A Night at the Club

I was nineteen, so I suppose this was in 1979; though it could have been early '80. I was feeling pretty mellow that night, just drinking a Crown and Coke and listening to the music and people watching. I do recall that it was cold out, so it must have been winter. It was crowded, as always; however, I always found a way to find a good table in a far corner that allowed me to see everything.

There was a live rock band from Dallas or someplace playing some pretty good tunes. I was fairly regular at this place, so I knew most of the people who went there. I always arrived fairly early in order to watch people as they arrived. So, it struck me as strange when this gorgeous redhead slipped onto a stool at my table. Her smile lit up my little corner of the world, as she asked, "I hope you don't mind, if I sit with you a few minutes. I am so very tired of walking around this place."

I smiled back and assured her that she was more than welcomed at my table. In fact, when the waitress stopped by, I even offered to buy her a drink. She declined, but to my surprise, she ordered one for me, for which she paid. "Now, you owe me," she whispered, her soft red lips so close to my ear that I could feel the gentle warmth of her breath on my flesh. My tight jeans became tighter in all the right places almost immediately.

Now, I could lie and say that I played it cool and said something witty like, "So, how do I pay this debt I owe?" In reality, all I could do was grow a massive hard on and take a sip of the drink she had just bought me. I did manage to mumble something like "Sure thing," but that was about it.

This wasn't your run-of-the-mill barfly. She was an absolute beauty, and older than me, as well. My guess, based on later information, was that she was in her mid to late thirties, yet she could have passed for early twenties, except for the way she carried herself. Samantha, or "Sam", as she introduced herself, was a very classy lady indeed. She was also obviously well off, as each piece of her jewelry probably cost more than my brand new Monte Carlo.

Sam was wearing a long, black dress with a slit all the way up to mid thigh. The dress was low cut and highlighted her full breasts which appeared to be enhanced, but I later found were all her. It's just that, even without a bra, which was obvious, as close to them as I was, as she leaned toward me, her small hand on my arm, they strained the material of her dress. I could even feel the hardness of her left nipple against my right arm when it brushed me. Try as I might to keep my composure, to this day, I feel like I was a mumbling idiot that night.

Certainly, I had always had decent luck with women. Actually, they were mostly girls just playing dress up and trying to look like women. It was kind of like I was just a teenager trying to look as much like an adult, as I could. Sam, however, was a woman. She was striking. She was dripping in diamonds and her perfume, while it was intoxicating, just smelled expensive. I even spotted an expensive wedding ring, but I was too far-gone to care. Samantha, like the fictional witch of the same name, had me under her spell. I would have done anything she asked.

Generally, I usually would have made a move by the end of the first hour, but I didn't. I guess I was intimidated. Here I was, likely half her age, and no doubt probably making less in a year than her wedding set cost. I suppose I was afraid that treating her like the girls my age would have basically told her that I was just as I appeared---a boy, nothing more.

It was Sam then who made the first move. She led me by the hand onto the dance floor for a slow song, something played by the deejay while the band took a break. I don't recall what the song was. It was just a slow one. I was so completely locked into Samantha—her beauty, her grace, that the music was secondary. As we danced, she reached up and unbuttoned my shirt about midway. Her delicate hands reached in and long, red nails teased my flesh. Instinctively, I leaned in and kissed her. Her lips were the softest I had ever known. They seemed to welcome my touch. My hands moved to the small of her back, as I pulled her close. Our tongues danced as we danced. Sam was grinding herself into me. She murmured something about my hardness. I never really knew exactly what she said, but she was quite pleased. I felt her smile softly into our kiss.

The dance floor was crowded in such a way as to afford seclusion among the undulating bodies around us. I felt her hand cup my hardness through my jeans, rubbing it with increasing pressure, as we lost ourselves in our deep, soulful kissing. She broke the kiss only to whisper softly in my ear, "I am taking you home with me."

She led me off the dance floor and out to her car. I forgot all about mine in the lot, and to tell the truth, if I had remembered it, I would likely not have cared. She slipped into the driver side and popped the lock and I got in. As I got in, I saw she had opened her console and retrieved a pill bottle.

"Hold out your hand," she said softly in a husky voice, and I did as she requested. She placed a small purple tablet no larger than a pinhead onto my hand. "Microdot", she whispered. "Ever drop acid?" she asked. I shook my head. Smiling brightly, her dark green eyes twinkling, she cooed, "You'll love it, baby."

