Loading...My wife and I had been lying in bed talking after a round of great sex. When I say great sex, I mean great sex, which is what we usually have. On rare days, its no sex at all. A bad day is good sex, and on good days it’s spectacular sex. This had been a normal day, which is to mean it was great.
“Mmm, I love you, honey,” I murmured as she rolled off me.
“I love you, too,” she answered. “I also lust you.” I laughed at that.
“Well, I lust you, too. Couldn’t you tell by the way I was kissing and sucking at your nipples while you rode me to your orgasm?” It was her turn to laugh.
“And couldn’t you tell by the way I licked and sucked your dick before I climbed on? God, that turned me on.” I reached over and pulled her close to me.
“Yes, I could tell,” I whispered. We lay there in comfortable silence for a while, and I almost drifted off to sleep.
“Jerry?” I heard her call my name.
“Yeah, hon, what?” came my sleepy reply.
“Do I, you know, do enough stuff for you when we’re making love?” I was surprised at the question.
“How do you mean, honey? Do you do enough stuff? I guess a person could always do a little bit more, but I certainly am happy and satisfied with our sex life. It’s great, in fact!” I was waking up, sensing a longer conversation in the works.
“I just wonder sometimes….you had other women before we were married, but you’re the only man I’ve ever made love to. I wonder sometimes if I missed something, and if maybe you’re missing something because I have so little experience.” She turned and I could feel her looking at me, even though the room was dark. “Do I make you happy?” she asked.
“Absolutely,” was my instant and heart-felt reply. We had been married for four years, and they were the happiest of my life. I loved my wife dearly, and held her above all else in my world. I would do anything to make her happy.
“Good,” she answered. “But maybe I should have had more experiences before I met you. Maybe I missed something.” She yawned, and silence fell upon our room like the darkness that surrounded us. I heard her breathing become rhythmic as I lay awake, thinking about what she had said. And hatching a plan.
***
Three weeks later on a warm, balmy Saturday night, we stood outside the opulent residence that we had been directed to, where that night’s meeting of the Sunset Social Club was to be held. I had done my research, and found what I thought sounded like a legitimate club, with a slightly better class of member and clientele. The membership was limited to 60 people, evenly distributed with 30 men and 30 women, almost all married couples. Openings in membership were rare, and when there was an opening, memberships were offered for sale to carefully selected guests, usually when a member moved away or aged beyond the good of the association. Even to become a guest, a couple had to pass rigorous testing and interviews. Then, for a “guest fee”, up to ten guests per evening could attend. Greta and I had apparently passed our testing and interviews with flying colors, and it was really no wonder. We were in our late twenties, I was making a hell of a living as the hottest young architect in our area, and we were both pretty good looking. Well, not me really; I’m probably just average looking. But Greta, she is something to behold. Long blonde hair, a tight body honed from years on horseback and in the gym, a tight butt and small, but full, perfectly shaped breasts. Did I mention that her mouth and nose are perfect, her chin sculpted by the gods, and that her blue eyes captivate me when they look askance, excite me when they have the devil in them, and make me feel elated when they sparkle? In other words, she’s a total babe!
We were to be guests for the first time this evening. “New meat,” I thought to myself as I stood in awe at the mansion before me. The thought entered my mind because of the kind of social club Sunset was. It wasn’t just for socializing, it was for sex. That good, old fashioned American obsession: sex. With a few reservations.
“Are you sure you want to go through with this, Jerry?” Greta asked as she clung to my arm.
“I’m doing it for you, honey. I’m ok with it. Are you sure you’re ready?” I felt her draw herself closer to me.
“Yeah,” she said. “I’m ready.”
With that we stepped onto the porch and I rang the doorbell. As we waited for an answer to the lengthy chime we heard from within, I reflected on the conversation we had when we finally decided to come. I had sprung the idea on Greta the morning after our conversation, and while she was excited by the idea at first, she soon turned lukewarm. The idea of it excited her, but she wasn’t sure she could go through with it, and she definitely knew she didn’t want me to be with another woman.
“Well, I don’t think I want you to actually be with another man, either, honey,” I told her. “Not having another man inside you shooting his load into you. That’s why I think this might be a good thing for you, and maybe eventually for us. They don’t allow fucking. No bang-bang. No intercourse. It’s all just touching and feeling.” That seemed to allay her fears somewhat.
