Erotica Club

“We could really need the money,” Peter says, “and I really would love you even more if you go through with it!”

I look at him, knowing he probably already is sporting an hard on in his loose trousers. I have butterflies hustling around in my stomach, and my mind keep drifting off to other nights at the Exotica Club, watching other participants in these monthly competitions. I have often wondered what I would do if invited, and answered always "yes" while I fingered my pussy, but "never in my fucking life" after the climaxes had worn off.

“Do it for me”, my husband suddenly says planting the kiss of our life on my dry lips. I really love him, you know, and besides I felt the familiar tickling in my pussy when I picked up the pen and signed the form, accepting my ordeals for the evening...

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I should tell you more about the club. We got invited to the club through some old time friends of ours – the same friends that were the first to know us intimately after a game evening a year ago. The game became more sexual after too much wine, and at some point Jack our friend made a bet that his cock was bigger than Peters. Well, after a little friendly sex, they told us about the Exotica Club.

Situated in the industrial zone of our neighboring town, it didn't draw much attention to itself. But then again only invited persons were welcome at the club. It was quite expensive, and very concerned about health and privacy. You had to use condoms unless you provided a health certificate that granted you a green bracelet. Women were respected, and no unwanted abuse was allowed. The cameras that recorded the club evenings adds a mixed quality to the experience – no one likes to be filmed while picking your nose, but it secured that the rules were obeyed and gave an exhibitionistic thrill to the whole thing. With the prices on membership and beverages, it was obvious that keeping the videos private was in the best interest of the club.

“I thing you two would like it, but I can't tell you more – rules you know, and please don't mention this to others!” Janice my friend said, sitting naked and grinning in my sofa. “All you have to do is give us a call, and we will see to that you get an invitation.”

I was still flushing after giving Janice's mate Jack a blow job not many minutes ago, and only nodded my head, joking if off - “I somehow don't see Peter and me as sex-frieks, fucking everything and everyone in public!”.

Next evening, after the kids were tucked in bed, the issue surfaced while discussing our experiences last night. Of course I knew that Peter was turned on the idea, both the prospects of indulging in group sex and plainly watching me screw other men. Men are weird when it comes to sex! I had also dreamt of other men and women doing strange things to me, but I didn't see why we just couldn't keep it as our fantasies. Looks to me as part of the male erotic fantasies is always to actually do what they dream about. I always imagined that their pricks would turn really soft and small if push really come to show – I guess I was wrong on that one!

“What say you – should we give it a try?” Peter said, trying not to show how much he wanted me to say yes. Well, I thought we had given many things a try on his suggestions – and a couple of mine! – including sex in public (my idea), reading stories from the Internet (his idea), visiting strip club (his idea), buying porn videos (his idea), having anal sex (my idea, but just because I knew he was to decent to suggest it himself), buying sex toys (some mine, some his ideas), and now swinging with Jack and Janice (theirs idea) – well you get the drift.

What I discovered was that after putting my rational mind to the side for a couple of times, I got to enjoy the different activities – perhaps besides watching some of his more raunchy porn flicks. And if anyone suggest that this make me become more sluttish – fuck you! I am proud to make my own choices, and do what I want to do. I feel the same thing about this as about my smoking a joint on the off occasion, I don't in any way want to promote pot smoking – but the pot is there, and it's damned good to lay off all earthly problems and worries for a while, and do something just for the fun of it – not worrying about the hole drug problem or underpaid harvesters in Afghanistan.

And that was what happened with our sex life – I discovered that I enjoyed anal sex – it didn't bring me throbbing orgasms, but the whole combination of a strong physical sensation, the little tabooish thing and the fact that my loved husband was coming off big time made me so aroused that a finger on my clit or even a small vibrator in my pussy made me climax and forget all inhibitions and plainly have a great time.

So it should be no surprise that I gave a reluctant nod to Peter, actually quite interested in what this would be like. To weeks later, we rang the bell on the office door of the Exotica Club, and was welcomed by a nice woman in her forties – the manager of the club. After showing a teaser video with all faces blurred and going through the rules and explaining the importance of hygiene and privacy, Ms. Monica explained that we had to go through what she called an “initiation” (actually making quotes with her fingers).

