Kids tucked in. 9 PM. Peaceful silence. I’m half-reclined on the couch, feet up, scanning the paper. Muriel sneaks up, tiptoeing, hands behind her back. Playful sway in her hips. She drops a printout on my journal, curls against my shoulder.
“Read this. Tell me what you think.”
The Awakening: Tempted into the Forbidden
Big red curtain parted on one side. Bold title: ‘Enter the Land of Pleasure! Overlord, Swingers Club.’
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Relax. You used to be fun. Papers say it’s classy, not sleazy. Checked the site at lunch. It’s close. Elegant crowd. Just curious.”
Doubt hits hard. Ten years married. Perfect record. Now this?
“You want to fuck another guy while I bang his wife?”
“No! Just peek. Get horny. Come home craving you. No pressure. Bar only.”
She’s pouting. Why not? Spice things up. I nod. She kisses my neck, all cuddly.
“Your call.”
“But you want it. Okay. Bar only. No dancing. No red curtain. Deal?”
“Yes, love. Tomorrow? Babysitter booked.”
She bolts to bed, laughing. I follow. She’s sprawled, legs open, eyes hungry.
Next night, restaurant. Muriel’s too hot: tight blouse, short skirt, bare legs, high mules, red toenails. Dress code demands it—men suited, women showing skin. Guys stare, knowing our plans. Her foot strokes my calf. I melt. Love her wild past, her skills in bed. She’s mine now, sexier than ever.
Nerves spike walking there. Clacking heels echo in empty mall corridor. Overlord door. Buzz in. Chic hostess. Dim lights, soft music, upscale vibe. Couples ignore us. Women skimpy, men sharp. We hit the bar. Muriel shrugs off jacket, unbuttons, flashes red bra. Fair play.
Crowd builds. Polite invites declined. Couples slip behind red curtain. My cock twitches. Muriel presses close, aroused.
Waiter: “Owner invites you for champagne.” Can’t refuse. Alcove. Pierre: tall, baldish, 50s. Kisses her hand.
“First time? Relax. No pressure. Respect rules here.”
His voice: deep, slow, commanding pauses. Hypnotic.
“Women, show off safely. Looks of admiration only. Legs crossed, madame? Uncross. Spread like a man. Freedom.”
She glances at me. I smile. Her move. Legs part.
“More. Good. Now, panties off. Place here. Can’t see in dim light.”
Heart pounds. Mouth dry. She lifts hips, slides red thong off, tosses it. Sips champagne. Legs wide again.
The Act: Legs Wide, Cumming Hard
“Hike skirt back. Feel velvet on bare ass.”
She does. Breathing quickens.
“Troubled? Hand under skirt. Taste. Pussy wet?”
She obeys. Fingers to lips. Pulls back fast.
“Say it.”
“Yes… my pussy is wet.”
His gaze pins her. My dick stirs.
“Touch again. Two fingers fork on clit. Make it hard.”
Hand dives in. Eyes glaze. Pants softly. “Hard?”
“My clit… is hard.”
“Feet on table. Ditch mules. Spread wide, open that cunt. One finger up clit. Left hand on husband’s cock.”
Mules drop. Legs splay. Skirt rides up. Hand cups pussy, stroking. Grabs my bulge. I throb huge.
“Sit straight. Eyes on me. Cum when I say. Husband, hand on her back.”
She’s arching. Teeth bite lip.
“Close. Press clit, circle. Eyes open. Cum now. Scream it.”
Body bows. Fingers frenzy. Hips buck. Long, guttural moan rips out. Collapses on me, trembling.
Pierre rises. Kisses her wet hand. Slips card in my pocket. “Proud of her. Go home, fuck hard. Call later. Private.”
He leaves. Couples watched. I fix her skirt, thong back on. She clings.
“Love you. Sorry?”
“Love you. Watched, mesmerized. Hard as rock.”
Home. Fuck fierce, loving words pouring. Later, she grabs card: ‘Master Pierre.’ We shiver, secret sealed. Thrill lingers. Ours alone.