Group Sex Bad Girl's Night Out

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Maggie and Nicole
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So I pick up my phone and look at it. I've got a text. It's from Maria, my publisher.

"Tick Tock Tick Tock Motherfucker! You ever heard of a deadline?"

I was going to reply back to it, then again, I'd done that once a day for the last three days. She needed a call. I'd call her this time. Right thing to do and all.

"YEAH?" she answers me.

"Hey... hey... hey," I said, "is that any way to talk to your star writer?"

"That any way to talk to the person who puts up with your inability to finish your latest draft," she snapped back, "and still lets you stay at the company's Airbnb location in Harrisburg on the company dime? C'mon Bill, you have ONE silly ass chapter to go and you're done, so what's the holdup?"

"There's no holdup," I lied, turning the television down, "I'm writing one more vignette as we speak,"

I held the phone down to my laptop and tapped away at the keys like machine gun fire ...TAP TAP TAPPITY TAP TAP TAP TAP! before adding with,

"my juices are just beginning to flow. This is gold I am cranking out... GOLD!"

"Smells like the same old bullshit to me," she shot back.

She sounded mad. I think she was mad. She definitely sounded mad.

"You mad?"

There was that enormous fucking sigh on the other end of the phone. She wasn't mad. If she'd been dead quiet on the other end... you know, with that stone cold silence where she's thinking of finally having had enough of my antics... then it would be something entirely different. Oh but the thing was, I always did this...always. I always delivered too, just I often shaved pretty close to a deadline. My bad. I blame my parents and the new math I had in junior high, all those years ago.

I certainly didn't blame her. I'd left my home in Arizona four weeks earlier to follow up a lead on a person I was researching for my new erotic novel. After I'd met with that source, I just kind of stayed at various places in Central Pennsylvania. My wife Linda was on vacation with old friends in South America and I didn't need to get back to the Grand Canyon state very fast, so for four weeks I'd simply eaten and drunk up my advance money in various locations around the Keystone State, cranking out another chapter every few days, but I was not writing with any sense of urgency. I didn't have the heart to tell Maria I was out of ideas this time and simply couldn't finish and I'd been at the company AirBnB for the last week.

Was it writer's block? Was it my almost manic sense of needing things to be oh so perfect before hitting return and starting a new paragraph? I'm not sure. I'd tried long naps, cold baths, drinking like a sailor on shore leave, even jacking off like a monkey in the zoo; all in the hopes to have one more idea for this collection of short stories but nothing was manifesting itself. It was like my own mind was cock-blocking me from cranking out my money-making filth.

Anyhow, that sigh told me she was smiling. I swear, when you've worked with somebody that long and you get to know 'em, you can hear the smile. She was shaking her head and smiling too... I know it. You couldn't tell me differently.

"Stay off the booze," she chuckled, "and write! Start tapping the keys for real. Not any of that fake stuff you do to satiate me. Oh and there's a decent steakhouse up the road from where you are. I'll send you the address. If I know you, you're not eating right... or you're eating all the wrong things. Get a decent piece of meat and a big salad so you've got fuel in you to finish this..."

"I'm disappointed," I told her.

"You're disappointed?" she laughed back, "Where do YOU get the right to be disappointed?"

"You're laughing at this," I told her, "and you're beautiful when you're angry."

She said something about my mother and about me being impossible and then BLOOP! the address for the steakhouse appeared on my screen. It was one of those business locations I must have driven past a dozen times and not seen. She then added she'd be calling me in the morning and that she expected something worthy of being called FINISHED in her box by noon right before she hung up. Oooh when she spoke to me like that I wanted soooo badly to finish in her box. I really COULD fuck the snot out of her! Yep, I blame my parents.

So I'm finishing up dinner and adding the tip with a ball game on the tv right above my booth and I look at my watch it's only 7PM. Plenty early. I've got loads of time to crank out a chapter. I might even make it an all-nighter and then go to sleep tomorrow noonish after I hit SUBMIT to Maria's hot angry box, I was thinking. Then as I'm on my way back out to my car with one of the mints my mouth from the cashier's counter, I look down a long street to the south from the restaurant and can see the gaudy flashing neon on a white building reading the words "Savanna's," a posh swanky gentleman's club I'd seen in the back of the local free papers for Harrisburg.

"Time to do some research," I thought, "I can have a few overpriced beers, ogle a few sets of tits, and still have time to service Maria's box with my sticky prose by noon tomorrow. Well... okay NOONISH."
​

***​

I had my first overpriced glass in front of me not fifteen minutes later. I shrugged to myself about the two drink minimum. I figured at least the house rules about no cell phones meant Maria couldn't call me and see where I was at in the story.

I was right up next to the U-shaped stage at the wrap-around seating. The stage ran two strippers at a time. Most of the patrons in the place stayed back and hugged booths and tables along the side walls but a few brave souls like myself sat up at the comfy red front row chairs and had the stage basically in our laps.

