The Not So Invisible Woman (20 page)

'Wow,' said Greg when I opened the door.

I laughed. 'Thought I'd make an effort. I want a gang bang tonight.'

In the past I had declined Rump Shaker's invitations to Arousal because I hadn't seen the point of making such a long journey for sex when plenty was available right in London. But I was horny and determined to have more than one cock that night and I knew I could count on Greg to round up a few guys.

Greg drove and, like a homing pigeon, reached his destination, pulling into a row of garages just behind a suburban residential street. Had I not been chauffered, I never would have found it. Greg drove the car down a narrow gravel road and pulled into the last available spot, at the end of a row of some twenty other vehicles.

'Looks like a busy night,' I said, cheered.

We walked into the club and up the stairs to reception. It was dark and basic, no decor. Somehow, instantly deflating. The woman sitting behind the window put us through the usual newbie routine: fill out a form, present picture IDs, pay the entrance fee. Then she told us to follow her, for the guided tour.

'I'm Joan,' she said. 'Let me show you around.'

She was blonde, middle-aged, overweight and well endowed. Her skimpy black Ann Summers lace lingerie barely contained her big tits. She had all the cheeriness of an old-fashioned tea lady.

Guided tours of swingers' clubs is de rigueur for first-timers. The ritual helps a hostess make her guests feel comfortable and helps guests earmark the best spots for playing. The top swinging clubs are usually run by people who are in the lifestyle themselves, and their pleasure in their work usually shows. Joan was as cheery and knowledgeable as any other long-time player.

'Now this,' she said, pointing to the main room, 'is the chill-out zone. There's a bar over there –' she gestured to the right – 'for you to put your wine and spirits. You can buy mixers and crisps, too.'

Greg walked over to the bar with the blue carrier bag he'd brought. He handed the bartender two bottles of Grolsch. I always went to clubs carrying a flask filled with freezing-cold vodka, but kept it with me, in my handbag.

Joan took us down a hallway that led to a tiny black room, perhaps three-feet by three, with a small black cushion on the floor and Styrofoam blocks each cut into the shape of a rock or a crater, painted grey, and glued to the ceiling.

'This is the cave,' she said. I stared at the lone cushion on the floor and made a mental note to avoid that space. It looked like a leftover from a primary-school production of a caveman skit, comical, not sexy.

Continuing the tour, Joan led us through a labyrinth of rooms. There was a cinema playing triple-X videos, with a balcony above for voyeurs, plus a dark room, a grope room, a couples' playroom. There were separate bedrooms with lockable doors, a dance floor with a pole set-up on a stage to serve a girl's go-go fantasy, and a mock castle to – I didn't know what. It was a regression to the playschool theme.

'This place looks like it's been put together with sticky tape and plasterboard,' I whispered to Greg.

He laughed. 'Don't lean against the walls. They might fall down.'

Though I had lost my way ten minutes earlier, eventually we came full circle and ended up back in the main room. There seemed to be doors everywhere and I couldn't figure out where any of them led. I wondered if Carl and his girlfriend were behind one of them.

'Well, should we get started?' I asked Greg.

'Sure.'

'You lead the way. I haven't got a clue.'

We took a gamble and walked through one of the many doors. We were back at the cinema. A couple was sitting close together on one of the sofas, hands on each other's thighs, watching the screen.

'What about the balcony?' said Greg.

We walked past the couple and up the steps that led upstairs. A bed-sized foam pad covered in vinyl fabric was positioned against one wall. A sofa was set against it, facing the cinema screen. I climbed on the platform and hitched up my skirt, displaying the top of my suspenders. Greg stood in front of me, slowly unzipped his fly and pulled out his cock. I put my arms around his buttocks and pulled him closer. I took him inside my mouth and felt him get harder, whilst my tongue rode up and down the length of his shaft.

'That's right,' he said. 'Use your tongue. Use your tongue.'

I pressed my tongue firmly against the shaft, pulling his cock deep into my mouth.

'That's a girl. Pull it in. All the way.'

I loved following Greg's orders. I moved my mouth slowly down his cock and tried to reach its thick base. I gagged.

'Good girl,' he said.

