When I initially broached the subject of a sex club with him, he looked at me like I’d lost my mind, but we’d nearly been arrested skulking around various dogging spots we’d discovered on the internet.
Totally my fault. I was horny late one night and wanted Zane to fuck me outdoors, so me being me, I suggested we visit the local woods. We got more than an eyeful that night, I can tell you. There were couples fucking everywhere and just when I’d sunk to my knees, enjoying the feel of my husband’s cock in my mouth, there was a kerfuffle across the clearing, and next minute, the place was overrun by police with torches shining in every direction.
Just my luck. It seems I’d found us a well-known dogging spot.
Now, for either of us, being arrested for anything at all, let alone lewd behaviour and public indecency, would destroy our reputations and end our careers instantly.
Zane nearly had a meltdown as we hid in the trees, hoping we weren’t spotted. I was shaking, scared, but excited too. We weren’t discovered, but we’ve never done anything like it again.
Still, we had needs and desires that begged to be addressed and ‘The Club’ might be the answer we’d been searching for.
I remember shopping in Chester for an outfit to wear, wanting to wow Zane. It had the desired effect.
His tongue was literally hanging out of his mouth.
So, rather than undressing in front of him, I wanted to dress up for him. I stood in matching jade green bra, crotchless panties and suspenders. His favourite colour on me. Stilettoes completed the look. The bulge in his trousers made me smile. I had him just where I wanted him, like a black widow ensnaring her mate in a web he couldn’t escape from.
“You look beautiful,” he said, edging toward me.
“Don’t even think about it, Mister,” I replied. “We don’t have time, and besides, are you gonna deny the others who’ve paid to get into the club the opportunity of seeing you make love to me?” I didn’t know for sure how the evening would turn out, but my own mind conjured all manner of kinky images. Having never been to a club of this type before, I didn’t know if sex between me and my husband would even factor into it. Maybe tonight was just some sort of initiation into their world. I’d read enough erotica books but was careful not to project what I’d read into what could happen as the real thing could end up a disappointment. I didn’t want anything too fifty shades related, but somewhere along those lines would get my juices flowing.
He adjusted his bulge and grinned at me. “Where did this Jenna come from?”
She’s always been here but I kept her locked away. “I don’t know,” I lied, feeling a bit deceitful upon the realisation I was always open to another side of life.
“Well, right now, I’d love to bend you over the bed and fuck you all night long, but I want other men to see what they’ll never have.”
And there it was. He’d staked his claim on me.
I always found true love to be vampiric in nature – something that once we had, we had to have over and over again, like blood. He didn’t need to stake any claim on me because I was his, forevermore. The lady’s not for turning, the Iron Lady once said, and neither was I.
Zane – The dogging spot fiasco is something I’ll never forget. The experience of hiding myself in bushes whilst sporting a raging hard on, trying to control my thumping heartbeat, whilst the police searched every nook and cranny of this well-known spot was genuinely terrifying, and one I haven’t had the misfortune to repeat. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but I can’t blame Jen. She wasn’t to know the place she was so excited to discover was on the police radar. We were bloody lucky not to have been caught. I dread to think how we would have explained our names and pictures plastered across The Chester Chronicle. I imagine Jen’s mother would have burst a good few blood vessels over the coverage. As for my mum, she’d have blamed Jen for leading me astray, so all good there. Haha!
Chapter Nine
We pulled up in an old abandoned car park, next to a pub that looked like it hadn’t seen a patron in about a hundred years. It put me in mind of The Leaky Cauldron from Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. Creepy, but the adventurer in me was chomping at the bit to get in there and explore. Zane always says I’m fearless. Call me the female Indiana Jones if you wish. Always up for excitement and adventure. Nothing will stop me if I’m determined.
Mobile phones, or any form of communication devices were strictly forbidden in ‘The Club’ and therefore left in the glove box of his car.
I prayed we weren’t going into some Hostel type club with no means of escape. Adventurous yes. Stupid, no. Considering what we were about to do, I was convinced God wouldn’t help me even if I did manage to get myself into trouble.
“Are you kidding me, Jen?” Zane glanced about, looking like he’d stood in something he shouldn’t have. He looked sexy in his black tuxedo and fitted white shirt but pulled at the black bow tie every now and again, seemingly irritated by it. “This place is a dump. We must have the wrong address.” He grumbled on and on as he always does when faced with the unknown. “The only things we’ll find in that shit hole will be dirty great big rats and I’ve no intention of going anywhere I’ll need a tetanus afterwards.”
Trying not to laugh at his irrational fear of anything that scurried about, I agreed. “It doesn’t look the best, I admit, but it is the right place. Look at that sign.” I nodded toward it. Golden handcuffs on a black background, but even that was faded and looked decades old. I wondered if the façade was deliberately designed as such to keep prying eyes away. Zane’s reluctance to go in rubbed off on me. I hesitated, but as this place was inexplicably on a busy road with a lot of passing traffic, I didn’t want to be seen loitering – I was convinced people driving by would know what was inside and didn’t want to be judged by the leering eyes of the passers-by.