I looked around at the "frontline troops" reclining around that stage; braving the onslaught of glitter, tits, and whirling spiked high heels. There were a couple of guys that looked like long haul truckers, another old grandpa looking dude being ignored by the strippers because had that aura of "No ca$h whatsoever" as he sipped his cranberry and whatever it was, and some guy who'd not even bothered to take off his brown janitorial jumpsuit with the name "Mike" embroidered over his left tit in red. Somebody still knows how to sew cursive I see.

The pair that stuck out however were two women. They had an empty chair between me and them and at first I didn't really get a good look at them when I came in and sat myself down... hell I was still smarting from the cover charge that had stung me in the wallet and was quite frankly ogling the two impossibly hard-bodied strippers (a blonde and a raven-haired brunette), both sporting coconut titties fake as campaign promise and matching red thongs so small you'd seen more cotton in a fucking Q-tip. The best word to describe me was "distracted."

So I'm sitting there amidst this haze of darkness mixed with flashing lights, wafting cheap perfume mixed with the scent of sweat & feminine hygiene products and sound... oh so much SOUND; loud does not come close to what this was. It's why I like both my sex and my porn with soft music in the background; cool jazz or New Age hums and gongs so I can enjoy the event and blow my nut butter in what you'd call aroused tranquility. This on the other hand, was like a sound-wall of today's radio hits cranked up HIGH with the knob ripped out and thrown across the room. I feel that most strip club DJ's are in a state of arrested development; never getting beyond the age of twelve and this night didn't change my thinking. It's also why I didn't notice the two women seated one chair over until the music changed and the house lights came up long enough for the bouncers to toss a thirsty handsy drunk head-first out the front entrance.

People were hooting and laughing at the loud drunk asshole as he was rag-dolly handled out the door; threatening the life of all who'd had a hand in his rough treatment despite him being all drunk talk and no fight. I snorted a laugh in my beer and looked around, adjusting to the bright lights. My eyes met those of the two ladies; one a dangerous looking red head and one a brown haired, brown-eyed hottie with a nose ring.

At first I thought they might work there, and were sitting things out between sets. Then I realized they weren't dressed in the standard club wear that a woman can quick-change out of and next thing you know dry hump a pole while American Legionnaires make it rain cash on her. No, they were dressed to watch... not to be watched.

Both of them oozed MILF. Hot MILF. MILF that liked sex, liked nudity and liked pleasure. They had that vibe.

They had something else. It was something quite familiar and I couldn't put my finger on it but I'd seen them both before. I knew it. I just couldn't piece it together. It was like hearing your favorite song from highschool only somebody else is singing it and there's an orchestra and now it's in an ad for car insurance; totally familiar note for note, but you don't have the right context to say "Ahah!"

With the new set, just like the pony express changing out horses and riders every ten to fifteen miles, so the stage changed out strippers and with that a stunning big bottomed Latina woman and deliciously thick black woman with big ole casaba melon titties ascended the stage. Likewise, the hard bodied blonde and raven haired dancers I'd just been having kids with in the back of my mind, promptly left the stage and moved out onto the floor and work that crowd.

They didn't go far. The booths at the walls and the tables in front of them were occupied with men getting their wallets humped by the always helpful club dancing faculty. The two women now turned back to the stage and I readied money for that which never came; for they walked right by me. Walked RIGHT by me and went straight to the pair of MILFs seated that one chair length away, even.

I harrumphed in my beer and began watching the two new dancers up on the stage begin to undulate and flail in a storm of fleshy boobs, bellies, and glitter coated glutes. Every now and then however, I looked back at the MILF pair chatting and schmoozing with the blonde pole goddess and her raven haired accomplice. It was all quite friendly and courteous, the way women interact in that sort of "I love your hair... oh I love those shoes and earrings," sort of thing, but it was also flirty. Heavy flirty. Even if it was a put on to separate those two MILFs from their hard earned pay I thought it was equal in heat to anything gyrating up on stage before me... and I wanted to know who the hell they were and why I felt like I'd talked to them forev...

"HOLY SHIT!" I thought... "Facebook!"

I knew em. Knew em both. I wasn't one hundred percent sure but... oh shit yeah it was them! Maggie and Nicole. It was Maggie's luxurious mane of red hair and Nicole's short brown hairdo with her nose-ring and pierced lip that jogged my memory and CLICK everything popped into place in my head.

Now look, I don't just write porn - I also meme. I make memes. I post memes. I steal memes. I'm a memer- a drunk with a chronic meming problem. No, it does not lead to riches so don't let your teenage old son tell you it's what he's going to do as soon as he can move out of the house. Anyhow...

The four ladies conversed, connected, and laughed loudly. I just barely heard their voices but they were smiling warmly and running their hands in each other's hair and flicking little bits of nothing away from shoulders, in between blushy compliments. It was a warm sort of half-groom, half-grope, head tossing sort of flirt you normally see at raves where it's Molly and weed everywhere (or at college parties with drunk coeds).

