I quickly slipped into the back of the cab, finding Emma already there, a sliver of black fabric clinging to her curves in the form of a barely there mini-dress. The night was just beginning, and I knew it was going to be a long one.
She always lived life on the edge, a thrilling, untamed spirit who never shied away from flaunting her assets. Confidence radiated from her, a magnetic force that drew men in like moths to a flame. A gorgeous brunette with hair that tumbled down her back. We’d met during a modelling shoot for a local designer, and forged a friendship that had weathered every storm life had thrown our way, a bond forged in laughter, late-night partying, and the occasional scandalous escapade.
Even now, a mother to four-year-old twins, her body was in good shape, honed by motherhood but still undeniably sexy. The curves that had graced magazines were now tempered with a motherly softness, but the fire in her eyes remained. She continued to model occasionally. Her soon-to-be ex-husband, a man swimming in wealth but drowning in his own arrogance, was also a world-class arsehole. She’d endured the heartache and turmoil of the split, the sting of betrayal slowly giving way to a fierce, exhilarating sense of freedom. Now, on the other side, there was a yearning to reclaim her life, and her own happiness.
“Oh my god, Jane. You look fucking hot. Damian actually let you out dressed like that?” Emma exclaimed, letting out a low whistle.
“Babe, it was his choice,” I replied, and her eyes widened in disbelief.
“No way. He chose this?” and she leaned in and whispered, “look, you’re already getting attention,” gesturing with a flick of her wrist to the Asian taxi driver who was openly admiring me in the rear view mirror, his eyes lingered on my cleavage.
We arrived at the bar and headed inside. It was still relatively early, so the place wasn’t packed yet. A low thrum of music pulsed through the space, the bass vibrating through the floor, and the dim lighting cast a glow over the room.
We made our way over to the bar, the polished surface gleaming under the coloured lights. The young barman, a tall, broad-shouldered man with a friendly smile, looked up as we approached. “Hi, ladies. What can I get you?”
“Vodka and lemonade, please,” I replied.
“Two, please,” Emma echoed, flashing the barman a dazzling smile that made him momentarily falter, his eyes widening.
As he turned to mix our drinks, Emma leaned closer to me. “So, what’s new?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.
“Oh, nothing really,” I said with a slight shrug. “Damian has been working a lot, and… things are okay, I guess.” My voice trailed off slightly, a hint of uncertainty creeping in.
“What’s wrong, babe?” Emma asked, her perceptive gaze immediately picking up on the shift in my mood.
Just then, the barman returned with our drinks. “Here you go, ladies. Two vodka and lemonades. That’s £12.50,” he announced. Emma smoothly pulled out her card and handed it to him.
“I’m paying tonight, so put it on that,” she said with a decisive nod.
“Are you sure?” I asked, a twinge of guilt tugging at me.
“Course it’s fine,” she waved off my concern. “It’s Derek’s credit card, and he deserves it. That bastard can rot.” A bitter edge crept into her voice as she spoke her soon-to-be ex-husband’s name, her eyes hardening with a simmering anger.
“Haha, well, cheers to that,” I responded, raising my glass. We clinked them together, the sound a small act of defiance against the absent Derek, a silent toast to her freedom.
With our drinks in hand, we found a small table tucked away in a quieter corner of the club and settled into the plush velvet seats.
“Right, what’s going on then, Jane?” Emma asked, taking a sip of her vodka and lemonade, her eyes fixed on me with unwavering attention.
“Nothing, honestly,” I mumbled, avoiding her stare.
“Bullshit. I can tell when something’s up,” she countered, and she wasn’t going to give in.
“Well…” I began, and recounted the events from earlier when Eli massaged my back in the garden, my voice dropping to a hushed whisper.
“Wow, holy shit, babe! And Damian watched? I’m speechless,” Emma exclaimed, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and fascination.
“I know, it’s fucked up. It’s all messed up,” I agreed, gulping down a large portion of my drink, the alcohol warming me from the inside out.
“Is he a cuck or something?” Emma asked casually, and my eyes widened in confusion.
“Huh? What’s one of those?” I asked, prompting a burst of laughter from her.
“You’ve really not heard of it, have you?” she said, still giggling.
“No, obviously. Tell me,” I insisted.
“Basically, it’s when a man gets turned on and excited by his partner fucking another man. It’s a sort of fetish,” she explained, and my eyes widened further.
“Fuck me. I didn’t know it had a name, but it explains a lot,” I muttered, lost in thought, the image of Damian watching Eli touch me flashing through my mind.
“Why? What has he said?” Emma asked curiously.
“He, erm, well, he said if guys paid me attention, he was cool with it, and that he wants me to tell him when I get back how it was. He said it turned him on, and, well, yeah, that’s about it,” I confessed, a blush creeping up my neck.
“No way!!! Is he giving you a pass? Dirty dog,” she laughed, her eyes gleaming with mischief.
“God, Emma. Should I be concerned? Is there something wrong with him?” I asked, a genuine worry creeping into my voice.
“No, babe. He’s fine. Loads of couples are into it. I just never expected Damian to be one,” she reassured me.
“Jesus, I had no idea. Well, it’s not happening anyway. I’m married, for fuck’s sake. I’m not going to cheat on him,” I retorted, in a stern voice, though a forbidden thrill coursed through me at the thought.
“Hey, it’s not cheating if he’s cool with it,” Emma pointed out with a shrug. “Anyway, enough about Damian. Let’s go have some fun, especially if you have a pass!” she declared, rising to her feet and finishing the last of her drink, her eyes already scanning the room, searching for our next conquest. “Come on let’s get another drink.”
I finished my drink and followed Emma back to the bar.
“Can we get two more vodka and lemonades with two vodka shots, please?” she said to the barman, her voice husky with anticipation.
The barman returned with our drinks. “There you go, ladies.”
Emma handed him her card, he swiped it, and returned it with a polite smile. “Cheers, sweetheart,” she said, giving him a flirtatious wink, her eyes lingering on his lips.
“Enjoy the rest of your evening, ladies,” he replied, before turning to attend to another customer.
We settled onto the vacant bar stools, taking in our surroundings. The atmosphere was building, a palpable buzz of excitement filling the air as more people arrived. The music pulsed through the club, the bass vibrating through our bodies.
“After 3,” she said as she held up her shot of vodka. “One, two, three…” and we necked the liquid, the fiery spirit igniting a warmth in my belly.
