The Freyja Club

I dropped Karen off at her house and gave her a long warm goodbye kiss before I slid behind the wheel of my 1983 Chrysler LeBaron for the two-hour drive home.

We had just returned from a two-week vacation in Wyoming and Idaho that had proven to be a welcome break for both of us. We had fucked and sucked one another from Jackson Hole to Coeur d'Alene and had experienced all of nature's wonders in between.

We had been involved romantically for about three years, and as I headed south on I-81 toward my own home, my mind was busy thinking about the last two weeks and what future Karen and I might have together.

Twelve years previously, Karen and I had been co-workers in my company. At the time, she was an emerging talent in our human relations group and she and I often worked together on potential corporate acquisitions. Even though I remember being attracted to her back then, I had a strict rule against entering into an office affair.

Subsequently, Karen left to start her own HR consulting company and we lost contact. That all changed three years ago when, by chance, we ran into one another in the same hotel in, of all places, Hong Kong.

China was just beginning to open its economy to Western investments, which was why I was there, but many Chinese businessmen were also coming to the United States. Karen had found an opportunity to put on seminars for these people on American culture and business practices. Hong Kong was still under British rule, and in those early days, was the preferred 'neutral site' where such meetings were typically held.

Our unexpected reunion in the hotel had led to drinks, dinner, more drinks, some confessions on both sides of long-ago feelings of affection, more drinks, a hesitant kiss which triggered longer kisses and mounting arousal. We made love in my hotel room only because all of Karen's carefully prepared handouts were scattered over her bed.

Karen was still married to her husband Steve, but apparently, they had been separated for about a year. It seemed that a divorce was imminent, but it wasn't a topic that she wanted to discuss. She told me that I was her first lover since their breakup and from the passion, we both brought to the bedroom, I could believe it. It was the start of an affair that was now entering its third year.

Karen and I both understood that our current relationship wasn't exclusive. Neither of us asked about attractions to other people and we seemed to be okay with that arrangement. I hadn't mentioned the Freyja Club to her mostly because I had signed a nondisclosure agreement. However, I wasn't sure I would have anyway.

While Karen was sexually uninhibited in the bedroom and was a wonderful lover, I saw little in her personality that would lead me to believe that a hedonic lifestyle was her cup of tea. Under the rules of the club, I could submit her name and have a background check run so that she could accompany me as a "guest," but by the time I turned into my own driveway, I had decided that might be premature.

It had been over a month since I'd last visited the club in Washington, but it wasn't on the top of my list. Karen had done a yeoman's job of ensuring that I was well drained and my libido was bouncing along near the bottom of the scale, but the club's existence and availability was always percolating in the back of my mind. I knew that it was only a matter of time before I would succumb to its lure, but I was surprised at how it happened.

Three days later, I was sitting in my office when my secretary informed me that I had a call from a Mrs. Logan, did I want to take the call? I said yes, and a few seconds later I was speaking with Jennifer.

As I've previously recounted, Jennifer Logan and I had a steamy four-year affair and she and her husband Steve (a different Steve than Karen's Steve) had initially recommended me for membership in the Freyja Club. Later, when I had passed through New York after my initiation in Paris, Jennifer had met me at the club there and we'd made love for the first time in four years. Of course, I was anxious to speak with her.

It turned out that Jennifer was calling primarily about a professional matter, but with her, there was always an undercurrent of sexual promise in any conversation between her and me.

For the last ten years, Jennifer had been working as the head buyer for a large clothing company (you would recognize the name). She was scheduling a trip to Washington and wanted to know if I could help her with a problem she was having in importing a line of clothing from Ecuador. Jennifer knew that I had developed multiple contacts inside the Federal Trade Commission, and was wondering if any of those could be of assistance. When I asked her when she was coming and where she was staying, she said, "Next Thursday, and at the Freyja Club Hotel. I would be most appreciative of any help." The very thought of an appreciative Jennifer made my cock firm in my pants.