Then all at once, the redheaded MILF Maggie, pulls out a dollar and pops it in her teeth. She then leans back in her chair; playfully tugging and rubbing away at her breasts and crotch through her clothes in this over-the-top display of slutty self-abuse. The blonde pole dancer was hip to it. She knew everyone in the bar was watching and even both strippers up on the stage paused to crane necks and peer down into the darkness at the fuckery.

Without so much as missing a beat, the blonde whips out this silver chain; wrapping it about Maggie's body the way a spider ties up its lunch. Maggie was now happily caught; her winks and flaring nostrils urging the woman on. The blonde now kicked a long lanky dancer's leg over Mag's mid-section; straddling the red haired MILF. Still holding the chain, she seized Mag's face with both hands and plucked out the dollar using red beestung lips, but not before sucking out Maggie's soul in a passionate kiss. She sank her full weight down upon Maggie and began to grind; bumping her delightfully heart-shaped hiney up and down and all around in an extended mons to mons through the clothes dry hump.

"Hope the glitter comes out of that sweater easily," I thought as the crowd lost their marbles and cheered from every corner of the club it seemed. Even the two pole humpers on stage applauded before falling to the stage floor and straddling one another in a mock kitty to kitty battle, earning them a small cloud of dollars that rained their way from the janitor seated across from me.

Meanwhile from her seat, Nicole watched the whole torrid lesbo snogfest going on not a foot and a half away from her. She was completely dumbfounded by it all; that is until she realized she'd the black maned entertainer right BANG in front of her chair. The brunette reached back and raised herself with both hands until she was seated upon the edge of the stage with her back to the dancers. She then raised bent knees and brought both red high heels down onto either side of Nicole's chair with a loud KA-BLAM!

Nicole jumped in her seat; now framed between the woman's shoes. She started to say something but the black-maned temptress brought a shushy shushy finger first to her own lips, then down to Nicole's. Instinctively Nicole sucked the finger given her. I'm sure it's against some fucking house rule or something but nobody seemed to care; least of which not Nicole! She gave head to the woman's dainty digit until it was plucked coated with saliva that shined in the strobing lights. The black-headed dancer promptly brought that same slimy finger down to the front of her thong and began to furiously rub her bean through the sheerest membrane of red cotton nothingness.

Nicole made an "O" of surprise with her own pouty pucker as the dancer strummed her cunt and pinched at her own nipples, making "ooh this feels so good," faces and winking at her patron. A hand shot out before her face and Nicole found a hand with a dollar bill before her nose. It had come courtesy of Maggie, already with her second dollar between her teeth. The blonde was now executing another stage move of hers where she writhed her body all serpent-like up and down Mag's torso; both boobs squished together like a cleft chin. She then plucked the dollar from Mag's face using her udders like tweezers, but not before rubbing her titties all over the red-head's in what to me looked like the most awesome "GOT MILK?" commercial EVER!

Nicole quickly stuffed the dollar in her kisser. In one fluid movement the raven goddess hopped from her perch down to land herself on Nicole's lap in something that reminded me of the old silent westerns where a cowboy vaults and lands in the saddle before riding off. Like the pair next to her she commenced to grind and shimmy, running her fingers through Nicole's hair and using her entire body as a sort of rude masturbatory instrument against Nicole's white sweater. She kissed Nicole tenderly and retrieved the dollar as more hoots and howls rose from the booths around us.

"Definitely THAT sweater will need a rinse too!" I'm thinking.

The dance number finished up and the set was done. The dancers left the stage and the DJ mentioned cheesy-ass names for the next pair of strippers. This time I didn't even look to see who was going up to the stage. The blonde and the raven mane were leaving the MILFs and I just HAD to either make an introduction to two old friends I'd never met or execute the biggest fuck up faux pas of my adult life. I seized up my beer that cost a boat payment, took a swig for bravery and moved to the chair between me and the ladies. I figured it was just better to belt out their names.

"MAGGIE? NICOLE?"

Okay... not my smoothest move and not my finest moment. No matter how smooth you think something might go... even if you are on your game, you come off as creepy and this was no exception. They jumped. Like left their seats and nearly peed sorta jumped.

"WAIT WAIT WAIT!" I'm going, "Look... I'm Bill from Facebook. We are on 'Memes with Benefits' and 'Adult's Only Playground' and 'Touch Me There Please, Adult Memes' or at least somebody who looks a whole helluva lot like you is on there with me, at which point I have to warn you both you have doppelgangers,"

There was this stunned pregnant pause - a five counter. A pause where I braced and waited for them to scream for the bouncers. It's how I'd envision Gilligan's Island if suddenly the U.S. Navy parks in the lagoon and the castaways should realize they're all saved but it hasn't completely hit them. I watch too much TV... alright shaddup and read.

"Bill?" Maggie said. It was more asking than saying. Yep, she was giving me the whole deer in the headlights look but Nicole had moved on to the next level with,

"OH NO! Maggie... THAT'S BILL! It's him!"

Okay, so now the realization was made as to who I was. I wasn't going to kill them and bury them in a shallow grave by the river and I wasn't insane, it really WAS them. Now came the hugs and the 'What are you doing here?' discussions.

