Winstons Take Me Clubbing

Winston's Take Me Clubbing

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This is a work of fiction.

Any resemblance to actual locations or persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

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A continuation of

Babysitting for the Winston's

. In this installment our character returns to help them out again. Just not for babysitting. Being six months older and a college student, he has built on previous experience, expanded his sexual horizons and is ready for what our couple has to offer.

Not to give away details, but if bi-sexual or gay sex is troubling

you may want to move on. Or excessive drinking. And if the disco scene is a turn off?

Well, fair warning.

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Recap

As I explained in the first story, I hated babysitting. My folks would volunteer me occasionally to sit for their friends if they came up dry on a night they wanted to themselves. Previously I was cooped reluctantly to watch the Winston's then 11 year old daughter. Only when the Winstons arrived home, I found myself in a wet dream come true. Seems the Winstons were swingers. It was the mid- 70s and key parties were a thing in certain circles. Playboy, Ms. and Cosmopolitan magazines, among others, were promoting a new sexual awareness. The zipless fuck was a topic of conversation among like minded adults. "Looking For Mr. Goodbar" was about to be published. Many Hippies were exploring the notion of free love and what evolved into friends with benefits. In the first story I spotted their name on a sign by the front door with three pineapples hanging under it. The middle one was upside down. Took me a while to catch on to that one.

After high school and before going to college in September, my folks and I had a deal. I could travel through Europe on a EurRail Pass for as long as my money lasted. My money. They would buy the plane ticket, but expenses were on me. To raise the necessary cash I washed cars, painted houses, sealed driveways and cut grass. The babysitting gig with the Winston's was supposed to be a onetime thing. When I opened my pay envelope at home, it was VERY generous.

The Europe trip was great and yielded several encounters that added to my sexual education and may be the subject of future stories.

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Another Encounter

Christmas break 1975 arrived

in the third week of December. I would be off for a bit over two weeks. My girlfriend, Diane, and I were still a thing, but going to schools three states away had cooled things. She started dating. I visited her twice in the first semester, but things were beginning to fade between us. We spent New Year's at a party, fucked our brains out, but it wasn't the same. College has a way of ruining long distance romances.

My folks were thrilled to have their only son home for the holidays and I took the opportunity to party with the old "Hush Hush Club" guys a few times. We drank, smoked, fornicated freely and swapped sexual exploit stories. Some of which were true. I hope a couple of the guys write for Literotica.

One Friday I was getting ready to hit it with the guys. There was a club not far away with killer music. Truthfully, I really couldn't appreciate the music or the dance style. But the disco era was in full swing and it was the place to be and to see women in slinky, braless disco dresses and guys with silk shirts open to show hairy ripped chests and tight pants that showed off fine glutes. I could appreciate both. I could from an early age. So to fit in, I had to learn some moves.

My Mother appeared at my bedroom door. "You look very nice; you didn't say you were going out tonight."

The month in Europe on my own and being at college for a semester had quickly developed a sense of independence. It didn't occur to me that I need to share my daily plans with my parents.

"Sweetheart, we really need a favor from you," my mother implored. Here we go again. This is how the first story opened.

"The Winston's can't get a babysitter for tonight and they asked us if you could cover Kate for them. Would you be a dear and babysit for their daughter?"

"Babysit? Mom, isn't Kate like 12 or 13. She can't take care of herself for three or four hours?"

"The Winstons have done a good job with Kate, but they said they would be quite late. Actually they didn't want to use their regular sitter. She's only 15 and they would prefer not to have her stay till one or two in the morning."

Two things went through my head, and my pants. First was a fond and vivid memory of the first time I covered for them. Seconded, they paid very well and I always needed cash.

I made a quick call to one of the guys explaining I couldn't join them tonight. Since I had regaled them with a detailed description of my first time with them, he understood completely and wished me luck. It was more like; "You lucky fucking dog. When you goanna share your good fortune with us?"

Obviously I agreed. I took a look in the mirror and decided the nylon, fake silk, blousy burgundy disco party shirt wouldn't work and changed into a long sleeve gray Henley. The black trousers were nothing special so they stayed.