“And you wouldn’t touch anyone, or be touched?” she asked for the nineteenth time.
“No, honey, not unless you give me the secret signal that it’s ok.”
She jumped from her sitting position onto her knees on the sofa and clapped her hands. “Let’s do it!” she cried, and threw herself into my arms. Clothes went flying, and there were loud slurping and squishing sounds in the room for the next 40 minutes or so. Like I said, normal is great. This was spectacular.
I was roused from my daydreaming when the door to the mansion opened. An absolutely stunning woman, dressed expensively and tastefully in a long, black gown, stood before us, smiling. The side lights of the door reflected off the string of pearls around her neck.
“You must be the Turners,” she said, looking from Greta to me and back again to Greta.
“We are,” I answered.
“Please, come in.”
She walked us through a grand foyer, which was framed by dual staircases that swept up to a mezzanine above. I noted many doors leading off the mezzanine, and wondered what went on in those rooms. As we walked across the black and white checkered marble tiles to a doorway off to the left, the woman said, “This is the home of one of our founding members. Each and every room is decorated with exquisite taste.” With that, we entered a library, plush with deep pile carpet, dark wood paneling, and three walls lined with tomes of every size and shape. She led us to a sitting area.
“My name is Clarisse, and I want to take a couple of moments to go over a few things with you, and prepare you for what you are about to experience.” She smiled at Greta. “I understand that it is very stressful at first, but it is also very exciting. You must be careful not to let either of those emotions get the better of you.”
Greta squeezed my hand and answered, “I’ve read the orientation packet over at least 10 times, and I think I’m pretty well prepared.”
“Good,” Clarisse replied. “Now I understand that Mr. Turner, Jerry, won’t be participating tonight. You made that clear in your interviews.”
“It’s not that I’m a prude,” Greta retorted, then blushed when she realized the paradox in what she had just said. “It’s just that Jerry wants this to be for me, and I think I wouldn’t enjoy myself if all I was doing was worrying about what he was doing.”
“That’s fine, Greta, my dear. Many couples have started in just such a manner. Some never come back. Many, though, get used to the idea that a couple can enjoy this experience and still have a stable and happy marriage. It isn’t like one spouse cheating on the other. Of those couples that come back, a few have even become permanent members. It is most important that everyone here is comfortable. Without that comfort zone, clubs like ours don’t work.”
I felt more comfortable just hearing it said. “So what should I do as the evening progresses?” I asked.
“Well, Jerry, part of the joy of our club is participation. But another part is observation and entertainment, pure and simple. You will see many things tonight, and you will find them all very entertaining, and very arousing. Be an observer. Don’t be afraid to really look at people and become mentally involved in what they are engaged in. There is no privacy here.” I heaved a sigh. “And remember that Greta loves you and only you, and at the end of the evening, you will be her only escort home, and you will be the only one to give Greta what she will be craving so much. Be patient, Jerry, and observe. Enjoy yourself.”
“Ok,” I said. “I’m in.”
“Good, then,” Clarisse replied. “Let’s go over a few rules so there are no problems. Our members observe and enforce all rules, so there is not much danger of you breaking them. To break a rule is to be expelled from the club, and there is not one member or guest who wishes that. First, absolutely no penile penetration of any orifice is allowed. Tongues are allowed for licking, but not for penetration into any orifices of the body. There’s a fine line there, and we ask that you observe it.” Greta and I were both nodding.
“You have been tested for and been found to be free of any venereal or sexually transmitted disease, and agree to be tested every three weeks for the duration of your participation. We ask that you not have any sexual contacts outside the club or each other. While the very purpose of our club is to experience sexual excitement and satisfaction without fear of disease or divorce, one can’t be too safe.” We were still nodding.
“Also, you may not have any contact with any member or guest of the club at any time other than at a sanctioned meeting of the club. This is to prevent cliques or extra-marital affairs from developing, and is also one of the cornerstones of the success of our association.” I shifted in my seat, eager to move on into the rest of the house. We had been over all this during our interviews and orientation, and I was primed to get to the good part.