We sat at the bar for a while, chatting and sipping our drinks, the music pulsing around us, the bass vibrating through the floor. Two men approached and stood next to us, their eyes immediately drawn to us. One of them, tall with black skin and dark eyes, was particularly captivating. He ordered drinks, his voice a low rumble in the background, and then turned his attention to us, a slow, appreciative sweep taking in two sexy ladies standing in front of him.
“Evening, ladies,” he said, in a deep voice. He was dressed casually in jeans that hugged his lean frame and a shirt that strained against his broad chest. Tall, with short dreadlocks framing his face and a single, silver earring, he exuded an aura of confidence as he started talking to us.
“Hi,” Emma replied, her smile dazzling, a playful challenge in her eyes.
The other man, white and equally tall, had a shaved head and a neatly trimmed goatee that. His eyes, a piercing blue, held a mischievous glint as they swept over us, taking in every curve of our bodies. He was handsome, and looked like a classic bad boy with a touch of dangerous charm.
“Can we buy you a drink?” the black guy asked.. I glanced at Emma, a silent question in my eyes.
“Sure,” she replied, giving him a cute smile.
He gestured to the barman. “Two beers and four Jägerbombs,” he ordered, his voice confident, commanding.
“I’m James, and this is Tom,” he introduced them both, his gaze lingering on me a beat too long.
“Hi, I’m Emma, and this is Jane,” she said, her hand resting possessively on my thigh, sending a jolt of awareness through me.
“Hi,” I replied, my voice a breathy whisper, my eyes drawn to his dark eyes.
The barman returned with the drinks, James paying with a flourish. “Here’s to a great evening,” he announced. We clinked glasses, the sound amplifying in the dimly lit bar.
I wasn’t a fan of Jägerbombs, but tonight, I was willing to go with the flow. The alcohol was already coursing through my veins, blurring the lines between desire and restraint.
“So, are you two a couple?” Tom asked.
“Hahaha, no, we’re besties,” Emma giggled, her hand tightening on mine. “Do we look like lesbians?” she joked, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
“Oh, no, I didn’t mean to assume,” Tom quickly clarified, his eyes sweeping over my body with blatant appreciation. “Just didn’t see any guys around, and it’s very rare for two such… captivating ladies to be out on their own.”
“Captivating, huh? Well, I’m a soon-to-be divorced mum, and Jane is married, but her husband let her out to play,” she replied in a playful tone.
“Emma!” I gasped, feeling a blush creep up my neck.
“He’s a lucky guy,” Tom remarked, and gave me a smile.
“Yes, he is,” Emma agreed, her eyes shifting to me. “More Jäger?” she asked, obviously on a mission to get shitfaced.
“Hell yeah!” James exclaimed.
“Another four, please,” he asked the barman.
“Emma, I’m not drinking another,” I protested, but she just rolled her eyes, her smile widening.
“One more won’t hurt,” she insisted, her hand tightening on mine.
The barman returned with the shots. “Here you go, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, his gaze lingering on Emma, then on me, a slow, appreciative smile gracing his lips, while Emma paid.
“Cheers,” Tom said, and he held up his glass. We clinked glasses again and I took a deep breath, grimaced, and downed the shot.
“Jesus, Emma,” I groaned, my head spinning slightly, a thrilling dizziness washing over me.
“Come on, Jane. Live a little,” she whispered, her breath warm against my ear. “Shall we dance?” she asked, her hand pulling me towards the dance floor, leaving the two men behind.
As we moved to the pulsating rhythm of the music, I felt Emma’s body pressed against mine, her breath fanning against my neck. “They’re gorgeous, Jane,” she teased. “I see Tom’s got his eyes glued to you. I’ve got my sights set on James. Never had a black guy before and I reckon he’s good in the sack.” She winked, playfully.
“You naughty girl,” I replied, a thrilling cocktail of excitement and apprehension swirling within me now I had a few drinks down my neck.
The dance floor was sparsely populated, with only about half a dozen women moving to the pulsing beat of the music. As I scanned the room, I noticed several men looking at us, some more discreet than others. A flicker of self-consciousness ran through me, but I was loosening up with the alcohol circulating through my body.
“This is awesome, Jane!” Emma shouted over the music, pressing her body against mine, her hips swaying suggestively against my backside.
“You’re a good dancer,” Tom whispered, and I was a little startled seeing him right behind me, “very good.”
“Thanks,” I replied, my head turning slightly to look at him from behind, our eyes staring at each other.
Emma moved forward towards me and we were dancing close, our hips swaying in sync, when she leaned in, her lips brushing against my ear. “Shall we give them a show?” she murmured, a cheeky glint in her eyes.
“Huh?” I replied, momentarily confused. Before I could process her words, her lips crashed against mine, a bold, demanding kiss that took my breath away. My eyes widened in surprise, but I didn’t pull away. I felt a strange thrill as her tongue played with mine.
“Emma, what are you doing?” I managed to gasp, glancing around. Several people had stopped dancing, their eyes fixed on us with undisguised interest.
“Relax, babe,” she purred, pressing her body against mine, her curves moulding against me. “It’s not like we haven’t done this before.”
A forgotten memory surfaced – a drunken night years ago, at a friend’s birthday party when a few guys dared us to kiss. But this was different. Nobody had dared us this time.
“I thought you two weren’t a couple?” Tom teased, a knowing grin spreading across his face.
“Haha, we’re not. We just like to have fun. Isn’t that right, Jane?” Emma replied, pulling me into another kiss. This time, the kiss was deeper, more insistent, her tongue exploring my mouth. I could hear whistles and cheers rising above the music, urging me deeper into this forbidden dance.
We broke apart, Emma’s eyes sparkling with excitement. I glanced around and realised we were the centre of attention, surrounded by a sea of watching men, their eyes burning with desire.
“Fuck, Jane. They all want to shag us,” she giggled, a wildness in her voice that mirrored the feeling that was exploding within me.
“Emma, you’re being crazy,” I whispered, feeling a little vulnerable.
“I’m off to get a drink,” I yelled, needing an escape, and quick! Emma nodded, feeling my nervousness. As we got to the bar, the same bartender who served us earlier, smiled, a flicker of recognition as he saw us.
“Hi ladies, more Jäger or more vodka?” he asked, with a charming smile.
“God, no more or I’ll puke,” I replied, laughing. The thought of another shot made my stomach churn slightly.
“Nonsense, we’ll have another two vodkas,” Emma declared, ignoring my protest. The barman chuckled and started preparing the drinks.
“No, seriously, Emma. I can’t drink anymore,” I pleaded.