My third hand Toyota got me across town to the rich section where the Winston's had an amazing home. A sunken formal living room. Another casual living room in the back with a view of the pool. The master bed room suite with a sliding door that also opened to the pool. The pool played a critical role in our first encounter.

Under the name sign on the porch there were still three pineapples. One in the middle was upside down. Wait. Wasn't it the other way before? That one was a head scratcher for several years.

I didn't even hit the door bell when Stephen opened the door and greeted me with a big hug like a long lost friend.

"Let me look at you Brad! You look

great

. College and what, six months has done wonders for you. Come on in."

He led me back to the kitchen and pointed to a high stool by the breakfast bar. A home feature that was not in my experience.

"Want a drink? You need to learn how to appreciate Scotch." He placed a bottle and two glasses on the counter.

"No, no, I'm good. Where you guys going tonight?" I looked Stephen over. He was just as trim and handsome as I remembered. Both of them were in their early thirties and in very good shape. Especially Victoria, his wife. Or Vicki as he called her. He was wearing a light blue unstructured blazer, a disco shirt that was mostly white with a light blue and red non- directional pattern. The first three buttons were open. His disco pants showed off his firm ass cheeks.

"Clubbing. We have friends who turned us on to the disco scene. It's great fun, we meet

adventurous

people." He emphasized 'adventurous' with a certain evil grin. "It's far out."

OK. I'm allowed to say 'far out', I'm a college kid. But coming from a thirty something just sounded wrong. Besides, he was mixing cultures. Far Out would make sense if they went full blown anti-establishment hippie, which they weren't, and didn't.

He took a swig of his Scotch and looked around the counter and eyed me up and down. "Come on, the pants will pass but you need a better shirt." With that he headed toward the bedroom.

"Hey Stephen, where's Kate. My Mom said you needed me to watch her." I said as I followed him a bit confused. My shirt?

"Kate's at a friend's house for the weekend. I had to make up a story to get you over here," he said half way down the hall. At the door he stopped, turned and in a conspiratorial voice said softly, "It was

Vickie's

suggestion."

The master bedroom was enormous. In addition to the great view of the pool, there were two walk-in closets, an alcove with a big recliner and a TV, and a bathroom like I had never imagined. A glass enclosed shower, a separate bath tub, two sinks and the commode was in its own separate space with a door.

But what caught me first was Victoria. She was a stunning woman and I had the pleasure to know her Biblically: with her husband watching and encouraging me to satisfy her desires. I would masturbate to that night for years, no, for decades come - so to speak.

"Oh my God, you made it," Vickie approached and gave me a warm hug with an equally warm kiss on the lips. Her hand slid comfortably down to my ass and she squeezed it playfully.

She was dressed for the club alright. She wore a shimmering white skirt with a slit up one leg to the top of her thigh. There couldn't be more than two inches of fabric above the slit. A gold belt of two inch round chain links hung precariously on her exposed hips. The floor length skirt had a hip hugger belt line that was very provocative. But the top was the killer. It's difficult to describe in writing. The shinny fabric was snapped at the neck and opened in a narrow slit to just below the cleavage of her C size breasts. The bottom was triangular shape with the point about three inches above her bikini line clearly showing her naval. And as the fabric rose on either side it showed off the skin of her hips and waist.

The top tied with a bikini string around back of her neck. Her entire back was bare down to just above the dimple over her ass. Her fabulous nipples hardened and showed very clearly as they poked against the light shimmering blue/green fabric. She twirled around and raised her hands as in a dance move looking at me, "Do you approve?"

The move with the raised arms allowed for a superb side view of her excellent breasts. The flow of the fabric was a tease all by itself. "Yes, I certainly approve, all the men at the club will as well. Wow."

Meanwhile Stephen retuned from his closet with two disco shirts showing them to Vicki, "Which one?"

Vicki gave it some thought and selected a burgundy one similar to the one I had just ditched.

"Wait, I'm going with you guys?" Sometimes I'm a little slow to catch on.

