Behind The Wall Pt 02

"Behind the Wall" - Florida Escape Pt.02

The next morning

Carol and I sat quietly at breakfast, not from awkwardness, but because we were both still absorbing what had unfolded behind that velvet curtain the night before. Something had shifted in us. Something unspoken, raw, and electrifying. Whatever restraint had existed before, it had been stripped away, leaving us more open... and more connected.

Carol was radiant. There was a new light in her eyes, a relaxed confidence in her body, like she'd uncorked something primal. Something she liked.

Since the night at the club, I couldn't stop touching her, her fine ass, her hips, her wrists, the back of her neck. She leaned into it each time, with a slow smile and a softness that told me she was still playing in the energy of what we'd experienced. So was I.

By early evening, she was lounging on the hotel bed, her hair wrapped in a towel, legs curled beneath her. She looked over at me with that glint I was beginning to recognize as something dangerous... and irresistible.

"That club," she said, drawing out the words, "was so damn hot."

I chuckled. "You liked it that much did you?"

"I think we both did," she replied, her voice dipping. "I saw something on a brochure by the front desk. There's another part of the club. It's called The Red Room."

I turned toward her. "What kind of room?"

She bit her lip, then read from memory: "It says For voyeurs and exhibitionists only."

She gave me a slow, wicked grin. "Doesn't that sound... delicious?"

I swallowed. My body responded before my mouth could.

"You're serious?"

She nodded, her towel slipping slightly as she leaned forward. "I think I am. Last night was fun but what if we let the line blur even more?"

"I am not sure what that means but if it means more fun I am all in." I said.

That was all it took. By 9 p.m., we were back in the car, the city lights behind us, heading back to the club, this time for something we didn't yet have a name for, but we were both excited.

We approached the front desk to pay the cover charge. The hostess recognized us from the night before and gave us a knowing smile. We asked her about the red room.

The hostess leaned in, voice low and playful. "The Red Room," she said, "is tucked behind a velvet rope and a keypad-protected door. Private, exclusive... and clothing optional. All we needed to do is sign a waiver and a little permission form. Then we're in."

Carol's eyes sparkled with mischief.

A flutter of nerves hit me, followed quickly by heat.

She took my hand, and together we approached the check-in desk, where a discreet attendant slid two forms across the counter. Carol signed first without hesitation. I followed with a hand that was just slightly less steady.

Carol wore a black wrap dress, simple, elegant, and revealing just enough to make every step deliberate. I knew what she wasn't wearing underneath. I'd asked her to go without, like I had many times before. It never got old, knowing that beneath that soft fabric, there was nothing but her. Just skin. Just invitation.

I wore black slacks, no underwear either, the excitement of the night already pressing against the inside of the fabric. The atmosphere of the club made everything feel heightened, the low lighting, the quiet music, the occasional clink of glasses and hushed voices. We had found a seat near the back of the room where we could observe without being too obvious.

In front of us was the centerpiece of The Red Room: a low, elevated platform, like a performance stage, framed in crimson curtains and bathed in soft spotlights. There were no performers, yet. But the setup was clear: this was a place where couples could choose to be seen.

We sat in silence for a while, letting the atmosphere settle around us. Other guests milled about in various stages of undress, some whispering in corners, others watching the stage area like they were waiting for something to begin.

Then Carol leaned into me, her lips brushing my ear.

"I want to go up there," she whispered. "On that stage. With you."

I turned to her, stunned. "Damn girl you're out there. Are you sure?"

Her smile was calm, radiant. Her eyes glittered with both nerves and heat. "I want to make love to you while the audience watches. I want to show them how real couples fuck."

I swallowed hard.

She placed her hand on my thigh and gave a playful squeeze. "And I want them to watch us making love.

I didn't answer her right away. I couldn't. My throat was dry, my pulse thudding in my ears. The idea of stepping into that light, of being watched, exposed, witnessed in the most intimate way, thrilled me and terrified me in equal measure.

But Carol? OMG, she looked totally calm. Charged. Like a woman not just ready to be seen, but ready to be desired.

She laced her fingers through mine. "Come on," she said gently, her voice low and warm. "With me."

We stood together.

A few nearby heads turned as we made our way hand in hand toward the stage. Not rushed. Just deliberate. Curious eyes followed us. The soft thrum of background music faded behind the weight of every step.

