Bar Fantasy – Sharing Her at the Bar. [cuckolds perspective]

Bar Fantasy – The Bar

It had been a long, draining Friday. The kind that weighs heavy on the chest and dulls the spirit. The final blow came when Alice got a call: a dear relative had passed away. When she got home, her shoulders sagged with grief. I held her as she cried into my chest, neither of us speaking much at first. Later, she opened up—venting, grieving, unraveling.
When the weight had eased enough to breathe again, I gently suggested we get some sleep and start fresh tomorrow. But to my surprise, she shook her head.
“I need to go out,” she said softly. “Blow off some steam.”
I nodded. “Alright. Light dinner… then the Whisky Bar?”
She gave a half-smile. “Let’s go.”
After sushi, we made our way to the bar—our favorite spot. The place was nearly empty, just a few quiet drinkers at the bar. We got our drinks and sank into a large leather couch near the back, our bodies close, warmth shared. The drinks flowed slowly. We didn’t talk about the grief anymore. Instead, we drifted through softer topics, laughing, sipping, touching.
After a few rounds, I realized neither of us would be driving home. I quietly booked a hotel room just a short walk away.
“I got us a room, love,” I said.
She smiled. “One more drink before we go.”
By now, it was nearly closing time. The other patrons had gone, leaving just the bartender—a tall, lean guy in his mid-thirties—and a towering, mocha-skinned bouncer leaning near the door, clearly bored. I walked to the bar and ordered us another round. The bartender gave me a nod and started pouring.
Alice slipped onto the stool beside me. Her mood had shifted. She was smiling again—and flirting. Playful at first, then more charged. Her eyes sparkled, her laughter deeper. She leaned into the bartender’s space, and I saw his grin widen.
Her hand slid to my thigh. She kissed me softly, then whispered in my ear: “I need to be fucked… now.”
Her lips crashed into mine, urgent and needy. I slid my hand beneath her dress, fingers teasing the wet heat between her thighs. Her moans rose, unbothered by the two men now watching openly—one behind the bar, one walking toward us from the door.
She tilted her head back, offering her neck, and I devoured it. I knew that sound—the tremble in her moans—and I felt her need spill out of her like wine.
I lifted her onto the bar, slid her panties down, and exposed her glistening sex. The two men were transfixed, bulges now impossible to miss. I looked at them—then back at Alice.
Her eyes were glassy with lust. “Please,” she begged. “I need more.”
We moved to a sturdy table. I stripped her blouse and bra, freeing her heavy breasts, then pulled off her skirt. She lay across the cool wood, legs spread, body trembling.
I entered her hard and fast—there was no time for slow. Her body welcomed me, hungry and soaking. It didn’t take long. Her pussy clamped around me as she screamed through her first orgasm. Her moans pushed me over the edge. I came deep inside her, groaning as I filled her.
But I knew it wasn’t enough. As I stepped back, I turned to the others. Both men were naked now, cocks in hand, hard and throbbing. I nodded.
“Baby,” I said, stroking her hair. “Do you want more?”
She bit her lip, breathless. “Yes. Please.”
The bartender stepped in first. He was younger—long, smooth, confident. He didn’t ask. Just grabbed her legs, spread her open, and slid in deep with a single thrust. Alice cried out, her voice echoing in the empty bar. He began to pound her, hard and fast, shaking her body with every stroke. I watched her breasts bounce, her moans building again.
Her orgasm hit just as he began to climax. He growled, buried deep, and came hard—his load spilling inside her. He held still, panting, cock twitching inside her until he finally slid out. Cum leaked from her, thick and glistening down her crack.
Still, she writhed on the table. “More,” she begged. “Please don’t stop.”
Then the bouncer stepped forward. He was massive—thick, heavy, and commanding. His cock looked like it could split her in two. Alice reached for it with shaking hands but couldn’t even wrap her fingers fully around it.
“Are you ready for this?” he asked, voice low.
“God, yes,” she whimpered. “Please… take me.”
He spread her wide and rubbed his cock along her soaked slit, mixing cum and desire. Then he pressed the swollen head inside. Her pussy opened slowly around him, stretched wide—and she screamed, squirting as the first few inches slid in.
Her body convulsed as he bottomed out inside her. She was gasping, moaning, begging—and he just kept stroking with deep, deliberate power. Every thrust drew more cries, more shaking, more squirting.
I moved to her head, choking her gently while the bartender returned to twist and pinch her nipples. The combination sent her spiraling. She screamed, shook, and came again and again—her body a trembling mess of sweat and orgasm.
Finally, the bouncer grunted.
“I’m gonna cum.”
“Do it,” Alice begged. “Cum in me. I want to feel it.”
He roared, slamming deep as he unloaded. Hot cum poured out and oozed past his thick shaft and ran down her crack onto the table. He stayed inside her, gently rocking and savoring the feeling of her tight pussy until he finally softened and slid free.
Alice grabbed him, took him in her mouth, and licked him clean.
The men dressed silently and left through the now-unlocked door. I helped Alice up, her legs wobbly. We walked hand-in-hand to the hotel.
When we got to our room, I threw her down on the bed, kissed my way between her thighs, and tasted the mix of our cum and sweat and her sweet surrender. Then I fucked her one last time, deep and slow.
She fell asleep wrapped in my arms, my lips brushing her neck, the scent of sex still hanging heavy in the air.