She smiled, as I put it on my tongue as she ordered. She stuck out her pink tongue to show me her own hit, and she started the car and drove out of town to an exclusive, gated community about five miles outside of the city. It was a brand new subdivision and the first gated community that I had really ever known at that time. There was a small guard station and, as I could feel the drug taking effect, the guard waved her in with a polite smile. Soon, we were in her driveway.

She led me into a large, ranch style house that was as close to a mansion that one can get without it actually being one. She opened the door. I recalled that she didn't use a key, but I thought, as all the colors and shapes were starting to meld in my mind, that I just might not have seen a key. Even now, I think it funny that I noticed such a thing. My senses at once felt so keen, but also so very altered. I was enjoying my first "trip" quite a bit, as I recall.

Once inside, she spun and started kissing me. Kissing me hard and deep--needful. Hungrily she ripped open my shirt, buttons flew through the air, I could hear them clicking onto to the tiled entryway. As she dropped to her knees, she kissed my tanned, muscular chest. "God, I love your skin, baby. I could just eat you up," she panted into my taut stomach. Her hands made quick work of my belt and fly, as she pulled open my tight jeans, and slid them down roughly, along with my briefs.

I let out a little gasp, as without a word, she engulfed my entire manhood with her mouth. While I don't have a circus cock, or anything close, I do have close to eight inches when fully erect, and believe me, I was fully erect. My hands reached to her soft, auburn hair, as she took me in her mouth. As I write this, I can still hear the sucking sounds of mouth against cock, as she went down on my throbbing cock. Her head was twisting and her moans vibrated my glans. I watched breathlessly as her full, pouty lips coursed up and down the length of my shaft, her tongue slathering the base of my cock with each trip up and down my length.

It seemed an eternity before I came, but I think that was just the acid. I came hard. I probably would have warned her, but I had little warning myself for I was lost in the moment. Lost in her. She whimpered with pleasure (to my relief) when I exploded deep down her throat. My load was enormous and streamed out along the corners of her lips.

As soon as she had milked the last of the salty treasure, she stood and pulled my lips to hers. I felt no qualms about it, though such actions were not quite the norm for me or for that matter, 1979. I remember the salty, slick taste of it, as her tongue pushed my seed into my mouth. I found an immediate liking for it, though I credited its appeal to the drug coursing through my brain.

I heard a male voice just then. At first, I thought I was hallucinating. "I see you brought home a friend," he said. We broke the kiss, and I turned to see a middle-aged man dressed only in an expensive, blue satin robe and slippers smiling at us.

Even as high as I was, my mind was spinning around all the horrid possibilities. Here I was in this glorious house. The lady of said house has just downed about a pint of my cum. My arms were wrapped about her luscious body, just finishing a sloppy cum-filled kiss and lo and behold her hubby makes an entrance. This is usually where things get ugly.

Many options occurred to me at that moment—that pregnant pause just before the next move is made or the next word is spoken. It likely last only an instant, but that instant transcended time for my LSD muddled mind.

I didn't run. I thought about it, but thanks to my new friend, my jeans were in a twist at my ankles. Fighting was not a real option either. The jeans came into play here, as well. Basically, I stood there a lot like a deer in the headlights. Well, I thought, at least I got to cum.

To my relief, I saw that, instead of a large caliber handgun or a machete or a kitana or some other sort of hideous weapon with which to do me serious bodily injury, he held a glass containing what I believe was an alcoholic beverage. Of course, as my mind muddled as it was delved into the possibilities surrounding this little scene, I knew that a handgun might be secreted in one of the two large pockets of the robe.

To make a long story short, and as it is obvious that I did survive this encounter, not only was he not angered by watching his wife orally service a teenager in his foyer, he appeared to have enjoyed the activity. He stepped toward us, extending his hand to me. As I stood there in his lovely wife's arms with my cock still fairly erect in spite of having just having blown an incredible load, I took his hand with some temerity. He shook my hand warmly, as he kissed his wife deeply. His tongue swiped greedily over the semen-streaked corners of her lips. Something about watching that made my cock twitch a little. In fact, I could tell that it would only be a matter of a couple of minutes before I would be fully ready to go again, should the need arise. It appeared, from his reaction, that the quick recovery that comes with youth would come in very handy this night.