The stage wasn't high, just enough of a rise to make sure everyone could see. The floor beneath us was warm underfoot, soft with some kind of velvet or suede. Overhead, a dim spotlight cast a glow like candlelight across the platform.

Carol removed her heels and climbed up first.

She paused at the center, facing the audience, and slowly untied her black wrap dress. The dress slipped from her shoulders, and with one fluid motion, she let it slide down her body and pool at her feet. She stood there for a heartbeat, nude, proud, perfectly still, bathed in gold light.

Murmurs rippled through the room. Not loud, just the quiet acknowledgment of something striking, something brave.

She turned and extended her hand to me.

I removed my loafers and socks and took her hand.

I stepped up beside Carol. We faced each other for a long moment, no words, just heat between us. Then she guided me down to the mattress set at the center of the stage, framed by soft red curtains that moved gently with the air.

She straddled my lap and kissed me with possession. Like I was hers to enjoy. She unzipped my slacks wrapped her hands around my cock.

"Good boy," she whispered. "Always ready."

She pushed me back and pulled off my pants and unbuttoned my shirt leaving me naked on stage with her. Then she straddled me, her hips just hovering. I reached up, cupping her tits, kissing both nipples as she rolled her hips.

I could see she was getting into the fact that everyone was watching us.

As I kissed her neck, she leaned back, exposing her pussy to the room, moaning softly as I traced my fingers between her legs and began massaging her clit.

Her pussy was already dripping wet. The sounds of other couples grew louder, watching us. In the shadows you could almost see them touching themselves, some masturbating as they watched, mirroring our desire.

Carol did not hesitate, she guided my cock into her pussy and slowly sat down on me, moaning so loudly it echoed. The room around us blurred. The curtains swayed. Her body moved like it belonged on display, beautiful.

Our rhythm deepened, our bodies melting together. I looked around the room, every pair of eyes locked on Carol, watching her fuck me in cowgirl style, watching her claim this moment as hers.

Her moans turned to gasps, her nails dug into my chest. Her body began to shake. I knew full well she was about to cum.

"Gawd, Oh my gawd, I'm coming," she announced to our audience. "I want t them watch me cum for you."

And she did.

With my name on her lips.

The applause was soft but real.

Carol leaned down, resting her forehead against mine, our bodies slick and trembling.

After a few minutes, she rolled off me, laughing breathlessly.

"We just fucked in front of strangers," she said.

I grinned. "And you made every one of them jealous."

We hugged and got dressed and left the stage wandering slowly back to the front desk.

The Mirrored Room

The hostess greeted us and ask us if we were new to the area. We replied that we were on a mini vacation and lived in Central Florida. "You two make a cutest couple. If you enjoyed the red room then you two might also enjoy the Mirror Room tonight," she said with a glint in her eye.

Carol winked at her. "Sure, what do we need to do to experience that?"

The hostess smiled and handed us a silk blindfold and a room keycard with a bronze trim. "The Mirror room is just to the left of the Red Room. You can't miss it."

Carol looked at me with intrigue. "Mirrors?" she asked.

"Mirrors," I repeated, already half hard.

The room was long and low-lit, its walls lined with tilted mirrors that created infinite reflections. A raised cushioned bench stood in the center, framed by soft spotlights. You couldn't enter this room without being seen from all angles.

Carol stepped in first. She wore a simple black silk dress, her heels clicking lightly on the hardwood. She turned to face me, a question in her eyes.

"You trust me?" I asked.

She nodded. "Always."

I gently tied the blindfold around her head. The moment it settled in place, she exhaled. Vulnerable. Open. Radiant. I removed her dress from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor.

She stood naked with her back to the largest mirror, then slowly slid down until she was seated on the bench. Her legs opened slightly, pussy visible. I sat behind her, our reflections multiplying endlessly in every direction.

"They can see you, baby," I whispered into her ear. "They're watching how beautiful you are. How aroused you are. How amazing your shaved pussy looks."

Her breath quickened. I guided her hand to the space between her thighs. "Touch your pussy for them," I said. "Let them see what I get to worship every night."

She obeyed. Her fingers circled her clit slowly at first. Her head tilted back against my shoulder. Her hips moved in rhythm.

Moans filled the mirrored space, her reflection revealing everything, every flick of her wrist, every soft tremble of her stomach.

