What is the GHH Club? Ep. 01

Chapter 1: JIM AND RIA'S ADVENTURE BEGINS

I'm Ria. My husband Jim and I had to wait for six months to join the GHH Club, but for us it's been a dream (and desires) come true. GHH stands for 'Go Home Hot.' Membership is limited to six married couples who are committed to within-their-marriage intercourse, as in full penetration, but believe that outside sexual adventure is an ingredient for long-lasting excitement.

Our membership sponsors, were Cassie and her husband Parker. Cassie is a lunch or cocktail-after-work friend who slowly and carefully learned these things about Jim and me: (1) We were seeking sexual excitement, (2) We liked the safety net within the idea of waiting until we got home to fully consummate our evening, (3) We weren't into deep pain or extreme kink, and (4) We had no jealousy issues. As part of her background check, she and Parker met with Jim and me three more times, after she revealed that GHH even existed.

Chapter 2: The GHH CLUB'S FOUNDERS and HISTORY

If the club had official titles, the president and CEO would be Roger, an enormously successful dot com entrepreneur by age 34. Let's just say that Roger is cool every way there is to be cool: fun, funny, confident, sculpted like an Olympic diving champion; and he has warm brown eyes and a gift of engaged listening that makes a person feel like she is the center of the entire universe. Roger and his wife Carolyn own the secluded suburban estate that is the club's meeting place. Gary is nearly as cool, but with dark blue eyes and a physique more like a football tight end. Gary has been a long-time friend of Roger's and was a member of the dot com launch team. He and his wife Bev are part of the spark that became GHH.

Cassie and Parker explained that the idea came from a two-couple evening in the Roger and Carolyn mansion. It was Roger's birthday, and Carolyn asked Bev whether she was cool with their wearing low-cut tennis dresses, braless, with thongs replacing the sports shorts they wore on the court. Both Bev and husband Gary were cool with the idea, weren't even surprised by it, as their relationship had included some fairly bawdy party evenings. They were happy to provide a little something special for a man known to be a lover of visual gifts involving the female form.

The birthday gift succeeded grandly aided by several glasses of wine and sexually focused conversation. Examples: Bev -- a tall brunette who played competitive tennis in college --- turned her backside toward Roger, flipped her hem to her waist and asked, "Roger, can you even tell whether I'm wearing panties if this is all you see?" And a glass of wine or two later, Bev's hem rose again, this time while sitting on a couch across from him. "Roger, would you think it was sexier if I was commando, or do you agree with Gary that taking a girl's panties off is a turn-on?"

Carolyn -- about 5'5", also a brunette but the short-haired perky college cheerleader type -- did not allow her friend to steal the show. She stood, and said, "I want to show you guys an interesting thing about the way this dress is designed. Roger, honey, will you help with my demo?" Roger stood, facing his wife. "Okay," purred Carolyn, her arms pressed against her sides, "slide the straps over my shoulders." And almost instantly, Carolyn was standing before them, naked to the waist. She turned 360 degrees, hands on her head, and said, "See what I mean?"

The next day, while playing tennis on Roger's private court, the men shared details of their red hot after-party sex. They agreed that their wives were unusually hot, and each admitted that the other's wife was a major part of the turn-on. They learned that the wives had an almost identical conversation, and the seeds of the GHH Club were planted.

For over a year, the original foursome played alone, growing increasingly creative with fantasy role-playing. Then, over a three-year period, new members were added, carefully. Jim and I were able to join after a member-couple moved to Atlanta to open a new company. Our oldest member is a youthful 47, the youngest is 28; Jim and I are 34 and 33. We have an African-American couple and the club's culture is equal opportunity to live fantasies for women or men, black or white. Cassie explained individual interests this way: "It's safe to say that all the women are exhibitionists and all the men are voyeurs. A couple of the guys are wave-their-dings exhibitionists, but most do their exhibiting as part of fantasy play, which is good enough for me!"

Chapter 3: BECOMING GHH MEMBERS

On the evening of our first meeting, Gary and I were in our bedroom. He finished dressing while I was in the tub, and was waiting for me in our corner sitting area when I opened the bathroom door. I was wearing my bathrobe; he was looking stylish in tan and blue tennis shorts and shirt. My Jim really is a cool-looking guy in addition to being a great fuck-buddy; something of an Italian-actor look, dark complexion, dark eyes, and an awesome jawline complete with chin cleft. He said, "I want to watch you get dressed." I reminded him it would be awhile, as I had details to handle. "That's okay, I'm happy to wait."

