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An evening without the little lady

"Bling." The muted tone surprised me and the little box telling me that someone wanted to chat made me try to remember how to do that. I clicked on the flashing notice and typed, "Hi."

"Noticed you are nearby and bi," my correspondent wrote. The bi scares off the super-straights and macho types and quite honestly I like it that way. I have also been in bi situations and have enjoyed them.

"Yes," I typed.

"Wife wants to watch me suck a cock and be sucked by a man, U up for it?" he asked.

It took me years to give into the urge but several years ago I had the opportunity to suck cock and I was amazed by the feeling of power and control that it gave me. It was also pleasant and I soon learn to enjoy the taste of cum, in fact, to even enjoy and look forward to it. The answer to his question was way too easy.

It went fast. They were downtown in a motel to get away from their kids and their kids friends and they wanted to act out a fantasy. I bit, got the room number and headed into the unknown.

Knocking lightly on the motel door I was getting a bit worried and was wondering if this was perhaps a bad idea. I heard the chain move, the deadbolt lift and the door began to open-wide. Standing in front of me was a 25ish, ah, um, er, STUD wearing a smile and a solid 8-inch erection. Nothing more. He was gorgeous and invited me inside with his steel blue eyes. They darted left and right to see if anyone else in the hallway was enjoying the view that was in front of me. At the same time my eyes pierced the inside of the well lit room taking attendance.

Other than the naked Adonis, the room contained one fully dressed, large, curvaceous lady. Not beautiful but quite pleasant to look at and obviously one who shops in the "statuesque" department of the chain stores. But there was something about her demeanor and the smile that put me at ease and encouraged me to step forward as the nude doorman stepped back and closed the door.

With his six-pack abs, d-cup pecs and bulging biceps I immediately realized that he could force me to do anything and a tinge of fear began to slowly crawl up my back. He stepped forward putting his massive, muscular arms around my shoulders as my fear of being crushed increased. His rock-hard cock jammed into my crotch and the fear gave away as his lips found mine and the vermilion softly and invitingly placed a tender kiss, brushing off and whispering in my ear, "Thank you for coming."

All fear evaporated, my erection sprang to fully engorged and my clothing suddenly began to weigh more than I could bear. Ken, as I soon learned was what I was to call him, as though he sensed my discomfort began to artfully un-button my shirt, un-do my belt and somehow make all of my clothing magically disappear. He was either the reincarnation of Houdini or an alien endowed with the ability to make clothing simply disappear.

Naked, and still at the closed door, we kissed again and our dicks mingled together touching and bouncing and sending waves of ecstasy through our (I assume, our but certainly my) entire body. Ken dropped down, lightly nibbling on my neck, sucking on my left nipple, running his moist tongue across my stomach, across my belly button and like a maniacal vacuum cleaner, sucking my dick between those precious lips. As his head bounced up and down on my manhood my head dropped back reacting to the feelings emanating in my excited groin and pushing wave after wave into every corner of my very appreciative body. Never before had a blowjob given me such complete joy. Ken's left hand was providing a strong grip on my dick as his mouth lubricated the shaft and served as a cunt when it swallowed to his fist. His right hand was caressing my ball sack as one finger tickled and probed my rosebud. I was hastily climbing the proverbial wall and my balls were beginning to constrict. I was floating.

"Hold it boys." The sweet feminine voice broke through the cloud and I remembered that I was there to satisfy a fantasy for the wife. The lips came off my dick, the hands fell to the side and my fall from cloud 9 was close to fatal. From across the room the Rubenesque redheaded wife said, "Come over here boys on the bed so you can do a 69." We complied, and for the first time started a verbal conversation of our own. I complemented him on his oral skills and asked how long he had been sucking cock. He thought about it, grinned and said, "Counting this time, once." I think he blushed.

Ken laid on the bed on his left side with his right leg cocked up and his mildly flaccid cock putting a pre-cum spot on the bed sheet. I slid onto the bed and installed my lips around his cock. He reciprocated immediately and resumed the energetic head bobbing as I tried to keep up. Our hostess began to moan and we quickly merged into a mutual ecstasy as each of us joined the chorus of erotic verbalization.

In addition to the slurping of the dicks there was another slurping sound in the room as, apparently, the lady was in the throes of pleasuring herself. I felt a pang of concern that she was alone but it soon was melted away as my cock received expert ministrations and the hard softness of Ken's dick was exciting my lips to heights unknown.

It was obvious that Ken worked out as I could feel the rippled tightness of the muscles in his legs and at one point I ran my fingers across his abs and it was like strumming a washboard.

Being bi, I have sucked some cock, but never has there been such intensity, such power and such abandon. At the same time I could feel the eyes of his wife watching and knew that she had hiked up her short skirt and was diddling herself into a very vocal orgasm while the two of us on the bed had the same target in mind, in our own, singular way.