We caught up. We caught up right there. Nicole moved her drink and purse over to the other side of me and both girls leaned in over my arm rests and we caught up over the blast of way too loud music - for once oblivious to the naked women we'd paid way too much to see. There was so much to cover.

I won't go into all the things that had happened in the conversation, the boyfriends, the ex-husbands, the one live-in girlfriend that Maggie finally had to drive off, the hottie Nicole made-out with after a Bob Segar concert (with both women having their tits out no less). I won't talk about the drugs, the booze, the current husband, their kids; it's all now a backstory for me but as they talked and I told them here and there about my life; a connection was made. Once we'd broken the ice, I could see them (and they saw me for that matter), as a real person - not just some person dropping memes in a feed and then hearting a picture of somebody's lunch or a photo of a cat.

It was then that Mags drew in closer to my chair, just as Nicole did the same from the opposite side. Their demeanor was conspiratorial. Anyone who has been in a place like that realizes that whispering is pointless; not unless you are lips to ear and even then you don't get the whole thing said. They simply leaned into my chair bubble and Mag's started with,

"We want to get out of here soon," she explained.

I started to say, "Well it's okay then. I was hoping to buy you both a drink and maybe..."

Nicole put a hand on my knee and leaned in even tighter. I could feel her breath hitting my ear and cheek. It was warm and little flecks of saliva hit my face in a mist as she said,

"NO, she means she wants us both to leave AND TAKE YOU WITH US! We want to go do some other things around this town that we can't do in this place."

She squeezed my knee for emphasis and then Mags gave my opposite thigh a squeeze before she slid her hand down to my package, giving my junk a squeeze as she turned my face to hers and kissed me hard on the lips. I second later and her hand was replaced by Nicole's (who followed suit and pulled me in for a kiss while giving my baby-maker a nice aggressive grope like she was wrestling with a puppy through my pants).

I couldn't believe my luck. I was sitting in a strip club. I'd run into two women I'd been social media pals with for years and they'd just offered to cut out with me, and they'd sealed the deal by shaking hands with the contents of my Levi's. Suffice to say, I realized I had the makings of my last chapter for the book.

There was one thing however. The club wasn't going to let go of us just yet. The set was ending and a brown-haired, brown-eyed waitress with silver dollar sized areolas and a plump rounded bottom came up to me and plopped down my second draft of the two drink minimum; just as I'd polished off my first. Well, that was as good enough an excuse as any but in the back of my head I was thinking 'to fuck with that silly beer, what I wanna do is fuck these two hot MILFtastic looking broads'... after all, Maria had told me to stay away from the booze, right?

Oh but nothing doin. Two new strippers (a pair of heavily tatted apple-bottomed Latina's), mounted the stage while the DJ belted out their names. I think they were "Holly Penyo" and "Carlotta Piñata" or some such shit. Not three steps behind them to the stage's edge were that same blonde and the brunette who'd eagerly rubbed bodies and swapped spit with Maggie and Nicole several minutes before. Both dancers carried a shot glass and one bottle of tequila each in their paws, (and both appeared eager to put them to use on my two lady friends).

Mag's commenced to fumble through her purse for more bills. She was immediately stopped by Tiffany... or was it Tara? No wait, the Brunette was Tara... or Tiramisu or Miso Soup or some stupid garbage. Hey where in the fuck to strippers and pornstars get their stupid names anyhow? It's like Ben & Jerry's have a team of consultants that think up names for female entertainers when they are not busy as hell filling out the birth certificate for a new strain of Rocky Road. Yet I digress...

The blonde chick Tiffany, stops Maggie cold. She smiles with that same look I saw my friends used to get when we'd decide to ditch school instead of going to the bus stop. Over the music blast that happened to be the signal for the two heavily-tatted taco twins to commence twirling and turning like fidget spinners up on the stage, I could just barely make out Tiffany saying,

"No HON! This time it's on Me! I bought this whole bottle for you!

"And I bought this one for YOU!" Tiramisu announced, waiving her bottle happily in front of Nicole's nose.

"And I'm DEFINITELY driving when we finally get out of here," I think to myself right about then. Oh well, I just tipped back my beer and ogled the two jumping beans with really intricate sleeve-work up in front of me on the stage as they slapped each other's naked bum bums. I then turned my head left and right as Maggie and Nicole had their first shots before slouching in their chairs as directed by their lovely handlers.

"Yep," my inner monologue continued, "still has the makings for a good final chapter in that book," Shit! If I only knew what was coming next. This was all pre-game.
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***​

The second pair of shots found their way to Maggie and Nicole's kissers after both of the MILFs lapped sprinkled salt from Tiramisu's twerking bottom and with lemon wedges placed between well-glittered stripper nipples of Tiffany. This was as much for the benefit of the hooting crowd along the sides of the club as it was for that of Mags and Nicole, however I could sense that both women were MORE than getting into it with enthusiasm. Meanwhile, I sulked in my chair; still in between the two ladies while the strippers had their way with them as I nursed my second beer and contemplated opportunities lost.

