited me more.

Without thinking, my hand sought the bulge in his trousers. I found him hard and began stroking him slowly through the fabric. He moved just a few inches away from my mouth and whispered in a hoarse voice:

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

A shiver ran through me from head to toe. With a trembling hand, I lowered his zipper, freed him, and began stroking him while my eyes challenged him. Then I felt something else. A firm hand slipped beneath my skirt and caressed my bare buttocks. They weren’t my husband’s hands: his were still gripping my hips. Someone else was touching me without asking permission.

I whispered it to him, caught between panic and excitement.

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

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

—I know, love. He’s pressed right up against you. He’s got a good body, doesn’t he?

The arousal in his voice left me breathless. The stranger’s hand continued exploring me, bold and daring, and instead of pulling away, I stayed still, letting him do it while my husband devoured my mouth.

***

At that moment, a bell rang behind the bar and the bartender picked up a microphone. His voice echoed above the din.

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

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

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

The bartender approached with a phone in his hand as people moved aside to make room for us. The whistles, the shouts—everything blended into an electric chaos.

—This is her husband —he announced, pointing to him—. And this gentleman —he continued, pointing to the man behind me—, a stranger, dared to touch his wife! How far will she go?

The tension was unbearable. The bartender turned toward me.

—What’s your name?

—Carla… —I replied in a faint voice.

The entire bar erupted in a unanimous shout: “Carla! Carla! Carla!” I was afraid, very afraid. 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 around, until I was facing the man who had been behind me. I looked at him for the first time. He was mature, strong, with an imposing presence. He wore an open shirt that revealed a well-groomed, sun-bronzed chest, and his lips held a smile of pure satisfaction.

—Do you want Carla to pull his cock out? —the bartender shouted.

The bar roared:

—Yes!

My breath caught for a second. My whole body was trembling, my mind torn between giving in and bringing everything to a halt. But the heat between my legs, my husband’s gaze, and the crowd’s roar had me trapped.

—Do it, darling —he whispered in my ear.

***

I spread my legs so my husband could move more easily inside me, while my hand lowered toward the stranger’s trousers. The bulge was so large that even through the fabric it left me breathless. I slowly lowered his zipper, gradually freeing his erection. When I finally held it, a moan escaped my lips before I could control it.

—What’s your name? —I asked, almost voiceless.

—Adriano —he replied in a deep voice, bringing his face close to mine—. Do you want to taste it?

His words pierced me. My breathing quickened and, unable to stop it, an orgasm swept through me from head to toe, arching me against my husband’s body.

—Carla just came! —the bartender shouted, and the entire bar cheered.

My husband, still inside me, nudged me gently.

—Suck him, darling.

My gaze moved between Adriano’s erection, firm in my hand, and my husband’s eyes, urging me to continue. His approval made everything more intense. I bent down, letting my lips travel along Adriano’s shaft until I knelt in front of him. I teased him first with my tongue, circling the tip with gentle movements, and little by little I took him into my mouth, feeling him fill every inch. My hands worked the base while my lips set the rhythm.

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

The crowd was shouting and applauding, but I could barely hear it. I was consumed by the pleasure of having his attention, of feeling like the center of every gaze, of watching him melt beneath my caresses. My husband leaned down beside me.

—Suck him the way only you know how, darling.

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

***

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

—Tell me when you’re about to come. I want to finish you myself.

I turned around, placed one hand on the back of the stool and the other on the nape of my husband’s neck, and he kissed me hungrily. While our mouths fused together, Adriano positioned himself behind me, gripped my hips, and began pushing slowly.

A moan escaped my lips. He gave my buttocks a firm smack, and a shiver ran through me.

—Do you like it? —my husband asked playfully in my ear.

—Yes… I love it —I gasped, feeling Adriano make his way inside me.

—Is he putting it all the way in? —my husband whispered, his hot breath against my neck.

—Yes, darling, all of it —I replied through my trembling.

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

—Then tell him.

—Don’t stop! Have no mercy! —I screamed, almost beside myself.

Every impact of his hips against mine was a trigger. I felt an overwhelming orgasm shake my entire body, and I screamed uncontrollably as the bar’s walls echoed with our gasps. Then my husband, pressed against my ear, released another heavily charged question:

—What if we invite him home tomorrow?

The idea of having that stranger in our intimate life sent a shiver through me that culminated in a second orgasm. My moans grew more intense.

—Would you rather fuck him or me? —my husband pressed.

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

Adriano groaned loudly behind me.

—I’m close…

When he pulled out of me, I felt a strange emptiness, as though my body missed him immediately. I turned around, knelt again, and took him into my mouth, caressing him with my tongue while my hands held him firmly. His ragged breathing and my moans filled the air. When he came, I let it trickle down slowly, while the people around us chanted as accomplices to our little madness.

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

***

When I had caught my breath, Adriano leaned toward me, the warmth of his voice raising gooseflesh on my skin.

—I’m on vacation around here —he whispered—. If you’d like, we could meet tomorrow. You, your husband, and me. At our leisure, without an audience.

His proposal left me speechless, but it aroused me all over again. I felt his hand slowly move up toward my breast. The bartender, who had not gone away, let his gaze travel over my cleavage.

—And I’d offer you anything you wanted to show those beauties in my establishment —he said in a low voice, trying to guide my hand toward him.

But at that moment I decided I had reached my limit for the night. I smiled at him provocatively and turned toward my husband.

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

He nodded, with a smile that said everything. Once inside the car, the silence between us didn’t last long. He placed a hand on my thigh, still hot, and looked at me as though he had just discovered another woman inside me. And in a way, that was exactly what had happened. That night I learned something I had never confessed to anyone except these lines: that the arousal of being desired in front of everyone, with him watching me, was a drug it would be very hard to give up.