"Absolutely. That's why we told your folks not to expect you home before three. Or after dawn. This is going to be

fun

night."

Well, this was an unexpected turn of events. As I pulled off the Henley, Vicki came over and ran her hand over my chest. "Oh, you're looking very fine. A little chest hair is very sexy on you, don't you think Stephen?"

I blushed while I put on the disco shirt. It sort of looked like mine but it felt way different. It was real silk. Quality silk. Between the fabric rubbing my nipples and my view of Victoria, an erection was beginning to take place. It was going to be a long night.

As we pulled out of the drive in their very plush Mercedes I had a terrible thought. What if we were going to the same club my friends were going to?

"Which club are we going to?"

"It's called Neon Crush over in the city. Ever been?" Stephen asked.

"No, the only club I've been to around here is Stage 12."

"No, we wouldn't go there. Too many kids. This club is a little more sophisticated and the people are a little older. Twenty and thirty something professionals, like that."

There was small talk on the forty minute drive that always seemed to circle back to sex or the night with them in the pool. Vicki recounted that after I left they had amazing sex and Stephen masturbated for her later as she described in detail how I had gone down on her as she lay in her husband's arms by the pool. I was riding in the back seat and got a raging hard on listening to her description.

They took turns pumping me for details of my college sex life.

I told them I had gotten involved with the drama department. I wasn't a drama major, but I loved stage work in high school and continued in college. I had not yet revealed my interest in both genders. Only that I could appreciate the physical attributes of both men and women. I had yet to hear the term bi-sexual. One was either gay or straight. There were sometimes derisive comments about someone who "swings both ways." But that didn't seem to fit my appetite. Truth is that I had more sexual experience with guys before my first encounter with a girl. So as years went on, it was no big deal to me. But in that era, if you were gay, you didn't share that except in a VERY safe environment. And if you liked both men and women, well, it was complicated.

"Drama? Really, is that enjoyable?" Stephen asked.

I filled them in on set building and working with the lighting crew. But the deeper story was that it was a great place to meet and watch very attractive people. Especially men. Gay college men of the era could predominantly found in three places. The gymnastics team, the swim team or theater. Same for women in general. Watching men and women in swim or gymnastics practice or competition was highly arousing to my eager 19 year old cock. Not having any experience with either sport, trying to become a team assistant or manager was out of the question. That left theater.

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We arrived at the club and

Stephen turned the car over to the valet. Vicki preceded us into the club waltzing past the door keeper like she owned the place. Stephen gave the valet some folding money. As he passed the door keeper he palmed another couple notes to him. The line behind the ropes grumbled at the VIP treatment. It was December and in these parts is was cold.

"So, I guess they know you here?" I inquired as we fell in behind Vicki.

We entered the club and were swallowed up in the rotating lights, loud music and the movement of bodies on the dance floor and jockeying for space at the three bars. Above the dance floor was another level. A three sided balcony with high café tables. Most of the railing was lined with knots of partiers talking, drinking and watching the dancers. The DJ booth stood like an alter on the fourth side of the space. Raised half way between the dance floor and the balcony. All chrome, neon and chase lights. Again, I was out of my depth. But sometimes you just have to roll with it.

Vicki had some moves alright. She was wearing a black cloak, tied at the top, draped on her shoulders and flowing two inches off the floor. It was jet black with a wide rope like trim of red and gold down the front. It flapped open giving a tantalizing glimpse of the smoking body underneath. While we checked our coats, I watched her walk further into the Club. She undid the top of the cloak and let it drip off one shoulder, then the other. She was stripping for them. She ate up the stares. She gathered the cloak in one hand and with a carelessness born of money and privilege let it drag on the floor. She moved suggestively. Sauntering past tables of all men, tables with a 'girls night' vibe and tables with couples. She was noticed. Everyone turned their head. She made a bee line to a round booth two steps up that could seat six easily. Other tables were just bare tops. These raised platform booths had a superb view of the dancers, a full-length table cloth and a couple battery powered candles in the middle.