“One more won’t hurt, Jane. Stop being a pussy,” she teased, nudging me playfully.
The barman handed us the shots, the smooth liquid swirling in the glasses. Emma quickly swiped her card.
“One, two, three,” Emma counted, and we threw the shots back, the burning liquid searing its way down my throat.
“Ughhh, I hate it,” I groaned, making a face.
“Well hey, girls. We were wondering where you disappeared to,” Tom said, his voice cutting through the din of the club as he and James materialised beside us at the bar. “We’d love to stick around but we need to get off as we’re actually on a stag party,” James explained.
“Stag party? Well, where’s the rest of them?” Emma asked, raising an eyebrow.
“They’ve moved on. We stayed to chat with you two,” Tom replied.
“Haha, so you’ve ditched the stag to talk to two hot chicks? Well, I can’t blame you and kinda understand why you have to leave. Why don’t you give me your number, so if you get lost from the party again, you can be punished?” she teased looking towards James, winking at him.
I was shocked by how brazen she was, but to be fair, she was always like this, especially after a few drinks.
“You’re reading my mind. I was gonna ask for your number,” he said, as Emma passed her phone over.
James entered his number before handing the phone back to her.
“Maybe see you later, then?” she said, turning her attention back to me.
“Bye, ladies,” James and Tom shouted, as they walked off.
“You are bad,” I laughed, shaking my head.
“I know, James is hot. God, I need a fuck. It’s been way too long and I reckon he’s got a nice black cock,” Emma said with a desperate look.
“Oh my god, you’re such a slut,” I gasped, a mixture of shock and amusement rippling through me.
“Haha, look who’s talking. I saw Tom trying to feel you up on the dance floor. You didn’t stop him, did you?”
“I did! Why do you think I came to the bar?” I protested, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks.
“I’m so fucked off they left,” she huffed. “Shall I find out where they’re going and we can gate crash a stag party?” she added, with a devilish smile.
“You’re a nutcase,” but the devil was also appearing inside me.
“Come on, Jane. Live a little,” she said, flashing a mischievous smile.
She took her phone and started texting, while I watched her curiously, feeling a flutter of excitement running through me.
“There,” she announced, putting her phone away.
“What did you say? I asked, with slight apprehension in my stomach.
“I just asked where the stag party was,” she replied, taking a sip of her drink.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, it’ll be fun. Come on, live a little.”
Her phone beeped, and she checked it and a grin spread across her face.
“Haha, no way! Apparently, they’re going to a strip club. How lame. Anyway, are you up for it?”
“I’m not going to a strip club,” I protested.
“Why not? Have you ever been to one? It’s fun.”
“No, of course not. It’s for guys,” I insisted.
“Babe, you’re so boring. Do you really think guys are the only people that go to a strip club? Women go there too. And trust me, some of the women are hot. It’ll be fine, I promise.”
She wasn’t taking no for an answer and grabbed my hand, dragging me out of the bar.
“This is a bad idea,” I murmured as we pushed through the crowd, a thrill of excitement running through me despite my protests.
“Haha, relax. You’ll love it,” she said, with a grin smacked across her face.
She grabbed a taxi and it dropped us outside a club called ‘Victoria’s Gentlemen’s Club’. The exterior was discreet, the windows tinted, hinting at the exclusive pleasures within.
“So how is it a gentlemen’s club if women can go in?” I asked, puzzled.
“Just because it has ‘gentlemen’ in the name doesn’t mean women can’t go. We’re the prize, remember?”
A huge bouncer stood outside, his bulky frame imposing, yet his eyes, when they landed on us, held a predatory glint.
“Hello ladies,” he greeted us, flashing a charming smile.
“Oh hello, you’re a handsome fellow,” Emma replied, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “How much is entry?” she asked.
“Free for the ladies,” he said, winking, admiring our bodies with his eyes.
“Haha, free. I like the sound of that. Come on, Jane,” she said, taking my hand.
We walked into the club, a dimly lit interior with soft red lighting that cast a seductive glow over the room. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and the low murmur of conversation.
“Wow, it is fancy,” I admitted, looking around, my senses on high alert.
It was 9:30 pm, and the club wasn’t too busy. A few tables were occupied, mostly by older men. There was a small dance floor, and a long stage, where a girl was performing. A large pole in the middle, she was dancing seductively, her curves illuminated by the soft lighting, creating a mesmerising spectacle.
“Doesn’t look like they’re here yet,” Emma remarked, glancing around, her eyes already scanning the room for James and Tom.
“We’ll get a table, and I’ll get us a drink,” she decided, steering me towards a table, while she went to the bar.
I sat down, mesmerised by the dancer on stage. She noticed me watching, a playful smile curving her lips.
“No stripper hags here. They’re all gorgeous,” Emma said, popping open the champagne, the sound echoing slightly in the hushed atmosphere.
“Jesus, Emma. This is ridiculous. What are we doing here?” I asked, the absurdity of the situation suddenly dawning on me.
“Calm down, babe. We’re just having fun. Here, have a glass of this,” she insisted, filling two glasses. The champagne, icy cold, felt deliciously refreshing against my lips, a vast contrast to the vile shots we were drinking before.
We continued talking for a while, admiring the dancing, when I noticed James at the bar.
“Look, Emma, is that James?” I whispered, gesturing towards him.
“James? Where?” she asked, turning around, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the room.
“By the bar, to your left,” I replied.
“Yeah, you’re right,” she confirmed, a hint of satisfaction in her voice.
He noticed us, a smile spreading across his face and he moved towards us.
“Hi girls, this is a surprise, never thought you’d come,” he greeted us.
“Why, do you not think we’re the type to frequent a gentlemen’s club?” she replied, feigning offence, with playful flirtation.
“Oh, no, of course not. I mean… I… you’re…” he stumbled over his words, a little embarrassed, his eyes darting between us.
“Relax, babe. I’m just teasing you,” Emma replied, touching his arm, her fingers lingering a moment too long. “Where’s the rest of the stag party?”
“Oh, we’re all in the VIP champagne room downstairs,” he replied.
“There’s a champagne room? Well, we have champagne, so does that mean we’re allowed in?” She teased, gesturing to our drinks.
“Oh, erm, well, I’m sure the guys won’t mind if two gorgeous ladies join us,” he said, with a boyish smile on his face.
“Well, let’s go,” Emma decided. We got up, and as we walked towards the entrance to the VIP room, I felt a surge of excitement, but also wondering what we were letting ourselves into.
