I peeled up my sheer black thigh high stockings and admired the black lace trim around her well-defined legs. There would be no need for additional undergarments tonight, as the dress I had selected, a skin tight but elegant dress (that few could wear), black lace with a flesh-toned lining, teasingly presenting the appearance of a naked torso, falling about 2 inches above the knees, with a slit in the back as high as to meet the top of the black laced design of the stocking a pair of long dangling silver-hued earrings and the perfect slip on Cole Haan angular heeled shoes to accentuate my calves and hamstrings and quads ideally…..hmmm, hair up or hair down. That was the only decision left to make…

“Hair down”

I said to herself and sprayed two pumps of “Must de Cartier” into the air, allowing it to gently fall upon my hair and dust my body. There was nothing as unappealing as a woman heavily scented in perfume…it was enough to induce vomiting! The natural scent is pure and unique. It should be treasured, not hidden.

I looked at you zipping your black trousers and threading the final buttons of his black shirt with ultra-thin multi-colored pinstripes. My eyes stopped for a moment at the black leather belt around your waist, and my mind already set sail with the possibilities…

“you look fucking hot,” I whispered;

Gently, you smiled giving me the “once over” I, too, smiled backing you against the wall, pressing myself against you, and running my hand against your cock until you were firm. I placed your hands upon my breasts and ass and thighs…. staring unremittingly into your eyes, not a word spoken…. merely a reminder that nothing seen or done at the club tonight could surpass the perverse chemistry that was ours alone. What would tonight bring?

We stood in line outside of the Inochi Club; it was known for its intimate design and scenery, small, not tacky, selective in its “entertainment” and its clientele, modeling itself after the well-known establishments in Amsterdam’s Red Light District…not the touristy “titty fuck” bars, but rather the ones in which the true connoisseurs visited; the ones who knew the sexuality of voyeurism and exhibitionism, and were not simply there to “watch” at all times, but those who were prepared to transcend the line between fantasy and reality. Where nothing was off-limits, yet everything was self-designed…and the “scripted” more often than not became improvisation by the night’s end.

Of course, Inochi had its stereotypical “high class/VIP / Big City night club floors with pole dancers and House music and levels of various bars and scenery and the huge lines outside where if you were not on the VIP list or a “hot chic in a short dress” you had little chance of getting in, hence the large queue…yet we were headed to the small lounge on the top floor.

As we stood in line, slight butterflies of anticipation built, and we just watched…we watched a group of fairly, oh shall we say “beyond full bodied” women who were turned away simply because they didn’t fit the “mold” of what this club desired. We were the next group in line.

I dropped your hand immediately and stepped in front of you, as certainly we were not a “couple” tonight. The bouncer looked at us, and my eyes met his. I saw him try to interpret whether the flesh-colored lining of my lace dress was indeed fabric or flesh. I breathed deeply and walked towards him so, in part to whisper something in his ear, and in part so he could watch the definition in my legs appear as I moved. I gently pressed my firm and now erect-nippled breasts on him as he leaned down a bit so that he could hear my words, and my fingers lightly grazed his neck and back as I spoke. I asked him if he might be willing to meet me upstairs in the lounge area later; I also pointed to you and said that my “brother,” in town for one week from Italy, would also like to experience the lounge, and the tall muscular man knew exactly what I meant, and he replied,

“I know the one to bring to him, and my shift ends at 1:00am.”

“We’ll be here,” I grinned and thanked him.

He nodded and as I turned, I am certain of precisely where his gaze went; we proceeded towards the front of the line that would indeed take us into Inochi. And with these steps, I also knew that our adventures were just to begin. We approached the entrance and the cave-like doors felt like the entrance to the “Pirate’s of the Caribbean” at Disney World, the slight difference was the distant vibrations of House Music, the “stickiness” of the floor (I could not help but to be curious about the combination of fluids that together might have created such a texture), and of course, one could not help but to notice the rows of small bathtubs to our right, beautifully surrounded by flickering votive candles, and covered with red, yellow and black flower petals…particularly the one at the end in which a thin, naked blonde woman was “soaking” or the small windows to the left, which were gaziantep escort visible participants engaged in ménage a trois, anal sex (man with man, woman with man, woman with woman), traditional sex in deviant positions, and cunnilingus and fellatio with every combination of men and women and numbers of participants…next to a sign that read, “no photos please.”

