GHH Club Gives Couple a Hot Night

This is Ria, along with husband Jim, sharing more about our adventures as members of the GHH Club. Our journey to membership and the club itself is complicated, so you might want to read, or at least skim, 'What is the GHH Club? Ep. 01'

In a nutshell, we are six married couples that meet monthly in a dedicated wing of a very rich guy's estate. The big picture goal is adding sexual excitement to marriage. The method is acting out personal fantasies. The club's GHH stands for Go Home Hot, meaning that we can be bold and creative adventurers, but penetration intercourse is reserved for the spouse. This rule and a well-defined set of member understandings are part of club culture. The reason probably traces to the mindset of Roger (estate owner) and Gary (right-hand man) as incredibly successful dot com entrepreneurs.

When Episode 1 ends, we are three-month members who have gone home hot after every meeting, partly because the atmosphere is fun, friendly, and open to wearing sexy outfits and discussing sexual ideas. Alcohol is part of party relaxation, but club culture frowns on sloppy drunk or being out-of-control high on anything. Fantasies are acted out in eight rooms with theme props, and a double-sized room that is furnished in gymnastic mat green. A fantasy's originator recruits the cast, often the spouse and one or more members. Any non-participating spouse must be aware of and approve the role of the partner. And the originator can decide whether the fantasy is closed or open, meaning whether observers are welcome or not.

Like most early-stage members, Jim and I had enjoyed the party atmosphere and we realized we were among exceptional people who were selected because they were the kind of people that fit. But we hadn't felt ready to originate fantasies, so we went home hot because of observing the fantasy-play of our veterans. Episode 1 describes two of our favorites, one of which brings me to the start of this episode. Here's a shortened summary:

It was a 'production' fantasy, in GHH terms, meaning it told a story with costumes, props and in this case music. The originator was Christopher, our most studious looking guy, and Christopher watched from the spectator row, two seats down from Jim and me. I guess that makes it a cuckold fantasy -- which Jim and I aren't really into -- but I didn't care about that part, at all. Christopher's wife, Pamela, is a classically beautiful blonde with a body made for modern dancing. Her skirt was short, loose-fitting and worn-looking, with several vertical slits, making her look something like the ragamuffin characters in a poor-person's street dance. Her top was bra-like, and worn-looking to match the costume, but her panties were very modern, white and barely there.

Here's the fantasy's story: She has written and choreographed an original modern dance number and is previewing it for her dance instructor. The dance instructor is played by Douglas, the male half of GHH's only black couple, about 6'4", lean and muscular, awesome smile. He is dressed in black, a chest-hugging sports shirt and yoga pants. He sits in a chair near the mat, observing, taking notes, as she does the most amazing job I could even imagine of finding revealing, highly sexual positions. Her skirt provides no coverage at all. And she had created two moments in which the dance's story requires temporarily bare breasts.

Her instructor's expression gradually shifts from professionally studious to clearly engaged in his student's physical performance. She finishes the dance and looks toward him expectantly. He approaches her, congratulates her warmly, and says he has suggestions for improvement. He then works from behind her using his hands to adjust her body positions. His hands grow more aggressive, moving beyond any serious role in dance instruction. She is temporarily lost in the moment, almost dreamy-eyed, but realizes what is happening physically. She asks him to stop, but not firmly. He confesses, bluntly, that there is no chance he can stop. She has pushed him too far. She struggles, but hopelessly. through a long seduction scene that leaves her naked but for the skirt. He is on his knees, between her legs. She begs again for him to stop, "Please, no, my husband couldn't stand it if he could see..." but he ignores her, his head goes beween her legs. And the orgasm was clearly an OMG moment for Pamela, as both dance student and a GGH wife -- and it was very nearly an orgasmic moment for me!

At home that night, after some inspired sexual moves of our own, Jim and I talked about the extent of my turn-on. He asked me whether Douglas being black was a big factor. I dodged and said I would think about that, which I have. I am still not really sure of the role, but I know it has helped me visualize fantasy possibilities, and the beauty of Club GHH is that there's a chance they can come true.

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As Jim and I drove toward the GHH estate for the August meeting, I decided to dive straight into an idea that I knew wouldn't surprise him. "We need to talk about tonight... I want to approach Douglas about a fantasy."

As expected, Jim looked at me and smiled, "It's pretty obvious that you've been, what's the word...smitten."