As we got downstairs, there must have been about fifteen guys, all sitting around a stage in the centre of the room, which was illuminated by purple lights, casting an erotic glow over the scene. They were all laughing as a guy, blindfolded and tied to a pole, was the centre of attention. A gorgeous brunette, wearing a leather police outfit that did little to conceal her curves, was grinding against him, her movements slow and deliberate.
James led us to the group, and Tom noticed us first, his eyes widening in surprise. “Hey, the party girls are here,” he said, with a hint of excitement.
A few of the other guys managed to take their eyes away from the stage, and they turned to look at us, their gazes hungry, while they looked at us like prey.
“I presume he’s the groom on stage?” I asked, gesturing to the guy who was still tied up.
“Yeah, poor bastard,” James chuckled, rolling his eyes. “The guys all chipped in to see him get humiliated. It’s his last chance at freedom, after all.”
There were some high stools next to the stage, and Emma and I sat down next to some of the stags, feeling a sudden surge of adrenaline.
“I’m Jane, and this is Emma,” I introduced us, feeling slightly uncomfortable as they turned around and noticed us sitting there, their eyes lingering on our exposed skin with undisguised appreciation. They probably thought we were strippers with the dresses we were wearing.
“Wow, you two are hot!” One of the guys said as he looked at us both and smiled. He must have been about 40, bald head, glasses, and a thick layer of grey stubble shadowing his jawline.
Then there was a loud cheer, as the groom, now shirtless, was left completely at the mercy of the stripper. She teased him with a truncheon she had in her hand, its leather gleaming under the purple lights.
The stripper began to rub the truncheon against the groom’s chest, her touch slow and deliberate. She moved lower, tracing the outline of his stomach, before finally, teasingly, moving it towards the front of his pants. The groom was shaking his head, “You bastards!” he shouted, his voice muffled with laughter.
The guys were laughing and cheering, shouting crude things, egging the stripper on.
She grabbed his belt, and looked at everyone, a devilish grin spreading across her lips.
“What do you say, boys? Shall we?” she asked, with a cheeky grin across her face.
The room erupted, everyone shouting “Yes!” in unison, their voices a primal roar.
“No, don’t!” the groom protested, struggling against his restraints.
The stripper slowly began to unbuckle his belt, her movements slow and deliberate, savouring the anticipation.
“Take it off, take it off, take it off!” the guys chanted, their voices rising in a crescendo.
The groom’s jeans slid down, exposing his boxers. The guys were hooting, their eyes glued to the spectacle.
She grabbed her own belt and unbuckled it with a flourish, slipping from the loops and it fell to the floor. Her police uniform had a zip at the front, and she reached for it, her fingers tracing the cool metal. A playful smile curved her lips as she glanced at everyone.
“Take it off, take it off!” the crowd roared, their voices a primal chant.
In a flash, she ripped the zipper down, exposing her toned abs and fake tits. They cheered and whistled, a cacophony of sound that vibrated through the room. She tore the dress off, revealing a tanned, slender frame that took my breath away.
She had a perfect hourglass figure accentuated by the thong she was wearing. Her exposed tits, full and perky, bouncing as she strutted around the stage.
The guys were hollering, their eyes glued to the stripper as she moved with a seductive grace. She pushed out her hips, her ass grinding against the groom’s crotch. I felt an urge between my legs watching her grind against him.
“Yeah, give him a proper send off!” someone shouted.
“Fuck, she’s good,” Emma breathed, her eyes fixed on the stripper, a hint of admiration in her voice.
I glanced at the stags, their eyes transfixed by the spectacle. They leaned forward, their faces flushed with excitement, their breaths catching in their throats.
“Yeah, that’s it. Ride him!” another guy shouted, his voice hoarse with anticipation.
The stripper turned around, facing the groom, and she grabbed a bottle from the floor. She massaged the oil into the groom’s body with a sensual slowness, her breasts brushing against his chest, the oil coating her skin. The sight of her pert nipples, glistening with sweat, sent a wave of excitement through the crowd.
“Yeah, work those tits, baby,” someone hollered, their voice thick with anticipation.
She then pulled away slightly, and everyone could see his bulge straining against the material of his boxers. Emma and I exchanged a look, raising our eyebrows in unison.
“Looks like our groom is enjoying himself,” the stripper said, a playful grin playing on her lips. She grabbed his boxers, and looked at everyone, with a mischievous grin.
“Yes or no?” she asked, with a giggle.
“Yeah, take it off, take it off!” the guys roared.
The groom protested, shaking his head, but the guys were all shouting, urging her on. With one smooth motion, she ripped his boxers down, and his cock sprang free, a gasp escaping from the crowd.
His average-sized, semi-erect cock on full show, a wave of laughter and cheers erupting from the stags.
“Haha, not bad!” Emma remarked, a hint of admiration in her voice as she squeezed my thigh.
The stripper then moved behind him and she undid his handcuffs and blindfold. She leaned down and gave him a brief kiss on the cheek before stepping back.
“You’re fucking mad,” he said to the guys, trying to hide his smile, as he pulled up his boxers and got dressed.
“Don’t lie, you loved it,” James retorted, and the crowd erupted in cheers.
The stripper picked up her uniform and walked off the stage, the guys hollering and whistling, their eyes still glued to her retreating figure.
The groom looked a little startled to see Jane and myself. He climbed down from the stage, his face a mixture of surprise and embarrassment.
“You fucking bastards,” he muttered, shaking his head at James.
“Jane, Emma, this is Jacob, my best friend and the groom,” James introduced us.
“Hi, nice to meet you,” Jacob said, still a little flustered. Up close, he was ruggedly handsome, early thirties with short dark hair, a neatly trimmed beard, and a stocky build.
I managed a polite smile, unsure what to say.
“I’m gonna grab a drink. You guys want anything?” he asked, finally buttoning his shirt.
“No, we’re good,” Emma replied, holding up her champagne flute.
“Come on, let me buy you a beer,” James said, and they both headed towards the bar.
“I’m feeling a little naughty tonight,” Emma purred, biting her lip suggestively.
“Really? What does that mean?” I asked, intrigued.
“Well, there’s a free pole up there now,” she said, gesturing towards the stage. “And I know how to use one,” she added.
“Emma, no way,” I gasped, shocked.
“You don’t think I should?” she asked, feigning hurt with a pout.
“No,” I stated firmly.
“Haha, oh come on. I want to show James what he’ll be getting later,” she said, glancing towards the bar where the guys were chatting.
“You’re not serious, are you?” I asked, stunned.