I'll not try to describe all of the machinations that were involved in resolving the problem with Jennifer's Ecuadorian supplier, suffice to say that in international trade matters, there are Byzantine rules, and it depends on how a product is classified as to which rule or, it in this case, a tariff applied. It only took two days, but it was resolved. Now it was time to see how Jennifer was going to show her appreciation.

I had wanted to join Jennifer on Thursday, but a previous commitment made that impossible. Plus, I wouldn't be of any help in the actual resolution of the issue, so it wasn't until about 6 p.m. on Friday that I got to the Freyja Club Hotel and learned how the tariff problem had been resolved.

Jennifer answered the knock on her hotel room door and when she opened it, I noticed that she was as beautiful as ever. At 42, she was six years my junior, but women much younger than her would have loved to have Jennifer's figure and complexion.

At 5'5" and 125 pounds her figure which sported wonderfully soft 36C breasts was electric, but her short blond hair and black-rimmed glasses gave her a professional look that belied what I knew to be an absolute slut lying just beneath. Jennifer and her husband Steve had agreed to an 'open marriage,' and I knew that both had taken full advantage of that and, among others, I had been a lucky beneficiary.

Not one for small talk, Jennifer was immediately in my arms and our lips met in a long soulful kiss, just as I remembered. Our tongues played out a little dance just tip to tip as if to affirm the fact that we were no strangers to one another. Jennifer was dressed in a nicely tailored lavender-colored skirt and I could see the matching jacket thrown over a nearby chair. Her light blue silk blouse buttoned to her throat and sported a tie that fell between her rather prominent breasts which, during our kiss, my right hand was busy fondling and squeezing.

"Mmmm... missed you," I sensed her mumble into my mouth as our lips remained locked. I missed her too. I had often thought that if Jennifer wasn't so much in love with her husband that she and I might have had a future together, but I knew that would never be.

I was sorely tempted to escalate the passion that was rapidly building in my loins as I became aware of Jennifer's perfume. 'Crystal Noir' never failed to spur my arousal and I wondered whether it was just its awesome aroma or the fact that it triggered so many memories of the times the woman wearing it and I had shared our bodies and, sometimes our souls, in sexual union over the years. It was a tough call, but I decided that I should wine and dine this wonderful creature and get caught up on what happened before further carnal activity. It was early and I did plan to make it a long night.

"Mmmm, nice," I offered as we broke our kiss. "If anything, you get sexier every time I see you."

"Ah, the flattery. I remember that you're very good with that." Jennifer smiled as she dropped her eyes as if she was a shy and blushing teenager, but I was well aware that it was just an act. Jennifer Logan was a self-confessed sex addict.

"Tell you what, I know a great restaurant that's only a couple of blocks away. How about we go have a few drinks and dinner, and you can give me a blow-by-blow of your issue with the FTC?" Since both of us were appropriately dressed, it only required Jen to fetch her jacket for us to be on our way.

The Colonial Inn was located at the end of a short alley off of M Street and truthfully was more of a bar than a restaurant, but I had eaten there before and I knew Jen would like it. As the name implied, the decor was early Federalist with rich carved paneling and subdued lighting. The twelve or so tables were nestled into several coves and offered a fair amount of privacy. We found one and sat with our backs to the wall. As we did, I noticed that the aroma of 'Crystal Noir' was even more noticeable in the enclosed space and my libido jumped several notches.

I had seen that Jen had adjusted her skirt as she sat down and I knew from experience that it was for my benefit. With the hem of her skirt resting at about mid-thigh, my hand discovered smooth naked female flesh when I placed it on her leg under the table. At my touch, Jennifer turned and smiled and covered my hand with her own, and squeezed her approval. I was able to caress her a couple of times before a waitress appeared to take a drink order. Jen opted for a "Sex on the Beach," and I smiled at her choice and followed her lead.

