The Club Pt. 01

I liked to go down to The Club in Friday and Saturday night. The club was only open Friday and Saturday nights. Turn off the main road past the college, cross the railroad, take a left up and around and behind the mountain and there stood hidden in the woods, if you knew the mud path to turn, a small old red barn looking in need of paint. Park behind the barn, out of sight of the road. There were windows at the mow level, but the ground level windows were all blocked. Go inside and, Tardis like, it always seemed larger on the inside than the outside.

The Club served alcohol and bar food. An illegal speak easy that everyone knew about, but the law never seemed to shut down. They kept their own security and anything too rowdy was taken care of quick. Their main draw was the wrestling mat in the middle of barn. One match each night. Friday night was a "men's" match, and Saturday night was a two ladies match. The wrestling, bar, and food were all at ground level. The hay mow had been turned into a walk around gallery, open in the center, from which one could view the matches. The draw was that each match was wrestled completely naked. No oil or jello or pudding, but an honest wrestle by high school rules, with referees. There was only one match each night. And then the winner of the match got to choose, from anyone present, to be their lover. Submit for the next 48 hours for the Friday night match and for the next 24 hours for the Saturday night match was the risk and commitment of each patron to the club. That was the thrill. So, the college girls attending Friday night might be chosen the victor's submissive lover for the next 48 hours. Or a married lady attending and watching Friday night, might be taken away from, or used in front of her husband and others. The victor had the choice of where he took the chosen one. There was the old Victorian house beside the barn, painted up nice and fresh, with the ground floor converted into an open flow plan, with numerous comfy chairs and couches around the outside walls, with a king-sized mattress on the floor in the middle. The small sized bedrooms remained upstairs, where he could enjoy the spoils of victory privately.

The ladies match might turn interesting afterwards, too. The Victor might choose one of the young college guys, or one of the married men. But the women who liked to and were good at this kind of wrestling were as likely to pick one of the young college girls or married ladies, as any gentleman.

And I did attend once, where the men's victor chose a straight married guy and chose to enjoy him most publicly. I followed them to the party house next door, where the chosen one first submitted to sucking the victor's cock, then was turned around and had his virgin ass fucked hard. I stood beside his wife and she saw, as I did, sperm squirting out of her quivering husband's ass when the victor finally pulled out. That was enough for me and I did not see any of the later action. I would not have wanted for the world to be either of those guys, but I guess I take that risk each Friday night I attend of being such a chosen one. The gay guys, I don't think, really want a fat old guy, so I am probably safe there.

I also am fairly "safe" from being the chosen one on Saturday night. The young college age girls that tend to like to wrestle nude that are a third my age are not typically choosing a fat old guy, either.

So other than the joy of watching either naked men wrestle and naked ladies wrestle, my angle is that I occasionally wrestle myself. Would not think a old guy like me would have it, but with my years of experience, I do win occasionally. I only wrestle about every other month. Can't wrestle at this age every week like a pro football player. Need time to heal, especially after a loss. So if I wrestle only 6 times/year and IF I can actually win at least twice a year, I am much more than happy. Not going to have one of college girls a third my age as my lover without this kind of set up. And I have enjoyed a few college girls. But I really, really, enjoy the older married ladies. When chosen, they are so much more into giving to me as both they, and I, like humiliating their cuckolds. Sometimes this is the first time the husband has been cuckolded. Some of the married men did not realize their wife might be chosen. Most of the college girls don't come back to see me again, outside of the club, but most of the married ladies do come back begging for more of my attentions outside the club. I'm attracting a little harem of enthusiastic cuckoldresses, in this way.

I have had several husbands tongue clean their wife after I soiled them, mostly in public. One husband I got to clean and fluff me, too, before I entered his wife for the second time. After that poor husband cleaned her the second time (this is all public down stairs with an audience in the house), she put him on his knees, pushed his head down to the mattress with her foot, and asked me to fuck his ass hard. She wanted him to feel totally feminized, she said. Not being my thing, I did not oblige her, but think of our two nights together (the second day just the three of us upstairs) often. She and I talk about that part of her fantasy every time we get back together. I have still never been able or willing to oblige her.

In the men's match, by mutual unspoken agreement, the genitals tend to be off limits. Injuries occur, but they tend to be miss judgements rather than meanness.

So, one Friday night, I walk out naked onto the mat, ready to fight, and out struts one of the young college girls naked and ready for a fight. Did I mention the ladies might choose to fight on Friday night with the men? Men are not at all allowed on Saturday nights. But the angle a lady fighting Friday night was that her chosen lover was hers for 48 hours, instead of only 24 hours, IF she could defeat a man?

