Furthering Kelly's Education

This time, I know what to expect. Sort of.

Didn't expect the Russians, but then the first time we were here together even you didn't expect the children's pool in one room, inflated but not filled with water.

It's the club's 4th anniversary and my second time ever in a "lifestyles" club—love that euphemism; don't we all have lifestyles? This time I'm not so very nervous. I'm less tentative about looking, about eyeing the crowd to see who I might want to make contact with later.

Despite my exhibitionism, I still feel a little shy about sitting down in my short black leather skirt. It's not letting people see the lacy tops of my stay-up thigh-high stockings; it's about whether anyone else who isn't wearing underwear is letting their pussy show yet. Timing.

So when you whisper to me "spread your legs, let them see," I say no. Not yet.

But I would be lying if I said your subtle domination wasn't, also, a turn on. The strong, controlled, professional woman I am during the day (today, wearing lacy thigh-highs again under a wrap skirt that flew open as I walked into work…I'm such a show-off) wants to be dominated, just a little, when I can turn off the outer shield that protects me in the work world.

Still, I sense intuitively that not everyone here will understand that I like it when you do that. And that I know I can say "no" to you now, and still get what I want later.

As it turns out, not very much later. We dance on that crowded floor, in the small space available. I turn around and rub my ass against you from time to time, and this time you turn me around—to face a sexy, full-breasted brunette in a low v-neck dress. She's smiling, laughing, and her husband is too, whispering in her ear as they look at us.

At me. It's still a revelation; other people's eyes on me tickle. That tickling reaches straight to my clit, stimulates the juices of my cunt. Tonight, with no underwear beneath this short skirt, I feel the wetness reach the air as I reach out to touch the sexy brunette. She smiles and reaches to touch me.

We're dancing, the four of us, with hands all over. Me touching him touching her touching you my ass against your hard cock his hand on my ass her breasts, bare—out of the dress—rubbing against mine, free of the black suede halter top. Laughing, giggling, touching.

Her breasts are beautiful; full and lusciously heavy. Our nipples touch, bounce back and forth, sway against each other. Mine are hard as hers; pink where hers are dark. The deep rose red they get when I'm aroused, the way I am so often around you.

And my skirt is up, bare ass and naked pussy on display for the room. I turn to face you again, and you reach to touch me, tease my clit, slide a finger inside me to rub the spot that longs to be rubbed, feel the wetness on your hand and I grind myself against you, clutching and gasping. Right there on the dance floor.

There are the Russians; they're watchers. Small clutch of exotic-looking people, dressed for sex in black. Standing off the one side of the floor. One looks so much like my friend Harry, at work, I start to smile when I think he's as highly sexed as me. (I've always had this secret lust for him.)

I know what time it is when they say "we're going upstairs to find our spot." I turn to you—am I too eager? I can't help myself—and say, isn't it time? Should we go upstairs? You laugh, sweetly, at the monster you've unleashed…this soon-divorced businesswoman, so long deprived of sex, never aware of this entire other world that's been there, all along, and feels like home to me now.

"not yet," you say, smiling.

But it's not long after that that I take your hand and we climb the stairs to the play area…to rooms filled with clean-sheeted mattresses, with people milling, waiting for something to watch.

Our dancing partners are up in one of the high places, where they can watch, too, what's going on down below. We climb up and join them. Shed what clothes there are to lose, or at least I do. You're still dressed, all in black. I like that; me naked, you clothed.

One of my favorite things you do is pay attention to my breasts; fondle my nipples like you're doing now. First with your thumbs, fingers against my sides; flicking the nipples back and forth, springy pink buttons that shoot electric sparks directly to my clit, no waiting. Then you hold them with your fingers, roll them between your fingertips, and my cunt gets wet. You know my timing; as the muscles start to pulse, as my pussy oozes juice, wanting you, your fingers trail down my body, my belly, to dip into that juice and use it to wet my hot button. Take a nipple in your mouth and tease it with your tongue as your fingers slide deep inside me, reach up and in to the spot that sends sensation shooting all over my skin, turns on every nerve ending until all I can do is moan. Deep, baritone moans. My voice tries to go as deep as your fingers do, to reach into that dark warmth you plumb so well.

There are other hands on me, now; hers and his, his and hers, and I feel like I'm the ice cream in everyone's bowl. I'm tasted and licked and dipped into.

Now I'm nibbling her dark sweet cherries on soft round scoops of vanilla flesh. Darting my tongue into the bottom of the cone; licking up her melting sweetness, using my lips to caress hers and surround her clit. Sucking that red button--so much like her nipples--as she moans and squirms. You're whispering in her ear and she says something back. "You're her first," you tell me. The first woman to eat her pussy…I'm happy and hotter to know that.

He joins me; the two of us are licking her at the same time, me on the left, her on the right. You're licking her nipples and watching us, and when he focuses on me, you take over, licking her, tonguing her. I hear her shout, laugh, come; and when I come back to you, your face is drenched in her pussy juice. She squirts, you tell me; I lick the come off your face.

When I sit back, he moves around me to face me and wrap his mouth around my pussy. My eyes close, so I only hear what else is going on—but it's clear from the sounds that you've picked up where I left off, sucking the last drop of vanilla from her soft warm cone.

His tongue darts into me, and out; his lips suck on my clit, tongue gently flagellates every red-hot nerve ending until I explode again, rocking forward to see his face between my legs and hear her come at the same time. She likes to watch; that's clear—her eyes are open and bright, a smile on her face looking at me, at you, at him.

After a short rest (I mean, there are only so many times most people can come; not everyone has my unlimited orgasmic supply), you and I find our clothes stuffed into the corners of the loft and dress, climbing back down to the floor.

We walk through the rooms, watching. Skin; arms and legs, asses, breasts. Heads bob up and down and hair swings. My pussy is throbbing; I can feel the swollen lips between my legs, each step rubs them against each other, against my clit.

When we pull aside the curtain into one of the rooms, there's a wonderful tangled mess of beautiful bodies—in the center, a blonde we both noticed earlier. Perfect shape; flat tummy, slim hips, full breasts. She's upright on her knees, facing us. Back arched. A man on either side caresses her; they're both licking her breasts, mouthing her nipples. A woman kneels in front of her; brunette, her face buried in the blonde's pussy, her head moves rhythmically up and down. When her hair moves away from her face I can see her tongue buried in delicate folds of flesh. The blonde's head is thrown back in silence.

Watching them, I feel the first stirrings of a voyeur's sensibilities in my exhibitionistic body. Though I'm dressed again, I'm wearing no underwear under my short black leather skirt—so it's a matter of seconds to pull up the skirt with one hand and reach under it to those swollen, trembling lips, brush my clit, plunge two fingers deep inside myself and reach up, and in, to press the spot that makes my legs tremble and my mouth open.

When I stop, another hand takes over. To my right; another couple—he's dark brown, skin the color of tanned leather; she's dark-haired and zaftig. Pretty. It's her hand; small and gentle, rubbing insistently. Now his hand rubs my pussy; our bodies rearrange so that my back is to him, his arm around me reaching down in front.

I can still feel you beside me as we move to a space just emptied on that beautiful-body-covered mattress. His fingers become his tongue as we join the slippery pile of nakedness.

This time, it's short-lived; that man from the front door comes through as he did the other time, nasty job to do. "Ten minutes," he says. "Ten minutes."

As we get ready to leave, I stand in front of the fan and one last chance to flash presents itself; a man is waiting, facing me, and I'm so hot…I lift my skirt to show off my clean-waxed pussy and give it some cooling breeze. He smiles at me and says "one of the only places you could do that…" but, for me, there will be many more.