It's a little like being in the center of a vast storm. All around me was a swirling tempest of tits, and boobs, and bellies, and scantily covered twat, and twerking tushies and yet I was sitting in the eye of the hussy hurricane nursing my beer with nothing going on. Nothing ever happens in the eye.

Oh that's not to say I minded the show. I drank in the sight of the two tatted dancers up high in front of me as they took turns dry humping either the pole or the stage. I drank in the sight of Nicole getting her very own boobies groped and pinched by Tiramisu while the brown-eyed Mom I'd Love to Fuck tipped back her bottle and commenced to get all GLUG GLUG GLUGGY with it. I even drank in the sight of Tiffany's hand disappearing inside the front zip to Maggie's jeans and all of this while Mag's did yet another shot of tequila, (poured by Tiff down over her own nipple, no less). Tiffs a long pourer and would make an excellent bartender by the way but would be rough on any bar's stocks.

Well, if my cock hadn't been throbbing beneath my jeans before it certainly was now, and I could feel the slimy drizzle of my pre-cum collecting at the tip. I was finishing up my beer and was considering calling it a night and going back to the Airbnb to try to write my story when I realized I needed to piss. Needed to piss bad in fact. I'd had two glasses of house rot at the steakhouse and two beers in this place and now it all wanted out. So I was up out of the chair to leave the ladies to their own devices and into the restroom for a nice long refreshing spray of the urinal. It was just the thing to clear the head and get the writing juices flowing.

On my way back from the men's room another scantily clad waitress with her red hair up approached me. Before I could say something about me being "all done" she held up a tray and thrust a tall coke in my paws. She turned over her pale kissable shoulders and told me,

"That's from the two ladies in your party over there. As their designated driver, you drink sodas and fruit-juice all night for free - house policy. Enjoy your evening!"

Well SHIT! I was back in after all. So much for moping about opportunities lost. I thanked and tipped her and then ambled back to my seat. There was a bit of heavy foot traffic blocking my way back to my chair however, a crowd of cordial strippers; all wanting to come up and socialize with Maggie and Nicole.

Girls are girls ...and girls can never stop being girls. All while as Tiff and Tiramisu lovingly dry humped my two friends there was this other group of strippers, all coming up to talk and gab and chat. As I cut through the throng of scantily clad chatty Cathy's and slewed into my seat with my coke the conversation went something like, I love your hair... you are so cute.... thank you so much, you are adorable too... my son is in fourth grade but I'm thinking of putting him a charter school... do you know a good veterinarian in your area for German Shepherd's?... that's a pretty sweater...and OH MY GOD I saw them in concert, SMALL WORLD! It's all a far cry from the conversations most dudes manage to pull from the back of their minds. While some naked chick is straddling their Carhartt pants all your average Joe can say is ...YER BOOBIES ARE SO HAWT, YOU THINK I CAN TOUCHEM?

The whole time, Maggie and Nicole were flipping her hair and smiling, soaking up the compliments and making quite a few themselves. A couple of times I saw Mags reach out and touch this woman's or that woman's breasts doing the whole 'Oh MY GOD THEY LOOK SO REAL" thing. Had it been a man touching those tits, it would have been enough to send the bouncers leaping across the room to smash heads and toss folks out, but it had been done by a woman. It wasn't given a second thought to the John Cena wannabees crowded at the door or prowling the club, all sporting the establishments black t-shirts. It amounted to checking the tread for wear on a tire as far as touches went.

It went on like this for quite some time as several pairs of strippers changed out on the stage, and the waitress brought me at least three more big ass cokes (meaning at least two more restroom trips for me). Meanwhile, the levels on the tequila bottles of Mags and Nicole got lower and lower and lower. As they did, both ladies to either side of me got louder and louder AND LOUDER until I could barely hear the blaring top forty music that was nevertheless shaking the paint from the walls. The two dancers who'd corrupted them, Tiff and Tira, would get up and go around the room for a bit of separating the mooks for their hard-earned pay or they'd dry hump the stage and the pole; urging people to make it rain cash. Each and every time however, they'd finish their business and be back at our seats; straddling Maggie and Nicole for more smooching and rubbing palms across faces, more whispering sweet nothings in ears, and with more bottle hits by all four women.

At one point as Tiff and Tira left on one of their "get-ups" to grind cash from wallets, Nicole leaned over my way. With a heavy fog of booze on her breath, she told me how the raven haired Tira had been talking to her concerning her body and how she could see Nicole could quite possibly make a solid killing in a place like this, taking her clothes off and to Hoover up the paychecks of random dudes. I told her in between gulps of coke it sounded like a plan and that I could certainly see she had the body for it, if you liked the curvy milk-maid type; which I do. Nicole's got the tush and just enough meatiness on her figure and just enough high cheek-boned good looks in that face for that matter; with those brown eyes and brown sassy hair that she could EASILY dry hump the whole town's male population into the poorhouse. I told her as much.

