Suburban Sex Club

"A...Akash," I said, still a little out of breath. I was more startled at seeing him there than anything I guess, but he'd definitely taken his shower a lot quicker that I'd expected. Or maybe it was my sense of time that had become warped, engrossed as I had been in seeing the spectacle next door.

"Varsha," he said. A statement of fact, no inflection at all. "Where'd you go?"

"I...um...I was just outside—"

"You've been smoking." Not a question, just a simple statement of fact, delivered with a 'gotcha' tone. He must have smelled the smoke on my breath even though we were a few feet apart.

I hung my head. There was nothing to say. I'd forgotten to chew a couple of breath mints I'd found masked the smell best, again probably due to my agitated state. We had been trying to quit smoking, Akash and I, and it had been a few days since I'd smoked my last one. But smoking is hard to give up. Otherwise why would the guy—Shaw or someone, maybe Mark Twain—have said something to the effect that giving up smoking was easy, he'd done it thousands of times? Or maybe he'd said it about drinking. Whatever.

"You fucking bitch," my husband now said in a low tone. Again, it was delivered as a statement of fact.

"You don't know what happened," I started to say, but he cut me off with raised eyebrows and a warning finger. I wanted to tell him all about what I'd just witnessed, trying clearly to deflect from the fact that I'd been cheating on our mutual 'no smoking' pact. I opened my mouth like one of the goldfish in the aquarium, but his raised finger stopped me again.

"You cunt," he said, the very soul of calm. He looked fresh, having just showered, wearing a clean t-shirt and sweatpants, smelling of Old Spice deodorant, hair slicked back. I raised my eyes to take him in. So, I thought, it's going to start now.

We have a little game we play sometimes. I guess there is a submissive deep within me, and sometimes we role-play. Akashi will take a dominant tone with me, and if I am game, I will play along. Usually it lasts for an hour or so worth of kinky sex games. There is of course, an unspoken agreement that at no point will any barrier the other is unwilling to cross be breached. So far, he'd always been the dom, and me the sub, but we had briefly discussed a role reversal at some future, unspecified point.

I quickly glanced at the clock, 8 pm. Tomorrow was Saturday, no work. We could have some fun. I hung my head and said, "Sorry Sir." Just like I would have when called to the principal's office in school. The only difference was that I was 25, not 14. Well, there was one other difference; my panties were wet. Soaking wet. Partly from the anticipation of fun and games, but also from what I had just seen.

I tried one more time. "I just saw something bizarre at the neighbor's," I said, in a normal tone, coming out of character for a second.

Akash frowned. "If you're trying to get out of punishment you cunt," he said, "you'll be sorry."

"No, really...something weird going on there," I said, not specifying what exactly it was that I'd seen. The mental image of the woman getting fucked at both ends, enjoying it I thought, if I could surmise from the grin she gave me in the mirror was turning me on like nothing else had. Or maybe it had been a grimace of pain? Sometimes, I reasoned, they are the same.

"Cunt," he said, "show me." His tone remained calm, and for some reason it was even more exciting than if he had shouted.

I turned and we walked out into the garage and I took my jacket off the hook. Akash did likewise. I saw him slipping something into his pocket out of the corner of my eye.

"Wait," he said as I was about to shrug into the coat.

I looked at him, a question in my eye. What?

"Strip," he said.

I started to protest but stopped when I saw his face. He had his, 'you'd better do it and do it now, or else' look on, and while I knew I could stop the play acting at any time, I decided to comply. After all, I had said the magic words. I said them again.

"Yes Sir." I started to strip. Nothing slow or sexy about it. The motion activated garage light had gone out and the only light was from the kitchen shining through the glass of the garage door. Lots of shadow, little light.

I undid the button on my jeans and unzipped for the second time in ten minutes and pulled them off. The garage was not heated, but nor was it as cold as the outside, but despite that, goose pimples broke out all over my legs. I pulled off my panties that were soaked by now and tossed them on top of the jeans. Akash's eyes did not miss the large wet spot on the light colored cotton underwear. I did have sexy lingerie—like from Victoria's Secret and all—but for routine wear, I preferred no frills cotton. Maybe a little heart or bow stitched on the front.