“One last thing,” Clarisse continued. Your photos have been circulated to all members of the club. All are aware that this is Greta’s first meeting and that you, Jerry, are only observing. The members will put you both at ease, and Jerry will not be approached by any member. If a guest should happen to approach you, you may tell them you are just observing, and they shouldn’t bother you. Our goal here is to make you comfortable and for you to enjoy yourselves. And for our members to enjoy you.” With that, she stood up, offered her hand to us, and said, “Welcome to the Sunset Social Club.”
With that she led us back through the foyer to the great room of the house. At first glance, it looked like any other cocktail party attended by successful young to middle-aged professionals. Nicely dressed people stood in small groups holding cocktails with one hand and gesturing with the other as they chatted. Greta and I walked hand in hand through the room, admiring the decorations and many oil paintings, feeling a bit self-conscious. Many people smiled at us, and I smiled back. I could see that Greta’s smile was a bit forced, which told me she was nervous. Although somewhat shy, she was usually very comfortable at parties and in social situations. I spotted a bar, and told Greta I’d go get us a couple of drinks. Greta stuck close to me, and accompanied me to the bar.
“Hi folks, what’ll it be?” the smiling young bartender asked.
“Bourbon and 7 for me, and a Chardonnay for the lady.” The bartender was swarthy, possibly of Greek extraction, and his muscles rippled beneath his sheer white shirt as he mixed my drink and poured Greta’s wine. As I scanned the bar top for a tip jar, I spied a bowl of small blue pills on the countertop.
“What are these?” I asked innocently. “They don’t look like candy.”
“They’re not; it’s Viagra.” He winked at me.
“Well, I’ve never had that problem,” I replied at once, lest he think I might need one.
“You don’t have to have a problem to take Viagra, man,” he said. “You take Viagra so you can be Superman, and stay hard all night long at these parties. Quick recovery, man, that’s the key,” and he winked again.
“Thanks,” I said. “That’s probably good advice,” and not seeing a tip jar, steered Greta away from the bar and back into the crowd. We soon got our first dose of what the party was all about when we got to the far end of the room and stopped cold when we both saw what we saw at the exact same moment.
A woman of about 35 with short blonde hair and very fair skin had the top of her gown pulled down, exposing her small, pert breasts, and was sitting on the leg of a muscular black man seated on the couch with his pants down around his ankles. Although her bottom half was still hidden by her gown, from her movements it was obvious that she was working her bare cunt against the black man’s leg. Back and forth, back and forth, she rode him as he pinched and squeezed both her nipples between his two thumbs and forefingers. While she ground herself against his leg, oohing and aahhing with each thrust of her pelvis, she was stroking his long black shaft with both her hands. Greta and I both stood, frozen in our tracks, as we watched her stop and grab a bottle of lotion from the coffee table, oil up her hands, and return to her stroking and grinding. I heard Greta mumble under breath, “oh, my god!”, and we stood hand in hand as the woman picked up her tempo, beginning to really grind her cunt on the black man’s leg. As she sped up the movements of her pelvis, she began moving her hands faster up and down the black stud’s growing cock. It was swelling and becoming huge as she went at it with both hands, faster and faster.
She began to moan audibly as she worked her pussy against his hard, muscular leg and he closed his eyes and began to buck as she stroked up and down his hard black cock, faster and faster. Without warning white strings of come began spurting from his dick into the air and falling on his leg. He groaned once as another white stream gushed from his black cock, this time landing on her gown. With one final thrust she ground her cunt hard against his leg, screwed up her face and clenched her legs tight against his as the first wave of her orgasm hit her. Still pumping his spurting fat shaft, she moaned as each wave washed over her, subsiding little by little until she stopped her grinding and they both sat still. After a short moment during which they came back into the here-and-now, he smiled at her.
“You are still incredible,” he said as she took one last push against his leg.
“And I still think I’m in love with your leg,” she laughed as she got up and pulled her top up. “But you got my dress all messy, you bad boy!” He reached over and picked up a small hand towel from the end table.
“Here, let me get that for you,” he said as he reached over and began spotting the come from her dress. He finished that and began sopping up the mess on his own leg. I felt Greta tug on my arm, and we turned and walked away.
“Oh, my god!” she whispered to me as we walked through the crowded room. “That was amazing! I can’t believe what I just saw!” I glanced to my right and saw a woman earnestly stroking a man’s cock as it stuck straight out of his suit pants, while he stood and gazed around the room, holding a glass of wine in his hand. She stopped and took a sip of his wine, then returned to her work.