She was just saying thank you and giving me a rather drunk blush and then she leaned in for a kiss that I detected coming and so I leaned forward in the dark and her hand found its way into my seat and my crotch was encased suddenly in her paw. I opened my mouth for the smooch and as our lips brushed I was spun halfway around in my seat by a surprisingly strong hand of Maggie. She'd news too. Oh great.

"The blonde just told me I smell nice," she shouted in my ear, "she's the third woman in here who has said that!"

Okay... that was interesting enough but I wanted to get back to Nicole and we had lips on things and hands on cocks and I was just about...

"OH," she continued breathing just as much tequila in my face as Nicole had, "I almost forgot!"

She stopped for a second to process the thought like it was going to leave the room if she wasn't quick enough. Tequila does that. She caught the thought halfway across the room trying to get out through the club's ventilation work and stuffing it back in her head she blurted out...

"We're going to go to a sort of swinger club next,"

"Who is?" I replied back... asking the question then realizing what had been said, and having an 'OH SNAP SHE SAID SWINGER CLUB' moment. The shock hit me quickly enough. Yes, I was back in the game. Hooray for cokes and women needing rides and tequila.

"I told the blonde," Maggie continued, "about how me and my ex were in the lifestyle together and she said that she's currently in it AS WELL! Anyhow, she told me about this underground place in town. It's where women go for shady hookups. There are places for couples to swap wives and where women can suck and fuck cock through gloryholes. I've got the address from her and it's not far from here. Five minutes of driving for you if you'll take us."

She leaned in and gave my neck a bite and shortly after stuck a warm tongue in my ear as her hand bumped Nicole's out from the way and gave my package a squeeze through my jeans. As I was saying, HOORAY for cokes, and women needing rides and did I mention tequila? I did, didn't I? Right so I nodded a curt "YEP."

This time when Tiff and Tira returned, Mags and Nicole were putting on their coats and saying their goodbyes. The two strippers did these cute little girl waives. Tiff made an imaginary phone gesture with her thumb and pinky mouthing CALL ME and Mags threw arms about her and gave her a final smooch before joining me and Nicole on our way to the door.

"DON'T FORGET TO SEE EDDIE ABOUT THE JOB!" black haired Tira shouted over the music to Nicole.

Nicole shot back a smile, a nod, and a pinky swear, and then we were out the door into the night.
​

***​

I parked and the three of us got out of the car. I'd made quite the careful exercise of parking, finding a streetlight to park under, not wishing for my car to be in the dark. I then made a fetish of clicking my key-fob thrice to assure my OCD that I'd locked it (I don't know why other than I just didn't like the surroundings). Aside from the lamp light streaming from above, the buildings around us were dark like a Russian novel. It was that quiet dark; that special kind of dark that tells you this place is forgotten and unused, the sort of dark that smelled of mud and rain and loneliness. Even Waffle House wouldn't put a place here.

We crunched along a gravel walk between metal buildings, my two drunk lady friends doing their best to hoot and holler off the effects of both tequila bottles while I looked around wishing to see more cars; signs of people, activity, anything. We were down on the south side of the city in a maze of sheds, machine shops, warehouses and at one end a steelworks... right smack close to the railroad tracks running along the Susquehanna River. It all had the same sullen vibe of 'Nobody Home now go away,' and with just the right level of melancholy that told me Scooby Doo and the gang would be along any minute to figure out why some caretaker's ghost was scaring people away from the place.

We rounded a corner to the left between two machine sheds and passed a loading dock until the way ahead opened up to another empty gravel parking lot. Before us stood a colossus of a warehouse with its sliding door pushed half-open. To our far right was a line of trees down by the train tracks and underneath the foliage in a straight line were several cars, all tucked neatly and recently beneath the hanging limbs and leaves. Some folks wanted to be discreet and circumspect. I'm not sure what the blue laws were in Pennsylvania but I suspect there was at least one being bent or broken by all this.

I considered going back to the streetlamp and bringing the car up to slip in under the trees so it wouldn't be lonely, but Maggie (who'd been looking at her slip of direction paper with her phone) suddenly became all excited. Without a word she plunged her drunk ass ahead of us and through the open warehouse entrance, disappearing into the coalmine dark beyond. I started to yell something against splitting up and Nicole called out to Mags that running off wasn't the best idea, but Maggie soon returned from the darkness to yell,

"It's here! We found it!"

We joined up with her at the sliding door. Adjusting my eyes to a vastness of shadow smelling of rat poop, dust, and a need to update one's tetanus injections, I could see nothing at first except trash broken windows and a few boxes. I was about to tell her she was wrong and that there was nothing here, but then at the far edge of the enormous room I noticed a pale blue-white light glowing and flickering from the bottom of a concrete stairwell. I pulled both ladies in close and we approached, careful not to step on anything sharp or jagged along the floor. It was still pretty dark and I didn't feel like driving any drunks to the E.R.