"I know. It's crazy. But I can't get that dance out of my head."

This time he laughed at me, but gently. "I'm not complaining. You've been, let's just say, unusually warm to the touch ever since. Do you want a dance of your own?"

"I don't know yet. Probably not a dance. But I've got a crazy idea for tonight, I want to ask Douglas for an informal, just him and me, just for a little while."

Now he frowned his puzzlement. "I don't know what that means."

There was good reason for him to be confused. A GGH 'informal' is a short fantasy, sometimes just a few minutes long. Little or no preparation. Sometimes no audience, although the spouse is often involved. Some members liken it to live vs. imaginary masturbation. If the playroom is available and if the invited member's 'dance card is light' -- another GHH term -- an informal might happen right away, but more typical is after a drink or two.

I shook my head. "I'm just not ready for a 'formal' -- maybe still nervous, or maybe not confident yet. I don't know."

Jim nodded. "I get that. Cassie says it's not unusual for newbies. So what are you thinking about?" (Cassie and husband Parker were our sponsors for membership.)

In a few seconds, I blurted several hours of thought. "I want Douglas to be with me on a bed, and just talk to me about my possible formal fantasy... you know, let me ask questions, stuff like that."

There was a long pause while Jim took all that in. "Well, I am surprised by that. How did you come up with the idea?"

"It feels safe, but it also gets me excited to think about it." I smiled, at him, a smile that might have been a bit naughty. "In fact, it's getting me excited right now."

He drove for maybe a quarter mile and found a place to pull over. "Okay, panty check. Spread 'em."

I was wearing white string bikinis under a blue flowered sundress, I hiked up the dress and opened my thighs for him, anticipating in advance that I was going to fail; or maybe he would think I had passed, big time.

His hand went down the front of my panties and two fingers were in me instantly, probing. "Good grief, girl, get a room."

"I know. Crazy isn't it?"

He cleared his throat, his voice a little hoarse. "So what are you going to be wearing?"

He knew that GHH had an extensive 'costume department' but BYO was common as well, especially for informals. I purred my reply, my voice now a bit hoarse. "I brought a dress, a lot like this except white, but I also brought a little nightie, in case Douglas would like that better."

He shook his head, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. "Right now, this is driving me crazy, but in a good way, I guess. We said we wanted to add excitement." He cleared his throat again. "Will he be touching you?"

I had thought about that, of course, but still needed a deep breath. "Maybe a little. It would depend on... I don't know. Maybe. Would you be okay if he did?"

He exhaled audibly. "Well, here we are, right? This is the whole idea. So, yes, I'm okay with it."

"Do you want to be there with me?" I asked.

"Do you want me to be?"

"I'd rather not...I mean, it would seem awkward a little. But it's okay if..."

"That's okay. You can tell me all about it afterward."

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On our Saturdays, the GHH Club is open for fun and games from about 2:00 p.m. until whenever. Afternoons can be spent by the pool, on the tennis court or inside in The Gathering Place, the huge, ultra-cool rec room I described in detail in Ep01. For most members, the afternoon is more about relaxation and relationship building than high-energy fantasy chasing, although there's no rule against. Food is available all day in a row of buffet-style warming trays near the bar.

Jim and I were by the pool on recliners. I was dressed fairly conservatively by GHH standards, in a small non-thong print bikini, my top on. Jim was soon distracted by Jenna, wife of Brett, sitting alone directly across the pool from us. Her top was not on. "I think Brett's playing tennis," said hubby. "Poor Jenna looks lonely over there."

I laughed out loud at that. I also knew I had no room to be critical as I had been nervously scanning the grounds and parking area waiting for Douglas' arrival. My voice mimicked deep concern, "And poor Jenna looks like she's lost her bikini top somewhere, maybe you can help her find it."

So off went Jim, and I had an opportunity to watch my medium-tall, dark and handsome husband stride around the pool and apparently introduce himself charmingly, as she laughed immediately and welcomed him to the empty chair beside her. He wasn't quite as cool in pretending that he wasn't gazing fondly on her top half, but clearly she didn't mind. She also came up with a GHH type moment which I could see, but I couldn't hear the build-up. What I could see was my husband lifting himself to a sitting position, turning toward the reclining Jenna, and caressing each of her breasts for what seemed like a long time, then both breasts at the same time. I could also see Jenna's hips begin to move and her back arch, pushing her breasts upward toward hands and fingers that I know to be expert. Her moans were soft, but audible. He explained to me later, with boyish innocence that was charming if not believable, that she had a formal fantasy planned for the evening and she just wanted to be sure her breasts were as responsive as usual.