"It's cold Sir," I said in a little girl voice.

Akash said nothing.

I continued with the disrobing, pulling off the light sweatshirt I always wore indoors and then the t-shirt. As usual the shirt snagged on my rather large tits and I had my usual moment of pulling-at-them-while-blinded, torso wriggling act. I's sure Akash enjoyed it. He'd told me so many times before. Finally the shirt was off and I unsnapped the bra. Even though they're large—36 D—they don't sag a lot. Not yet anyway. Yeah, I know. I'm not exaggerating my boob size just because I'm telling you my story; it is a fact. Rather, they're a fact. A couple of facts? I'd been embarrassed about my tits for a long time before I met Akash in engineering college in Bombay. He'd made me feel good about them, calling them the best set of tits he'd ever seen, large but not too big. I guess he should know, he plays with them a lot.

I stood there, naked, awaiting his next command. I hoped he wouldn't make me walk outside like this, but I was not sure. He stepped behind me and cupped my tits with both hands, weighing them, caressing them. He pulled at the hard nipples with a little more force that I expected and a gasp escaped me. Not OK. I was supposed to be submitting and take whatever he dished out. Punishment was instant. He pinched my right nipple, really hard and a half-moan, half-cry escaped my lips. He did it again, but this time I was expecting it and was able to stay quiet.

His left hand strayed down my belly, down to my nether regions. He cupped my whole cunt and shook it. Then he slipped a finger inside. I writhed in excitement but stayed quiet. His index finger (I think) found my clitoris and rubbed. My cunt became wetter than before. I'm sure his hand was soaked. All the while, his right hand pinched and kneaded my right breast.

He fingered me for a few more moments and then abruptly, just as I was building up to a nice orgasm, said, "Jacket and shoes, cunt."

Cunt. That was what he called me during our games. I loved it. To be reduced to nothing more than a cunt, just there for his enjoyment, nothing more than an receptacle to pleasure him and receive pleasure in turn of course was exciting. Not to forget the tits. He certainly didn't.

I picked up the parka and pulled it on, then stepped into my shoes—slip-on shoes, leather with rubber soles. The inside of the jacket was fleece and rubbed on my inflamed nipples. The bottom of the jacked barely covered my upper butt and my cunt was literally throbbing with excitement. What if someone saw us, I mean me? I disabled the motion activated light before we left the garage.

He pulled on his jacket and crocs and we stepped out. Crunch, crunch on the ice and then to the backyard behind the bushes. I moved carefully, slowly; I had been spotted before by the woman in the basement. I didn't niecesrily want an encore, especially not in this state of undress.

Fuck, I thought when the basement came into view. The drapes were drawn. Dark. The moonlight illuminated the dark drapes and I could even see where the two panels came together.

Akashi looked at me questioningly. I shrugged. In fact, now that I think of it, there must've been some reason I didn't say any more at the time.

"I thought I saw some...people dancing there." I didn't know why but I lied.

"Dancing, huh?"

The conversation all this while had been in English, but now he switched to Hindi. "Rundi," he said, "whore, lying to me, huh?" He raised my coat from the back and spanked me hard on the butt. "What did you see? What the fuck did you see, cunt?"

"Aah!" I yelped. I figured it was a rhetorical question, no answer required.

Spank, spank, spank. His hand rose and fell rhythmically. He unzipped the jacket and it fell open, stiff. It was some kind of quilted material, very warm but hardly something that hugged my contours. My tits swung into the opening like twin torpedos. One of his hands went around me.

Then one hand was pawing my boobs, pulling at the nipples, the other hand spanking me. Practically naked, my open jacket swinging from side to side with the movement, I took what he was giving me. It was pure paradise and I was wetter than ever. In some corner of my mind, I was thinking what if my cunt juice freezes? Water expands when it freezes, so there was a chance I would have a ice dildo in my cunt if this went on for a while. The thought made me drip more, almost near orgasm. The excitement of potential discovery was like an aphrodisiac while at the same time I hoped no one would see me like this. The cold air felt delicious on my hot skin as he chastised me mercilessly. Somewhere, someone was burning wood; I could smell the woodsmoke—sweet, different from cigarette smoke, and comforting.