I could feel my groin tightening and with my hand I could feel Ken's ball sack getting smaller and smaller but I was mentally incapable of connecting the two until I felt my cum spurting out of my cock into Ken's anxiously waiting mouth and his love juice suddenly filled my mouth. I swallowed. Then I swallowed again, then again and I still had cum in my mouth and some spilled onto the bed.

Uncontrollable spasms coursed through my body as I slowly recovered and looked down to see a naked Ken with spasms of his own, in a deep embrace with his fully clothed wife. During a nearly minute-long kiss Ken reached up under her dress and was obviously finger fucking her and she was wetting his fingers with her sopping, sexy pussy. As their embrace broke I could see cum dripping out of the side of her mouth-my cum. While I swallowed most of Ken's juice, he had held on to as much of mine as he could and shared it with his wife. They had obviously planned this encounter well.

"Thank you," she cooed with a sinful smile and kissed me with her lips still moist from my cum. I looked down to see Ken on the bed where his cock had been and where the spill-over from my mouth made a small mound of his cum that he was busily slurping up-I would learn later, under orders. He looked up at me and said, "Thank you for cumming."

"How do you feel about fucking a man and being fucked?" I smiled my widest grin and she handed me a card with some information written on it. She then crawled up behind Ken and began to rim his man pussy. I had been dismissed. The short skirt she was wearing had slid up and uncovered two luscious mounds of flesh just above her curvaceous legs and between them was a pair of moist holes just waiting to be filled. I would have loved to stick around and enjoyed some of that beautiful, sexy flesh but I realized that this was their fantasy and I had served my purpose.

Dressing quickly I left clutching the card which had a phone number and the words "Call when you are ready." It was then that I realized that I had just had the best blowjob that I have ever experienced, sucked a beautiful sexy cock and shared it all with a fully clothed, erotic lady whose name I don't even know. As I was opening the door I glanced at the bed where Ken's head was clamped between a pair of beautiful naked and curvaceous legs. I could hear the muffled sounds of slurping and as the door closed there was a scream that echoed up and down the motel's hallway.

The grin lasted more than a month. And then there was the card. . .

On the way home I was getting aroused just thinking about the last hour (yup, an hour is all that it had taken while the experience would have covered a lifetime for a lot of poor folks who know nothing of the lifestyle) and as I was passing a local strip club I decided to pull in to watch the dancers, slip a couple of bucks into a g-string and perhaps get a nearly sexless lap dance. It was early afternoon and a long lonely night was ahead of me. I needed to cool down.

I walked through the adult toy store and found a chair at the edge of the stage. I was expecting little and was not disappointed. The girls were all young and skinny (usually with a telltale belly that told the tale of an early pregnancy or two at the hands of some brainless studley who had then left her). They danced wearing negligees, fucked the pole, stripped off their clothing and rolled on the floor, eventually flashing a bare pussy and offering a garter or g-string to slip a dollar bill into. The music was loud and the strobe lights took your eyes away from the stark reality of the place. I started to ask myself why I had bothered.

Don't get me wrong. The girls were beautiful, in a mascara and teased hair sort of way. It is just that they were all so naïve and needy. Watching them dance was having the effect of depressing me and bringing me down from the highs of less than an hour earlier. In a way it was a good thing.

After the third dancer did her obligatory split when the music ended and she pranced around nearly nude in her stiletto heels looking for the clothing she had ceremoniously removed and dropped randomly over the stage, I was calmed down, had spend about twenty bucks and was ready to go home and go to bed alone.

Getting myself together I stood up and started to leave the theater as the music began for the next dancer. I glanced over my shoulder and was stopped by the sight of a completely filled out, mature lady with large (not monstrous but large) breasts, a firm rounded stomach and hips-real hips. I was intrigued so I sat down in the nearest chair. The song was something I actually recognized. The dancer strutted to the pole, swung around on it lifting her feet off the ground swinging around the pole as gravity pulled her to the stage landing softly upon her padded tush. She got up by doing a hand-stand bending to a standing position. She was heavy for a dancer and the fact that she could swing on the pole and do a handstand proved that she took care of herself.

She was not by any measure beautiful. In fact, she reminded me of an older version of the lady in the motel room that afternoon. There was "something" in her smile. I was amazed that her heels held her up and that she was able to do so much while in them. I moved back to the stage and as I did she made eye contact and pursed a kiss in my direction. I could feel a familiar stirring in my groin and I repositioned my equipment inside my shorts.

Her performance was erotic and I looked forward to the shedding of the clothing and with each revelation I was further enthralled. The act of removing clothing was more art than physics. Unlike the other girls the item of clothing first revealed a new nipple or arm or patch of hair, floated away and disappeared. There were no random piles of cloth spread over the stage. She approached me wearing only a g-string, a brief bra and a garter which she pulled away from her leg for me to place the ten dollar bill I had pulled out of my pocket. She snapped the garter closed and touched my hand as I retracted it.