“I’m not going in,” he declared, stuffing his hand into his trouser pockets, and retrieving a tiny bottle of hand sanitiser.
“Why?” I asked.
He squirted some of the gel into his hand, passed me the bottle, then rubbed his hands furiously together. I slipped it inside my clutch bag. “If the inside is anything like the outside, we’ll come away riddled.”
“Oh, behave yourself, you won’t catch anything” I replied.
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” he said, pulling at the bow tie and scratching at his neck. His anxiety levels were about to sky rocket. I knew the signs and needed to get us in there quickly, or he was going to bolt. “I feel like the last man hung with this thing tied around my neck.”
Ignoring his complaint, I gently slapped his hand away and fixed the now crooked tie. “You had a tetanus two years ago.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I’m the one who jabbed you with the needle, remember?”
“Oh, yeah,” he said, grumpy I’d scuppered his plans to turn around and go home.
“Are we going in, or not?” I felt nervous stood outside, both of us in full evening wear, and I noticed the tiny beads of sweat on Zane’s brow.
“I don’t know, Jen.” It was going to be touch and go.
“We’ve got nothing to lose,” I reasoned.
“Apart from our extremities when we get the mange.” He laughed, relaxing a little.
Ignoring him, I said. “Knock three times.”
He glared at me, grinning like a maniac. “Now I know you’re taking the piss.”
“What?” He was getting on my nerves.
“And will whoever’s inside knock twice on the pipe if the answer is no?”
I didn’t have a clue what he was yacking on about, but whatever it was, tickled him. Zane has a sense of humour that goes over most people’s heads and what he finds hysterically side splitting, others find random and wonder if he is on some sort of medication. Still, he keeps me entertained. By now, he was almost crying with laughter at what I’m sure he thought would win him the golden buzzer on Britain’s Got Talent. “What are you talking
about?”
He began to sing the most ridiculous lyrics and as much as I was dying to laugh too, I wasn’t going to encourage him.
I knocked on the door three times as he hummed behind me. Turning to glare at him, he made a zip motion across his mouth.
The door opened. A man stood there, not saying a word. I handed him the invitation, he stepped aside and allowed us to cross the threshold. It was all very Death Becomes Her. I had the hand sanitizer ready should the inside match the outside.
Chapter Ten
Stepping into ‘The Club’ was akin to the Pevensie children finding Narnia at the back of the wardrobe.
Looking around in wonder, I decided the place was spectacular.
The décor was on a palatial scale, and the furnishings must have cost a small fortune, obviously imported.
Walking through the building, neither of us spoke, but Zane squeezed my hand, telling me he was impressed.
Through a door towards the back of the room we found ourselves in – a kind of posh waiting room with luxuriously styled seating. It was like we’d been transported to another place and time.
A fully staffed bar stretched from one end of the room to the other whilst mixed and same-sex couples chatted freely, laughing and flirting amongst one another.
These were the beautiful people we often heard about, but never considered ourselves good enough to mingle with.
We were introduced to the others by the gentleman who showed us in. I still don’t know what his name is, nor do I think we’re supposed to. It seems discretion is key from doormen to patrons.
A new identity was bestowed to each of us. I wasn’t expecting it, but we weren’t Zane and Jenna anymore.
“Meet Colin and Sarah,” the doorman announced.
Zane looked at me. I could almost read his mind. Do I look like a bloody Colin?
I didn’t mind Sarah at all. It was simple and easy to remember, but Colin. Oh dear, he definitely wasn’t a Colin.
I could imagine his level of irritation, him dying to tell the assembled gathering his name was Zane. I wanted to laugh, but I daren’t.
Couples surrounded us, and I felt no judgement from them. Just solidarity and excitement.
“Nice to meet you, Colin,” one of the guys said, shaking his hand. “And you, Sarah.” Air kisses all round.
“My name is Jason and I’m into anal and fisting,” one of the other guys surrounding us announced, matter of factly. His overly-botoxed wife nodded her head in agreement. I tried not to focus on her, but I was drawn to the face. She reminded me of a puffer fish with the obligatory trout pout.
Zane still had hold of my hand and I could imagine him clenching his bum cheeks tightly together at the fisting revelation. I suppressed a bout of the giggles, but that was probably just my nerves. Wouldn’t have been a good idea anyway.
The so called beautiful people looked a little older than us and I admit to feeling shocked and a little judgemental, but really, I had no right to feel either emotion. At the end of the day, if you like taking it up the arse, or pumping your face full of poison, who was I to put them down.
“Nice,” Zane said, and I knew he wasn’t being flippant or accepting, just nervous too.
“My husband is into that too,” I offered, but instantly regretted it. I looked at Zane as his face flushed red. I didn’t mean he liked the fisting part, just the anal side of things. He looked at me, wide-eyed, not sure what to say next. I’d just told the others my husband liked to be fisted. Shite!
At that moment, and quite inappropriately, I pictured Zane as a creepy doll-type puppet on the end of this guy’s fist. Grossed out, I pushed the image from my mind.