Greta pulled me to my right, obviously spotting something she wanted to see and steering me in that direction. As I turned my head from the hard-working woman and the man in the suit, I saw what Greta had been pulling me towards. A woman was lying on the couch, completely naked, her head resting on a small casual pillow. A small man with a large bald spot on the back of his head was gently kissing and licking her breasts and nipples. He went very slowly, with long slow licks that encircled a breast before landing on its erect nipple. He would kiss and lightly suckle the nipple, then kiss his way across to her other breast where he would repeat the long slow licks around the nipple, finally finding his target and gently kissing and suckling it. The brunette woman had her eyes closed and was thoroughly enjoying his gentle ministrations. I saw Greta take a gulp, then bring her wine to her lips and take a long pull from the glass. As I looked back to the woman on the couch, the small man stopped for a moment, picked a face from the many watching him perform his erotic slow-motion tongue-ballet, and said to the man, “Would you like to join us?”
The man, in his late thirties and dressed in casual slacks and a Hawaiian shirt, nodded and moved towards the couch, sitting on the edge of the cushion just below the bald man’s head. The woman spread her legs as the man sat down, revealing a neatly trimmed bush. The man took his hand and began slowly tracing his fingers up and down the woman’s thighs. Occasionally he would let his fingers lightly trace over her mound, running lightly up and down her slit. Each time he did this, she would spread her legs and raise her bottom off the couch. You could see the ache and desire in her movement as she willed him to touch her there and bring her more pleasure.
Greta leaned over to me and whispered, “This is really turning me on.” I squeezed her hand and took a sip of my own drink. It was having the same effect on me.
We watched as the small bald man continued his slow and gentle attention to her breasts, and the other man lightly traced circles with his fingers up and down the insides of her thighs and over her vulva. She continued to raise her bottom off the couch and at one point without opening her eyes, asked “Put a finger in me.” The bald man continued his light licking and sucking, and the other man continued to lightly rub her pussy, up and down, along her slit and over her now swollen clitoris.
“Put a finger in me, please,” she asked again, and I saw the man’s middle finger slowly disappear into her wet cunt. “MMmmmmm,” was her response. The man began to slowly, very slowly, move his finger in and out of her. Two men were making love in slow motion to this lucky lady and she lay on the couch and purred like a pussycat.
“Put another finger in me,” she asked, and I saw another finger slip into her. Greta reached over and gave my bulge a squeeze. Surprised, I glanced over at her, smiled and said, “Yes, it’s getting to me, too.” From my firm bulge, it must have been obvious. Greta’s breathing, I noticed, had become ragged and irregular.
We stood hand in hand and watched the woman being slow-motion finger fucked and breast-licked. After 4 or 5 more minutes of this, she opened her eyes, turned her head towards the gathering crowd, and pointed her finger at a young man of about 30, with blue eyes and curly blond hair. “Come here, tiger,” she growled.
He stepped forward, and she reached for his zipper. Pulling it down, she reached into his slacks and pulled out his rock hard cock. She began stroking it as the two men below continued their slow-motion dance. She took long strokes of his young meat, stopping to play with and tickle the head of his penis from time to time. She grabbled hold of him, pulled him to her, and took a long slow lick up the underside of his swollen member.
“Do you want to come on me?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said.
“Come on my breasts.” The bald man moved away, and the young blonde stood over her as she stroked his cock. The man below began picking up his speed, ramming his two fingers in and out of her, using his other hand to rub her clit. Soon his hands were a blur as he pistoned his fingers in and out of her with one hand and rubbed her clitoral area with blazing speed. She, in turn, sped up her stroking of the young blonde’s cock.
She began spasming, bucking on the sofa as she climaxed hard. Her reaction was so strong that you could almost feel her orgasm, the power of it emanating from her as she bucked and shouted out with each jarring jolt of pleasure. The young stud, watching her paroxysms, began thrusting his cock into her hand, finally releasing a jet of come over her breasts and stomach. Spurt after spurt erupted from his steely prick as she watched each glob drop onto her nipples and round breasts.
Greta pulled me away. “You’ve got to get me out of here and make love to me right away!” she hissed. I didn’t think that was a good idea, although it was a very appealing one at the moment.