I pulled out to catch my breath. I looked around. An attractive thirtyish couple had moved onto the sofa to watch. A lone man, mid-thirties, slim, dark-haired, stood next to them, wanking in silence. I ignored our audience and turned back to Greg. I took his cock in my mouth and felt him get harder.

I pulled out and licked the head of his cock. I ran my tongue along the shaft, then wrapped my hand around it and began sliding my hand up and down.

After five minutes, I felt him convulse, felt the warm stream of his come shoot down my mouth. Greg continued to tremble for a half-minute more while resting his cock in my mouth.

'Next?' I said after releasing Greg's cock. I looked over at the solitary man who had been wanking. 'What are you waiting for?' I said.

He walked over to me and put his cock in my mouth. He wasn't as big or as thick as Greg, but sucking on Greg's nine-inch cock had made me horny. Now I wanted to be fucked, simple as that. I pulled a condom out of my handbag, ripped open the wrapper and stretched it over the guy's shaft. Then I turned around, got on all fours and hitched up my dress, presenting my ass to him.

Without a word, he slipped inside my wet pussy and fucked me. He came and exited in minutes. It didn't matter. I wanted to wait for my own orgasm, preferably with Greg, and preferably back at my place later. Arousal was just extended foreplay for me.

After the stranger pulled out of me, I turned around and he leaned towards me. We kissed.

'Thank you,' he said. 'That was amazing.'

'You're welcome,' I said. 'Next.'

Another man had appeared during the fucking and was standing against the wall. He walked over to me and unzipped his trousers. Once again, I took a cock in my mouth and once again I brought it to completion.

'Well done,' said Greg, cheering me on.

'Let's look around,' I said. 'I think it's time for my gang bang, don't you?' I straightened my clothes and got off the platform. 'Thanks, guys,' I said to the two strangers, who'd each taken turns watching the other perform with me. 'That was fun.'

They smiled.

As I walked down the stairs, I removed the flask from my handbag and took a swig of vodka. The cold liquid soothed my throat. Greg and I worked our way through the labyrinth of doors and passages back to the bar.

'Number seventeen,' Greg said to the bartender, a bald man in a PVC vest and trousers.

'Well, that was horny,' I said.

'Very.'

We stood in silence, looking around the main room. It had filled up since we'd arrived only an hour earlier. There were seven or eight couples, a range of types. There were also two women who looked to be in their thirties sitting together on a sofa. I wondered if they were gay or just two rare women who'd made the jump from dating site to sex club. Most women at swingers' clubs entered on the arm of a guy. And it was rare to see lesbians in a swingers' club. The scene was a mostly heterosexual one, as an entire constellation of clubs and saunas serve an exclusively gay clientele. A bi vibe was often in the air in swingers' clubs, especially among women or in group scenes that involved a lot of body contact in tiny spaces. Bi women were particularly welcome, bi men less so.

I'd have welcomed a bit more guy-on-guy action in the clubs, as I found it a major turn-on, but as Greg once told me, 'Some guys hate it when I manoeuvre their cock into position with my hands.' Greg isn't bi; to him, a cock was just a cock, a piece of equipment. If another guy's cock needed moving to facilitate its entry into a woman he was fucking, then he didn't have a problem steering it towards another hole. It wasn't sexual touch so much as a practical manoeuvre.

I looked around the room once more at all the faces, trying to see if I could match the men with the cocks I had just sucked. It had been dark on the balcony, and I hadn't really paid too much attention to the faces. I have never had a good memory for faces.

'Do you want to have another walk around?' I asked Greg when he finished his Grolsch.

'Sure.' Greg was always up for a new adventure.

We walked around the club and stopped at a large room with mirrors on the ceiling, pausing to look through a long window cut into a wall. Three couples were fucking. One man had his finger between his partner's legs. Another was lying on his back and being straddled by his partner. A third couple were masturbating each other. A group of men stood alongside us, watching the action.

'Boring,' I said.

We carried on to the dark room. Three men were playing with a woman hidden from our view. But we could hear her moans and the sound of a heavy cock slapping against flesh. Her thigh? His palm? I couldn't tell, but it was erotic.

Then we came to a small square room. It was empty except for a square bed that fitted snugly inside. It allowed for a spare metre on three sides for people to watch or play with their bedmates.