Bending down on her haunches she positioned her knees near my ears and I had a perfect, if dimly lit, view when she pulled aside her g-string to reveal the hair around her pussy and I was close enough to get a whiff of her natural perfume. The sweet pungent smell went directly from my nose to my crotch and the blood raced to my dick. I had gone from bored to sexually frustrated just that quickly.

The two-song set ended all too quickly for me as I sat at the edge of the stage and watched this real woman walk away from me to the performer's door where she had magically deposited all of her clothing. She was a professional dancer with maturity, sensuality and skills that all the other dancers lacked. Given the environment there was no hope that the next dancer could equal what I had just seen.

I stood up again to walk out and this time was in the toy store before the next set began.

With my hand on the exit door I spied a note listing the price for services and "Lap Dance" jumped out at me. "Why not," I thought and paid the man at the register for a ticket to give to the dancer of my choice. After their dance set the dancers are required to come out and try to sell toys, talk to the patrons and give lap dances when they had been purchased. The two dancers in the toy store approached me, grabbed my arm and asked if they could give me a lap dance. I was polite in turning them down and waited as my goddess finished getting dressed and appeared in the store. I handed her my ticket and she smiled, leading me to a semi-public booth. "Thank you God," I heard her whisper to herself.

We chatted and complimented each other and, strangely, I thought that her compliments were sincere and not simply pro forma. She positioned me on the seat and un-buttoned my shirt. Then followed the warnings: I could touch her breasts and we both had to keep our pant(ies) on. As we talked she sat on my lap and could most assuredly feel my reluctant hard-on through my shorts. Gyrating to the sound of the music from the stage she rubbed her body against me, removed her bra and rubbed her apparently natural tits against my chin and on my chest.

Strange, there was no discussion of a tip. Usually, the quality of the "dance" depended on the quantity of the tip. I expected the conversation and was willing to drop a nice hunk of change to get her best performance-among other things, I was curious how far she would go.

She must have been a gymnast because she managed to rub up against me in so exciting and erotic a way that, untouched, my dick was feeling like it was ready to cum. It was absolutely amazing. I don't like being teased but she wasn't teasing me. It soon became apparent that she was engaged in a combination of rubbing and whispering and yes, even teasing that combined to get me quickly to my eruption point. It then popped into my mind--her goal was to make me cum in my pants.

I'd have sworn before this moment that making me cum using just teasing and clothed rubbing was absolutely impossible. But my dick was big and getting bigger, my skin was tingling under my shirt and pants and that muddled feeling of a whirlpool in my head was getting stronger and stronger. As she swayed and whispered and gyrated pushing her large ass into my lap I reached up and cupped a pair of melon sized, stiff sponges. The skin was soft and the nipples were hard and as much as an inch long. I looked down at my lap as she turned to straddle me again and I saw a wet spot where she had just pressed her pussy. She was getting as excited as I was and that made my ball sack contract just that much more.

From that moment on my memory is very fuzzy as I was involved in some of the best sex of my life and I still had my clothes on. Her large yet supple and muscular body touched me in new places and strange ways and her calm matter-of-fact voice went into my head and stimulated me in ways that I never knew. Her words changed to moans and sensual sounds and I could tell that she was getting close as my own body was on the verge of blowing. Then it happened: she squirt on my pants through her panties soaking me as my engorged dick blew shot after shot of sticky cum inside my shorts.

She tensed as I tensed. She screamed as I screamed and she fell onto me with her breasts on either side of my head. Her breathing was intense, she was heaving and little jolts of excitement were causing her hips to shove her soggy pussy lips into my still erupting cock. Neither of us was faking it.

As we leveled out we noticed bodies all around us and suddenly there were claps and whistles and shouts of appreciation. We had usurped the center ring and were the only show in the house. The music had stopped, the dancers had joined the watchers and the house lights were up.

My goddess regained her composure quickly, realized that her crotch was soaked, as was mine. She kissed me quickly on the lips, got off of me and one of the other girls dr*ped a towel over my soggy and cum filled crotch. The manager broke up the crowd.

Looking to me he said, "You a cop?" Not yet recovered I stammered, "N-no, er, no" unsure of where this was leading. "You gonna complain?" he continued. Now aware of my situation I said, "Complain? Hell no."

As I wrapped the towel around me I continued to talk with the manager and asked if the dancer was going to get into trouble. He said, "No, she's my wife and she does this about once a year. The only time it has ever been a problem is when the guy she chose was a cop. We almost got put out of business."

I assured him that it was one of the most fantastic things that had ever happened to me and was the absolutely perfect end to an absolutely perfect day. I limped for the door and the manager slipped something into my hand. It wasn't until I got into my car and the cum on my pants began to get stiff and cold that I looked at the card. "Butterfly Gentleman's Club" was on the front and on the back was a hand written note, "Call Us, Bob & Gale" and a telephone number.

I went directly home as I realized that getting another card that night would probably kill me. Hmmmmm, who do I call first?

Beth is going to love these stories and the resultant sex will be worth writing about-perhaps I will.