“I’ve got a better idea,” I said, in direct conflict with my lower brain. “Why don’t I get another drink, and you go out and mingle on your own.”
“Do I have to?” she asked with her “cute” look.
“That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?”
“O.K., honey. But be there to rescue me if I need you.” She looked up at me for a moment, then with firm resolution, turned and drifted off into the crowd.
I turned and headed back to the bar, ordering another bourbon and 7. The young swarthy bartender was gone, and had been replaced by a red-headed woman of about 35, with very large breasts barely contained by a low-cut black vest, and nothing else.
She handed me my drink, then held up the bowl of Viagra, and said, “Care for an after-dinner mint?”
“No thanks, I’m just observing,” I replied
“That’s what they all say,” she said and laughed.
I could see that there was more activity outside by the pool, and I walked through a set of French doors out onto the patio, which connected the house to the pool area. There were couples and small groups sitting and laying on chaise lounges, on the lawn, and around the pool. They were all in various stages of undress, and all seemed very caught up in their activities. As instructed, I walked among the participants and observed their activities. True to the rules, their was no fucking going on, but there was an awful lot of rubbing and licking happening.
I wandered to the far side of the pool, where there was a small group of people gathered around a chaise lounge. As I approached, I realized that it was Clarisse laying on the lounge with nothing on but her pearls; bare breasted, legs spread, with two dicks in her hand. Two naked young men, one the swarthy bartender, the other an Asian, possibly Korean, were flanking Clarisse, and she was stroking their stiff cocks with each hand as another man, who was older, probably near 50, was working a blue, gelatinous dildo in and out of her hole. “So that’s where the bartender got off to,” I thought to myself. “That’s quite a tip he’s getting!”.
His cock was thick, but not very long, maybe 5 inches. The Asian’s dick was long, maybe 8 inches, but thin, wiry, and rock hard, as was his frame. I could see the bartender’s muscles ripple through his belly as he moved in time to Clarisse’s hand. Clarisse was chatting with a couple who stood nearby, talking about her trip to Africa.
“And where was it we were, then, sweetheart?” she asked. I wondered who she was asking.
The man working the dildo in and out of her said, “Kenya.”.
“Yes, Kenya,” she said, and continued on with her travel log. So I figured the man working downstairs must be her husband, and he must get some kind of jollies from watching her jack off two young studs. “Whatever,” I thought to myself. “If it makes them happy, so be it.” I looked down and watched as he worked the dildo in and out of her cunt. I walked around to the foot of the chaise to get a better view. She was shaved, and it was really quite a sight to see the dong working in and out of her pussy. Each time he withdrew it, I could see that it was slick, coated with her juices. She was obviously enjoying it, although you would never know by the way she was going on and on about Africa.
“So, Mr. Turner, are you enjoying yourself?”
I was startled out of my contemplation of her bare pussy and its juices by her question.
“Oh, yes,” I replied after a moment’s hesitation. “And you were right, there is a lot to observe, and it is very arousing.”
She smiled at me. “Are you ready to participate?” The Asian man reached down and gently pinched and rolled her nipple, then gave it a small pull, holding it then letting it slip slowly through his fingers. “Oooh, thank you, Kim,” she said.
“Oh, I’m ready. Believe me. But Greta’s not ready for me to jump in.’ I watched as the bartender reached down and repeated Kim’s trick on her other breast.
“Oh, that felt good, Cyrus.” Then to me, “She will be. She just needs to understand the whole thing a little better. My guess is you two will be coming back. Probably again and again.”
With that, she closed her eyes and said, “Start going faster, Henry, I’m ready to come.” Henry picked up his pace, and began rocketing the dildo in and out of her cunt. She pulled the two young men a little closer, and began to really pump their cocks with her fists. She pulled her legs up, planting her feet flat on the lounge, knees pointing up, legs spread wide, and began pushing against the dildo. “That’s it, Henry. That’s it, just like that!”. She rocked against the dildo, pumping with both her hands for everything she was worth. She knitted her brow and got an almost pained look on her face.
“Yes, yes,” she cried. “Yes, yes, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh,” she began a rhythmic chant. With one final “oh!”, she squinted her eyes, smiled briefly, and began coming. I could see her juices flying from her cunt as Henry continued to work the dildo in and out of her. He leaned down and began licking away at her cunt as her orgasm stretched on and on. Wave after wave washed over her, and she continued pumping away at her young companions.