For the next hour and a half, I learned how Jen and the FTC contact that I'd given her had located the appropriate bureaucrat and had resolved the tariff issue that had been in question. In my experience working with the Federal Government, I noted that she experienced something rare in Washington. A real-time reversal of a decision. Normally, such matters always required endless submissions to a higher authority. As I well knew, the first thought and act of any bureaucrat was first to cover their ass. I didn't think I was out of line when I inquired if Jennifer had 'greased the skids' with an offer of a blowjob. Jen laughed at the suggestion but admitted that it could have been a fallback option. She said the guy was 'cute' and it wouldn't have been much of a sacrifice. I gave her leg another squeeze to indicate that I understood.

The rest of the meal seemed to go quickly as well spent the time catching up with our lives since we'd last been together in New York. I told her about my emergency trip to Japan and my experience at the Freyja Club there and my tryst with Michelle and her husband Tom on my return. She told me that she and Steve were still going to the New York Club about twice a month and that she'd broken off the affair she'd been having with an airline pilot. When I asked why, she just said that he'd gotten a little too possessive. I assumed that the poor guy just didn't understand that while Jen was 'sexually available,' her love for her husband didn't make her 'available' as a permanent partner. She was effusive in thanking me for my help with the FTC and as dinner ended we discussed what we wanted to do next.

There was, of course, the option of just taking her back to the hotel, stripping her bare, and fucking her brains out and when I felt her hand reach into my lap and fondle my semi-erect dick, I strongly considered it. The second option was, of course, the club. Jen had never been to the Washington club and I was anxious to show her around and introduce her to some of the people I'd met. That seemed to be her preference too and I rationalized that the 'edging' that I was sure the club would provide might make a subsequent sexual union even more memorable.

A half-hour later, I found myself sitting on one of the couches outside the Swan door waiting for Jen to disrobe. The "iron rule" in the Freyja Club was that all females on the premises must be naked. In Jen's case, I knew that she regarded this as an attractive feature. She loved to be nude and welcomed the adoring gazes she got from both sexes. A moment later she emerged and paused as she entered the club proper. I quickly looked around and saw that she was the center of attention for those in the area, just as I predicted. I particularly liked the envious looks I received when she walked up and kissed me full on the mouth. Just to rub it in for the benefit of the onlookers, I reached up and lifted one of her flawless breasts and weighed it in my hand before pinching her rose-colored nipple. With our lips still locked, I felt Jen chuckle.

When she broke the kiss, I whispered in her ear, "I see you've been busy with the razor again." Jennifer looked down and slid a finger across her clean-shaven cunt and wedged it into her slit. "Mmmm," she murmured, "I thought you might like the look." I quickly responded that I loved all of her looks, but that her bare pubes were a particularly arousing surprise. I wondered if she was brazen enough to lick the finger that had just penetrated her crease, but she refrained.

There were quite a few couples in the club, but that was to be expected on a Friday night. As I walked her in the direction of the bar, I couldn't help but feel proud as a naked Mrs. Jennifer Logan walked beside me, her hips rolling in that most feminine way with every step. On the way, I started to describe the general layout of the club. In many ways, it was similar to New York but didn't have quite the grand entrance of that location, but like New York, the bar and restaurant were on the main floor with the 'activity' spaces above. Of course, the hotel, which was accessed by a separate entrance, was on the top floor.

Several people were sitting at the bar and one that I immediately recognized was Nancy. She was sitting with another woman who I didn't know, but when she saw us, I saw her wave us to the two empty seats next to her. I guided Jen in their direction and introductions were made all around.

I hadn't seen Nancy since we had a memorable encounter in the club some months previously and as we approached she rose off her seat and gave me quite a nice welcome kiss. Jen just smiled as if Nancy's display of affection was perfectly normal. Then, for the next fifteen minutes, Nancy and I recounted how we had briefly met in a professional capacity at the Canadian Embassy only to surprise each other a few hours later by meeting again at the Freyja Club. Sometimes we ended up talking over one another, and with each comment, the ridiculousness of the coincidence caused laughter all around, including from Nancy's companion, whose name I learned was Wendy.