“Watch me,” she retorted, draining the champagne from her flute in one long gulp.
“Emma, no!” I exclaimed, panic rising in my chest.
“Oh Jane, relax,” she giggled, and with a graceful, almost feline movement, she climbed onto the stage.
Every male in the room seemed to notice her simultaneously. Whistles and cheers erupted.
“Oh fuck,” I muttered, a strange mix of anxiety and excitement washing over me.
Jacob and James returned and sat beside me. “What the fuck is she doing?” James asked, his eyes wide with surprise.
“Emma being Emma,” I replied awkwardly.
“Haha, she’s got spirit,” Jacob remarked, sitting down beside me.
“Hello, gentlemen, hope you’re all having fun,” she purred, her eyes sweeping over the crowd. “Seeing as the stage was free and you all seemed a bit bored, I thought I’d provide a little entertainment.” Her eyes sparkled. “Now, I’m a little rusty and possibly a bit drunk, but we’ll have to make do. So, who wants a show?”
A wave of excitement, laced with a strange pang of jealousy, washed over me as I surveyed the room. Every guy was fixed on Emma.
She began to move, her hands traced seductive curves along her body. Then, with a fluid motion, she grabbed the pole and lifted herself up, wrapping her legs around it. She spun effortlessly, her back arching in a breathtaking arc.
“Wow,” I breathed, genuinely surprised. She was good.
Her arms outstretched, she danced like a seasoned gymnast. The tight black dress clung to every curve, showcasing her body. Cheers erupted from the crowd, whooping and whistling. Jacob and James stared, their mouths agape. Emma caught my eye and winked, a triumphant grin spreading across her face.
With a gasp, I realised she was upside down, her legs entwined around the pole, her back arched in a perfect bridge. Her dress had ridden up, revealing lacy black panties. The whispers and cheers of the men were a testament to the show she was giving.
Emma released the pole and flipped over, landing with a graceful fluidity. “Take it off!” someone shouted from the crowd, implying for her to remove her dress.
“Hey, I don’t work here,” Emma retorted playfully, shaking her head.
She reached out and grasped the pole again and started to twirl and dance to the music. I was impressed with her confidence. I felt she was finally becoming the old Emma, now she was free from her husband’s shackles.
“Can you believe she’s a mother?” I remarked, my eyes drawn to her toned stomach. How does she maintain that figure?
“No way! How old is she?” James asked, his eyes glued to Emma’s mesmerising performance.
“Twenty-eight,” I replied.
“Fuck,” Jacob and James exclaimed simultaneously, their eyes widening with a mixture of awe and disbelief.
James, beside me, whistled, a grin splitting his face. “Your friend has some moves,” he remarked, shaking his head in disbelief.
“Do you not fancy giving it a go?” he nudged me playfully.
“Haha, no way. I can’t compete with that,” I laughed.
“Shame,” he drawled, his gaze lingering on me. It lingered a beat too long on my thighs, a shiver of awareness darting through me. He was handsome, no doubt, with a cocky swagger that reminded me uncomfortably of a younger Eli. A typical alpha, all sharp angles and practised charm.
The whistle shattered the moment, a round of applause erupting. I looked away from James, focusing on Emma as she took a bow.
Emma scrambled off the stage, panting, “I can’t believe I actually did that! I was so tempted to strip!” she exclaimed, putting her dress back on.
“Now I would have loved to see that! You could pass for working here,” James remarked, his arm snaking around her waist, his hand tracing a path down her bare back.
“Are you saying I look like a stripper? That’s not very nice. Besides, I doubt the clientele could afford me,” she giggled, running a hand through her dishevelled hair.
“Oh yeah? How much do you charge for a lap dance? Thirty quid?” he teased.
“Ridiculous,” she scoffed, “At least a hundred, minimum. But,” she winked, “Depending on the guy, he might get a free one.”
“Really? How about now?” His eyes flickered towards the dimly lit corridor leading to the back room. “Can Jane come too?” he added, turning to me with a mischievous grin, his other arm snaking around my waist.
“Oh, haha, whatever,” I mumbled, unsure how to respond. An awkward silence followed, and Emma looked a little cross by that comment.
“Come on, let’s go,” Emma finally urged, a hint of impatience in her voice. She grabbed his hand, shooting me a quick glance. “Back in a bit,” she stated and led him down the neon-lit corridor.
I watched them go, a wry smile playing on my lips. Then, the realisation hit me. She hadn’t just left me alone with James. She’d left me alone with the entire stag party. A wave of dread washed over me.
Jacob and Dave, sitting near, watching them as they walked off. They finally turned back to me, a smirk playing on Jacob’s lips.
“James always gets lucky,” he commented, shaking his head. “He doesn’t even have to try.”
“And he’s married,” Dave added, a chuckle rumbling in his chest.
“It’s just a lap dance,” I retorted, the words slipping out before I could stop them. Why was I already defending him?
Jacob shot me a wry smile and then looked at his empty pint glass. “Let’s just say James isn’t exactly the most faithful, is he, lads?” he remarked, as he chuckled and exchanged glances with his friends.
I shifted uncomfortably on the barstool, unsure how to respond. I was certain I hadn’t seen a ring on his finger. Maybe he took it off when he was out with the boys. Or maybe I was just too distracted to notice.
“Anyway, another drink?” Jacob offered, turning to me with a genial smile.
“No, I think I’ll pass,” I declined, lifting my half filled glass.
He chuckled, “Suit yourself.” And with that, he sauntered off towards the bar, disappearing into the boisterous crowd.
A man in a sharp suit approached, his face a mask of seriousness. “Hi,” he greeted me with a tentative smile. Dark brown hair, a touch of baby fat, early thirties, and impeccably groomed. “Clean-cut” barely covered it.
“Oh, erm, hi,” I replied, a little thrown. Who was this guy? What did he want?
“Was that your friend dancing on stage just now?” he asked, his accent thick with an Eastern European lilt.
“Erm, yeah. Why? What’s up?”
“I’m the manager, Peter,” he announced, flashing a wide smile. “Do you think she’d be interested in a job here?”
I burst out laughing, completely taken aback. He handed me a business card. “You’re kidding, right? I really don’t think she’d be interested,” I told him, still giggling.
“Well, could you ask her for me?” he insisted, his smile unwavering.
“Okay, I’ll tell her, but I’m telling you, she won’t be interested.”
“Okay, worth asking, though.” He seemed slightly deflated. “Do you dance too?” he asked, his face curious. His pale green eyes, however, were not focused on my face. They were scanning my cleavage.