I wasn't prepared for this, and nearly backed off when she told me that I had to make an intercourse with one of the employees, a bouncer, while Peter and some senior members watched. She explained calmly that they had experienced that some women were coerced into membership, and that having this test it was easier to decide whether the woman wanted this or not. Shit, I felt that I was put to an exam on whether I enjoyed cheating on my husband or not! But of course, looking at Peter I saw him swallow hard, and cracked out “If it's OK for you, it's OK for me”. Yeah, big surprise. But the last 30 minutes with the video and the constant thought of really doing this, I felt quite ready for some action.

Monica laid me to a dressing room, and told me to undress and have a shower if I wanted to. Some minutes later I returned, bare naked and still damp, trying to look normal as I saw the congregation. Nice blokes and women, who were obviously summoned from the club facilities elsewhere. They were all kind of dressed, but they all had this kind of new-fucked expressions in their faces. They all gave small nods of welcome and approval, while Monica guided me to the sofa that was now in the middle of the room.

The bouncer was ready, his cock on the larger size and fully dressed with a condom. I considered the options – being public naked was no big deal, we had enjoyed nudist beaches all over Europe, but being public naked thirty seconds before you'll have another man's dick in you, was quite different! I decided on the tactic that I have used quite often before – imagine this is a porn flick, and you are the star. Putting up an act, make it more easy to indulge in things that would scare the hell out of The Moral Majority or others of their like.

So I went up to the bouncer shoving my tits forwards, gave him a little kiss on the chin, and grabbed his semi-erect cock, pulling gently to assess the full glory of his member. He moaned but stayed professional, and laid me to the couch. Again I wanted the upper hand of this situation, so I got down on my knees on the couch, wriggling my ass to the bouncer and the public. The bouncer took hold of my hips, and placed his cock on my lips, and beginning a slow pace hitting all the wonderful places in my vagina. After not so many thrusts I started faking an orgasm, but somewhere between small whims in the beginning and my planned load “Yeeeeaaaaahhhhs” in the end, Nature took over and all my rationals went flying away, leaving me with my instincts and habits.

His dick was a little bigger than Peter's, so I buried my head in the soft pillow, and put my hands on my ass-cheeks, spreading them further apart to let his wonderful cock disappear in my wound. I placed one of my fingers on my pink rosebud, and slowly massaged my asshole – taking me to a decent orgasm in the midst of strangers. Seeing my fingers caressing my ass, drove the bouncer to let out a not very mannish yelp, and filling his condom.

After a little awkward silence, the twelve people in the room gave me a short applause, and Peter came over and gave me a huge kiss. We were now officially proud members of Exotica Club, and over the next months we learned the grips on swinging and watching in a safe environment.

One feature of the clubs monthly gatherings, was the competitions. Every evening – about 10 pm. ten girls was invited to join the contest, drawn from a ballot. And yes, it was only women who were participants – I have discussed this at length with Monica, but she believes that it is easier for women to cross their sexual borders if there is kind of an excuse for it, even thought the prizes normally was quite symbolic. In her mind, men doesn't need this kind of incentive to go along, and it was never difficult to find volunteers among the men to be props in these contests.

For a year, my name (or rather nickname) never came out of the ballot. The participants doesn't know the theme of the contest before accepting, and during the year it only happened a couple of times that a woman declined to accept the invitation. Everyone was allowed to back out during the contest, but I didn't see it happen once – just happy girls frankly having a good time.

The contests was of different nature, most involving some kind of exhibitionism, like strip shows or wet t-shirt contests, but also a couple of more fetish contests: who can put up the best show while being spanked, bound to an apparatus forcing you to show your cunt and ass at a maximum (the spanking didn't seem to be very intense...) or one of the more funny contest – the best impersonating of a lioness tamed by an instructor with chain and whip, and the participants fully dressed with a French lion dress – cut off to show tits and ass, and even a tail fastened to your naked behind (imagine how!). To make the girls more comfortable, we – the watchers – were asked to undress as well, or at least not hesitate to touch ourselves or our partners. So the whole atmosphere was of fun, enjoyable sex.