When I returned to the bedroom and let the robe drop to the floor, I could plainly see that he was already happy to see me. Then I told him something that he already knew, as my entire outfit was arranged on the corner of the bed. (Fashion suggestions were made by our sponsor Cassie.) "It won't take me long to dress."

"I know, I've been thinking about that all day."

I shimmied a little on my way to the bed, and slowly put on my snow-white thong. I smiled at him, both of us aware that my nipples had become erect on their own, then turned 360 with my hands on my head. "Look okay?" He smiled back and nodded. I then stretched out the process of putting on the light blue, low-cut tennis dress. It had been carefully chosen: spaghetti straps, hem no more than three inches below my butt cheeks. I spun for him, sending the hem flying. "Do you think it's too short," I asked, frowning as if deeply concerned.

"Yes, way too short but I love it. Awesome legs. Awesome everything."

I gave him a come-to-me hand signal. "I need you to come over here and see if the straps do what they're supposed to do."

Of course, he had heard the story of Roger & Carolyn and Gary & Bev,, so he knew the drill. He and his obvious boner walked toward me. I saw a different kind of lust in his eyes. He put his hands on my shoulders, caressing me beginning at my neck then sliding the straps sideways with continued caresses until the straps went into free-fall. It took one small tug on the dress, and I was standing in front of him topless. He kissed me, deeply, held me tight for a moment, kissed south to my erect nipples, and in the next two minutes, maybe less, my dress was on the floor, my panties were on the floor, Jim was deep inside me, and we were fucking like there was no tomorrow. I was going crazy, moaning, bucking, screaming and we finished the most satisfying quickie of my entire life.

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Until that third Friday in May, we had never been invited to a gated estate, so that part of the experience was an adventure, already enhanced by the continuing bedroom glow. The fact that Jim drove left-handed most of the way helped maintain the glow. His right hand kept reminding me how short the dress was and how flimsy the thong.

We turned into a tree-lined stone access road, entered a passcode in the gate's security system, drove around the main building that seemed almost castle-like and found the rear parking area. From there we could see the tennis court, pool, and manicured lawn and gardens that included a putting green. A red Lamborghini was parked beside three SUVs, Gary's car, we correctly guessed.

We entered through a triple-wide patio door on the lowest level and entered the space that GHH calls The Gathering Place. I guess you'd call it a gigantic rec room. An oversized round glass coffee table was in the center, surrounded by a circular couch and two separate sitting chairs, all burgundy leather. A fully stocked bar dominated one wall, cherry wood it appeared, with eight bar stools padded in matching burgundy leather. Four cocktail-lounge tables were arrayed close to the bar, four chairs per table. A pool table and ping-pong table sat side by side in the section left of the circular table and several casino slot machines and gaming tables were on the bar-side of the room. Jim and I looked at each other in shared amazement. We didn't know what to expect, but something more like bondage hooks and an assortment of blindfolds and play toys seemed likelier than this. We later learned that The Gathering Place is designed for rest and relaxation, including a chance to get to know fellow members as people, not as objects.

Cassie and Parker greeted us as we came through the door and offered to "buy us a glass of wine" before our initiation meeting with the founders. We both chose red, Jim was being sociable. I was happy about the calming effect, as my stomach butterflies were reminding of my first high school class play. "We can give you a mini-tour while walking you up to Roger's study," Cassie explained. "Your time with them is mostly to meet and greet, but they'll explain more about how the club works."

It turned out that The Gathering Place was at the far end of the south wing of the mansion. The hallway leading to the central foyer passes six individual rooms, one was filled with fitness equipment, the other five were designed for fantasy fulfillment, all providing enough room for spectators. The purpose of some of the rooms was easy to identify, even for novices: side-by-side professional massage tables, a normal looking bedroom with king-sized four-poster bed, a bondage table along with a couple strange looking contraptions we assumed allowed unusual body positions. When showing that room, Cassie reminded us that deep pain is not part of the program but studies show that almost everyone secretly loves the idea of struggling against restraints. The largest room looked perfect for gymnast practice drills, nothing but mats. Jim smiled approvingly without even asking a question. It wasn't as clear to me, but he's our resident voyeur and his imagination was working accurately from the start.