After paying the entrance fee and receiving our badge of honor “stamps” indicating that we were indeed above the legal drinking age (perhaps by quite a few years than most of the others in the club). I told you to sit a moment on the couch.

I quickly found myself at the closest bar (one of about 10 in the establishment), I caught the attention of the bartender with my stare and ordered two lemon-drop shots (“rimmed” with sugar), and two Bombay Sapphire gin and tonics. Needless to say the bartender was VERY generous in his Bombay pours, and I tipped him generously as he handed me the drinks and I leaned across the bar surprising him with a deep tongued kiss; he did not push me away, nor did he stop me in any way, bur rather he laced his fingers around my neck and guided me in to him.

I also asked him when his shift ended and informed him that my intention was to hopefully see him again in the lounge later on. He poured a shot of gin directly into my mouth and then licked the excess from my lips… The 20-somethings surrounding the bar looked at me in slight disbelief as I walked away.

“Yes, that’s the way to get a drink around here,” I cockily and audibly said to those within earshot.

I would have to call the gin and tonics actually Bombay Sapphire martinis (extra extra dry) on the rocks and topped off with a bit of tonic rather than vermouth. It was a glorious drink; I began to dance a bit in the middle of the room within your eyesight and let the beats of the music take over as the vodka and gin began their own dance within me. We decided that we had come this far, thus we might as well venture the many floors of the Club before reaching the “penthouse.”

The main dance floor was packed with what I would estimate as 2000 people jammed into a relatively small space. We walked the periphery, looking for an opening, and then you and I made a bet as to who would have the first drink purchased for us. Now, the game was on, and the periphery was no longer acceptable. We parted the sea of people before us and started dancing amidst a crowd who did not seem to be coupled off already on the dance floor. Somehow, we also found our dance partners fairly quickly. You were soon dancing with a 24-year old Asian woman with long silken dark hair, and I just reached out and grabbed the arm of an African-American who was built like a running-back and who clearly had the “soul” in him and unlike the others, actually appeared to be in his 30s! He readily accepted my hand and that was that.

The next few hours pretty much disappeared into the smells and sights and full sensory experience of Inochi, though these sights were relatively few as I just closed my eyes and felt the pounding music throughout all of me for much of the time except to slip in the stealthy glance in your direction…as I knew the way your hips moved as you danced, and I knew how our bodies formed a single rhythmic entity when we grinded together to the music while fucking, and you knew I was helpless against the circular gyrations of your cock inside of me, and I wanted to watch your hands move along the curves of another woman’s body, as I had wanted to see your precision from a new perspective, and of course to view the naked dancers in the cage above the pole near where I danced.

Their dance very quickly became vaginal and anal penetration, again in every position imaginable…At one point she was hanging upside-down with her legs straddled and he was fucking her in the ass and she had her hand nearly fully inserted into her pussy, clearly feeling the climax anally and vaginally. I was mentally taking notes!

I didn’t really care with whom I was dancing at this point, as long as he had rhythm in close quarters, as this was our only option, and because my mind drifted, as I imagined such rhythms with you, and I imagined you would like to see me lose myself entirely rather than just going through the motions. Interestingly, I thought a bit about taking off my wedding band and engagement ring, to make the “competition” more in my favor, but it seemed that no one, not even myself, was paying attention to such things at the time. In the few inches we had to move, there was much to be said in the area of what a watching spouse might have thought to be “inappropriate.” But hey, what happens in Inochi stays in Inochi!

The gyrations occurred in a rather tight fashion from the front, from the side, and very much, from the rear, all in rhythm with the music yet with a variety of our own tempos and directions of movement within the primary beat.

I wondered briefly how you were dancing with your partner, but the last I had seen, the porcelain-skinned Asian-woman’s ass was deep into your crotch as she snaked herself along you as much as her muscles seemed to allow and you held her breasts tightly in each hand as she folded her body in half; I was satisfied, and chose to keep closing my eyes, imagining a muscular, well-tanned dark-eyed man and “doing my thing.”

