I kept telling myself the fantasy was wrong. No sane woman wants to be wildly gang-fucked by half a dozen well-hung men. But I did. Every night I would lay awake and caress my nipples while thinking about their cocks sliding up inside me. Then I would spend half the night fucking myself with a giant, purple dildo I keep in the bottom of my lingerie drawer. This went on for months and it was beginning to affect my work. I just couldn't concentrate on anything but my carnal desires. I was left with no choice: I had to live out the fantasy so I could satisfy my curiosity and get my life back in order.
On a Friday night, after work, I went home and slipped into a tight black dress barely long enough to cover my ass. I'm a 36c-24-36, so I filled it out well. After teasing up my blonde bangs and painting on some cherry lipstick, I headed for Club Dingo.
It was a seedy place about a mile from my house. A neon sign in the front blinked nervously. The C and D were burnt out. The o was about to go. I stood near the entrance and looked inside. Shadowy figures danced, drank and blew smoke from their mouths. Hip-hop music boomed from the speakers. I knew what I was about to do was dangerous, could maybe get me killed. But it had to be done, so I took a deep breath and strutted forth.
Inside, half-naked women bounced their tits on the dance floor as their Latin lovers grinded into them from behind. A few shady characters sipped beer at the bar, occasionally yelling into each other's ears. The whole scene was a bit overwhelming, and I needed something to calm my nerves. I asked a white-haired bartender with a patch over his eye for a martini.
"A what?" he asked.
"A martini," I said. "A dry one, please."
"We don't serve those here," he growled.
"Oh, what do you serve?"
"Beer and booze. You haven't been in here before, have you?"
"Um, no. How 'bout a whiskey sour?"
I took my drink and tried to slip unnoticed into a dark corner. The bartender made me shakier than I had been when I first walked into the bar. As I stood in the corner, sipping my drink, a fight broke out on the dance floor. A black kid and Hispanic kid wildly swung fists at each other. The black one landed a right to the Hispanic guy's chin. The Hispanic guy fell on his back. Just as the black kid was about to pounce, the Hispanic kid pulled a knife. He picked himself up and waved around the blade, taunting the black kid in Spanish, daring him to attack. The black kid took the bait and lunged. He would've gotten stabbed in the stomach, but a bouncer appeared from nowhere and snatched him back. He threw the black kid into the corner, then seized the Hispanic kid's wrist. Before the Hispanic kid knew what was happening, the bouncer had pried the knife from his fingers. A few other bouncers, none as muscular and handsome as the first, came to throw the troublemakers out. Just before the big bouncer disappeared back into the crowd, I caught a glimpse of his tight ass, wrapped in a pair of blue jeans. I sighed.
As the mop-up bouncers heaved the two thugs out the front door, a guy with slicked hair leaned against the wall next to me. He wore a ridiculous shiny gray shirt and black jeans. His cologne reeked like bug spray.
"Hi, babe," he said. "You look lonely over here."
"I'm doing just fine, thanks," I said.
He moved closer.
"Ya know, I haven't seen you in here before."
I had to get rid of this creep so I could meet a real man. I said, "Yeah, I'm meeting my boyfriend here."
He moved closer. I could feel his breath on my ear. His cologne made me want to gag.
"I could be your boyfriend," he whispered.
I pushed away from him and said, "Thanks, but no thanks."
He came at me fast, grabbing my wrist and left ass cheek.
"Aw, come on baby," he said through gritted teeth, "I don't think you know what's good for you."
I tossed my drink in his face and darted for the door. I ran through the parking lot, crying and fumbling for my keys. In the car, I lost all control. Sobbing, I beat the steering wheel with the heel of my hand. I hated myself. This was a stupid idea. And my fantasy was stupid, too. I was a whore just for thinking of such things.
In the middle of my tantrum, a knock came at the window. It was that asshole from the club. His shirt was soaking wet and he was obviously very pissed off. I scrambled to lock the door, but he was quicker than me. He threw the door open.
"OK you bitch, I'm gonna teach you a lesson," he said.
For a second, I accepted the fact that I was going to be raped and murdered. That was the price you paid for trying to live out a fantasy, I thought. Mom and the nuns at my Catholic grade school were right after all.
Then the bouncer pounced. It was the same one that broke up the fight inside. He threw the creep against Trans Am so hard his body left a dent. The bouncer punched the jerk in the stomach, then upper cut him in the nose. The creep fell to the ground and scrunched up into the fetal position.
"You should learn how to treat a lady," the bouncer said coolly. "Now, get out of here and don't come back."