Sam introduced us after kissing him. His name was Greg. He was, of course, her husband. He was tanned, a little shorter than I and, for his age, quite trim. He had dark hair with streaks of gray on the sides and a well-trimmed beard that was almost entirely gray. He was vaguely familiar to me, but then I was pretty stoned by this time and not fully trusting my own mind.

They led me into their bedroom. This room was bigger than my apartment. On one end, there was a couch, a big chair and a chaise, all over stuffed and all plush. They surrounded a large fireplace in the corner of the room. Against another wall was an enormous four-poster bed, with a mirror on the ceiling above. The carpet was deep, plush shag, which might seem strange now, but was very "in" at the time. A scant few candles and the fire in the hearth giving the room a delicate glow lighted the room.

Samantha pointed me towards the chaise, and I complied silently. I had decided to just follow this where it led and merely become a passenger on what was turning out to a very unique ride. By this time, I had dressed myself, after a fashion that is, as my shirt was in shambles. As I took a seat on the chaise, Samantha relieved me of the shirt with an apologetic smile at the damage she had done. Soon, at her hands, with her loving husband watching appreciatively, she removed all my clothing. The LSD in my system kept my inhibitions at bay, as I reclined on the plush, white lounger.

Greg slipped by, sliding a drink into my hand and took a seat in the chair immediately to my right. I noticed his fingertips lingered upon mine, as I took the drink. The dancing fire cast a glow on his still smiling face. Sam slipped a cassette into a stereo system along the wall. It was Pink Floyd's "Dark Side of the Moon", which seemed very apropos in my state of mind. She turned to face me, standing between her husband and me. Without a word, he unzipped the back of her dress, and it fell to the floor at her feet. Beneath it, she wore nothing. Her legs, even in the shadows that played upon her flesh, were obviously tanned and had the tone of a dancer. The light, red hair on her mound as trimmed meticulously.

She took my right hand in hers, and guided my fingers along the soft folds of her sex, as her body swayed softly to the music. She whimpered softly, as my fingers pushed into her ever so slightly. A fire raged in her emerald eyes, as she guided me into position, where my head was at the foot of the chaise and my legs spread on either side of it. "I want that mouth", she growled, as she mounted my face roughly.

I cannot begin to described how utterly wonderful her pussy tasted, as my tongue met her treasure. I feathered it deep inside her, my hands reaching up to cup her full, firm breasts, as she rode my face with a focused vengeance. Her hands gripped my long, blonde hair, as she took my mouth with what seemed to be an aching need. "Yes, baby, lick me deep." Then, adjusting herself, she moaned, "Now, honey, suck my clit. Yes, baby. That's it. Just like that."

I sucked and licked what she placed at my mouth. Sam's pebble-hard clit, her luscious folds and warm, silken walls and her tight rosebud were tender and seemed to melt on my tongue. Each, in turn, was brought to my mouth and, my mouth eagerly pleasured each. Her orgasm brought a scream from her. Loudly, she cried out into the shadows, as her juices sprayed out onto my mouth and over my cheeks and streamed down to my hair. She rocked softly, as her tremors over took her, her hands grasping mine and tightening them around her breasts.

She laughed softly, catching her breath. "My god, that was fantastic, baby. Let's see if you can do that again." With that, she started moving on my face once more, and I greedily accepted her challenge. My fingers pinched at her nipples, as I became more and more emboldened by her. "Pinch them harder. Oh fuck, pinch them harder", she cried, as her drenched pussy opened and my lips sealed at her folds, my tongue pushing deeply into her and curling upwards.

She remained leaned over my face, Her breasts in my hands, her hands supporting her at the foot of the chaise, as she fucked my mouth. She made my mouth her personal fucktoy.

As I licked her towards a second orgasm, I felt a hand, then a mouth on my cock. Rather than react, I just let it happen. I knew it was Greg. The feel of the hand was undoubtedly male. I could feel his beard brush my flesh, as his face pressed downward. I moaned deeply into Samantha's sex, as her husband took my cock deep down his skilled throat. Sensing my approval in my moans, Samantha seemed to gather yet more momentum. She hammered onto my face so hard, I just knew I would bruise, but I was beyond caring about anything other than pleasuring and being pleasured.

