Last year my husband and I moved to the suburbs. After ten years in the city and lots of hard work and some luck, we had it made financially and were ready to invest in a nice home. We moved to a very upscale neighborhood north of Houston. It was the kind of place that looked ideal. Everything neat and tidy and well kept. Huge homes, country club, golf and tennis. You know the kind of place.
The residents were successful younger and middle aged professionals and their spouses. Some were two earner couples, but there were many wives at home all day. The husbands tended to work long hours and be away on business trips often, so the wives had to create a world for themselves. With few exceptions, the wives in this town were fit and tanned. They went to the gym, played tennis and swam, kept themselves trim and indulged in fashions to flatter their figures.
It was a little hard making friends at first, but within a couple of months I was enjoying the company of several women that I met in the course of getting involved in activities. All was cozy and delightful for a year, and then I got the shock of my life.
Julie lived across the street, and she and I went to the gym together. One morning she and I were having coffee in my sunroom, and that’s when she dropped the bomb. She had been watching me and felt that I was ready to hear what she had to say. Then Julie proceeded to tell me about the Cock of the Month Club.
A few years earlier, Julie and two friends had spotted a particularly handsome young man who was a clerk in a downtown bank. She noted his name on his desk nameplate, but she did not speak to him. When Julie and Paige and Maggie got together for an afternoon by her pool, Julie told them, “I had the wildest idea yesterday.” “While I was in the city I saw the most gorgeous man at the bank.” “He was amazing.”
Paige remarked, “There’re everywhere, honey, but not here in your backyard.”
That’s when Julie told her friends, “I’ve been thinking. How would you like to send this guy a letter inviting him to meet us at, say, a Hyatt Hotel suite? We’d tell him that we were clubwomen and that our club had a tradition of inviting a handsome man to strip for us. We could tell him that we did not want to invite professionals, and that’s why he was selected at random from everyday men.”
“Whoa,” interjected Maggie, “I’m feeling a little buzz about this,” as she adjusted her bikini top. Julie looked at her friends’ nipples become more visible as she continued, “I’ve thought about a plan like this for a long time, and I think it could work if we choose the right guys and the right places.”
As Julie relayed this to me, I was amazed but not put off. Her confidence and experience interested me, and I felt drawn to this sort of female enjoyment. After all, men live lives of pursuit of random pussy, why shouldn’t we wives nail a few cocks, too?
Julie continued, “Well, to make a long story short, we got up the nerve to compose a letter to Mr. X. I told him that he would be contacted within a week to discuss his response to our invitation. The letter stated that we met monthly in different locations, that anonymity was paramount for him and us, that he was asked to dress in his normal business attire, and that all he had to do was disrobe for us and then he could leave. We made it explicit that nothing else would be involved and that we were serious appreciators of the male anatomy.”
Her girlfriends were giddy and nervous as hell as they finished writing the letter. All three drove to the post office, and as soon as the letter dropped into the box they whooped and shouted and laughed like hell all the way home. Julie said they were practically on fire sexually, anticipating the shock this guy would get when he opened their letter.
Days passed. A week passed. All three were together again at Julie’s house. She had them gather around while she picked up her phone, blocked her number, then dialed the bank. She asked for Mr. X. You could cut the tension with a knife.
“Hello, this is Mr. X,” replied their victim. “May I help you?”
“Well, that depends, now doesn’t it?” said Julie.
“Oh, excuse me,” he said, “What did you say?”
“Mr. X, did you receive our letter?”
There was a pause. Julie covered the phone with her hand and gasped to get a breath.
“Yes mam, I did receive a certain unusual letter. Was that from you?”
“The letter was from our club, and we are following up on our invitation. We have several candidates in mind for this month’s meeting, and we need to determine who among them would like to accept our invitation.” “Are you interested and available?”
“I thought this was a joke,” said Mr. X. “I never expected that someone would call or that there was a real club.” “I haven’t thought about it seriously.”
“Well, we can understand that.” “Yours is a common response to our initial letter.” “If you need more time, I can contact you tomorrow.”
“Uh, no, I am interested.”
Julie covered the receiver again and gave a thumbs-up to her friends who were struggling not to hoot and laugh.
“Mr. X, your interest is noted, and we will contact you again about scheduling once I confer with the members.” “Do you have any questions?”
He took a deep breath and asked, “How long have you done this?”
Julie faked it, “We’ve been in existence for four years, and we have monthly meetings. There are twenty three members, but attendance each month varies widely. Sometimes we only have a few and other times there is almost full attendance. We are a social club only. We enjoy each others’ company, and during the last part of each meeting we invite a gentleman to show us his penis.”
“Twenty three!” whispered Paige and Maggie. “What the hell did you say that for?”
“Shush, shush,” Julie motioned, “I think everything is spelled out clearly in our letter.”