I saw Kim begin to tense, and soon his come began spurting from his skinny cock, flying everywhere. Within moments, Cyrus began shooting his load as well, pumping his cock in and out of Clarisse’s fist as his come spattered the lounge, Clarisse, and the ground. He even got a few drops on Henry’s shoulder, as Henry began slowing down his thrusts with the dildo, allowing Clarisse to begin coming down from her sexual high.
“Sorry, Henry.” Cyrus groaned.
“‘s O.k.” said Henry, who then stood up with a rock-hard boner of his own, and wiping the come from his shoulder began walking towards another group on the lawn. He obviously needed relief.
“Did you enjoy that, Jerry?” It was Clarisse, and she was looking directly at me with a foggy, faraway look in her eye. “Perhaps one day you can pleasure me.”
“That’d be fine with me, Clarisse. But I was thinking maybe I could be one of the other guys.”
“You could be both, Jerry. It’s different every time.” She gave each of the cocks a squeeze and dropped them. Looking at Cyrus, she said, “Could you get me a couple of damp cloths, honey? I seem to have a bit of a mess here.” She turned back to the couple and went on about Africa.
I walked with Cyrus back to the house. I’d never walked with a naked man before, and it felt kind of funny.
“Hope your wife lets you play, Jerry. Mine didn’t for over two months. But she was hooked! My god, she just couldn’t wait for the next time we were invited.”
“So you’re a member? I asked.
“No, I’m a guest like you, but we are waiting for a membership to open. I got into bartending here because I had to find something to do while Pam, my wife, was busy with her orgasms. After she felt O.K. about me participating, I kept on bartending, finding that I kind of liked it.”
We walked into the house and Cyrus went over to the bar, turning on the tap behind the counter, waiting for the water to get warm.
In the meantime, I noticed that the party had really picked up inside. There was a louder din in the room, and an air of excitement that I hadn’t noticed before. I began looking around for Greta, and finally saw her sitting on a couch with the same black man we had seen earlier. They were chatting, and I could see that Greta was feeling comfortable with him.
I watched them chat for a while, and Greta even laughed from time to time at something funny he had said. Finally, he looked at her with a quizzical look in his eye and said something. He reached down and began to unzip his zipper, and I saw Greta frown and shake her head no. He smiled and withdrew his hand from his zipper. He talked to her a little more, his hand slowly rubbing up and down the top of her leg, and I could see Greta listening intently. Finally, I saw her reach over and begin slowly rubbing him in the general area of his crotch through his pants. He smiled and I could see him giving her encouragement.
Greta began to relax and they continued to chat while he rubbed her leg and she rubbed away at the bulge under his pants. I saw his hand go under her dress, and he continued to rub her leg, this time skin on skin, as I watched his hand move underneath her dress. He said something to her, and she began unzipping his zipper. She reached into his fly and I could see her hand moving under his pants over his growing bulge.
He continued smiling, and I could see that his hand was moving higher and higher up Greta’s thigh. He spoke again, and Greta withdrew her hand and began unbuckling his belt. His hand continued to move up and down her thigh, each time reaching a little higher.
“Enjoying what you’re seeing, Jerry?” I jumped at being startled by Clarisse’s voice in my ear. “Do you like that?”
I thought for a moment, and decided that in this context, honesty was the best policy. “Yes, ” I replied. “It’s turning me on, even though I know I should be jealous.”
“You just learned the secret of the success of the club, Jerry. You don’t have to be jealous because this is just fun and games. Love, trust, true intimacy, the ultimate act of love; all are still shared only between you and your wife. There’s really nothing to be jealous of at all, unless it’s that you’re wife is getting sexual pleasure and you aren’t. And if everything works out the way we think it will with you two, you soon will be, too.”
I looked over and saw that Greta had the man’s pants open, and had his black cock out in her hand. He was still slowly rubbing up and down her leg.
“That’s Roger,” Clarisse went on. “He’s what we call an ‘Initiator’ in the club. We took a profile from Greta’s interviews, and put together a plan to initiate her in what we thought was the best way. Roger, being black, fits a recurring fantasy that she has had. He’s warming her up, and others will soon join. It’s all been planned.”
