Social Club - Sharing the wife 

   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.

   Social Club Part II

   "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.