“Oh God, no, haha. No way. No!” I replied, a mixture of shock and horror washing over me.
“Well, you are very beautiful, both of you,” he remarked, his accent thicker now. He took a step closer, his gaze lingering on the valley between my breasts. “We could do with more girls like you on the stage. Pretty ladies like you would earn very good money,” he purred, his voice low and seductive.
“Well, I’m flattered, but seriously, no way,” I insisted, a hint of panic creeping into my voice.
“Okay, fair enough. If you change your mind, come back anytime.” He gave me another predatory smile, his eyes still glued to my tits. I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling a shiver crawl down my spine.
“Well, that was…interesting,” I thought, a mixture of amusement and unease washing over me.
A few more minutes had passed and I couldn’t believe Emma wasn’t back yet. A wave of unease washed over me. I slid off the stool and headed towards the back room, curiosity piqued. If she was still giving him a lap dance, well, I might as well get a glimpse of the show.
I crept down the dimly lit corridor, the only light coming from the flickering neon signs above the doorways. Each curtain concealed a private booth, the muffled thump of music a constant reminder of the activities within. I paused at the first, a sliver of light escaping the edges. Inside, a naked woman with long blonde hair writhed atop a burly man, her movements a mesmerising dance of seduction. I watched, transfixed, the rhythmic sway of her hips creating a hypnotic beat. It was intimate, raw, and I felt a pang of guilt, a voyeur intruding on their private moment. Shaking my head, I moved on, peeking into each booth, until I reached the final curtain at the end of the corridor.
I peered through the narrow gap, and my breath caught in my throat.
Emma was straddling James and she was naked!! I gasped, her back was to me, and I could see the rhythmic sway of her hips as she moved over him. Unlike the other ‘no touching’ booths, James’ hands were free, and he was eagerly urging her on.
Then, as she lifted, I caught a glimpse of his exposed cock, the zipper of his pants undone, along with the top button. My eyes widened in shock. This wasn’t a lap dance. This was something more. A wave of shame and excitement washed over me, and I felt myself getting seriously aroused. My hand instinctively moved to my thigh, the flimsy fabric of my dress suddenly feeling inadequate.
Alone in the darkened corridor, I found myself unable to look away. A yearning, unexpected and intense, stirred within me. My hand crept higher, slipping underneath the fabric of my dress. A jolt, sharp and unexpected, surged through me, spreading a heat that I couldn’t ignore. My fingers, trembling slightly, traced the edge of my panties. The pounding music from the other rooms seemed to amplify the pounding of my own heart.
“Oh god,” I gasped, my fingers finally disappearing beneath the lace, exploring the slick warmth of my wet pussy.
“Fuck me,” James groaned, his hands moving over Emma’s body.
She glanced around, and I quickly retreated into the shadows, my fingers withdrawing hastily. My heart hammered in my chest. Did she see me?
A wave of heat washed over me as I moved closer to the curtain, the air thick with the musky scent of arousal. Emma, her eyes locked with mine, winked, a slow, predatory smile curving her lips. “Shit,” I breathed, mesmerised and knew she’d spotted me. She turned back to James, her movements a sinuous dance.
My back pressed against the cool wall, I lost myself in the sensations. My panties were soaked, a damp stain blooming against my thighs as my hand wandered back between my legs. My fingers, trembling with anticipation, sought solace against my aching core. “Oh god,” I whimpered, as I slipped a finger inside, igniting a fire within me.
I was transfixed to the spectacle in front of me. She turned back around and I watched her lift her body up slightly and guided his cock towards her pussy, his impressive length a dark silhouette against her flesh. “God, I want your cock,” she demanded, her voice raw with desire. She lowered herself onto him, a muffled cry escaping her lips as she impaled herself on his hardness. I pushed my finger deeper inside me, the tight, welcoming embrace of my own body sending shivers down my spine.
“Fuuuck,” she cried out, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she began a slow, deliberate ride.
James responded with a guttural growl, his hands tightening on her hips as he thrust upward. She leaned forward and kissed him. At that moment, our eyes met. I gasped, but remained frozen, mesmerised by his animalistic look as his cock pumped in and out of her pussy.
“Yesss, right there, oh yes,” she panted, arching her back.
James pulled her closer, and wrapped his arms around her tightly. He thrust into her with a primal force, her arse bouncing up and down on his lap while his hands gripped her arse, guiding her.
“Oh fuck, yes,” she moaned, her voice muffled against his lips. “You feel so good. Right there, oh god.”
His movements became more urgent, a primal rhythm that echoed in the small space. Emma cried out, her body arching, her voice a raw, animalistic sound.
My nipples hardened, tingling points of arousal straining against my bra. I shuddered, fighting the urge to touch them, a mixture of fascination and terror holding me captive.
Over the next few minutes, he continued fucking her like a man possessed until he was close. His breathing got ragged, each thrust more powerful than the last. He looked at me again, his eyes dark and intense, a feral glint in their depths. Then, he unleashed a guttural cry, his body jerking and I knew he was cumming inside her. Seeing his eyes stare at me while he came was so erotic and I could feel an intense orgasm building of my own. My hand was going overdrive against my clit beneath my panties.
Emma arched her back, her hips moving with a frantic urgency. A moment later, she cried out, her body trembling, her voice a raw, animalistic sound. “Oh fuuuck!” she screamed.
I was on the verge of release, my own body trembling with a similar intensity, when a hand landed on my shoulder. I jumped, startled, instinctively turning to face the intruder and withdrew my hand from my panties.
The bouncer stood there, his brow furrowed in disapproval. “What’s going on here?” he demanded.
“Oh, erm…” I stammered, my mind racing.
He opened the curtain, revealing Emma still straddling James. She turned and looked a little shocked. “Do you mind?” she hissed, glaring at the bouncer. “I’m giving a lap dance.” His cock obviously still inside her and hidden by her arse, so the bouncer couldn’t see.
I was impressed. Her quick thinking saved the situation.
The bouncer’s eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, okay, okay, my mistake. But you don’t work here, do you?”
“Oh, it’s alright,” I interjected, “She’s practising for a job. I spoke to Peter.”
She sent me a grateful smile. It was a blatant lie, a look of understanding crossing his face.
“Ah, okay. Fair enough. Sorry about that,” he mumbled, then walked away.
“Were you snooping on me, naughty girl?” Emma teased, giving me a cheeky smile.
“Oh… I… er…” I stammered, my face burning with embarrassment.