One of the guys with us must have noticed the tense atmosphere and spoke up. “Hey, don’t worry, we all have our kinks here. There’s no judgement. Whatever gets you through the night and all that.”
He was right, and I offered a polite smile. I relaxed as soon as I felt Zane relax.
We all chatted for an hour or so, getting along famously, then the couples seemed to vanish to rooms off the main bar area we were huddled in.
The doorman stepped in and led us away and without words, gestured for us to take the room on the right. He reminded me of Lurch from The Addams Family. He knew what he was doing, but few words were required, or offered.
Chapter Eleven
The room was as grand as any you’d find inside a royal palace, of that I was certain.
A roaring fire to the one end and an enormous antique carved four poster bed against the opposite wall. I brushed my hand across the bed. The bedding was quite exquisite – Egyptian cotton. The duvet was a golden coloured material and screamed luxury. I was almost reluctant to use it, but that moment soon passed. Zane wasn’t impressed. Bedding didn’t really do it for him. As long as the material wasn’t scratchy, as he called it, he didn’t care.
Something struck me as odd. There were curtained windows strategically placed throughout the room, but we were in the bowels of the building, so what did the windows look out into?
“What are the windows for?”
Zane pointed out the obvious with a “Duh.”
Lurch left us alone. I couldn’t help my curiosity and dashed to one of the windows, gently pulling the silk drapes back.
“Oh, my days,” I said to Zane, unbelieving of what I was looking at. “You’ve got to see this.”
He came over to the window, then looked at me.
“Bloody hell, Jen.” He looked again, his mouth agape. “I’ll never eat a Granny Smith again.”
We both burst out laughing as the man fired a big green apple out of his arse.
“My, God.” I spluttered, briefly covering my eyes. It didn’t feel right to be watching. But, the nosey parker in me had other ideas.
He must have had an athletic sphincter muscle because the second apple erupted from his anus like a missile. Thunderbirds are Go passed through my mind for some obscure reason.
“Remember when we were in Thailand and that lady fired a ping pong out of her whatsit?” he said. “This guy would make a fortune over there.” I was dumbstruck.
“Jen. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I stammered. “Just shocked, but no judgement, right.”
“Don’t be getting any ideas. You know I’m not a fan of apples at the best of times, never mind using my arse like a cannon to fire a couple across the room.”
I lost it completely. Bent double with tears streaming down my cheeks, I laughed my head off, hands clutched tightly over my mouth so as not to be overheard. He could always make me laugh, and sometimes, I think he missed his calling as an insult comic or comedian.
“Shush, they’ll hear you,” Zane said, flapping his hands.
I managed to control myself, curious to know what was behind the other curtains. This was like some bizarre version of a continental European gameshow.
I’m definitely no prude, but I’d never seen anything like this before. I’d never eat apple pie again, of that I was sure.
And behind the next curtain we have…
The hot couple we’d seen at the bar were now behind the glass fucking like their lives depended on it. I couldn’t hear her, but I could see her facial expressions, and there was no way she wasn’t moaning. When her husband moved away and turned to face the window, my jaw dropped. He was practically deformed below the waistline. His cock was humungous. I’d seen plenty of willies in my time, but this thing looked like a deadly weapon. I tried to get a closer look, curious to know if it had been injected with silicone to make it bigger. I was practically licking the windows.
“I bet that doesn’t get fully hard,” Zane said, a look of horror on his face.” “If it did, it would touch her tonsils.”
“You know that’s not possible, right,” I said, realising he was joking. “But you’re right about it not getting hard. I bet he has to hold onto the base of it to keep some blood in, so he can get it inside her.”
“I bet she’s got a fanny
like a bucket,” he said, oh so charmingly.
“Zane,” I said, trying not to laugh again.
“Let’s not look any more,” he said. “It makes my arse twitch just thinking about it.”
“Curtain number three?” I said, doing my best gameshow hostess impression. I glided across the floor, my jade green gown clinging to my figure, the train dragging across the highly polished floor.
“Go for it,” he encouraged, a grin across his face.
“That’s hot,” I said, standing to watch, as three guys took turns pounding another guy lying in a sling. Looking down I could see how hard Zane was. “Do you like that?”
“It’s hot, but I’ve no desire to join in.” He didn’t need to say it, but I knew he was trying to reassure me.
“Good,” I said, leaning in to kiss him. Suddenly, I panicked. “They can see us,” I exclaimed, moving swiftly away from the window.
“Calm down, they can’t see us.”
“How do you know?”
“We’re new, they wouldn’t do that to us unless they asked first. We were put in here for a reason, to see whether we like the place or not.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Trust me,” he said, kissing me. “At five hundred quid a pop for just us to be in the building, they’d make sure we were all thinking along the same lines.”
I was voyeuristically inclined and loved seeing them in action but wasn’t sure I’d like others to see me so clearly, just yet. Maybe in time, I’d be more comfortable performing in front of others.
Zane – There isn’t anything I can really say, but I still don’t like apples.
Chapter Twelve
The evening certainly went with a bang, but with that came a change in Zane.
It was almost immediate, but I couldn’t put my finger on why.
How Does a Moment Last Forever? Page 4