As we entered the foyer with its open, three-story ceiling, the decor turned modern, more like we expected for a dot com couple with roots in Silicon Valley. We took the circular stairway to the second floor and were soon being admitted to Roger's study. Cassie said, "Have fun," and winked at me as she turned to leave.

Roger's study has a large work area to the right, with a huge, and uncluttered, glass desk and a round conference table large enough for six. Wall hangings include certificates, diplomas and multiple framed photos featuring easily recognized celebrities, local and national. Roger and Carolyn, Gary and Bev were gathered on a circular couch near a stone fireplace to our left. Jim and I agreed it was like walking onto a Hollywood set. Beautiful place, awesome setting, beautiful people.

Roger smiled a beautiful, but manly, smile and said, "Welcome, we're excited that the two of you will be joining us." My inner little girl was jumping up and down, ready to gush something totally uncool, but I managed a warm smile, and a "Thank you, we're excited, too."

We spent a completely comfortable twenty minutes learning more about each other, but as people with interests, hobbies and causes. Both Carolyn and Bev were fun, funny and articulate. Jim observed later that Carolyn's breasts and Bev's legs and fanny deserved their places in GHH lore. Mostly, though, just beautiful people in all kinds of ways. I was so involved in the conversation that I didn't even think about the role of my outfit, although Jim told me later that I was fully competitive as we sat there on the circular couch.

After the intro talk, Roger smiled directly at me. This smile and his tone had a bit more edge., "We appreciate a wardrobe selection that honors the club's traditions."

"We love the story of the club's traditions," I said honestly; I paused then said, "We wondered if our initiation might involve a re-enactment."

This time Roger's smile was a friend's warm smile. "It's a great thought, but also a chance to talk about the way we want things to work. There are no expectations that would, in effect, coerce your behavior. We're all about living out fantasies, but the fantasies start with you, not me or anyone else.

His eyes scanned from my face to Jim's as he shifted to a teaching mode. "And fantasies can be a couple's fantasy or your individual fantasy, as long as both of you agree. If the fantasy includes a third person, that's fine as long as the other spouse agrees. If it includes another couple, they must agree, obviously. If more than two people are involved, same approval rules apply. And any fantasy can include spectators or not, your choice."

Gary laughed out loud as he interrupted. "As long as you can find someone who wants to watch." Then he went serious. "Usually that's no problem at all, but I'm sure Cassie told you that we're pretty straightforward people. You can find our stuff in any 'top ten fantasies' list...not in the kinks and fetishes."

"Any question?" asked Roger.

Jim and I looked at each other and shook our heads. "No," Jim said, "Just a big thank you for the invitation."

Gary and Bev walked to a side table and brought back glasses of champagne. "Here's to an exciting new phase of your lives," said Roger, as we raised glasses.

We drank our champagne. Gary said, "Okay, kids, go have fun."

As we walked toward the door, I said, over my shoulder, "Hey, Roger."

"Yes?"

"This is because I want to..." I flipped my dress to my waist. "Can you tell whether I'm wearing panties?"

All four founders rewarded my performance with hearty laughter, and Jim and I had a new reason to glow as members of the Go Home Hot Club.

Chapter 4: EARLY ADVENTURE

Our first observed fantasy starred Pamela, the blonde and beautiful wife of Christopher our most studious-looking member. Her fantasy partner was Douglas, half of our black couple, at least 6'4', lean and muscled. For this fantasy, Pamela's husband Christopher was initiator but would be with us in the spectator row. Douglas was cast as a college-level teacher of modern dance. Pamela was his student, previewing an original number that she had created herself.

Of course, this was a great example of how the mat room could be used. Five of us were spectating from a row of chairs lined up against a side wall. Exotic music was playing. They began with Pamela dancing alone while Douglas watched, using a chair borrowed from the spectator row. Her skirt was short, with deep side slits. Her top was more like a bikini than a blouse or even a tube top. Her panties were barely-there white bikinis. In a dance that lasted maybe three minutes, she made every provocative move that I have ever thought of making...with my legs, my ass, or my panties...and her dance even found two reasons -- more or less plausible -- for complete if temporary breast-baring.