Arriving at the bottom of the stairs we found a heavy metal door. Seated next to it was a rather large caveman-looking gentleman, thumbing through his phone. He looked up from his screen and closely eyed the three of us. Apparently satisfied we were here for fun and not connected with local law enforcement, he asked us for the password. The whole thing felt ill advised and sketchy.

"Poughkeepsie," said Mags without hesitation.

The guy nodded and looked back into his phone and pushed a button on the wall next to him. There was an electronic hum from someplace inside the door and a large mechanical metal on metal slide of a bolt and the door popped open a few inches. Caveman spoke into his phone that he had three and we all checked out.

He pulled the door open for us and we stepped on in. We heard the door shut behind us and we were bathed in red light and strobes with cheesy 70s disco playing from somewhere softly on a sound system. Pinkish-purple carpet with little flecks of blue and green stars at regular intervals covered the floors, the walls, and even the ceiling running along a straight corridor with several rooms and alcoves to either side. The whole place had that Amsterdam sex club meets Frankfurt porno-parlor feel and it smelled like a cross between an ashtray and the back seat of a New York cab.

About this time, a scummy little Danny DeVito look alike emerged on our left out from some sort of side room; most likely the front office or front desk. He asked us what we were here for and Maggie indicated she wanted to go straight to the glory holes. With a grumpy nod he pointed down the hall and told us it was our third right. We began to move down the corridor when he interrupted,

"Hey, what about him?"

"What ABOUT him? Nicole asked.

"It's only women on that side of the glory holes. If he wants to go use one, he has to go to the fourth right where the adult bookstore and peep shows are, or he can go wait in the bar, play the slots, or play cards. He can also hang out in the swinger's lounge but it's couples only in there."

Mags wouldn't hear of it. She stepped in next to me. As if on cue Nicole moved onto my other side. Mags shot an arm around my waist announcing,

"He's our PROTECTION and he's coming with us!"

I harrumphed and nodded in agreement and Danny DeVito just shrugged. House rules didn't really seem to mean much in this place or he perhaps didn't feel like arguing. He looked far more concerned with getting back to his Chinese takeout than worry about seating arrangements and gloryhole protocols. He just waived a dismissive palm like 'OH WHATEVER GET TH'FUCK OUT OF HERE AND GO PLAY!' then turned back to his pink office and his lo mein noodles.

Next thing I knew we were down the hall and around our third right in a narrow side corridor with multiple doors on one side and framed black and white photographs of people in every conceivable sex position on the opposite wall. I suppose they had to have something. It probably wouldn't do to have just a bare wall and I suspected someone here in this establishment had a decorators' touch. Anyhow... we found the first door locked so went to try the second. Before I could try the knob, the door opened and three women of Thai or Filipino origin emerged, looking down and not wishing to make eye contact with us as they hurried past, their evening out on the town at an end apparently. Without any further thought, we moved inside and locked the door.

The room I have to say was rather well lit and remarkably clean. The carpet looked like that gray blueish nondescript office style you see when you go get your taxes done or you are waiting in motor-vehicle division to be called to the front desk; short, easily vacuumed and with those small recurring patterns that your brain just doesn't bother to remember. The walls were off white, as was the ceiling with that old chunky popcorn surface you'd normally see in a Holiday Inn.

Surprisingly there was furniture in the room for ladies to rest and relax upon. It wasn't what I'd expected, but then again I didn't know exactly what to expect I can tell you. There were stools and ottomans and two stuffed chairs along with a long couch, all in matching black faux leather, not attractive but not hideous. Up in the corner and tilted down at an angle was a wide screen TV showing a porno with a hard-bodied young woman getting her mouth and asshole stuffed with cock courtesy of two chiseled actors. Funky accompanying saxophone and twangy jazz guitar wocka wocka wocka'd softly through wall-speakers and halfway down the wall was a shelf with the TVs remote; as well as Kleenex, wet wipes, and hand sanitizer.

Well WELL. I guessed things were not nearly so spotless on the male side of the wall. I bet for instance the men did not have a fake plastic palm tree for ambience. We were lucky that way on THIS side of the wall. Oh and as for the aforementioned wall, there were a series of holes all along the business side of the room; carefully and cleanly cut so that five women could squat or comfortably sit before an opening and service someone on the other side. Each had an added slot several inches above the first and slightly offset; where a man might peer or reach through petting zoo style.

Mags gave the door one more shake, making sure we were damned good and locked in. She then made eye contact with Nicole and nodded in the direction of the waiting holes. Nicole smiled sheepishly and moved in the direction of the wall.

At this point I wasn't exactly sure what my role was. I mean SURE Mags had said something about me being "protection," but I wasn't certain what I was supposed to do exactly. I mean, I suppose I could have run out into the hallway and grabbed a fire axe or extinguisher, assuming this place was up to code (which on second thought, probably was not the case so it was a terrible idea). I might have punched some guy in his manhood or broken his hand, but it might lead to consequences I'd not already foreseen so I ruled that out as well. I then realized I could simply pull both women from the place and then hurry them out to the car; all before safely whisking them back to my Airbnb. I settled on option three as it allowed for the minimal amount of bloodshed, (and would most likely lead to all three of us in my king-sized bed). A sounder course of action never existed!