I had seen this lady wrestle both ladies and men. She was tough. Not any of the other women I had seen were built like here. In like slow motion, I sized her up as an opponent. All muscle, all lean. Hard but not narrow waist but broad strong shoulders for a woman. Hardy any fat to make any kind of breast there to grab, but giant pink areoles and huge hard brown nipples. I wondered if she might be too lean to be fertile? Short stubby but very muscled thighs and calves. A hard face, but pure hard woman beauty from the chin down. Dirty blond hair tied back in a tight, neat bun when she fought the men, nothing to grab there. (In the ladies matches, everyone lets their hair down.) Maybe 130 to 150 lbs of almost man like muscle and a short 5' 2" maybe? To my 250 lbs and 6' 0" advantage. But there, standing out for me, between her legs, was a very swollen, wet and excited cunt, not a cock and balls. Her bush was neatly trimmed, not wild like I remembered her when she started wrestling just the ladies. A landing strip? A postage stamp? I can't remember all those trim styles. When she wrestled, she was often on top, legs spread wide for stability, and the trim of her bush and all of her lady charms were available for review. And I remembered her specifically attacking the men's genitals, making strong men whimper and cave into her.

When she won both the ladies and men's matches, she tended to select ladies as her chosen lover. Much like me, she might select one of the young college girls, but like me, seemed to enjoy making one of the straight married ladies submit to her in front of their husbands.

At the whistle, she dove right into me for a take down, reaching I imagined, for my balls. As I have perfected over the last 50 years of doing this, I threw my legs backwards and with my height advantage, pressed by chest down on the back of her shoulders. She face planted with a thud into the mat, me on top with that 100 lb weight advantage. I knew she was winded and stunned. If she had been a man, I would have quickly mastered her and pinned her on her back. For some reason I don't understand, I just stood up, backed off, and let her catch her breath in peace as she got up. Fatal error, and I knew it at the time.

Her next dive for my legs, she had learned. Instead of coming straight in, she veered around my right. Younger, faster, and in better shape, she was able to get behind me. Still standing, with her left hand wrapped around my ample belly to try and control me, the right hand gets a really painful death grip on my balls. I knew I had lost, I was hers to command now. I allowed myself to be maneuvered to the mat on my back, just to preserve my manhood.

We stood and bowed to each other, then the ref raised her hand. In victory, she totally surprised me. Her chosen lover for the next 48 hours? Me. Oh, but she had planned this and told others her plan.

Some one brought her a chair onto the mat. Someone brought her mid-thigh high boots. Someone else brought the ride crop, and with that big black crop, direct me to sit back down on my heels. She handed me the boots and it was plan to me she wanted me to put her boots on. The smell and sight of her dripping wet cunt, when I put on that first boot, had me hard in that squatting position. She directed, without words and only her crop, to kiss the top of her boot. No, lick it, not kiss it. I did in front of the whole barn. Next I like the bottom of that boot. Clean, not cow shit, I was happy to see. Finally, I was to suck on the thin stiletto heel of that boot. Same of the next boot. After the last heel was sucked, someone brought her what was to be my black leather collar for the weekend, with her name engraved in a shiny silver plate. I remember this name plate, this collar, showing from the neck of a married lady with her face buried deep between my victor's muscled thighs. She stood and buckled it on me, my sign of submission, just as a sign of the married lady's submission to her.

The collar had a short leash that she led me, on my all fours, outside towards the house. Riding crop striking, not too awful hard, she did not seem mad but playful, as I crawled. Often on my dangling exposed manhood. Being allowed to sway, the strikes were not to painful. I worried about when she might strike me when they were trapped.

Across the short yard, up the porch, into that big newly opened room. I decide I am lucky; whatever happens the next two nights, a young horny 20 something wants my attentions, what-ever those attentions are. The side chairs and couches were already lined with eager spectators. I recognized some of my mistresses obtained here and their husbands among the crowd.

One of her friends stops me, hands me the blue pill, and a glass of water. I gladly take, knowing I need this to please her for two day of tough loving.

My eye goes to a folding peg board, with her instruments of torture outlined for each position, 5S we called it in the factory. There is a open space I recognize as this riding crop that has been pestering me. A real bull whip. Soft little whips. Cats of nine tails, but none with weights in the ends. Feather dusters and fur pieces, I gladly find, too.

I am so, very, very happy with what I did not find. I did not see a strap on dildo: I had been so certain she would have had that planned for any man she took. She had used them on her ladies. I also did not see any castration paraphernalia, which I was worried might be her only interest in men.