Emma slid off his lap, his black cock flopped out of her pussy, glistening with her fluids and his own cum oozing from the tip. My eyes, despite myself, were drawn to him. She smirked, her eyes meeting mine. “Excuse me. I think I need to get cleaned up,” she said, her tone nonchalant.
James, seemingly oblivious to my discomfort, pushed his wet cock back into his jeans. His gaze, however, lingered on me.
“Er…” I stammered, unsure how to react. “I should probably go with her.”
Ho got up and grabbed my hand, his touch surprisingly gentle. “Wait,” he insisted.
He brought my hand to his lips, and slowly, deliberately, he licked my pussy juices from his fingers. My eyes widened, my face ablaze. I stood there, utterly bewildered, a soft moan escaping my lips as his tongue explored every inch of my skin. My heart hammered in my chest, and the ache between my legs was never even more intense and I just wanted to finish the job off. “Oh fuck,” I gasped and my legs gave way slightly.
Then, I saw it. A glint of gold on his finger – a wedding ring. The realisation hit me like a tidal wave. He was married, and so was I.
I pulled my hand away, wiping it against my dress, a wave of nausea washing over me. Humiliation and anger warred within me. What had I been thinking? This was wrong, so utterly wrong.
I stumbled down the corridor, past the occupied booths, my mind reeling. As I rounded the corner, I collided with Emma, who was emerging from the ladies’ room.
“Shit, that was fucking hot!” she exclaimed, her face flushed with excitement.
“Let’s go,” I said, my voice sharper than intended. I grabbed her hand, needing to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the club.
“Now? Why? The night is still young!” she protested, but allowed me to steer her towards the exit.
“What’s the rush?” she asked, once we were outside.
“Sorry, I’m just feeling a bit tired,” I lied, turning away from the club.
“I can’t believe that happened,” Emma exclaimed, still buzzing.
“Me neither,” I replied, still reeling from the events of the evening. “Was that your plan all along? To… you know…fuck him?”
“No, I just got carried away,” she laughed. “God, that cock…” she trailed off, biting her lip. “It felt so good.”
“I’ll get us an Uber,” she said, pulling out her phone.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked, as it went silent.
“Just the whole night. It’s been… eventful,” I admitted.
“Yeah, I know. So tell me, was James’s… you know… bigger than Eli?” she asked with a playful grin.
“Emma!” I exclaimed, laughing despite myself. “I can’t believe you!”
“Come on, was it?” she persisted.
“Let’s just say Eli’s is… impressive,” I replied.
“God, you have to fuck him,” she purred, her eyes gleaming with mischief.
“Not happening,” I insisted, though a shiver ran down my spine at the thought.
“Come on, it would be so hot,” she teased.
“Not a chance,” I reiterated, trying to ignore the sudden surge of arousal.
“James was definitely interested in you,” she observed, her tone more serious. “I saw the way he looked at you. That’s why I pulled him away so quickly. He was mine first. If he hadn’t cum so quickly, I was gonna ask you to hop on,” she said with a cheeky grin on her face.
“Emma!” I retorted, though the image of myself sitting on James’ cock flashed through my mind, sending another jolt of unexpected excitement between my legs.
The Uber arrived and we climbed into the back, Emma giving the driver our address. I watched the street lights blur past the window, lost in thought, replaying the events of the evening in my mind.
We dropped Emma off at her place, and I finally made it home.
“Damian?” I called out, my voice echoing through the house as i walked through the front-door.
No answer. I pulled out my phone, a wave of anxiety washing over me. I had a message from him.
“What time are you back? If I’m not in, I’m at Eli’s watching the football. Issues with the sky box. I won’t be late, baby. Hope you had a good night xx”
“Shit,” I muttered, the events of the evening catching up with me. I wanted him, needed him, a primal urge consuming me.
I retreated to the living room, the silence amplifying my growing frustration. The message had been delivered, but there was no response.
I looked at the TV, the old DVD player still plugged in, the remote lying forgotten on the coffee table. Curiosity piqued, I turned the TV on and pressed play.
“Oh fuck,” I breathed, my eyes widening in shock.
Eli was on screen, his movements a blur as he fucked this young black girl from behind hard.
“Yes, daddy, fuck my pussy,” she cried out, a picture of sheer pleaser slapped across her face.
I knew I should turn it off, but I couldn’t tear my eyes from the screen.
“Fuck her tight little pussy baby,,” a woman’s voice encouraged from off-screen.
My hand, driven by an unconscious force, was on my pussy again.
“Yes, oh fuck yes,” the girl screamed, her body arching as I watched his monster cock impale her.
I watched, transfixed, as Eli continued his assault. Then, I heard the front-door open. My hand, frozen mid-stroke, withdrew from beneath my panties.
Damian and Eli walked in, their conversation abruptly cut short by the sounds emanating from the television.
“Shit, shit, shit,” I exclaimed, scrambling to my feet, frantically searching for the remote and I felt my face flush with embarrassment.
“Fuck me, yeah, oh god yes, fuck me harder,” the voice from the television cried out.
Eli froze, a look of surprise on his face. He stepped into the room, his eyes fixed on the television screen.
“Shit, I forgot those DVDs were in the box,” he muttered, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “Sorry about that, Jane.”
“Oh, I, erm…” I stammered, desperately searching for an explanation.
“Jane was just checking if the DVD player was working,” Damian interjected, coming to my rescue. “You’re gonna sell it, right honey?”
“Yeah, that’s right,” I confirmed, relief washing over me.
“Ahhhhh, fuck yeah, take my cum baby,” the voice from the television roared.
We all exchanged a look of horrified fascination as the camera zoomed in as Eli unloaded his cum into her pussy.
I finally located the remote under the cushion and quickly switched off the television, the lingering image seared into my memory.
“The silence stretched between us and my heart hammered against my ribs, each beat a deafening drum in the sudden stillness.
‘Eli just came back to borrow my power drill for tomorrow,’ Damian said, his voice a little too loud, as if trying to break the tension.
‘Uh, yeah, that’s right,’ Eli replied, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips. His gaze, however, lingered on me, a slow, appreciative sweep taking in the exposed skin on show.
‘I’ll erm… just get it for you,’ Damian mumbled, disappearing into the shed.
‘Well, erm… that was… interesting,’ Eli said, his voice husky.
‘Uh huh,’ I breathed, my voice barely a whisper. The air between us crackled with a potent energy. I could feel his eyes burning into me, every nerve in my body tingling.
