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Seduction of Justine- Experiencing a swingers club and being introduced to the lifestyle

R. Brandon Stevenson (Please leave a comment if you want more)

I suppose this will all seem very mild to those with years of experience in ?the lifestyle,? but for us, it was the start of a major transformation. Let me begin with a generic introduction, one that is more ?ho-hum? than our cryptic profile on the SLS site. We are a fairly ordinary suburban couple in our late fifties (which makes us old-timers in the swinging world), but we have BMI?s in the normal range and Justine still turns heads, particularly when I get a say on what she wears on club night. (How do you say it politely? She is a 38DD.)

We frequent a club in Cleveland which I will call ?Allure? for the sake of the story, but those who have been there will know the place. It?s an on-premises BYOB establishment with membership requirements and a dress code (mostly aimed at the single men. For the wives, it?s more of an ?undress? code. ?Be legal in the parking lot? is the only rule that matters for females. My choice for Justine is going braless under a flowing black top that is open to the waist. She worries that she will fall out. I worry that she won?t. The lady has a very nice pair that rolls so sweetly beneath the fabric. (Excuse me while I try to shake off the visual, here.)

She also has a favorite necklace (my favorite) to wear with it. It is a single strand of rhinestones that descends right through that ample cleavage. It was that necklace that brought Sean and Molly into our lives. It was Friday, and we had followed our normal date pattern of a glass of wine and a spin around the dance floor where I got to take in my wife?s beauty both in my arms and in the reflection of the mirrored wall. Other eyes were looking, too, and I wished she had the nerve to flash a bit so that they could all enjoy the taut nipples and rosy aureoles that I could see from my privileged position.

Here?s where I have to make another note: Justine is a bookworm, but not a prude. She?s always been fascinated by ?The Story of O?, loved ?Little Birds? and ?The Delta of Venus? by Anais Nin, and, more recently, ?Fifty Shades of Gray?. In her fantasies, she likes everything, but in reality, well, let?s just say she?s risk aversive. (Give her a ?safe word? in bondage play and she?d start singing it sometime between the ?click? of the cuffs and the first rip of the panties.) The adventures of her mind are fantastic; she just doesn?t actually invite her body out to play with them. In this sense, the public space in ?Allure? can only be foreplay for a private encounter in a back room. At least that?s what I used to think.

The next stage in our normal routine was to walk past the bar and enter the hallway maze of open and closed doors. Our mission was to find an unoccupied room so that Justine could, in private, take care of the growing lump that she had established in my pants. My goal was to pull her skirt up and her blouse open so as to enjoy her entire body: lips, lush breasts, and even sweeter lips under a perfectly shaved mound. She was always shaved down there. It was one of my contributions to our private life. I kept her shorn, and at ?Allure? she never wore panties. She was always available to touch in clandestine moments, even in the public rooms. She also was always wet to the touch. (She is no prude.)

We chose the room with the mirrored wall. She placed her hands against it as if ?assuming the position?. I hiked up her skirt, and sat on the floor with my back to the mirror and my tongue exploring her pudenda. She pressed hard against my face. Then it was my turn. I rose to my feet as she sank to her knees. My belt was open and she was freeing her friend from its cloth bondage and into her warm wet mouth. Eventually, we ended on the bed, both our bodies spent. I was thankful for this place. Here, I at least caught a glimpse of the fantasy ?love goddess? that lived on the pages of her books.

Normally our love making was followed by another walk past the gauntlet of eyes that framed the bar. The swelling was still in my pants, but perhaps less obvious than on the way in. From the bar it was a matter of saying goodnight to Nikki, the bartender, and collecting a street-legal coat from the rack near the door. Tonight, however, we were intercepted by Molly.

?I love your necklace,? she said stepping in our path. She reached for the sparkling string and gently touched it at the nape of Justine?s neck.

The woman in front of us was probably a decade younger and wearing a red bustier beneath an open leather jacket. Her most outstanding accessory, however, was a black-leather, silver studded dog collar.

?We saw you when you went to the back?, she observed. Her fingers threaded down the length of Justine?s string of sparkles and the light caught it and made it look like a filament of wet cum.

At that moment I was so proud of my wife. She did not flinch or recoil even though the manicured digits were sliding gently against those ripe melons.

?I am his slave,? she said as if confessing before her master. Next to her was a middle-aged man who seemed to be enjoying the whole episode. We had not noticed him, but he nodded to his partner whose fingers still lingered near Justine?s thumping chest.

Nothing much else was said aloud other than a quick exchange of names. They were Sean and Molly. But more was communicated than words. Had an opening been made, a command would have been issued and Molly would have taken us back to the mirrored hall. Beyond that, I could only imagine.

As we were ready to leave, I turned back to where the couple had been seated. They were on the move, and Sean was leading his slave back to the private rooms.

?I think that brief encounter was a turn-on for them,? I said. I had wanted to say ?them too?. It was a raging turn-on for me, but I was unsure of my partner.

At that point I don?t think that Justine had fully processed what had happened. She knew that she had been touched, but there had been no ?safe word? to call out, and, I suspect that in this case, it would not have been needed. The next day, our club email had a message from Molly and Sean. I reported it to Justine.

?They want to sit with us at ?Allure? next time we?re there,? I explained.

Justine went silent for a moment and I wondered if the bookworm was going to draw another imaginary line. ?That would be okay,? she said at last. ?Yes, that could be fun.?