“But she doesn’t know it’s planned, right? I asked.
“No, but that too, is part of the plan. We’ve devised an initiation plan for her that we think will allow her to let go, loosen up and enjoy herself. And we’ve become pretty good at working up these plans”. She gave my butt a squeeze and drifted off through the crowd.
I looked back and saw that Roger was still stroking Greta’s thigh as she fondled his stiff member. She was talking easily now, smiling again from time to time, seemingly lost in the conversation and moment at hand. I could see that each time Roger got to the top of her thigh underneath her dress, his hand paused there for a moment. I imagined that he was rubbing my wife’s pussy lips through her panties, and I felt myself becoming stiff again.
Just then another man, dressed stylishly in what looked like Armani, walked up to Greta, holding out a glass of Chardonnay to her. She looked up, smiled, and reached up for it, leaving Roger’s cock sticking straight up in the air. I saw her say thank you, and she sipped at her wine as the Armani man waited. After a few sips, he reached out and took the wine glass from her hand, placing it on the end table. Roger’s hand had never stopped stroking up and down her leg, slowly making the trip from her knee, up her loin and into her pussy area. Each time his hand paused at her crotch for a moment. Greta licked her lips, then reached back for Roger’s flagging cock.
The Armani man sat down on the other side of Greta and reached back over to the end table, grabbing a squeeze bottle of massage oil. He said something to Greta, and she held out both her hands as if to receive Communion. The Armani man squeezed the lubricating oil into her palms, she rubbed them together once, and went back to stroking Roger, this time with two hands. She would stroke him 4 or 5 times quickly, up and down, up and down; then give him 2 or 3 long, slow strokes. Then 4 or 5 quick strokes up and down his black shaft, then 2 or 3 long slow ones. I knew how good that felt.
Meanwhile, I could see Greta parting her legs as Roger’s hand was spending more and more time at her pussy. She was slowly, almost imperceptibly gyrating on the couch, moving her butt in slow circles as Roger’s fingers worked on her cunt. I wondered if he was rubbing her through her panties or if he had pulled them aside and was rubbing Greta’s wet pussy lips. Roger was still talking to Greta, but she had fallen silent, with her mouth slightly open, breathing in large, uneven gulps of air as Roger pleasured her cunt, which I knew by now must be dripping wet and swollen.
The Armani man reached over and began rubbing Greta’s tummy through her dress. He rubbed slow circles around her stomach, slowly working up towards her breasts. He began lightly cupping her breasts, and rubbing them ever so lightly. Greta’s hands were still working up and down on Roger’s stiff cock, and I could see that he had stopped stroking up and down her leg and was now concentrating his full attention on her vagina. The Armani man pulled a strap down from Greta’s shoulder exposing her bra. Taking both hands, he unhooked the front hook and the bra fell away, exposing Greta’s full, pert breasts. Her chest was heaving as Roger worked away at her pussy. Greta turned more towards Roger to concentrate her hands more fully on his turgid cock, and the Armani man reached both arms around her and began stroking and lightly pinching at her nipples.
My cock was bursting at my pants. I was watching my wife being stroked by two men, and playing with a cock that wasn’t mine, and much to my surprise, I felt no jealousy. Only a raging fire in my loins that I knew would have to be doused at some point during the evening.
Roger said something to Greta, and I could see her lift her butt off the couch as Roger pulled her panties down her legs, across her shins, and finally off her feet. He pulled her dress up around her waist as she rose her butt again, and there was my normally shy wife with her neatly trimmed pussy exposed to anyone who might care to look. The Armani man reached for the end table again, grabbing both the massage oil, and Greta’s wine glass. As she took a sip of her wine, the Armani man unzipped his pants took out his hard prick, and squeezed a glop of oil on it. Taking Greta’s wine glass from her hand, he took her hand and placed it on his straining cock. With her other hand she reached again for Roger and soon was jacking off two large dicks, one in each hand, as Roger worked her slick cunt and the Armani man pinched and rolled her nipples lightly between his fingers.