Bar Fantasy – Punishment and Pleasure

In the morning, the air was still thick with sex, sweat, and the lingering scent of other men. Alice’s body still trembled as she lay across the bed—naked, used, and aching. Her thighs glistened with cum. Her lips were swollen from moaning and begging.
But I knew her. I knew this wasn’t the end. Not for her. Her hunger was deeper. She needed pain. She needed to be used. She needed to be owned.
“Get on your knees, slut,” I said quietly.
She dropped without hesitation, crawling to the edge of the bed, her eyes downcast, mouth slightly open. Her whole posture radiated submission. I grabbed her hair and yanked her head up to look at me.
“You’re such a dirty Slut,” I growled. “You begged strangers to fuck you… and you loved it, didn’t you?”
“Yes, Sir,” she whispered. “I needed it. I needed to be used. I needed to feel it… all of it.”
I slapped her face—lightly at first, then again, harder. Her eyes fluttered, breath catching. She leaned into the sting.
“Harder,” she begged. “Please… hurt me.”
I grabbed her by the throat and pushed her back onto the bed. I took one of her thighs and slapped it—hard. Then again. Her skin bloomed red under my hand, and her moans got louder. Her pussy dripped. I slapped her breasts, pinched her nipples hard enough to make her cry out, then twisted them until her body arched off the mattress. Her hands clawed at the sheets, body writhing. Pain fed her arousal like fuel to a fire.
“Open your legs,” I said.
She obeyed instantly, spreading herself wide—still soaked, still full of cum. Her pussy lips were raw, her clit swollen, her thighs marked with bruises and finger-shaped prints. I leaned down and slapped her pussy.
“Fucking hole,” I muttered. “Good only for cock, pain, and cum.”
She let out a soft, whimpering moan. “Yes. I’m your fuckhole. Use me. Hurt me.”
I picked up her soaked panties from the floor, rolled them into a gag, and shoved them into her mouth.
“You don’t get to speak anymore,” I told her. “You’ve had your fun. Now it’s time to suffer.”
I grabbed her wrists and tied them to the headboard with my belt. Then her ankles—spread wide to the bedposts using her discarded bra and skirt. She was bound and exposed, body trembling with anticipation. I reached into the bag I’d packed just in case—and pulled out the flogger. Her eyes lit up behind the gag. She nodded, begging for it.
I began slow—letting the tails kiss her thighs, her belly, her breasts. Then harder. Each strike left red lines across her skin. She writhed, moaned, gasped, and drooled around the gag. When she looked like she was at her edge, I stopped.
“Ready to break, baby?”
She nodded desperately.
I climbed between her legs, teasing her clit with the head of my cock. Her body bucked, craving it. But I denied her. Again and again. Until she was sobbing through the gag. Then I thrust in—hard.
Her entire body tensed. Her screams were muffled, but they echoed inside me. I pounded her sore, used hole, gripping her bruised hips, watching the way her body arched and trembled with every stroke. Each time she moaned, I slapped her breasts or pulled her hair harder. I kept her right on the edge—over and over—until her eyes rolled back and her body convulsed.
She came again. And again.
She came when I choked her.
She came when I slapped her.
She came when I whispered what a dirty cum slut she was.
By the time I emptied my cum deep inside her again, she was broken—in the way only a true submissive knows as bliss. Her mind silenced, her body wrecked, her soul free. I untied her gently, pulled the panties from her mouth, and held her against my chest. She was soft now. Quiet. Floating.
“You were perfect,” I whispered. “You gave everything.”
She smiled, eyes fluttering closed. “I’m yourus.”