Then he changed his rhythm. He would spank me a few times, then his hand would snake between my legs and finger me roughly, mercilessly. Then spanking again. My hands and feet felt cold as ice but I hardly noticed. I stood there facing the neighbor's basement, now dark, shivering with delicious sensations. I was on fire, heat leaking out of me like the hot water spigot in the kitchen. Like lava from mount Vesuvius. Goddamn, this was good. The earth moved, the sky with the gibbous moon undulated, it was exhilarating like goddamit. I humped his hand like mad.

And then I saw the drape move. Not all the way, but just a little. Like there was someone there looking out at me. For some reason, this excited me even more and I moaned involuntarily. And the thought that someone, maybe the woman on the sawhorse, was watching me get ravaged, just like she had been a few minutes ago, pushed me over the edge. His finger in my cunt turned upwards, found my G spot. The orgasm built suddenly, without warning, a flash flood. I came like I had never before.

"Aaaaah!"

I may have gushed, or squirted as they say in the porn industry—Akash told me later that he had never seen me come like that before.

I was breathing like I'd run ten miles. During the orgasm, the sky that was actually quite well lit by the moon had turned black. I spasmed, quivered, shook like a malaria patient as the climax took me. A whole body orgasm. It took me a few minutes to get my breathing under control, to get my senses back together and collect myself. I found that Akash still had one hand firmly clamped on my left boob, practically crushing it, and one hand covering my still convulsing cunt. One finger inside, like I was a fish he had hooked by the cunt.

Had the drape really moved? I didn't have time to think or worry about it.

"Fuck," he said reverentially. Then he reverted to character, was ready to move on to the next step. "Bitch cunt, punishment for screaming out loud."

He spun me around so I was facing away from the neighbor's basement and pushed me to my knees. Rough, heavy hands on my shoulders with all his weight behind them. He pulled my jacket partly off so that only the sleeves were on and my hands behind me. Most of my body was now open to the elements. My tits were now on full and proud display as my back arched to accommodate my arms twisted behind me. Nipples hard as ice chips, partly from the cold and partly from the excitement. The snow and ice on the wet grass felt numbingly cold, and then, after a few seconds, the skin on my knees went numb. No matter, I thought, I can take this. The temperature was about 30 degrees, I knew—probably not enough to get frost bite. Well, I'd never heard of frostbite of the knees anyway. The excitement and heat of the moment were of more immediate importance that the possibility, remote as it seemed, of getting frostbite.

He unzipped his pants and pulled out his dick. Not without difficulty, I noted. He was hard as a steel rod. He throbbed, large and brown, eight inches long and veined like a bodybuilder's bicep. Akash and I had measured it, so I know. He'd insisted it was eight and a half and I had gone along, although I really thought it was only eight. No matter; he was plenty big enough for me, and I also happen to believe it's not how big you are, it's how you use it. I have had one lover in the past that was bigger, but it had been painful. Maybe he had poor technique, maybe I was inexperienced. Whatever.

"Suck," he commanded.

And then he thrust it straight into my waiting open mouth, no fancy foreplay, licking or tonguing required. It wasn't quite a face fuck or a skull-fuck. It was a straight up throat fuck. The first thrust almost took the back of my head off and I choked. But he gave me no time to recover. He took a large handful of my long hair and forced my head into his groin. His dick rammed into my throat, no other way to describe it. Way too much in character, I thought in a detached way even as I struggled to breathe through my nose. So soon after my orgasm, I was still panting, hungry for air and the asphyxia just added to the surreal situation and eroticism. Even as my nostrils opened wide to suck in more air, my cunt lips quivered in sympathy in the last throes of orgasm. I might have blacked out just a little, but hey, it was great.

Although it seemed like a long time, he finally came, and he held my head to his groin as he spasmed and came directly into my esophagus. I kneeled there in the snow, arms trapped behind me by the jacket sleeves halfway off, tits exposed like an offering, choking on his cum. Some of it leaking out around the seal between my lips and his cock.

Then a car started somewhere and blue and red lights came on, flickering in the night. The headlights caught me squarely, a butterfly pinned on a white sheet.