Before long, despite my trepidation at being serviced by a man, I was pushing into his mouth. Fucking his mouth hard. Using it for my own needs, as Samantha used mine for hers. When her second climax, followed quickly by a third orgasm flowed onto my face, I erupted deep into Greg's warm, wet mouth. I growled deep into Sam's pussy, as I unloaded my seed fiercely down his throat. I could feel him chuckle a little, as I came. He was as proud of himself, as I was of my work at Sam's tasty cunt.

Sam slipped from me, and dropped to her hands and knees beside the chaise and looked back and her husband. "Oh god, Greg, please fuck me", she begged, and as I watched, my mind spinning, my body, at least momentarily spent, he eagerly complied. Ramming into her from behind, he pummeled her. She lowered her face to the floor as she urged him on in her husky voice. I could hear the sloshing of his cock as it plunged over and over into her sopping cunt. He called out to her. Calling her nasty, crude names, as he punched his cock in and out of her. "I bet you want this kid to fuck you like this, don't you bitch?" You want his cock buried in your fuckhole just like this."

As I watched, I could not help but feel my already well-sated cock returning to life. In no time, I was ready for anything that might come, excuse the pun. Looking over at me with a wry smile, Greg pulled from within her and came in long, thick streams onto her back. She cooed in response to the splash of semen on her flesh. He slapped her ass playfully, and she hopped from the floor, looked down at my member and straddled above it, lowering herself down quickly upon it.

She rode it hard, as she had my face. Her red nails dug into the flesh of my chest. I was immune by now to the pain, and only felt the wet slippery sensations of her walls gripping and releasing, as she bucked upon my loins. I gripped her hips, and pushed up into her with equal fervor.

I watched the perfection of her trophy wife body, as she moved on me, shining in sweat. I grasped her ass tightly in my hands and could feel the slick warmth of Greg's sperm on her flesh. I didn't care. I didn't care about anything but fucking and being fucked.

As her body slapped up and down on my aching cock, I felt hands on my head and my face turned to Greg. His cock was hard and an inch from my mouth. I came upon a moment of truth. He did not force his cock in my face--only offered it. I took it. As if watching from above, I parted my lips in mute invitation to him, and he slipped in. Opening wide, careful of my teeth, my tongue slipping under his cock, slightly smaller than my own, and I immediately tasted Samantha on him. The taste was just as sweet on his manhood, as it had been from her.

Greg, sensing my inexperience and perhaps my slight reluctance, gently cradled my head. He moved to my mouth with a slow, easy stroke. It was if he was saying, "It's okay, man. It's just a moment between friends." I could feel Sam tense in one orgasm after another upon my cock, as Greg's slim shaft slipped in and out between my lips. I closed my eyes, as I sucked. My mouth was his as long as he needed.

I could feel my own climax building, as my balls began to fill. Sam was coaxing me on towards both my orgasm and my service of her hubby. I could hear her telling him to fuck my mouth harder. He began moving faster. Perhaps she could feel my impending orgasm, and wanted Greg to time his with mine. Whatever her purpose, it seemed to work.

With one hard buck up into her, I exploded. My cum filled her, and Greg let loose his own into my mouth. Had I not been so fixated on Sam and my own pleasure, I might have had a different reaction, but in this case, I merely moaned as he filled my mouth. I sucked him dry. I felt my lips move with him, if only a bit, as he withdrew. I felt a pang of regret, as his cock slipped from my lips.

I showered at in their massive master bath before departing. Greg gave me a shirt, a fairly expensive one I might add to replace the one Sam had destroyed. Samantha had fallen upon their bed completely exhausted and had fallen deep asleep. It was Greg who drove me to my car. We made small talk on the way to my car---sports, cars, and the usual guy things. Not once was sex or what happened ever mentioned. It was unspoken, yet understood by all, that this was a one-time thing. There would be no relationships built this night. It was what it was. And that was all.

A few months later, I was at a party thrown by friends of my parents. I had only stopped by to say hello because my dad had asked. There, among the people at the function, were Greg and Samantha. I tried not to, but I kept glancing over. Greg was talking to some other friend of my dad's. Sam, looking a little bored, noticed me looking her way. Her green eyes twinkled, as she smiled at me, then she turned back to her friends. That was the last I saw of them.