The couch at the end of the room is emptied for her. She sits in the middle of that 3-person couch, sticking a boot out to each arm. Exposing her fragrant, wet, swollen, shinny lips for my attention. I can see in more detail the trim of her bush. Fully shaved or waxed all below the clit, even her puckered brown and pink asshole is hair free. Is that what they call Brazilian, hair free there? I go straight to lick her clitoris, but she pulls me up into a breast. While I nurse, she tongue fucks my ear. Small, firm breast, but she takes pleasure as I nurse her nipple. Barely a mouthful comes to mind, I giggle. I can feel my hard bursting cock tapping at her entrance. She moves me to the other breast, and tongue fucks my other ear. Finally, she pushes be away and places a ring in our inner labia, her left side, just below the clit, before pushing me down into her scent. Would have thought that would have been easier to insert when she wasn't so swollen?

I am hungry. I love the smell, the taste, her moans. People take her crop and hand her a longer whip, where she can reach to worry my balls, but I am all focus now on my new lover's cunt. Focus on my new master. Tasting, licking, pleasing, sucking, every thing I can to make my master mistress happy, ignoring my own pain she inflicts.

I am surprised when she comes, violently shaking, without me yet starting to use my fingers inside her. She is a screamer with me, as she was with the women I watched her with. I am pleased, that I can pleasure here. When she calms, she melts down into the mattress, taking me with her. We just cuddle, as my mind races in lust.

After a while, she rolls me over, and with little more ceremony, mounts me cowboy style. She pulls me back up into her breast, moving me from one to the other, as she starts slowly to ride me. I can her crowd oohing and awing, and cackling in the background, but my lover really has all my focus. I want to please her. I want her to come again, before I do. Slowly starting, building a little speed. Now her moving me from breast to breast becomes frantic. I can feel her building. I feel her cunt spasm on my cock. She screams into my ear. My head is pulled deeply between her breasts into that boney sternum. I try, and succeed, in not coming in her just right now.

She rolls over, in her petite morte, and encourages me to keep her pleasure going by missionary into her. Finally, I give her womb my seed, burying as deep as I can, wondering if I could at possibly be impregnating her? Now, at this moment, I want her with my child. Silly thought, but such silliness comes at such times. A man my age does not need to support another child for 20 plus years.

We have both slept a little while in each other's arms, when I feel her pushing me down to lick her again. I think of the cuckolds, some still in the room, who have cleaned their wives after I had soiled them. Then I think of all the times I have cleaned my wife after watching another man inseminate her. At least tonight, there will not be a cock to clean and fluff, even if I am being submissive.

I lick outside and the start tonging inside as far as I can reach. This time, I do use two fingers to find her G-Spot and to pull my cum out of her and into my mouth. She softly comes, whimpering rather than screaming, twice as I do this for her.

After a little more sleep, of unknown time to me, she stands me up and leads me upstairs. I don't have to crawl, now. Few of the voyeurs have remained just watching us sleep. But one of my lovers, with her husband in tow, stops me at the foot of the stairs to kiss me, to taste my bitter salty seed and my new lover's cunt juices mingled, I guess.

As my weekend's owner shuttles us into a room, she locks the door behind us. It is just the two of us now.

We lie down and she starts kissing me, the first time she has kissed my mouth tonight. Hungry for my kisses. I guess she is tasting that same bitter/salty/sweet juices mixture my other lover wanted to share. We both drift of to sleep, lips locked, and cuddling.

I think I am so luck, to have a young lady wanting to dominate me tonight.

Sometime in the night, I arise to pee. She follows me to take control of the situation. Very bizarre. When my bladder is empty, she sits down and holds my head tightly between her knees, while she pees. I get to see up close and get a good smell. Very bizarre. Wonder is she does something similar with her lady lovers?

The sun is well up in our bedroom, when I awake. I never sleep past sunrise. She is sitting up staring at me. We repeat the bizarre peeing ritual. She sends me down stairs and tells me to find her coffee and anything that she might eat, the whip lashing my bare ass as I move out the door. I bring her coffee and find a few fresh pastries.

We move into the shower and clean each other. Refreshed, she finds new interest in the whips and crops and toys. I experience pains and some pleasures, most pains, through the rest of the day. For a woman to have become so loving by the end of last night, she is back into my painful domination today. She has me take her out to dinner (I am finally allowed clothing for the restaurant) before bringing me to her bed, in her home, for some real loving finally Saturday night. We did not return to see the Saturday night match. Turns again into a loving kitty cat by night reaching for more orgasms, instead of the man-eating tiger by day. I think again I am so lucky to have her want my attentions.

She releases me Sunday mid-morning. I am almost sad to go, but I know her stomach is sore from orgasms, her entrance is raw from my constant attentions, and my cock has done all an old man can do and more.

Will she see me again? I think not. I think she can do better than me. But I know she enjoyed dominating me, and as dominate as I normally am, I enjoyed being her play thing.