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Douglas and Becca arrived at about 5:30 and he went straight to the tennis court where a men's doubles match had apparently been arranged: Roger and Gary against Douglas and Brett. They played for over an hour. I put on my coverup and sat alone, reading -- or trying to read -- a novel I had brought. When the men came off the court and emerged through the wire fencing gate, I was waiting, knowing I was operating according to GHH protocol. I walked straight to Douglas who -- to an extent I hadn't expected -- seemed to tower over me. But I put on my smiling face. "Hi Douglas, I'm Ria... can I walk with you?"

He smiled at me, brilliantly white teeth flashing. "I know who you are, pretty lady. And sure, you can walk with me." He sent a manly "Catch ya later, guys," to the three who were strolling on toward the Club's locker rooms. They returned manly comments like, "Great game today, Doug" and "Take care, man," and I was alone with Douglas and impressed by the foursome's smooth transition from tennis to GHH 'relationship-building.'

As we strolled toward The Gathering Place, I said, "I'd like to buy you a drink, now if possible." That's GHH-talk for wanting to discuss a possible fantasy. He was allowed to decline without explanation, and I thought he might because it was a hot day and it was easy to tell that he had played some serious tennis.

"Sure, now is fine. It's a good time for a cold beer."

We walked through the triple patio doors and I put my bag beside one of the cocktail tables near the bar. "This okay?"

He nodded, "Just fine." I went to the row of taps behind the bar and decided to boldly pour rather than show how little I knew about beer. Two glasses, some kind of Lager. I handed him a glass, and we slid into chairs across from each other.

I studied the glass in front of me for a long moment, then looked up into his eyes, "I'm kinda nervous about this."

He smiled but with a bit of a chuckle. "I can kinda tell that. You don't need to be." His eyes were warm, almost gentle. Unexpected in a way, but nice.

"I'd like to do an informal tonight, if you can."

"Maybe so, but there's a shower and a talk with Becca between here and there."

I knew that he was referring to the GHH spouse-approval rule, so I smiled a bit sheepishly. "I think Becca will be fine with this one, it's kind of weird." His left eyebrow raised slightly, the expression quizzical. "I want to be on the 4-poster bed with you. Not, you know, in bed; just on the bed." His expression was now more quizzical, not less, and I could feel my face turning red, realizing that I had probably just made a total fool of myself.

After a pause, for think time, I guessed, he smiled again, but shook his head. "Well you're right about this being different, I'm going to need some help understanding what you're thinking. Why are we on the bed at all?"

"Because I want my first time with you to be sexy."

"And what am I doing that's 'sexy'?"

"Just being there... and talking to me?"

"And why is my being there sexy?"

"Because I saw your dance-instructor fantasy with Pamela...and... and it was the sexiest thing I've ever seen?"

Now his chuckle was close to laugh-out-loud, but quizzical continued. "Well first, thank you for the compliment, but second, why are we on the bed just talking?"

"To help me decide how far to go with my first real, I mean, my first formal fantasy."

Now he frowned. "You can go as far as you want, Ria. Up to GHH limits. You've got fantasies in mind, right? I don't understand what we're on the bed talking about.

I took a long sip of beer, put down the glass, picked it up again and sipped again, then met his eyes... "I don't know how to say this exactly... we'd be talking about how... how I'm sort of afraid of you." I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Okay, that's not exactly it...maybe I'm scared of me, and how I reacted to what happened to Pamela."

He shook his head, his expression still serious. "You waited for months to become a GHH member, right" I nodded. "You know what GHH means, right." I nodded again. "So you saw a pretty damn good fantasy and you went home hot, right? I nodded again, a small smile of recollection forming. "So what's the problem, sweet Ria?"

"I guess I'm wondering...worrying...about whether I can get too hot?"

He did laugh out loud this time, finished his beer in two long swallows and said, "Okay, you've convinced me that we'll have an interesting talk, and that Becca will be fine with it. I'll line up 4-poster at 8:00 and message you to confirm. What am I wearing?"