I reached my hand around between her legs and began inserting one finger, then two, then three fingers into her wet pussy while she continued rubbing her clit. Her legs began shaking and her toes curled on the floor.

Fast and furiously she orgasm came, it was like a wave, breaking in slow motion. The mirrors caught every second. She squirted her beautiful fluid on the bench and floor. I held her through it, whispering, praising, watching her fall apart for a room full of strangers, and for herself.

When we had finished, we heard some cheers coming from the adjacent mirrored room.

She dressed.

No sooner had we left the mirrored room than we heard club music playing. We wandered in the direction of the music. Soon we found the dance floor, bathed in soft, amber light. Some couples moved together, hips pressed, bare skin glowing with sweat and arousal. Various stages of undress.

Carol tugged my hand, her eyes shining beneath the colored lights. "Dance with me, baby."

The music pulsed low and slow, bass-heavy and sensual. I let her lead me to the edge of the dance floor, where the light was dim and the shadows did most of the flirting. We moved together, no choreography, no formality, just heat and instinct.

She pressed her back into my chest, her ass nestling into my hips as her arms reached back around my neck, anchoring me to her. I wrapped my hands around her waist, fingers slipping beneath the silk of her wrap dress. We weren't dancing so much as melting, bodies syncing to the beat, swaying in slow, deliberate rhythm.

Carol reached for the tie at her hip and undid it in a fluid motion, letting the fabric fall away. Her naked body glowed under the ambient light, and she wore nothing except her black high heels. Gasps were audible, though polite from the nearby onlookers.

My hands roamed her bare ass, her thighs, her hips, memorizing the feel of her while her body rolled gently against mine.

Then I felt her shift.

She pulled slightly away and turned to face me, but before she could press in again, another body slid between us, a woman, full-figured, with smoky eyes and dark, shoulder-length curls. She didn't ask. She didn't need to.

She stepped up to Carol, their bodies brushing, their curves aligning. One of her hands grazed Carol's hip, trailing down to gently cup her ass. The other found Carol's arm, slow and confident.

Carol looked surprised but not startled. Her breath caught, and then she smiled.

Their breasts touched. They swayed in unison, eyes locked. The woman leaned forward and whispered something into Carol's ear. Whatever it was, it made Carol laugh, soft and sultry.

Then she nodded.

Carol placed her lips on the woman's shoulder, light, reverent, then kissed higher, along the collarbone, until her mouth found the curve of the stranger's neck. Her lips lingered there. The woman's eyes fluttered closed.

I stood behind Carol, my hands still resting on her hips, grounding her. She leaned back into me for a moment, then turned fully toward the other woman, lifting her chin and kissing her, deep, unhurried, and open.

Their tongues met like old lovers reuniting. No hesitation. No shame. I felt Carol's body shift under my hands as they kissed, as if opening more completely between us both.

I pressed against her from behind, hands now moving across her stomach, along her ribs. Her skin was warm and responsive, her breathing fast but steady. The woman's hand grazed mine as we held her together, danced together.

We swayed for what felt like forever, three bodies locked in rhythm, in heat, in something almost ceremonial.

Eventually, Carol broke the kiss and turned her head to brush her lips against mine. A kiss passed like a secret. Then she turned again, taking both of our hands in hers.

She led us off the dance floor, naked and barefoot now, heels in hand, toward a low velvet couch tucked into the shadow of a tall curtain. We sank into it together, her in the middle, the two of us on either side.

The woman kissed her again, this time slower, deeper. I caressed Carol's thighs, tracing the curve of her legs. She moaned softly, alive with sensation, her body arched between us.

Both women were bare. There was nothing rushed about it. We explored only what the moment invited. Nothing more.

The three of us sat tangled in that velvet nest for what felt like a small eternity, kissing, touching, breathing in each other's warmth. Carol, radiant and open, was the center of it all. The object of two hungers. The giver of hers.

Eventually, the woman stood, gave Carol one last kiss, and without a word, disappeared into the low light and soft murmurs of the room.

Carol leaned into me, flushed and glowing.

"I've never felt more... desirable," she whispered.

Neither had I.

Our next stop that night was the Velvet Booth. The hostess explained it simply: "You go in, you choose the screen setting, and if the curtain's drawn halfway, gloved touch is allowed. No faces. No words. Just hands."