Men, perhaps are very tactile and visual, but wow, is the female imagination a powerful tool. I felt my partner’s hands occasionally pulling my dress down (which I thought was quite generous of him, considering that I was feeling it creep up quite often as I moved my body down against him…and since my dress was lace, and not as “flexible” as many other dresses in the room, when it crept up, it STAYED up)!

I felt the “running-back’s” hands on my thighs, and I could only imagine him wondering how it was possible for me to be staying in that position for so long? And, of course, I felt his hands grabbing my ass and pulling it closer to his stiffening loins, and then his fingers reaching to feel inside of me and putting pressure against my clitoris, but that, too was OK, as those were not HIS hands doing the movements, they were indeed yours… at least very vividly in my mind! I was really and truly elsewhere. He pulled and smoothed my hair. I lost track of time and simply moved and pressed myself into this “stranger” who was merely a warm body for my imagination.

He genuinely seemed to have a difficult time letting go of my tight ass, but, since it is one of my prized possessions, he could have it and enjoy it for now. Knowing that I would eventually disappoint him by taking my ass home not alone and not with him. You appeared at some point, and told me that you had won the “bet”…but you were holding a bottle of water.

“Water? Really?”

And I happily gave you the “win”, as I would not have wished to interrupt my fantasy fuck for any beverage at the bar!

Then we made the visual contact that we would make our leave soon, and so, we gave our dance partners some final fun, as you danced in front and positioned your cock perfectly into the groin of your partner, grabbing her ass, pulling her close, and rhythmically thrusting yourself into her to the beat of the music, while I grabbed the Asian woman’s hands from behind her back and then leaned into her a bit, now gyrating with her from behind and of course sending my ass further in the direction of my partner. He grabbed on, and then I curved back as much as possible, subsequently turning forward into him, he kissed my neck and I turned to you and nodded. I whispered into the gentleman’s ear,

“Thank you, and good luck finding another ass like this in the club, but we must go now.”

I heard him say,

“But I want THIS ass tonight,”

To which I smiled cunningly and replied,

“This is not your ass to have.”

And you and I smiled to ourselves as we left the dance floor, ready for our next excursion.


When we arrived in the lounge, you mentioned that you were going to use the restroom. While you were gone, the bartender from downstairs appeared and handed me a shot, a package and a note. The note read, “Shower quickly, put this outfit on now, and enjoy the burn of unfiltered Booker’s down your throat. I will see you soon, L.” The bartender winked and led me to a private fully mirrored curtained-off room with a candle-lit bar, a sofa and a small shower. He stood at the doorway and told me to go ahead and get ready (read: showered).

I began to try on the outfit, which I soon realize had come with a bottle of lube.

The bartender approached me, taking the glycerin-base liquid and tenderly applying the cool fluid all over my now naked body… spending some time massaging my breasts, pinching my nipples and caressing my ass; he then helped me slip on the black latex body suit, whose cut-out crotch revealed a thin fringe of lace which matched the openings for my breasts, which were delicately shrouded in a transparent mesh.

My nipples were hard against the thin material. The leather boots were precisely thigh-high, and as he laced them up, the bartender ran his tongue from their top laces along the flawless skin, which led, to my perfectly smooth pussy. I closed my eyes and leaned into him, my hair falling against his head, and neck and I began to kiss his neck, in a very different way than I had playfully kissed him downstairs.

He stood in front of me and took my head in his hands; we began intensely kissing each other. I stole a glance at myself in the mirror and the now bare-chested bartender who had moved behind me, and the sensuality of the situation had indeed initiated my own lubrication process.

(I admit to myself that without your orders, I would not wear this outfit in public… But I also admit that I look pretty fucking hot, perfectly elegantly slutty. I walked to the bar and poured two glasses of Remy Martin XO cognac).

As I stood there with the drinks, I noticed that the curtain was fully open to the room and the mirrors reflected all angles of me to the men and women walking past. I thought I caught a glimpse of you exiting from another “private” room, in the corner of one of the mirrors, but I could not be entirely sure.

