Bowling Night

I pull my t-shirt over my head and slide into my jeans (my shrink to fit 501’s baby) tucking the shirt in, and button them up one by one. my fingers running over my stiffening cock as i do, teasing myself. I cinch my belt in place. The song “steady as she goes” echos through my head. Zip up my sweatshirt. I look in the mirror and slick my fingers through my hair. The iPod in my mind shuffles to “beautiful”; I smile at myself. my cock is half hard, the fit of the jeans presses my balls against my cock increasing the pressure against the denim as i walk down the stairs. mmmm – not getting any harder, just keeping steady. my mind skips songs once again.

“if” beats in my mind walking down – it is the one song i like by her. it is deliciously nasty and somehow ‘wholesome’ if you will.

As I walk into the bowling alley, the music in my head is drowned out by random conversations, laughter; the crash of the balls on the sticks, and mechanical noises of of the racking machines. my eyes scan the people, seeking those faces that look familiar. I walk up to the bar and see A the bartender. As always her shirt has one too many buttons open with her copious tits begging to spill out. My cock throbs a little harder watching them move.

“Hey hun’ Miller Lite right?

“Yeah” I respond with a smile and wink tossing my money on the counter. her ring covered fingers taking it. “black betty” booms in the background from the jukebox. We have a short conversation about nothing, before i head to the table. man she has a nice rack.

two tables down blondie is bowling tonight. I smile, raising my beer to her and sit down. General bullshit conversation with the guys ensues. First 5 frames are shit, so I try to ignore the noise by turning up some “just one fix” in my mind. i was robbed on the first ball, but make a spare – better then nothing. i grab my beer and walk over to blondie. we had been trading glances and passing conversation since last year. we strike up a conversation, laughing back and forth, arm touches an arm, fingers glide over a knee.

second game, clean slate. First two are strikes “something is clicking” as my cock pluses in pride with me. my thirst to feeling it sinking into a wet pussy, to fuck it raw. my mind drifts to the images of that night; being a complete slut for someone. i look over at blondie with my own evil intent. eyeing her as she laughs, and following the curves of her body. mmmm – what we could do together baby – what would you do for me? not focusing on the sticks at the end of the lane, but on my primal lusts – three and four more strikes fall down. Dirty thoughts of black bikini panties, covering a quivering wet pussy carry me through the final game.

the last two games are winners for me, not so much for the team overall. I won’t share my secrets, not even for the team.

The droning beat of “Ooh la la” vibrates the car as i race home, gliding through the gears.

I come home with my cock throbbing in my jeans. my boxers wet with my precum from throughout the night. i sit on the couch and flip on the tivo, catch up on shit waiting for the wife to get home, trying to distract myself. i hear the creak of the van door and meet her at the door. I pull her in towards me. I kiss her before even saying hello and press myself against her, my cock fully hard and pulsing. she moans in my mouth feeling me. my foot kicks the door shut, guiding her over to the couch. both of us falling onto it.

as in the day in the woods, my mind races with images and words, but now just noticing them not focusing on any one of them. they are my dark secrets and drive my lusts, but now my wife is the object of my desire. Chords of “turn me on” dance in my head as i think of her.