Carol's eyes lit up. "OH baby, I want to try it," she said.

We stepped inside. The booth was lined with burgundy cushions and silk. Low lights glowed like candlelight. Carol let her robe drop, laying back on the bench, her arms above her head. I tied the blindfold gently over her eyes again.

I stepped back and drew the curtain halfway.

Moments later, the gloved hands began. One pair touched her thighs, another traced her tits. Soft, deliberate movements. She gasped, more in surprise than fear.

"You're in control," I whispered. "You say stop, they stop."

She moaned, arching into the touch. One hand cupped her tits, another traced her stomach down between her legs tracing the lips of her shaved pussy. She whimpered as her pussy was on fire from the teasing hands.

Her legs trembled. Her hips rocked. I kissed her bare foot, then her knee, staying close while unknown hands worshipped her.

When she came, it was quiet. A long, trembling sigh and a whispered, "Yes."

The curtain closed fully. The hands disappeared.

I sat beside her, removed the blindfold, and kissed her forehead. Her eyes fluttered open--full of wonder, wildness, and love.

"Thank you," she whispered.

It was just after midnight when we wandered into one of the club's upper lounges, a dim, plush room with leather seating, low music, and walls draped in velvet. The lighting was low, casting everyone in warm gold and soft shadow.

We were sipping wine when a very attractive and friendly couple approached.

"Evening! My name is Phil, and this is my lovely wife, Jenny. Mind if we join you?"

"Hello, loves. I'm Jenny. Looks like you're too much fun."

Carol looked up, intrigued. "Please," she said, and motioned to the seats beside us.

"Were from Europe," he said, extending a hand to me. "Having a bit of vacation fun."

Jenny smiled, a striking woman in her late forties, voluptuous and radiant, with wavy blond hair that curled over her shoulders and eyes full of mischief. Her accent was soft, English. Her dress was tight, clinging to her curves, showing every reason heads turned when she walked in.

"I was a dancer once," she said after a few minutes of conversation. "In Manchester, England... all over. I used to tease diplomats before they went home to their wives."

Carol laughed. "That sounds like a book I'd want to read."

Jenny leaned in and whispered something in Carol's ear. Whatever it was, it made Carol blush and then laugh again.

Without warning, Jenny rose and sauntered to the open space near the curtain. She looked over her shoulder.

"Would you like to see what I used to perform on stage?"

Phil chuckled. "Be careful. You'll fall in love."

Jenny swayed to the music, slow, hypnotic. Every movement was precise but dripping with sensuality. Her hips moved in perfect rhythm, her hands gliding over her curves, lifting the hem of her dress just enough to reveal the tops of her thighs. The room faded around her. Every eye belonged to her.

When she finished, the four of us were mesmerized.

Phil reached for Carol's hand, brushing his fingers over her wrist.

Jenny slipped back beside me and gently laid her hand on my thigh.

That spark between us? It turned to fire.

Carol glanced at me. I saw the permission in her eyes. The yes.

Phil looked to Jenny. "Shall we all find a private room in the club?"

Jenny smiled. "Yes. Let's be... adventurous."

We found a private suite, plush bed, soft lighting, chilled wine waiting.

Carol and I undressed together, her skin glowing, her eyes locked on mine.

Across the room, Phil helped Jenny out of her dress, revealing her full, curvy form and black lace lingerie beneath. She was exquisite, confident, elegant, and completely at ease in her own body.

We all met at the edge of the bed.

No awkwardness. Just hunger.

Phil kissed Carol slowly, pulling her close, while Jenny stepped into my arms, her lips brushing mine.

It was electric.

Clothes slipped away. The four of us melted into the sheets, bodies entwined, hands exploring, moans rising.

Phil and Carol found rhythm quickly, their chemistry undeniable. She gasped as he lifted her leg over his hip, thrusting his hard cock into her pussy with steady intensity.

Jenny moaned into my neck as I entered her, her hips rolling with practiced ease, her fingers digging into my back.

We moved through each other like music, changing partners, shifting positions, tasting, exploring, surrendering.

Carol rode Phil while I rode Jenny from behind. Then we swapped again, bodies slick and tangled, lips finding lips, hands everywhere.

The room echoed with breathless cries, the slap of skin, the sighs of four people lost in pleasure.