"Shorts are fine, or pants...and shirt... like the dance instructor."

"And what are you wearing?"

"A little sundress or a short nightie, whichever you'd like better."

He shook his head. "Can you see why this is all pretty damn confusing?"

"Yes, but, I want it to be...me to be...sexy."

"Okay, then, I'll see you and your short nightie at 8:00."

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When I started back toward the central conversation area, I spotted Jim, sitting alone on a couch in the far corner of the game side of the room. As I approached him, he looked more concerned than happy. "I see you connected, how did it go?"

I sat down beside him. "Okay, sorta. I have my informal at 8:00, but I think I made a fool of myself.?"

"How so?"

"I let him know how much I liked the dance fantasy, but how confused I am about him... and why I just want to talk at first... basically I just blabbed that I really want an informal but I really don't know what I'm doing or why."

"So what did he say?"

"He basically said I needed to relax and enjoy what GHH give us. I think he was really saying that if I take it home, there's no such thing as being too hot."

That line earned a laugh from my husband. "Well, I'd be hard-pressed to disagree with that. It's really what I was trying to say on the drive over."

"I'll be wearing my nightie, the light blue one I showed you."

This time I earned a visible gulp, and a clearly forming erection. "It's damn near transparent."

"I know."

"Panties?"

"Yes."

"But damn near transparent, right?"

"Yes."

He took a long deep breath. "Touching you?"

"I don't know. Maybe not. We just talked about talking." I paused, actually feeling nervous with my own husband. "Are you still okay if he does?"

He raised both hands to his head, fingers rubbing his temples. "Same answer as earlier today...but it's a lot harder than I thought it would be," he chuckled, "and I'm not talking about my dick."

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I knew from Cassie's tour that the room known as Four Poster has a complete bathroom with tub and shower, but I didn't feel comfortable with showing up at 8:00 and announcing that I would be busy in the bath; so I used the women's side of the locker room, a free-standing bungalow near the tennis court and pool. After finishing there, I put on the white sundress without panties, figuring they wouldn't be needed since I'd be wearing the coordinated nightie in less than a half hour. I stopped in The Gathering Place for a quick glass of wine. Jim was at the pool table in a game with Brett. I walked to him, planted a kiss on his cheek and said, "Here I go."

"I'll be sitting in on Jenna's fantasy, so don't worry about me."

For some reason, I suddenly threw my arms around his neck and kissed him deeply, pressing myself against him as closely as I could. Actually, I think I really wanted to fuck him, right then.

Jim pushed me back a little and said, "Man, what just happened." Brett was watching, looking a bit amazed. I squeezed my husband one more time, "I just really, really love you and I can't wait go home with you tonight."

_____

I stood for a moment at the Four Poster door, not sure whether to knock or to boldly march in. I wimped and knocked. "Come right in," came the voice that I had already learned to like, deep, almost melodic, but calm. In that instant, I had one of those realizations -- that when I turned the doorknob, something very new would begin happening to me.

The bed was to my left, and Douglas and his exact dance instructor outfit were sitting on the edge. He rose to greet me, but without speaking. I was struck again by the way he seemed to tower over me. I croaked out a weak, "Hi," which sounded really lame.

"Hi, sweet Ria. Welcome."

"Should I change now?" I asked, and that sounded lame, too.

"Sure, I've been wondering what your 'short nightie' looks like."

So my overnight bag and I went into the bathroom, and I smiled to myself about how swiftly a commando sundress can become a sheer blue nightie with matching panties. My mom would call the outfit a baby doll, which always sounded weird to me. Whatever you call it, I was soon standing in front of a large mirror, vividly aware that Jim's concern about 'transparent' was really real. The material wasn't like non-existent, but it didn't require much imagination. I gave brief thought to changing into the sundress, but decided I had come too far, mentally as well as physically, to go back now. I took a deep breath and walked into the bedroom.

Douglas was again sitting on the edge of the bed. He looked toward me and said, "Stop there for a moment." His eyes were intense, as if studying me. Some instinct nearly caused me to use my arms to cover myself. But I stood still. "Are you still nervous?" I nodded a quiet 'yes,' while taking another deep breath. He said, "I can say, sincerely, that you should never be nervous. Not with me. Not with anyone at GHH. Not with anyone, period. You are as beautiful as any woman I've ever met."