Of course, as Nancy had told me before, her favorite activity at the club was the nightly fellatio event which was held in the 'orgy room.' When we had first met in the club, she had invited me to participate and I had experienced my first public ejaculation into this lady's mouth. Jen was quick to add that she sometimes participated in a similar event in New York and before I could say anything, all three women agreed to participate later in the evening. Jen quickly looked at me as if she was silently asking if I approved, but I just smiled and nodded. I had never actually seen Jen when she was sexually involved with another person, so if she was prepared to suck a few cocks while I watched, I was game.

Nancy, picking up the conversation, also confided that she generally preferred oral sex to intercourse, a fact to which I could attest, since when my car ended up being locked in the underground garage at the Canadian Embassy, Nancy had taken me to her condo and we'd fucked in her bed. It wasn't terrible by any means, and Nancy certainly gave it the old college try, but it wasn't memorable. Her mouth, on the other hand, was 'world class.'

The Freyja Club doesn't generally make announcements. Instead, they use musical cues to signal when their events are ready to begin. It was a bit after ten p.m. when we heard the bars that indicated that the fellatio session was ready to start, so we got up as a group and headed toward the stairs leading to the second level. By design, I followed the women and enjoyed the view of three wonderfully rounded female asses as they climbed the steps.

The format of the event is pretty straightforward. There are several chairs set around the perimeter of the orgy room where the women sit, and they 'service' the men one at a time. Occasionally, a man may also sit down and there was one of them this evening. Usually, the spectators outnumber the participants and as I was going to save myself for later, I joined the group close to Jennifer.

I chuckled when I saw about eight men get into line in front of Jen's chair and I assumed that everyone wanted to try out the 'new girl.' Jen glanced down the growing line and then held up three fingers. The first three men smiled, while the rest grumbled and then scattered to other women. I had made very few male acquaintances in the club, so I didn't know any of the guys who were going to enjoy Jen's mouth.

The first man bore a striking resemblance to my tax accountant. He was slim and balding and his circumcised cock, which was similar to mine, but a tad thinner, hung limply. Jen motioned him forward and took him in her hand. She looked up and said something that I didn't catch, but he smiled, so I gathered that Jen was putting him at ease. She played with him for a couple of minutes and it seemed that her stroking and the warmth of her hand was having the desired effect. His dick had hardened and Jen was ready to move to the next level.

She pressed forward and used butterfly kisses along his shaft. When she got to the base, she lifted his penis and exposed his clean-shaven balls which she caressed with her fingers before taking one into her mouth and rolling it with her tongue and lips. It was a technique that was familiar since I had been on the receiving end of that move multiple times.

While Jen was engaged in lighting Mr. Accountant's fire, I glanced to my left where Wendy already had her client shaft buried deep in her mouth. From where I stood, I hadn't seen his endowment, so I didn't know whether I should be impressed by Wendy's performance. What did impress me, however, was the look on her face. Her eyes were closed, but it appeared that she was savoring the taste and feel of the male member that was filling her mouth. I had seen that look before, and I knew that only natural-born cock suckers had it. I had only just met her about an hour ago, but I made a mental note to seek her out on some future visit. I couldn't see Nancy, but a group behind me was cheering loudly and I would be willing to bet that she was the cause.

When my attention returned to Jen, I saw that her cheeks were ballooning as a now hard dick pushed from inside her mouth. His shaft was wet with her saliva and precum as her red lips ovaled around it. From the look on his face, I estimated that he couldn't last for more than a few more seconds. Once Jen looked in my direction and I made it a point to give her a thumbs-up gesture. Inwardly, I felt a small pang of jealousy and betrayal, but it passed quickly as reason asserted itself and pushed the irrational emotion back where it belonged.

When I saw Jennifer's eyes widen and observed her throat pulsing, I knew that she was swallowing a load. The cock was still buried in her mouth, but the man's body was trembling and he'd balled his fists as the pleasure of his release hit him. Jen had grasped him around the butt and was assisting him with the final few thrusts as he emptied himself down her throat.

When he was finished, Jen removed his rapidly deflating penis and gave him one last kiss on the head before looking up. I couldn't see any evidence of his spending on her lips or tongue, so it appeared that it had all ended up down her throat. Jen glanced again in my direction before the next guy in line stepped forward.