He looked at me, his eyes dropping to my lips, then slowly tracing the curve of my neck and down my body. ‘That dress looks amazing on you,’ he murmured, his voice a low growl.
‘Oh… uh, thanks,’ I mumbled. The silence stretched between us again. I could hear Damian rustling around in the shed, the sound strangely amplified in the sudden quiet. Each passing second felt like an eternity.
“I turned and walked over to the window, peering out at the moonlit garden. I could see the shed door open and heard the muffled sounds of Damian rummaging around inside.
‘Looks like he’s having trouble finding it,’ Eli murmured, and he was now right behind me.
I jumped, startled, looked up and his eyes swept over my shoulder looking out at the garden. My breath hitched.
‘Sorry if we interrupted you before,’ he whispered, his breath warm against my ear.
‘Interrupted what?’ I feigned innocence, though my heart was pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I thought about Jacob and how he was tied to the pole while the stripper ground against him. Now Eli was behind me and I could feel him slightly touching me. I resisted the urge to push my arse against him.
‘I think you know,’ he purred, his breath fanning my neck. ‘Do you like my DVDs?’
‘It was an accident, honestly,’ I blurted out, feeling flustered and confused.
‘Come on,’ he chuckled. ‘I’m actually glad you watched them.’
‘Fucking hurry up, Damian,’ I silently pleaded, my eyes glued to the shed door.
He leaned closer, his breath a hot mist against my ear. I panicked, my body instinctively turned around and he was so close. He looked down at me, our bodies almost touching.
‘I’ll just go… erm… see if Damian wants any… help,’ I stammered.
His hands slammed down on the windowsill, trapping me between him and the glass. I gasped, the breath catching in my throat. The expression on his face was terrifying, a primal hunger, the same animalistic intensity I’d witnessed in the video and the one James gave me earlier. My body screamed at me to flee, to escape the predatory glint in his eyes, but I was frozen, paralysed by a strange, intoxicating fear.
He stared at me, his gaze devouring me whole, every inch of my exposed skin. Time seemed to slow, each second stretching into an eternity.
“Eli, I… I…” I stammered, my voice quivering.
He raised a finger to my lips, silencing me. I trembled, my legs weak, the floor tilting beneath me. My body betrayed me, a wave of heat washing over me, an urgent need I couldn’t control.
“Shhh,” he whispered, his breath hot against my ear, a low growl rumbling in his chest.
I held my breath, every nerve in my body screaming in anticipation. His eyes dropped to my lips, his eyes darkening with desire. I felt my own lips part involuntarily, a desperate plea for the contact I craved. He hovered over me, teasingly close, his breath fanning my face, each agonising second pushing me closer to the edge.
I heard the backdoor open and close but I didn’t care. I was in my own world,
Just as I thought our lips would meet, his face brushed my cheek, “best things come to those who wait,” he murmured, sending a shiver of pure need down my spine.
He straightened, a slow, predatory smile gracing his lips. My breathing was ragged, my nipples hard as pebbles, my panties soaked. As he walked away, the image of his eyes, dark and hungry, burned itself into my mind. I was left standing there, trembling, a single thought dominating my mind: I needed him.
The front door clicked shut, and Damian appeared in the room, “Hey babe, sorry. Took a little longer than expected.”
“Uh huh,” I mumbled, my mind still reeling from the last encounter with Eli.
“You okay, babe?” he asked, his brow furrowed in concern.
“Uh, yeah. Uh huh,” I replied, my voice a mere whisper. I stepped closer, and pulled my panties down before kneeling on the couch, my pussy pointing towards him, enticing him to come fuck me.
“Oh fuck babe, wow, you look so hot,” he said as he quickly walked over.
He quickly removed his jeans and positioned his already hard cock against me, and immediately started ramming it in and out, his balls slapping loudly against my clit.
“Fuck, you’re wet, baby,” he groaned.
“Harder babe fuck me harder,” I pleaded, needing my man to unleash his animalistic side.
His thrusts were strong, relentless, but a hollowness echoed within me. My mind, traitorous, was elsewhere. I imagined Eli, his body dominating mine, his powerful strokes filling me completely.
Damian groaned, his breath catching in his throat. ‘Here it comes, baby,’ he warned, his voice thick with anticipation.
A wave of frustration washed over me. I needed more, something wild, something primal and someone to not cum so fast. I frantically rubbed my fingers against my clit, a desperate plea for release.
‘Yes, fucking yes,’ I cried out, my voice raw with desire. ‘Fuck me, fill me up, harder, harder!’
My body arched and I imagined Eli’s hands gripping my hips, as his black cock drove deeper and deeper.
‘Oh yeah, oh fuck baby,’ Damian groaned, his voice strained.
The dam broke. A wave of pleasure, intense and all-consuming, washed over me. ‘Yessss, fuuuck, I’m CUMMING!’ I cried, my body convulsing beneath him.
He erupted inside me, a grunt of release escaping his lips, “Oh fuck yeah!”
Our breathing was heavy as our orgasms subsided.
‘Oh God, that was great,’ he panted, his body heavy on mine.
‘Uh huh,’ I murmured, my mind still reeling. It wasn’t bad, not at all. But it wasn’t what I wanted.
He finally pulled out. ‘Fuck babe, what’s with all the dirty talk?’ he laughed, his eyes twinkling.
‘I… I don’t know,’ I stammered, my gaze drifting towards the ceiling, the image of Eli’s dark eyes and powerful physique seared into my memory.
I managed to pull myself off the sofa, my legs trembling slightly. Damian, oblivious to the storm raging within me, took my hand and led me upstairs.
As he drifted off to sleep beside me, I lay awake, the events of the evening replaying in my mind. The image of James and the intense stare he gave me when he climaxed. The look in his eyes while he licked my pussy juices from my fingers. Then, Eli, his eyes dark and predatory, his body a whirlwind of raw power, haunted me. The brush of his lips against my ear, the feel of his breath on my skin, sent urges between my legs.
What if James hadn’t cum so quickly in the club? Would I have walked over and sat on his cock, while my best friend watched?
What if Damian hadn’t interrupted myself and Eli? Would Eli have taken my panties off and bent me over the sofa and fucked the shit out of me, like he did that girl?
A wave of guilt washed over me. I loved Damian, truly. But the night’s events seemed to have finally awakened something within me, a dormant hunger I hadn’t known existed. Was this betrayal? Or was it a glimpse into a part of myself I had long suppressed?
I knew, with a certainty that both terrified and exhilarated me, that this was just the beginning.