I really don't think Peter has ever been so happy as the evening of lioness-imposture. We had seen a couple of contestants, but were eagerly waiting for Janice, whose nickname had been drawn from the ballot. Peter was fully undressed (I still wore my thongs) by the time Janice entered the stage. By now we knew the drill, also the fact that Janice didn't! First they put on her make-up – stripes and all, then she was asked to slip out of the gown she was wearing. All naked, she looked almost disappointed when she was asked to put on the lioness dress, but all the more happy when she saw the openings for her tits and ass. She lost some of her arrogance when the instructor slipped a collar around her beautiful neck, and fastening his chain to ring on the collar.

I looked at Peter beside me, and his never ending smile on his face. Further down, he had a firm grip on his cock, slowly masturbating at the prospects of Janice's show. I decided to give him a special treat, leaning over and placing a wet kiss on the head of his cock. Up on the stage, the instructor had made Janice bend down, and a waitress came to her with the tail, consisting of a lot of black hair, and a butt plug. Janice looked both amused and a bit shy, but she allowed the waitress to spread lubricant on her ass, massaging it deep into her channel. With some lubricant on the butt plug, she slowly started working the tail into her ass.

Focusing again on Peter's cock, I felt it throbbing with horniness. He let out a sigh of pure pleasure when I opened my lips and took him into my mouth. As he saw the plug disappear in Janice's ass, his cock disappeared between my lips. I didn't last any longer then to the point where the instructor whips the lioness' tits while presenting them to the instructor and all of us. Nothing hard or really painful, just enough for Janice to let out a small “Aaooohhh” and leave a little red stripe over her tits, before being instructed to try and lick the trail of the whip.

As I heard Janice on the stage, I felt the familiar feeling of semen being ready to move from his balls to wherever his dick where at the moment. Now it was in my mouth, and I really wanted to give Peter this moment of unrefined happiness as he shot at personal record of spurts in my mouth. I let some of it dribble down again on his still rock hard shaft, before going down one more time to put it back in my mouth.

Peter now was able to release his gaze on Janice and look down on his sloppy dick and my wanton face, slowly swallowing his load of cum. I knew then and there that this man would never leave me for some younger model, and with quality of our relationship in mind, I could drink his sperm – yes, sir!

A few minutes later we were joined by Janice – glowing from the experience, she truly was a lioness when it came to men and sex. She went straight to me, slipping her fingers into my thong, feeling the revealing wetness.

“Ha! You wanted to be there – didn't you? Well it was something, and now I need to borrow Peter for a while!” she exclaimed.

Well, Peter looked like he was spent for the evening, until Janice mumbled “Jeez, my ass feel kind of empty after removing that plug”. Peter was all ears, and they went off to a private chamber to get off. That left me sitting there, wondering whether I wished I had been invited to the competition or not.

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“You won't regret this,” Monica says when accepting my form, “tonights contest is quite special. We are celebrating our 5 years anniversary!” She sends me off to the special dressing-rooms for the contestants. I had never been here, and Janice had refused to reveal anything about this area with a cunning smile: “It'll be your turn!” The other girls were already gathered, and soon Monica joins us. She flashes a smile, saying “Who wants to be a millionaire?” All of us raised our hands, but Monica continues “Well, you won't be tonight, but the first prize is 10 000 euros! But before I tell you todays rules, you all have to be prepared for the show.” We look at her, with eyes full of euro-signs and question marks.

“As you all have seen before,” Monica goes on, “the contest sometimes involves close contact with others. So before we proceed, you all have to undergo our special services to ensure that we will not have any embarrassing situations on stage. If any of you get sick by the thought of razors or enemas, this is the time to leave!” She smiles again, knowing that most of us already had a bit of experience with razors.

