1. The Lap Dance
(After a visit to a strip club, a private lap dance)
I'm a lucky guy - years of marriage never took a toll on Laura's and my sex life. We maintained a healthy frequency and were loving partners; we even occasionally experimented with role playing and light dominance. Our sex life was good, but tame. That would change once we came under the spell of Karl and his wife Cynthia.
We met them at our local pub one Friday night. They were an attractive couple, physically fit and about our age. They struck up a conversation with us, saying they were new in town and could we recommend a good restaurant. They were easy to talk to, and both Laura and I felt an instant connection with them.
Karl was tall, well built, masculine, and well dressed in a loose fitting shirt and pants. He had a deep voice and a strong, almost dominating, presence. He sat next to my wife, Laura, and throughout the night gave her plenty of attention, offering compliments and occasionally touching her arm. At times they seemed to be having a private conversation. When he swiveled in his stool and pressed his thigh against hers, I noticed that she didn't object or move her leg. It was easy to see that she found him attractive, and to be honest, I was a bit jealous.
His wife, Cynthia, was equally attractive, but smallish, petite, and much quieter. She sat on the stool on his other side, wearing a short skirt that exposed her toned legs. Throughout the night Karl kept his hand on her bare thigh, seemingly keeping her legs apart. At first his hand remained near her knee, but as the night progressed his hand slid up higher until it reached just under her skirt.
The pub had had a jukebox, and when a sensual R&B song played, Karl pushed his stool back, grabbed Cynthia's hand, and said, "Time to dance." His abruptness caused her to spill her drink. She placed the glass on the bar and swiveled in her stool. As she brushed the dampness from her skirt her legs parted, revealing a white panty under her skirt. Laura caught me looking and nudged me in the stomach. Karl also caught me looking but said nothing.
On the dance floor Karl wrapped his arms around his wife who almost melted in his embrace. They danced slowly, sensually, grinding their bodies into each other. His hands rested on her lower back but by the time the song ended they dropped down to her ass; she offered no resistance. I have to admit - they put on a pretty sexy show.
Back at the bar Karl talked about why they had moved to our town and all the work they had been doing fixing up their house. He also brought up the local strip club, a topless place within walking distance. I had never been able to get Laura to venture there -- she envisioned seedy seats filled with dirty old men in raincoats -- but Karl told us that they had visited it twice. "It's legit," he promised, "and it's a sexual turn-on when you go with someone you love." He looked at his wife, who nodded and smiled in agreement.
To my surprise Karl was able to prod Laura into checking it out - as long as we went as a foursome. (I needed no prodding; I had actually gone a few times on the sly when she was out of town visiting her sister.) Within an hour we left the pub, walked four blocks, and stood at the front door of The Paddywagon.
To my surprise, Karl paid the cover for all of us. "My pleasure," he said, although it was actually his way of maintining control, something Karl was very good at. We took our seats in the corner. It was your typical upscale strip club: loud hip-hop, dim lighting, a waitress in a bra and miniskirt. On stage a curvy blond was down to her panties gyrating around the pole. Several men sat in the front row of chairs holding drinks and dollar bills.
To my relief not only was Laura not repulsed by the place she was actually enjoying it! And every now and then, Laura reached under the table to squeeze my penis through my pants. Yes, the place was definitely a 'sexual turn-on'.
The four us watched, talked, laughed, and continued drinking. Karl managed to keep the conversation focused on sex, at one point telling my wife, "I wouldn't mind seeing you up there, dancing." When a dancer came on with a schoolgirl costume, he asked my wife: "Do you ever dress up for Al?" And when a dancer talked to us about lap dances, he told her, "We have two very sexy women here. If we need a lap dance they'll do just fine."
When our wives were in the rest room, I told Karl, "I guess I should thank you -- I've never been able to get her to come here. Every time I asked-"
"You ASKED," he interrupted. He looked me in the eye. "Sometimes women need to be told, not asked." He took a sip of his drink, then set the glass down carefully. "Some women are-" Bbefore he could continue our wives returned.
His words got me to thinking about Laura. I knew she was somewhat submissive to me, but I wondered if she would be submissive to another man. My curiosity was further piqued a few minutes later.
A tall brunette dancer approached looking for a tip, and I expected Karl to slip money into her g-string. Instead he placed a few bills in Laura's hand. She looked flustered and shook her head in protest, but with Karl's coaxing (controlling?) she reached over, pulled the thong waistband aside, and tucked the money inside. And when Karl urged her to "give her a feel" to my shock Laura lowered her hand and rubbed the front of the woman's thong. She turned to us, giggling in embarrassment, and I had to shake my head, not believing Karl had succeeded into getting my wife to do this.
When the time came to leave the club, we walked about two blocks when Karl said, "Well, look here. Our house." He pointed to a two story house with a red brick front. "We'll have a nightcap," he announced (not asking, telling us). "You'll be our first guests." We tried to protest but he wouldn't hear of it.
Once inside, Karl gave quick tour of the downstairs while Cynthia went upstairs to change. In the kitchen Karl opened a bottle of white wine and handed us cold beers. We sat at the table and chatted; soon Cynthia returned in a sheer blouse with no bra, and tight black yoga pants that wrapped her butt like cellophane. "Much better," she said as she walked towards a corner table.
Karl quickly steered the conversation to strip clubs and dancers and lap dances. Again he complemented our wives. "Who needs professionals when we have these two lovely women." Cynthia was walking back from the fridge when he said this; he pushed his seat from the table, grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her into his lap. It happened so naturally, almost as if it were choreographed. She sat there for a few seconds, then he whispered something in her ear that made her smile. She stood up, grabbed her glass of wine, and walked behind my chair. I turned to look at her, until I heard Karl ask my wife: "Have you ever given Al a lap dance?"
She laughed but didn't answer.