(Momentarily, I feel pretty damn naked… yet, strangely, it does not disturb me).

The bartender asked me to lie down on the couch, and gently tied a blindfold around my eyes and head. My heart and loins throbbed in anticipation

I did nothing to resist and in fact uttered the first of many moans as I surrendered myself to all sensation. He felt my warm breath heaving in rhythm now with his own. My hands slid down his muscular frame. He straddled me and placed my hand inside of his pants; I sighed audibly as I maneuvered my hand along his smooth cock; he unbuckled his pants and stepped out of them.

Immediately, I felt his tongue upon my clit, and he allowed me to guide him in his pressure and movements.

Then I sensed someone behind me. Very close. I heard a different breath, but all I knew was darkness.

I began to lift my head, which the bartender (I think) slowly pushed back to the couch and resumed his cunnilingus at the same time inserting two fingers deeply inside my wet pussy… and then I felt it…the belt… the leather belt (which I must assume is black), tying my arms together and then to the lamp behind the couch. Of course I could have just wriggled my hands free (as I had been taught to release unwanted grabs or locks), but I simply chose to surrender to everything I felt right now.

I tasted the familiarity of your lips on mine. You noticed my hips moving and my back beginning to arch. Moving with me and taking my nipples into your mouth with each heaving breath, I noticed your erect cock against my forehead. I reached my neck back to feel you, as my hands were now rendered “useless.”

The carefree feeling of “who gives a shit” overwhelmed me. (Helping is the fact that I now hear the sounds of my vibrator; yes, I know that it is mine; I know its sound). My legs relaxed and open fully. An additional breath (it is the bouncer) whispered to me,

“Just tell me when to stop moving and hold.”

And you whispered to me in the other ear

“You are fucking unbelievable; I cannot keep my eyes from you, and when you feel the trail of an explosion on your breasts, please know, it will be me.”

Trembling from the sensations, I can barely release the words

“Stop right there; please stay right there, Fuck.”

And as the words are released from my mouth the bouncer slowly released the vibrator from my spot. The bartender’s tongue moistened my anus and the bouncer inserted a small butt plug. The bartender pulled his dripping fingers from me; two sets of footsteps walked away, and the sound of the curtains closing has now indicated to me, we are there together.

I heard the popping of a cork and you asked me to open my lips. From you, I have a taste of the highly complex sweet champagne, which you release from your mouth along my body. Your tongue licks every drop as you move your way back towards my mouth. Another sip, another movement. And so it continues until I am writhing against my “shackles” and with the anal pressure alone it is nearly too much to hang on. Alone amidst a raging party, I can hear the muted tones of the bass from the floor below us.

You assume the position of the bartender and spread my legs wide exposing my swollen clit and glistening smooth labia. You unbuckle yourself and pull out your already fully erect penis. You release my hands from the belt, and without hesitation, I move my hand to my clit and you hand me my vibrator. You take grip on your shaft and start working it slowly, watching me masturbate as the downstairs disco lights flash against the curtain. You take in the sights of my muscular thighs tensing against the building climax. You notice this and decide to further tease me by taking my erect nipples into your mouth.

You kneel between my legs and rub your face against them slowly closing yourself towards my pussy. I cannot hold on any longer, and you sense this as you thrust yourself inside of me and in one giant wave I give in to the orgasm and clench you with my internal muscles. As I loudly moan and hear myself saying,

“Fuck! Holy Fuck, Fuck me!”

But you pull out, smelling the sweetness oozing out of me. You run your tongue directly to my ass hole. Removing the plug, with your tongue totally spread out you insert it inside of me briefly, you slowly move up until you have my clit under your tongue. You close your lips around it and start exploring me with your tongue. Every now and then applying a slight suck.

Once we find a good rhythm (with the intense music) you continue the pressure on me until you feel me stiffen once again. I begin to moan again, trying to cover my mouth with my hand (but you do not let me), crying out… But due to the music no one else hears it. Immediately after my climax, you lift my long legs onto your shoulders and lean me backwards against the soft ottoman next to the couch.

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