He struck out with my wife, but I hit a home run with his mom

We found a karaoke bar near Jacksonville a few weeks ago. Fun crowd, cheap drinks. Everything was great, except this one puny young guy (21-25) coming up to my wife, Elle, and flirting with her right in front of me. The “me” of 20 years ago would’ve taught him a brutal lesson. The “me” of today knows my wife is coming home with me, and any attempts from another man to woo her are a waste of his time.

When she shot him down, he sulked like a kid who’s told he can’t have a candy bar at the store. Just sat there with a pouty face the rest of the night.

Now here’s the thing. We’re a hotwife/swinger couple. If he’d have been respectful, interesting, and acted aware of my existence right beside her, it might’ve happened. It’s happened in the past for others who’ve played their cards right.

The karaoke lady was kind of “I’d fuck her but wouldn’t date her if I were single” hot. Big tits, cute face, a little softer around the middle than I’d prefer. I could tell by her demeanor when we interacted that she wanted to fuck me. Elle could tell, too.

Then the karaoke lady said something about the pouty guy being her son.

Game fucking on.

“You should fuck her,” Elle said. “Teach her little bastard son a lesson.”

I laughed it off, and we continued our night.

Five or six beers into the night, it was time to break the seal. I excused myself to the restroom.

The way the bar was set up, the restrooms were down a hallway and kind of hidden. I went into the men’s room.

When I finished pissing and washed my hands, I came out to see the karaoke lady standing by the women’s room door.

We locked eyes.

“Think your gal will mind if I bring you in with me?” she asked.

“She’s already given me the green light,” I said. I followed her into the women’s room.

When I walked in, she locked the door behind us. She didn’t embrace me or kiss me. She grabbed my package and said, “I only have a few minutes.”

“I’ll be quick then.”

I was already hard from the situation. She lifted her dress and bent over the sink.

I went hard and fast. I finished quickly as promised—inside her.

She said, “I needed that.” Then she pulled up her panties and went back to the karaoke area.

When I came back to our seats, I could tell Elle knew. We traded smiles and nods.

When it was my turn to sing again, the karaoke lady called my name. As I reached for the mic, she said, “I can feel your cum running down my legs.” But she didn’t realize the mic was so close. The speakers amplified her words for the whole bar to hear. Everyone heard.

Her sulky son stormed out, apparently leaving his mom to pay his bar tab. She followed him outside, and I could see them arguing through the window while I sang “Chattahoochee.”