I never have had an enema, but mostly because I never had the guts to by one at the pharmacy. The thought of a dirty butt plug is one of the least arousing things I know, so normally I would try to get as clean as possible without an enema. Looking around in the room, I see no of the girls leave, nor any of the guys who have entered the room looking as wondering as the girls about what is going to happen – the props I think giving them the one-over.

The proceeding is pleasurable, a nice long shower before being laid to an examination chair, now functioning as a barbers chair. Several waitresses are busy laddering up our genital hair, and starts soon to remove every single hair, leaving just a little bush. In this state, thoughts flowing around in my head about the nature of the competition also helped by free drinks, it is not difficult to accept the little nozzle of the enema, although I will never become an addict! Rinsing out my ass, I relieve the soapy water in the toilet, taking a quick leak before returning to the chair. The lovely waitress has a hot towel to make the intimate cleansing perfect, and she finishes off by rubbing an oily lotion into my newly shaved skin. Somehow this whole routine makes me more confident, feeling on top of the situation, and eager to hear tonights assignment.

Monica enters the room again, and ask everyone to line up against one wall. With a head-mistress expression on her face, she ask one and one to take a step forward for inspection. A lot of giggles, except from the boys who look a bit tense when Monica uses a short stick to lift up their penises, to see if their balls and asses are properly cleaned and shaved. She then picks up a piece of paper, and starts to explain tonights contest.

“Tonight we will elect the miss of the Exotica!” Monica starts. Some girls – the best looking but not the best actresses, look content – sure of their looks and body. “Our miss, however”, Monica explains, “will receive the title Miss Nasty!” The same girls drop their chins, taking in that this will not be about looks only.

“For the qualifying round you will perform alone, then you will be paired with another girl for two rounds, before we end this show with a face-off between the last two contestants. You will not be told what the assignments are, before completing the first ones. All clear?”

I looked around, and saw several girls I had fucked or let Peter fuck the last months. They all looked pretty to me, everyone aroused and wanting the 10 000 bucks. No one had any questions, so Monica proceeded to explain the first round:

“Just to establish who is nasty and who isn't, you will go on stage dressed in a costume of your choosing, do a strip tease and then give a guy a nasty blow job. Two girls would be removed from the contest after this round, leaving eight.”

I am number four, but can not see or hear what the others were doing, but I instead I focus on my own performance. I am sure I can be one of the eight – I have both statistics and sexual openness on my side! I have decided that in a competition of nastiness only a couple of thing matters: Sloppiness, ass and uninhibited enjoyment.

So when my nickname was called, I dropped out of my gown and grabbed a bottle of lubricant on a shelf and ignored any outfits, thinking “I'll show'em nasty!” I don't care much about what tune is being played, but walk to center stage, taking in the audience. They are obviously having the greatest time, cheering and openly fondling each other. The look although a bit puzzled when I enter the stage, already naked and not making any attempt to dance. Instead I shout to the audience:

“You want to see my pussy and ass?”

Hearing the roaring yesss I turn around, bend over and grab my ankles. I know that this position really reveiles everything, and also make my little rosebud open a tiny bit.

I remember my three chosen priorities, and drop to my knees, still providing everyone full insights in my privates. “Sloppiness,” I decide on, and unscrews the bottle of lubricant. The liquid is quite thin, so I hold it a meter above my ass and start pouring the oily thing over my ass cheeks and in the creak.

“Ass,” is my next mantra, so I drop down on my tits, and grabs my left ass cheek between my legs, massaging the fluid into my skin, and pushing the surplus into my ass creak. Slowly I circle in at my little hole, getting several drops dripping past my tight ring – a cold sensation spreading from my ass. I slip one finger into my little hole, and starts lubricating my inners, then follow up by another one.

At this point I don't have to worry about my enjoyment, this is just worldly pleasure – nasty or not! I put my long finger on my free hand in my mouth, thinking of the blow job to follow. Taking a glance at the audience, I realize that some of them are looking behind me – with lust! Suddenly I'm afraid some other girl has taken over the show, and I turn my head around to see for myself.