'This looks good,' I said. I put my handbag to one side and pulled out my essentials: my leopard-print bullet vibe, some lube, a blindfold and some condoms.

I removed my dress, put on the blindfold and lay down on the bed. I left on my peach lingerie and black heels.

'Get on all fours,' Greg said.

I heard trousers unzip. I felt Greg's hands reach behind my head. He pushed his sweaty cock into my mouth again.

'That's right,' he said. 'All the way down.'

I felt him get harder. Another set of hands reached between my legs and began to massage my clit. Greg was holding on to both sides of my head, using my mouth like a sex toy, pushing it up and down his cock.

'You can fuck her if you want,' I heard him say.

I removed my mouth when I felt a new cock against my ass. 'Is there a condom on that thing?'

'Yes,' said an unfamiliar voice. I liked his baritone.

I felt around for Greg's cock and pulled him back into my mouth. Then I felt a cock straining against my pussy, then finally sliding in, all the way in. The blindfold accentuated every sensation: my mouth against a cock; a cock moving inside my pussy.

Someone's hand cupped my breast. It could have been Greg's or a stranger's; it was hard to be sure. I couldn't be sure of anything. Hands and cocks and lips and tongues touched me. Different cocks entered me. After twenty, thirty, forty minutes I couldn't tell who was who or how many there had been. And I didn't care.

Then I heard Greg say, 'Get on your back.'

I rolled onto my back, as commanded, bent my knees and spread my legs.

'Come here,' said Greg, as he pulled my thighs towards him.

I felt a well-lubed cock prodding my asshole.

'Slow,' I whispered, although I knew I didn't have to say anything. In the three years I'd known him, Greg had gotten to know my body as well as I knew it myself. I felt safe with him in the square room. I knew he would look after me. And, as anal was his big turn-on and he was well travelled, I knew I didn't have to coach him.

Yet the thing about being blindfolded is that you can never be one hundred per cent sure of anything. It is an instinctive response to caution slowness, even though I knew it was Greg pulling my ass to his cock, even though he always took anal slowly and knew I needed to relax first.

I felt a sudden push against my sphincter. I took in breath deeply, letting the oxygen course deep into my lungs to speed up the endorphin rush.

'The head's in,' he said quietly.

'Slow,' I said again, unnecessarily, relaxing my muscles so they'd open up to give way to his thick cock. 'Wait.'

Once again I took in deep breaths. I felt the muscles relax. Greg pushed – an inch, another inch – until finally, after five long minutes, he was deep inside me.

There could have been a hundred people in that room, but it felt like just the two of us. I relaxed and let Greg fuck me until I was wide open, taking him over and over again, deeper and deeper inside my ass.

'Oh, God,' I moaned.

'God has nothing to do with this,' he said. 'I'm fucking you up the ass.'

I laughed.

'Take off your blindfold,' he said.

I removed the blindfold. I saw a circle of hard cocks hovering above my head, their owners stroking them.

I opened my mouth and raised my head to receive their come. The stroking became more frantic.

I heard Greg's breath quicken. He started panting. Then I felt the rush of his spunk inside me. As he let out a huge groan, the wanking above my face ceased. The men in the circle paused to watch the guy with the huge cock come.

I let Greg relax in my ass. His cock softened. He stopped thrusting into me. Somehow that signalled the end for all of us. Greg slid out of me and the circle of jerkers broke up. The guys put their cocks back in their pants and, one by one, walked out of the room. The show was over.

I sat up and pulled on my clothes. Greg and I were alone.

'Come on, honey, let's go home,' I said. 'You can fuck me properly there.'

We drove back to London, both really turned on by our night up the Ml. Greg had one hand on the steering wheel, the other on his dick. I reached over to play with his balls and with my other hand held my leopard-print vibrator against my clit.

'Do you realise we've been doing this shit for three years now?' I said.

'Yeah, it's great, isn't it?' Greg laughed. 'Not bad for a couple of middle-aged pervs.'

We parked in front of my house, then went straight up to my bedroom and had an old-fashioned screw. Greg took me on my knees, stuck his big cock in my ass for the second time that night, and very slowly slid in and out. I finally got my big orgasm, and Greg got his third. We both slept soundly afterwards.