Chapter 2
Katherine’s laptop glowed like a guilty secret in the dim living room light. David watched from the armchair, the click-click-click of her mouse the only sound. She’d been quiet for twenty minutes.
“Find anything interesting?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.
She didn’t look up. “It’s… a lot. There are forums. Guidelines. Couples posting about their first times.” She chewed her lower lip. “A lot of them talk about clubs. Private parties. As a way to… observe. To dip a toe in.”
David stood, coming to loom behind her. Over her shoulder, he saw a well-organized website, tasteful, not seedy. Thread titles like ‘First Club Visit – What to Expect’ and ‘Setting Boundaries for Newbies.’
“A club,” he repeated, letting the word sit between them.
“They call them lifestyle clubs. Or swinger clubs.” Katherine finally turned her head, her cheek brushing his forearm. Her eyes were wide, a mix of trepidation and a sharp, glittering curiosity. “It says they have private rooms. And public spaces. You can just… watch. Or be watched.”
He felt a familiar, hot twist in his gut. “We could just watch.”
“We could,” she whispered. “But the fantasy… you said you wanted to see me. With a… with him.” She couldn’t say the word cock now, in the clinical light of the screen. It made it more real.
“We don’t have to do anything,” David said, his hands settling on her shoulders, kneading the tension. “We go. We see the reality of it. And if we’re both feeling it… we play. Just us. But with an audience.”
Her breathing faltered. “An audience?”
“Yeah. Let them watch us. While we… rate them.”
Her head tilted back against his stomach, her gaze searching his face. “Rate them?”
“A game,” he said, the idea crystallizing as he spoke. “We sit somewhere semi-private. We touch each other. We get each other off. And we look at the men who walk by, or who stop to watch. We whisper about them. About what we see. What we might… want.”
A visible tremor went through her. Her lips parted. She didn’t speak, just gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod.
*
The club wasn’t what Katherine expected. No neon, no lurid red lights. It was a converted warehouse space with high ceilings, soft jazz, and clusters of plush furniture. People were dressed well—cocktail dresses, smart trousers. It looked like an avant-garde art gallery opening. The air smelled of expensive perfume, clean sweat, and a faint, musky undertone.
David’s hand was a firm brand on the small of her back. He’d chosen her outfit: a simple, sleeveless black dress that ended mid-thigh. Conservative by the room’s standards, but it clung to every one of her curves like a second skin. She felt naked.
They’d agreed. No play with others. Tonight was observation. And their own game.
He led her to a raised, circular booth in a corner. It had a low, semi-circular sofa and a table. The back was high, offering a modicum of privacy, but the front was open to the room. A stage for two.
“Sit,” David murmured, his voice a warm vibration in her ear.
She slid into the booth, her dress riding up her thighs. He sat beside her, close, his muscular thigh pressing against hers. He poured them both a glass of water from the bottle on the table. His movements were calm, possessive.
“Look around,” he said, his lips barely moving. “Don’t stare. Just… let your eyes wander.”
She did. Couples danced on a small floor. Others mingled at a bar. And then she saw them—the single men. Some stood confidently, scanning the room. Others lingered near doorways, more cautious. Her gaze, against her will, dropped. To the fronts of trousers. To the shapes hinted at beneath fine wool and cotton.
“See anyone interesting?” David asked. His hand came to rest on her knee, his thumb stroking the inside of her thigh.
She swallowed. “The man by the pillar. In the grey suit.”
David’s eyes flicked over. “Mm. Good posture. Confident. What do you think he’s working with?”
Katherine’s face flushed. She could feel the warmth spreading down her neck. “I… don’t know.”
“Guess,” David insisted, his fingers drifting higher, pushing the hem of her dress up. The cool air touched her skin. “Scale of one to ten.”
Her mind, trained for years on restraint, broke open. “An eight,” she breathed. “Thick. Not too long. Veiny.”
A low, approving sound came from David. His fingers slipped under the lace edge of her panties. He found her wet, already slick with anticipation. “Good guess,” he said. “I’d say a seven. But I like your optimism.”
He didn’t enter her. Just circled. A slow, maddening orbit around her clit. Katherine’s head fell back against the booth. She closed her eyes.
“Eyes open, Kat,” he commanded, his voice soft but absolute. “Watch. Tell me about the next one.”
She forced her eyes open. A younger man was walking past, purposefully. He glanced at their booth, saw David’s hand under her dress, and slowed. He didn’t stop, but he didn’t look away either.
“Him,” David prompted.
“Jeans. Tight,” Katherine managed, her voice hitching as David’s finger finally made contact, a direct, electric press. “Oh, God.”
“Focus. Rating.”
“Nine,” she gasped. “Long. A definite… outline.”
The man smiled at her, a quick, acknowledging flash of teeth, and moved on.
“A nine,” David repeated, his own arousal a hard line against her hip. “You’re feeling generous tonight.” He added a second finger, sliding them through her folds, gathering wetness. “Now him.”
He nodded toward a man who had stopped a few feet away, openly watching them. He was older, solidly built, one hand casually in his pocket. Adjusting himself.
Katherine’s mouth went dry. This was real. A stranger was watching David’s fingers work her, watching the desperate rise and fall of her chest. And he was enjoying it. She saw the bulge in his trousers shift, grow.