Stephen elbowed me in the ribs as we followed, "You see how these guys look at her. They're so fucking jealous. What a fucking turn on. That's why I hang back." I could barely hear him over the noise and music. Most of the night would be that way.

Vicki slid in first; Stephen slid in on her right and pointed that I should go in the other side. There was a reserved sign on the table with the name 'Winston' in fancy script.

"Drinks!" Vickie snuggled between us, "And you two will keep me warm until I get dancing, Whooho!"

Most people in the club struggled to get to the bar for drinks and refills. The round booths on this side of the room had waitresses. It was only moments when our waitress appeared.

Stephen started ordering. Didn't ask what Vicki or I wanted. I caught the tail end of the order, ".... and a Harvey Wall Banger." The waitress looked straight at me and asked in all seriousness "you like that virgin?"

It took me took a half a beat but I wasn't going to fuck this evening up, "Do I

look

like a virgin?"

She smirked, looked at Stephen and rolled her eyes.

"Hey, you made an impression. Want me to get her number for you?" He laughed.

The music was hot and non-stop. Even if Vicki wasn't right next to me rubbing her bare slit skirt thigh against my leg, just watching the women and men on the floor was a sexual event. The clothing, the revealing lack of buttons. Hip huggers, slit skirts, micro skirts, blown dried hair, tight asses, no bras. It was a visual orgy.

"Hold down the table Brad," Stephen grabbed her hand and they were off to dance. Either they were naturals or they took lessons. Wow, did they make a show on the floor. I just sat in the booth and found myself moving to the music. The drinks arrived and I winked at the waitress. She rolled her eyes and smirked. Fuck it. Suddenly a very fine looking guy slid in next to me and started a conversation.

"Hey, you with these two?" Nodding toward Stephen and Vicki's empty seats.

"Yea, friends."

"They're a good looking couple. Fun to party with." He and I admired their dancing. "You from around here?"

He seemed like he knew the Winston's and it didn't feel awkward so the two of us chatted a little bit. It was difficult to hear or be heard without getting lips and ears close. He eased his arm around me while we talked. In the moment it was fun. Flattering. The part of his chest showing was smooth. No hair and no real definition.

Stephen and Vicki returned to the table. Clearly they knew my new friend. "Hey, dude, how you been?" Stephen said to the unidentified guy.

"Awesome, just awesome. Hey Vick, you look so fucking hot tonight."

"Why thank you, stop back later, we'll dance, OK?"

And with that he was gone.

"Make friends with Mitchell?"

"I didn't catch his name but we talked a little. Hard to hear in here."

"You get his number? He can be a

special

playmate."

I shook my head.

"No matter, he's always available," Vicki chimed in as she slid her left hand down my leg then up the inner thigh. "We met him at our 'other' club." She had to get close to my ear to be heard. I tilted my head down, moved my ear to her and had a frustratingly good view of her marvelous tits. C cups? Small B caps? I had more to learn.

A steady stream of patrons stopped by the table. Men, women, pairs of women, pairs of men, four at a time, three at a time. It was a fashion show. Some sat and slid in tight, pressing our bodies together. Some leaned in over the table offering an unabashed look down their tops. Even walking away from the table we were treated to a view of some very, very nice asses. You know me. I appreciated both. Every visit; the banter was loaded with sexual over tones. In some cases outright obvious.

"Hey Vick, you're still the best BJ I ever had," offered one guy. "Stephen, she swallow for you like that every night? You fucking dog."

Then there was the double team. The woman all over Vicki and the guy draped over Stephen, shirt open and hand massaging Stephens hard on through his trousers. "Vicki," purred the woman, "I feel you licking my wet cunt when I get fucked. You're wasted on men."

Meanwhile the husband, or whatever, "When you coming over again? She wants to see us in action again. Next time bring Vicki."

My head was about to explode. My nineteen year old dick and permanent state of horniness was being given a work out.

Between visits Vicki and I danced. She was really good and I tried to keep up. She was very patient. "Don't worry about you. Mostly their looking at me," she said between moves.