Although her breasts are small, her nipples are the fuse that light the firecracker of her sexuality. Soon Greta was gyrating wildly to Roger’s hand on her pussy. I could see that one of his thick black fingers had disappeared into her slippery hole, and he was working it in and out, every now and then sliding it all the way out, up across her clitoris, to the very top of her slit. He would pause there, rub up and down her clit a few more times, pulling the hood of her clit up each time he took an upward stroke. She continued to pump at both men’s cocks as her eyes closed and she became lost in the moment. Just then another man walked up, dropped his drawers, and sat on the floor in front of Greta. Grabbing Greta’s bare feet, he squeezed massage oil onto her arches, then brought her feet together, one arch on each side of his stiff prick. He began moving Greta’s feet up and down his shaft, and soon removed his hands as she picked up the tempo. Greta was pleasuring three men, one with each hand and one with her feet. She opened her eyes and looked down at the man on the ground with his stiff rod between her feet. With this, she got a wild look in her eye and began rocking her pelvis back and forth on the couch as Roger worked two fingers in and out of her dripping cunt. I could see that Roger’s entire hand was coated with her slick and tasty juices. Greta thrust her lower jaw forward and pumped against his thick black fingers.
All four were humping, gyrating, rocking, and pumping their pelvises. The Armani man was the first to come, spewing huge globs of white streams from the tip of his dick. Then Roger went, and Greta opened her eyes and watched as his black cock spit stream after stream of hot white come. The man on the floor, watching Greta, began to come, and finally Greta closed her eyes, said, “Oh, shit!” and began to come and come and come and come and come. She twisted and moaned, pulling her knees up and clamping against Roger’s hand as her gut-wrenching orgasm completely enveloped her. I almost came myself, and resisted the urge to reach down and touch myself. I knew if I did, I would get the inside of my underpants wet and sticky.
When her orgasm subsided and she opened her eyes, there was a light, polite applause throughout the room. Greta looked around and blushed, realizing that most members had been watching her initiation. Clarisse soon walked up to Greta, pulled her from her seat, and gave her a sisterly hug. “Welcome to our club,” she said.
Greta blushed again and simply said, “Thank you.”
Clarisse gave her another hug, and then said, “Go ahead and sit back down; there are a few more people who’d like to get to know you.”
I watched as, for the next hour and a half or so, my wife jacked off 10 more men to orgasm, and had at least three or four more herself. She had let go completely, and was in an animalistic state of mind, hungry to give pleasure and to get it. At one point, there was virtually a line of men waiting to get their stiff rods into her hands, which were becoming more and more talented with each stiff cock that passed through them.
At last, Clarisse again stepped in and pulled Greta from her seat. “Greta, dear, why don’t you get dressed and take your husband home. I think he needs something, too.” Greta looked dis-oriented and confused. Clarisse began picking up her clothes, which were scattered around the area, and to help Greta dress.
Soon, Greta seemed more herself, and walked up to me, giving me the wettest, longest kiss I had had from her in a long time. “Take me home and fuck me,” she whispered in my ear.
Greta played with my cock all the way home, and I almost drove off the road once or twice. At one point, she had stopped, and I could see her with her hand underneath her dress, rubbing herself as the radio played quietly.
When we got home, she took me directly into the bedroom, where we stripped off our clothes and literally jumped onto the bed. “Fuck me, ” she said. “Fuck me hard.”
I got on top of her and slid easily into her sopping hole. I began to move in and out, not believing how good the sensation felt of making love to my wife.
“I love you, Jerry,” she cried. “I love you!” My orgasm was building, and with those words, I began gushing come inside her, feeling my come from the top of my head to the bottom of my feet. Greta held me and began coming herself, clenching her legs around me and kissing me over and over as her orgasm washed through her.
We held each other for a long time. As we did, I thought to myself, “She never kissed another man, she never told another man she had feelings for him, she never fucked another man. She only did and said those things to me.” And I knew I felt O.K. with everything that had happened that evening.
I thought that I might bring up the subject of my future participation in the club, but I decided to wait until she brought up the subject, to let it be her decision totally whether or not I would participate. I was comfortable with that.
Beside me, Greta stretched, then rolled over and cuddled close to me.
“I love you, Jerry, ” she whispered in my ear. “And I lust you.”
I smiled in the darkness, but didn’t feel the need to reply. There was no need. She knew how I felt. There was a moment of comfortable silence between and man and wife after making love.
“When can we go back?” she cooed in my ear.