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Two Can Play This Game        I hated that Bill loved this game. OK, the lovemaking was usually great afterward. That part I liked a lot. And getting dressed up is always fun. And yes, I like the attention. (Everyone does, so long as it is respectful.) It was just the deception part that I hated. I know what it is like to be led on and I didn't like doing it to others. Still, you do crazy things for love. I am sure that all of you have heard about this game. It normally goes something like this. The couple arrives to a bar separately, one partner (usually the woman) flirts with some of the patrons, and then the other partner (usually the husband) comes over and sweeps this 'stranger' off of her feet. They leave together, both with hugely boosted egos. Bill and I have played this game often over the last few years. (We have been married for 5.) Lately, though, I have been feeling like it is a little unfair to the guys being flirted with. I mean, they are just trying to meet someone too. I devised a pretty good plan, one that should leave no one hurt but that should also make Bill a little less excited to play the game. To make sure no one was hurt, I would arrive a little early and tell someone that this was all a game my husband liked to play. That way the person would not feel led on. To make Bill less likely to want to play in the first place, I would pick a really tall athletic person to talk with. Bill has some insecurities, and I know his height bothers him. (I have always felt that his insecurities are what have made this a fun game for him - he gets to leave with the girl.) My favorite part of the game, really, is getting ready. Bill likes to see me in new cloths so I get to keep a pretty large wardrobe. Tonight had to be special. I wore a tight-fitting black jersey fabric dress. It hugged my body perfectly, and showed off all 5'6" and 120 pounds of me. The horizontal halter-like strap that criss-crossed around my shoulders showed off my 36C breasts and the asymmetrical skirt showed off my long legs. I felt beautiful and very, very sexy. When I arrived at the bar I parked out back and then walked around to the front door. Bill had selected the bar from the yellow pages, and it was pretty unremarkable. As I walked in I scanned the room. There were a lot of younger men here (I am 26), so I guessed there must be a college near by. I used to work at a college, so it was kind of nice to be back in that environment. Walking in, however, deserves comment. I felt that every man's eye was on me. I really loved that. It took me only about a minute to pick out the perfect guy. And I mean perfect. After seeing him, Bill would never want to play this game again. He must have been 6'4" or 6'5" and about 250 lbs. He looked like a cartoon of what a football player should look like. Tall, muscular, and very handsome. More than just that (which would have been enough), he was black. I knew that would drive my husband nuts. (Lets not get into the details here - I had dated a black guy before and my husband took forever to accept it.) I walked directly up to him, introduced myself, and asked if he would be willing to help me out. He was disappointed at first, because I think he liked how I looked, but agreed to flirt with me for about an hour until my husband arrived. He understood that this was a game, and that I didn't want to lead him on. After a bit, we kind of laughed about it all and started to have a really nice time. His name was Alan, he was a football player, and he was an English major. He was very smart, very polite, and very respectful. He was also very graceful - he and I danced a few times. I kept thanking him and telling him that he would be quite a catch for a single girl. That made him laugh a bit, and he thanked me. "Seriously", he said, "having everyone here see me dancing with such a beautiful woman will help me get more dates. Guaranteed!" He was such a sweet man. My plan was working perfectly, but Alan didn't arrive on time. When he was about an hour late I went outside and checked my messages. There was one from him - he needed to work late and had swung by the bar but didn't see my car. He apologized and said he'd be home by midnight. It was 10 now so I should have just left. But not to be rude I went in, told Alan what had happened, thanked him, and told him I was leaving. Being the polite man he was, Alan walked me out back to my car and gave me a little hug. He said that he was sorry that my plan didn't work, but that he was really happy to spend time with me. I thanked him for being a good sport and gave him another little hug. He held on this time, just a bit longer than he should have and I pulled away - but just a little. I reminded him of my situation and kissed him gently on his cheek. He held my head, moved his, and kissed me on my mouth. Now I'm not prude, and I have had my fair share of experience, but I really didn't intend to cheat on my husband. As I was enjoying the kiss, though, I went with it for a bit. It had been a long time since I kissed a college kid and I was really enjoying myself, but I was going to try and keep my limits. Alan's huge had started rubbing and pulling on my breast. I tried to stop him, but not too hard. This was so exciting, but also so unplanned. I was being pushed against the hood of my car by the passionate monster of a man. "Don't leave me like this baby," we whispered in my ear as he pulled my hand toward his crotch. With my hand on the front of his pants I could feel him straining to get out. "Don't leave me like this." This was clearly out of control, but was it my fault? I pulled him out of his pants. I stroked his long, hot, fat shaft as he kissed me deeply and pressed my breasts. I was pretty sure, given his age, that I could make him cum with my hand. I used to love doing that in high school, and the thought drove me wild now. A hand-job at my age - what a scream! But he was controlling the game. He pulled his mouth away from mine and said that he needed to feel my lips. I gave in completely and took him into my mouth without argument. I love the look of a glistening cock, the feel of the head pushing to the back of my throat, I love seeing a happy man look down into my eyes. I was too into this - I couldn't wait for him to cum in my mouth. He told me to touch myself, that he wanted to see me cum when he came. That took no convincing at all. I was so excited that I couldn't wait. I continued to stroke him as I wiggled out of my panties. Once free I began rubbing myself in unison with my stroking. This was so erotic and so dangerous - I loved the feel of this large man thrusting in and out of my mouth. That alone may have been enough, but rubbing myself simultaneously was almost too much. Just as I was almost there he pulled away and asked for my hand again, saying that he needed to kiss me. While I pulled on this large man he moved closer to me and told me to use him to make myself cum. I pulled his shaft along my swollen lips and ran his head around my clit. This was absolutely fantastic! He kissed me as I did this and the second that my orgasm began he pulled me closer, kissed me harder, and pushed his body into mine. I was completely under his power, he was much larger than me, and held my mouth quiet with his. He thrust deeply into me quickly and continued to move in and out of me with a shocking confidence. I was being fucked by a stranger on the hood of my car. A large, passionate black man was fucking me like my husband only thinks he can, and I was doing nothing to stop it. No - I was thrusting my hips to meet his - I was begging him now. "Fuck me Alan - this is my husband's fault - he should have been here, fuck me John like you love me, like you own me." His last thrust almost made me pass out. He held my face close to his, held eye contact, and came deeply into me. I kissed him, I didn't want him to pull out, but I had to go. He asked me to come back, or to send him an email, to see him again. In truth, Alan has no idea, but I have been emailing him for a few months, even though I haven't gone to see him again.

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