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Proving Romantic lovemaking is better than fucking.

I closed up against her and put my right hand on her left tit, squeezing it hard. Her hand closed round my erection and I kissed her. I could feel her wriggling against me, her hips pistoning back and forth.

I dragged my mouth off hers and rasped - "Is this what you wanted - to get your big tits felt outside the pub, after you flashed your cunt at everybody in the place?"

"Yes," she muttered, hoarsely. "Get them out! Get my tits out of this bloody dress - rip the buttons off, if you have to, but get my tits out and suck my nipples before they burst!"

I had never seen her so turned on - she was almost like a different woman. Her hand was working my cock frantically and I was praying she wouldn't make me come before I actually got it into her. I pushed her hand away, and took a deep breath, then eased her back against the wall and started unbuttoning her dress, starting at the bottom.

I was half-kneeling and, as the buttons parted up to Carol's waist, revealing her hairy pussy, I sank my head between her legs and licked her engorged labia. I was rewarded with a muffled groan, then the pressure of her hands behind my head, pulling it into her quivering groin. I groped blindly above me to reach the rest of her buttons - then there was only one hand behind my head and I slid both hands round to clutch her bare bottom as she finished the unbuttoning job for me.

When I rose, it was to see Carol's spare hand pulling on one of her exposed nipples, her dress wide open, all the way down. I slid my hands inside her dress so that it fell away to either side of her body, and embraced her, passionately, one hand in the small of her back, the other clutching the soft flesh of her bottom, my tongue pushing inside her wide-open mouth and halfway down her throat.

She was clutching at me, desperately, one leg hooked round my thigh, low moans coming from deep in her throat when, suddenly, I felt a tap on my shoulder.

My heart leapt, and I whirled round. The face that leered down at me was vaguely familiar - he was one of the 'hangers-on' with the victorious darts team. He was a very tall, very thin man in his late fifties, with a cadaverous, unshaven face with dull, deep-set eyes and a lantern jaw. He was wearing an ill-fitting ancient tweed jacket over a heavy woollen pullover and filthy baggy grey trousers. He was swaying back and forward, and was clearly very drunk.
"I thought you were on for a shag there, mate - mind if I have a feel, too?"

His eyes were looking past me and I turned round again. At the shock of his tap on the shoulder, I had released Carol - but she hadn't moved. She was leaning against the wall, her hands dangling by her sides, her dress still wide open, exposing her entire naked body! Her lips were slightly parted, her breathing jerky and excited, and her big brown eyes were wide, staring - but her gaze was fixed, not on me, but on the huge, swaying drunk by my side.

Stunned into complete inactivity, I stared at her, then at him, as his dulled eyes raked over Carol's full naked breasts, and the thick dark jungle between her parted thighs.

Then, in absolute astonishment, I heard her say in a low, tense whisper - "Come on, then - if you want - come and have a feel."

For a few tension-laden seconds, he didn't move, but then he lurched forward and put his hands on my wife's naked breasts. His hands were huge, virtually covering them completely. Carol, unbelievably, gasped, and a little smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. I saw the drunk's tongue come out to lick round his lips, then his hands squeezed Carol's tits, hard, and she moaned with pleasure.

"Oooooohhhhh," she whispered. "Yessssssss - hard - squeeze them hard. Squeeze my tits - yesssssssss ........."

I couldn't believe what I was seeing.

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