Douglas the actor was clearly reacting physically, as was Douglas the dark-skinned GHH member who was wearing a tight black sports shirt over black dancer yoga pants. At the end of the number, he approached her as she waited expectantly for his review. He told her that he would demonstrate how she could have improved one of the dance moves.

While he worked from behind her, he initially appeared to be sincerely guiding her toward more effective moves, but his hands had soon moved to places above and below her abdomen that were clearly not related to dance. She began to visibly respond, then seemed to realize what was happening physically. She said "No, stop... please stop now..." but nothing about her body language or facial expression said that she meant it.

"I can't stop," confessed her instructor. "You have blown my mind completely." His hands worked harder, now sliding under her bra.

"No, please, no..." the blonde dancer pleads again while trying to stop his hands, but leaning backward into him for support. And for the next three minutes she fights, but more and more hopelessly, to hold him back, first losing the battle to protect her breasts, then sinking to the floor, unable to stand on her own.

I checked the reactions of my fellow spectators. Of course, Jim looked like someone had given him first-row seats at the Super Bowl. His boner was obvious, but not as obvious as Christopher's who was stroking himself through his slacks while looking genuinely pained at the now certain fate of his wife.

In the fantasy's final scene she is on her back, bikini top gone, skirt around her waist, Douglas' hand is in her panties, owning her His hands move to the waistband of her panties. She pleads one more time, "No, please, my husband couldn't handle it if he could see you doing...." Her voice trails off while she tries to hold onto the waistband of her panties, but he's far too strong. She loses her panties. He spreads her, his face goes between her legs, and she lasts for maybe a minute, still pleading "No.. no...oh God...my husband can't...". And he finishes her in an orgasmic moment that lasted an incredibly long time and left her, legs spread, thighs quivering, trying to catch her breath. Douglas stands over her, as conqueror. Christopher rushes from his spectator chair to his wife, falling to his knees consoling her while he tries to pull her skirt down and retrieve her panties and bra.

Jim loved it so much that he begged for a blowjob while we drove home. I reminded him that if people aren't supposed to text while driving, they definitely aren't supposed to get blowjobs... and that the first H in GHH stands for 'home,' so we managed to wait for the fireworks to really begin. I was surprised, almost embarrassed, by how much I got into the dance fantasy. My panties were soaked. Jim asked me whether Douglas being black made the story even more erotic. I dodged the question with a "Hmm, I'll need to think about that." And I did think about that, as you'll see. That night, I went home hot, big time.

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Another of our spectator-role shows was a boyhood fantasy come true for Jim who had been influenced forever by an experience he had never told me about. The credit or blame, he says goes to sixth-grade classmates, Marnie and Margie, who got into a cat fight on the playground and wound up in a wrestling match that became a tangle of flying skirts, bare legs and flashing panties. Over twenty years later, Jim remembers that Marnie's panties were light blue and Margie's were white with a red butterfly on her left hip.

The selected fantasy stars were Bev and Carolyn, which surprised me because I had thought of them as a form of loyalty who might not join us common folks in the arena. Costumes can be provided by the originator of a fantasy, and in this case Bev and Carolyn wore nothing but men's t-shirts emblazoned "Go for the O" and their personal choice of panties. Both chose thongs, black for Bev, white for Carolyn. Gary had requested the fantasy. Of course, Roger agreed, and everyone found front row seats for this one, actually everyone except Alicia and Hap who exercised their right to not 'be into girl-girl.'

The loser would be the woman forced to orgasm by the winner. Of course Jim was in seventh heaven as legs and ass were the star of the show, at first. They fought realistically, circling on the mat, making tentative leg grabs, until successful in taking the opponent to the mat where the Big O t-shirts did nothing to cover anything from waist down. It was a battle gradually won by the taller, stronger Bev, who pinned Carolyn's arms while pulling the t-shirt up, over her head, and over her outstretched arms, Carolyn struggled to escape the pin, but it was quickly evident that Bev understood the key to victory. She caressed, kissed, and tongued Carolyn's breasts, and Carolyn's vulnerability to breast contact could soon be seen on her face. The struggling weakened; she closed her eyes and almost seemed to be waiting.