Tales From the Club: Sex Trerapy

The story below was inspired by the annual 750 words competition of which it is NOT a part (being several months late or even more early). Most of my Tales From the Club stories run to around 7000 words, so this little quickie is written as a lark. I hope you enjoy it for what it is.

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I was spelling Ron as bartender when Matthew and a perky little brunette strolled in. As they approached the bar, she'd break into giggles followed by "The look on his face!"

I looked at Matthew until he said, "John, Selma; Selma John. Two Manhattans, please, my good man."

"My good man your ass, and you don't get drinks until you tell me what's so funny."

"Alright, already, but at least pour as I spill." That seemed fair; I started mixing.

"Well, you see, I minster to the needs of my flock as they arise." Matthew has a store-front church with an unusually high percentage of lady parishioners, to whom he did a lot of ministering on the side.

"And."

"And this nice little lady, devoted wife and mom, came to me a few weeks ago. She said she was miserable because her husband had stopped sleeping with her and was spending his time and seed on some floozy, and she was afraid her marriage was over."

Selma punched Matthew on the arm and said, "Did you just call me a floozy?"

I pushed the drinks forward, hoping to divert her attention.

"No my dear; I call you a sweet, delightful, sexually voracious goddess. 'Floozy' was the word used by the woman whose husband you've been fucking, and I was merely quoting."

Mollified, Selma turned her attention to her drink.

"So, anyway, the lady was caught between the rock of being humiliated and the hard place of trying to make it as a single mom with no marketable skills. This is a dilemma with which I have had some experience, so I offered her my pastoral services. All my pastoral services," he said, winking.

"Ron is due back in about two minutes. Speed things up." I fixed two more drinks, passed one to the lady but held Matthew's back.

"Okay, long story short, I can sort of sympathize with the guy -- name's Frank by the way. The lady had some real sexual hang-ups. Took me a week to get her to 'do it,' as she said, naked; the better part of another week to get her to accept oral and to have her first orgasm. After that, she was actually getting into it, becoming a fun fuck, though we're still working on her giving head.

"Well, that didn't solve the problem of Frank having abandoned her for another woman. Happily, old Frank had met said 'other woman,' the lovely Selma here, at church. Between what the wife told me and some discrete inquiries, I was able to figure out who she was and talk to her. Turns out they were having most of their fun in our club, of which Selma is a proud member.

"I explained the problem that she had, through no fault of her own, become part of, and I invited her to become part of the solution. I think I'll have that second drink now, bartender," he said with a determined look on his face. It seemed a fair trade; I caved.

"Selma arranged for Frank to meet her here tonight, with the promise of a foursome, where maybe he might catch some girl on girl action and wet his wick in another well.

"Naturally, Frank's wife and I were the other couple, and Selma timed their entry into our private room just as we were reaching the height of our passion. When they walked in, the lady had her legs wrapped around my hips and was shouting 'Oh, fuck, yes, yes' in between the gasps of her orgasm.

"When she calmed down, I rolled off her and quickly stood up. I'd taken off her mask so Frank could have no doubt who and what he was seeing -- his very own wife, glistening with sweat, rosy chested, cunt slick with her juices with just a bit of my cum leaking out between the lips."

"'Why you,' he started to say before I grabbed him in a bear hug, squeezing the rest of his breath out so he couldn't say something stupid.

"'Calm down Frank. Think thoughts like sauce for the goose, and turnabout's fair play. You were here long before she was. Now, you can fuck up your marriage or you can go fuck your wife the way she's been wanting you to all this time.'"

"When Frank started getting out of his robe, I grabbed my tunic and Selma here, and we headed out the door."

"Gosh, the look on his face," Selma said, and giggled.