into his lap, forcing her to straddle him,
her skirt riding up her thighs and over her ass. Janie glanced over her
shoulder and saw the cab driver frantically adjusting the mirror for a better
view. She arched her back, giving it to him. “Are you ready to give them all a
show, you slutty little brat? Are you ready to give them a hot, dirty little
show?”
“Yes!”
She rocked against him, feeling the length of his cock even through the thick,
denim crotch of his jeans. “You’re so good to me, baby. Ohhh so fucking good to
me.”
The
cab slowed and then stopped and Janie glanced up, the ache in her pussy
unbearable, the excitement too much to contain. Outside, the air was warm,
stifling even in the moonlight, and Janie frantically filled her lungs as Josh
pulled her from the vehicle.
“You
should wait.” Josh leaned down to the window to speak to the driver, who was
clearly trying to keep some sort of professional expression on his face and
failing miserably. “Come on in if you want to see a show.”
There
were men crowded at the door, at least a dozen, maybe more. Janie felt their
gazes on her as Josh directed them all to step aside so he could unlock the
empty warehouse door. She saw the cowboy near the back, his eyes big in the
moonlight.
Four
of the men went in even before Josh. They were all huge, with broad backs and
thickly muscled arms under their matching white tanks that shared one word
across both the front and back: “Security.” One of these men posted himself at
the door, turning on the stark, overhead fluorescents. The other three went
over to the twin mattress arranged on pallets in the middle of the empty room.
“Ready?”
Josh whispered. Janie just nodded, trembling, as he led her over to the
mattress. It was brand new—the plastic had been removed that afternoon and
discarded in a nearby corner. Two folding chairs stood beside it. Janie stood
beside the mattress, head and eyes down, and waited. The men, murmuring and
talking together, some of them joking, laughing, getting to know each other,
followed them, making a semi-circle.
All
eyes were on her until Josh held up his hands and announced, “The first rule of
Fuck Club is you don’t talk about Fuck Club.”
It
was quiet at first, the men shifting, looking uneasy, but then Josh grinned,
shaking his head. “Just kidding.”
There
was nervous laughter. Janie’s knees felt weak and she leaned against one of the
bodyguards for support. His hand moved to her elbow, holding her up.
“You
were lucky enough to be chosen or invited here tonight,” Josh went on. He was
unbuttoning his shirt as he talked. “This only happens once a year, and if
you’re lucky and follow the rules, you may get invited back again next year.
The date and the location changes every year, so don’t get any ideas. If you’re
not invited back, you’re out of luck. So I’d behave if I were you.”
Josh
slid off his shirt, folding it neatly and putting it on a chair beside the
mattress. “And if you can’t control yourself or follow the rules, these four
bruisers are here to help you. Got it?”
There
was a murmur of understanding.
“So
what are the rules, mate?”
Janie
recognized the voice of the Australian guy they’d picked up from the first bar
they’d been to that night. That seemed like a million years ago.
Josh
slid his belt out of the loops on his jeans, rattling them off from memory.
“You can look, you can touch, but you can’t fuck her and you can’t kiss her on
the mouth. If she wants to touch or suck your cock, she will. If she doesn’t, don’t
force her, or you’ll be removed.”
She
watched, eyes still downcast, as her husband removed his jeans, leaving him
wearing only a very tented pair of boxers.
“You
can touch yourself, obviously. Or each other, if you’re into that. I don’t
care.” Josh turned to Janie. “You can touch her anywhere else with your hands
or your mouth, but don’t be too rough—unless she asks you
her skirt riding up her thighs and over her ass. Janie glanced over her
shoulder and saw the cab driver frantically adjusting the mirror for a better
view. She arched her back, giving it to him. “Are you ready to give them all a
show, you slutty little brat? Are you ready to give them a hot, dirty little
show?”
“Yes!”
She rocked against him, feeling the length of his cock even through the thick,
denim crotch of his jeans. “You’re so good to me, baby. Ohhh so fucking good to
me.”
The
cab slowed and then stopped and Janie glanced up, the ache in her pussy
unbearable, the excitement too much to contain. Outside, the air was warm,
stifling even in the moonlight, and Janie frantically filled her lungs as Josh
pulled her from the vehicle.
“You
should wait.” Josh leaned down to the window to speak to the driver, who was
clearly trying to keep some sort of professional expression on his face and
failing miserably. “Come on in if you want to see a show.”
There
were men crowded at the door, at least a dozen, maybe more. Janie felt their
gazes on her as Josh directed them all to step aside so he could unlock the
empty warehouse door. She saw the cowboy near the back, his eyes big in the
moonlight.
Four
of the men went in even before Josh. They were all huge, with broad backs and
thickly muscled arms under their matching white tanks that shared one word
across both the front and back: “Security.” One of these men posted himself at
the door, turning on the stark, overhead fluorescents. The other three went
over to the twin mattress arranged on pallets in the middle of the empty room.
“Ready?”
Josh whispered. Janie just nodded, trembling, as he led her over to the
mattress. It was brand new—the plastic had been removed that afternoon and
discarded in a nearby corner. Two folding chairs stood beside it. Janie stood
beside the mattress, head and eyes down, and waited. The men, murmuring and
talking together, some of them joking, laughing, getting to know each other,
followed them, making a semi-circle.
All
eyes were on her until Josh held up his hands and announced, “The first rule of
Fuck Club is you don’t talk about Fuck Club.”
It
was quiet at first, the men shifting, looking uneasy, but then Josh grinned,
shaking his head. “Just kidding.”
There
was nervous laughter. Janie’s knees felt weak and she leaned against one of the
bodyguards for support. His hand moved to her elbow, holding her up.
“You
were lucky enough to be chosen or invited here tonight,” Josh went on. He was
unbuttoning his shirt as he talked. “This only happens once a year, and if
you’re lucky and follow the rules, you may get invited back again next year.
The date and the location changes every year, so don’t get any ideas. If you’re
not invited back, you’re out of luck. So I’d behave if I were you.”
Josh
slid off his shirt, folding it neatly and putting it on a chair beside the
mattress. “And if you can’t control yourself or follow the rules, these four
bruisers are here to help you. Got it?”
There
was a murmur of understanding.
“So
what are the rules, mate?”
Janie
recognized the voice of the Australian guy they’d picked up from the first bar
they’d been to that night. That seemed like a million years ago.
Josh
slid his belt out of the loops on his jeans, rattling them off from memory.
“You can look, you can touch, but you can’t fuck her and you can’t kiss her on
the mouth. If she wants to touch or suck your cock, she will. If she doesn’t, don’t
force her, or you’ll be removed.”
She
watched, eyes still downcast, as her husband removed his jeans, leaving him
wearing only a very tented pair of boxers.
“You
can touch yourself, obviously. Or each other, if you’re into that. I don’t
care.” Josh turned to Janie. “You can touch her anywhere else with your hands
or your mouth, but don’t be too rough—unless she asks you
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