“David…”
“Rate him,” David whispered, his mouth against her temple. His fingers pushed inside her, just to the first knuckle, then retreated. A teasing promise.
“Ten,” she moaned, the word torn from her. “Big. Fuck, David, he’s so big. I can see it.”
“Want to see more?” David’s voice was rough with his own need. “Want to see if you’re right?”
Before she could answer, David looked directly at the man. He gave a slow, deliberate nod.
The man’s eyebrows raised in a question. David nodded again.
With a glance around, the man stepped closer, just to the edge of their booth’s privacy line. His fingers went to his belt. The clink of the buckle was obscenely loud to Katherine. The shush of the zipper coming down was a tidal wave of sound.
David’s fingers were moving inside her now, a steady, deep rhythm, his palm grinding against her with every thrust. “Watch, baby. See if you were right.”
The man pushed his trousers and boxers down just enough. And there it was. Thick, uncut, heavy. It sprang free, already fully erect, the head dark and flushed. It was magnificent. Terrifying. Real.
Katherine made a sound—a hungry gasp. Her hips bucked against David’s hand, her inner muscles clamping down on his fingers.
“You were right,” David growled in her ear. “A perfect ten. Look at it. Imagine the weight of it on your tongue. The stretch.”
The man stroked himself slowly, his eyes locked on Katherine’s face, on the way her body was moving, on the visible glide of David’s fingers where her dress was rucked up. He took a half-step closer, offering a better view.
“Tell him what you’d do,” David urged, his pace inside her intensifying. “Tell him how you’d take that beautiful cock.”
Katherine was beyond words, beyond thought. The dual sensations—David’s skilled fingers fucking her, and the visual feast of a stranger’s impressive erection just feet away—merged into a single, overwhelming current of pleasure. Her orgasm was a silent, crashing wave for a second before the sounds broke free—sharp, ragged moans as her body convulsed around David’s hand.
David held her through it, his fingers still, letting her ride the contractions. He watched the stranger watching his wife come apart. The man’s stroke sped up, his fist a tight piston.
“She’s thinking about your cock,” David said to the man, his voice carrying just enough. “She’s thinking about how deep she could take it.”
The man groaned, a low, gravelly sound. His body stiffened.
“Don’t,” David said, suddenly, sharply. “Not yet. That’s for next time.”
The man stopped, his chest heaving, a sheen of sweat on his forehead. He gave a tight, frustrated nod, tucking himself away with a look of pure, unadulterated lust directed at Katherine.
As he melted back into the crowd, David finally withdrew his soaked fingers. He brought them to Katherine’s lips. “Taste,” he ordered. “Taste your excitement. Taste what he did to you.”
Her tongue, obedient, licked his fingers clean. The taste was her own, but mixed with the salt of his skin, and it was flavored now with the phantom salt of a stranger.
David unbuttoned his own trousers, freeing himself. He was painfully hard, veins standing in relief. “Your mouth, Katherine. Now. While we’re here. While they can all see.”
She didn’t hesitate. She slid off the booth seat, onto her knees on the floor between his legs. The carpet was soft against her skin. She took him in her hand, guiding him to her lips. She didn’t close her eyes. She looked up at him, then let her gaze dart to the room. A few people had noticed. They were watching.
The first touch of her tongue to his head was a revelation. It was David, her husband, the familiar taste and feel. But the context—the public voyeurism, the recent presence of another man’s cock in her line of sight—made it entirely new. She took him deep, her throat relaxing, her nose pressing into the coarse hair at his base.
David’s hand fisted in her hair. Not guiding, just holding. Anchoring. “That’s it,” he rasped, his head falling back. “Just like you would for him. Show them all how good you are.”
She worked him with a desperate, sloppy rhythm, one hand pumping his base, the other braced on his thigh. She could feel the eyes on her back, on the back of her head. It should have shamed her. It did something else entirely—it lit a fire in her core that her recent climax had only banked. She moaned around him, the vibration making his hips jerk.
“You see that guy, Kat?” David panted, his voice strained. “The one in the leather jacket, watching from the bar? He’s imagining it’s his cock you’re choking on. He’s imagining your lips stretched around him.”
The image, fed by David’s dirty narration, sent a fresh bolt of lust straight through her. She sucked harder, taking him all the way to the back of her throat again and again, until her jaw ached with a delicious, fulfilling strain.
David’s control snapped. “Gonna come,” he warned, his fingers tightening in her hair. “Take it. Show them.”
She didn’t pull away. She opened her throat, her eyes watering, and welcomed the hot, salty pulse as he emptied himself into her mouth. She swallowed every drop, her own body trembling with a secondary, sympathetic release.
When he softened, she released him with a wet sound, resting her forehead against his thigh, breathing hard.
David gently pulled her up, back onto the seat, wrapping an arm around her. He kissed her temple, her hair. “You were incredible,” he whispered, his voice full of awe and a fierce, possessive pride.
Across the room, the man in the leather jacket lifted his glass to them in a silent toast, a hungry smile on his face.
Katherine leaned into David, her body humming, her mind blissfully empty of everything except one crystalline, electrifying thought.
Next time.
________ |