Mags and Nicole positioned ottomans beneath two holes situated adjacent to one another in the center of the wall and waited. They chatted between one another while I grabbed a stuffed chair and parked myself comfortably in it. I occupied my time simply watching the porno up on the screen; every now and again looking at the two women (who both still felt the effects of the tequila). I'd then turn my gaze to the empty holes, then back to the screen. At one point I chuckled to myself that this HAD to be what fishing is like to women. I even suppressed a little snort.

I can't remember how much time it took but in hindsight it couldn't have been all that very long before the ladies got a bite; for all at once the jabbering pair were interrupted by a loud bang of knuckles, knocking on the wall near Nicole's hole. A second knock (loud and forceful), was heard coming from Maggie's opening. Not a second later and two gentlemen had dropped their rather generously proportioned bait through the openings. For a moment Maggie and Nicole sat speechless, staring open mouthed at two cocks protruding through the wall, (looking not unlike a pair of dangling Dumbo noses, one white and veiny, one black horse-like). Clearly a rather well hung black fellow stood on the other side of the partition from Maggie, (either that or someone's 4H project had escaped captivity and now ran free). The fellow opposite Nicole was clearly a ginger who hadn't bothered to manscape before the gathering.

Mags and Nicole gave one another that happy "Christmas came early" look and then leaned forward on their ottomans, each taking matters in hand quickly. The pair of women brought faces and pecking lips to the pricks as they gently took up the drooping shafts in their palms, lightly stroking them with their fingertips. The touch must have been electric pleasure for the men behind the barrier, for two barely audible groans reverberated from behind the wall through the openings. A hushed but distinctly male "Ohhhh," was heard immediately following.

Without so much as dropping a cock, both women deftly repositioned themselves so that they now sat on their knees atop their Turkish tuffets with their plump blue jean clad bottoms resting on their heels. They had the deftest tough apparently with those two cocks; gingerly fingering and caressing them with little butterfly flourishes and snuffly sniffs; wafting in the cock-funk as if it were some exotic cologne, lifting the shafts and tonguing the hairy balls beneath, just protruding through the apertures.

Presently both mouths took up their meaty members properly and two female heads began to hop with purpose; as hands remained busy pumping bases and cupping balls. My view became obscured by Maggie and Nicole's bobbing noggins but a duet of groans and shudders from behind the wall told anyone watching all they needed to hear. As if expressing heartfelt appreciation, two arms (one black and one white with tattooed sleeves), snaked through the upper windows and eagerly palmed both busy little heads.

I moved from my chair up behind Mags for a better look-see. Nicole had a bulging mouthful of member and was slowly working a tight fist-ring back and forth on the portion of shaft just in front of her lips; loud slurps and sloppy dribble spilling deliciously from her pucker to give the guy's axle just the right amount of lubricant called for. Mags on the other hand was showing off her skills as a sword swallower, deeply GLUCK GLUCK GLUCKing on that soul brother's Johnson and fucking him hard with her tonsils as his fingers clenched and unclenched again and again in her hair.

Well, I could see all four of THEM were occupied with fun, so I decided a little fun of my own was in order. You didn't think for a minute I was doing this Pro-Bono, did you? Well anyhow, I positioned myself down behind Maggie and reached under her belly; unhooking her belt and finding the snap to her jeans. Likewise, I then stepped over and did the same behind Nicole. To their credit, neither woman ceased their cocksucking activities; both engrossed in head humping those two glory-hole boners absolutely rotten!

Not skipping a beat, I moved back over behind Maggie and with another reach around, tugged down her zip. I grabbed both her jeans and panties and in one fluid motion pulled everything down, just like peeling a lovely piece of fruit. I fucking love that moment when a woman's pants come down and that lovely apple bottom comes into view, like a moon rising over a mountain. It's magic for me!

Maggie's moon was no exception. A big ole upside-down heart shaped booty stared back at me. She had the loveliest twat-waffle of slightly concealed labial lips; reminding me of vanilla cookies with pink frosting oozing out between. Above this was a perky little starfish anus; darker than the rest of her skin tone and winking at me invitingly. She was all clean-shaven and neat as a pin.

I drank it all in for a moment then I set to work yanking off her black leather boots one at a time. Instinctively, she raised up her knees off the padded stool, long enough for me to get one pant leg off, then the other, and all without her missing a single suck or stroke on that big black cock wedged between her jaws! Now she was before me, unveiled, disrobed and vulnerable but for her very long sweater and top; seeming attached to the wall by that big dark penile pacifier whose owner moaned and groaned behind from the partition like he'd eaten bad shellfish.

I moved to Nicole. Her cute little brown haircut was bobbing with determination, oblivious to my approach. She tensed up for a second as I loomed over her and commenced fiddling with her belt buckle from behind but only for a moment before resuming with her anonymous cock-feast. In no time her jeans were open and I was yanking them down over her curvy full bottom and down to the tops of her boots.​