Cheating Cunts Club: Alicia

She walked into my bar for the first time.

I knew just which table she would aim for.

CCC, they called it -- the Cheating Cunts Club.

CC Clubbers were of any race, class, or looks. Somewhere between elegant and shoddy, noticeable or not, whatever. Nothing identified them but a shared expression. It is not too subtle. It is a tension, a certain set of eyes, lips, jaw, and spine, a certain gait. The syndrome includes even taut fingers and flushed earlobes -- but eyes are the giveaway that proclaims, I Am A Cheating Cunt.

My background playlist included that old Eagles standard, Lyin' Eyes.

I correctly guessed her drink. She was amazed when I brought the mango margarita, double tequila, easy on the salt.

"How did you know?" She was amazed.

"Experience, that's all." No telepathy needed.

I knew she would tip big. They all do. Guilt, I am sure.

---

"Evie, you're a prize." Alicia cheek-kissed her friend. "Your call was all the excuse I needed. Sammy will still never know."

"They only know what we let them know," Kittra said, accepting her own fresh drink from the barkeep. "They're so easy."

The women around the table did not bother to nod agreement. Obvious was obvious.

Evie asked, "You still faking it with that tennis pro at the club?"

"Sure. Sammy still thinks Pietro is

nhu say sua nhu gnu màu xanh

, as queer as a blue gnu, and he mostly is. He sure looks and acts it. Sammy shows up at the courts and Pietro tunes into him, not me. He almost grabs Sammy's ass. I'm lucky to get a pat on the shoulder.

"But Pietro likes my short hair and small tits and my tight little ass. He says I'm almost a boy, except for my little sloppy pussy, ha ha. He and his fuck-buddies don't seem to mind sticking their long queer dicks into my digestive system, one end or the other. Just so I don't kiss their mouths unless we're sharing down there, it's all okay."

Evie said, "Maybe you should grow a moustache and five-o'clock shadow. Then you'll almost be one of them. Well, maybe get a clit enlargement, too."

That deserved its round of chortles.

Sharla asked, "So you're all, umm, safe and everything?"

Kittra pressed, "And if you're only giving away your pie-hole and your asshole, not your cunny hole, then you don't really qualify for the Cheating Cunts Club, now do you?"

Alicia laughed. "Sure, I qualify. I get one long queer dick up my tight ass, and another up my tight pussy, and they can feel their dicks rubbing right through that thin membrane. They fucking love it! They can kiss over my shoulder, too. And a guy at my other side, I blow him and stick a monster toy up his ass, he's happy." That last sip left her dangerously low.

"And safe? They've used so many steroids, they're all sterile. Sperm counts are in the shitter but Viagra keeps-em hard forever. I won't be popping out any unexpected-looking babies." She waved for another margarita.

Lauren said, "So these fag-boys do it for you? I always prefer studly idiots. I like-em big and stupid, real dumb. The way they claw and bite me, I hope they had their shots. When Lazlo sees me all scratched up, I just say it was a hard day at the veterinary clinic. So I go to bed with him, I usually stink of Betadine overlaid on my job's normal

eau de chat

."

Eau de chat

. That is the smell of cat, in case you are French-deficient. Humans do not usually find it sexy.

Alicia said, "Those fag-boys are pretty studly guys, you may notice. They're all into muscles and erections. And sticking those erections into really tight holes. That's my cue. "

Evie said, "You're a real hole or three, all right, but we put up with you anyway."

Alicia asked, "And my faggy studs, they get weekly STD screenings. It's like a religion. Have your idiot donkey-dicks blessed you with any unexpected gifts?"

Lauren said, "I get weekly screenings, too. Who knows what I could catch in a pickup? I finished two beasts just before I got here; that's why I'm a little sloppy now. There I was, middle of the front seat, my shirt off, a hairy plumber on each side, sucking tits and feeling my pussy. It's good Al had a blanket for the pickup bed. Getting spit-roasted would have put splinters in my hands and knees. Sure, I'll hit the health department first thing tomorrow."

The word 'splinters' provoked a chain reaction of drink-slugging. Refills appeared fast.

Alicia said, "Well, let me tell you about yesterday."

---

It was late afternoon, about the end of my tennis endurance. I was playing with Pietro, of course, and his faggy pals Chick and Julie, that's Chico and Julio, were in the next court. They got competitive in that faggy-supremo way and it was all love-love for awhile, just perfect returns. Then Chick won and Julie hopped the net to give him a hug and some butt-rubbing in congratulatton, and then Pietro joined the love-fest. Anyone spying for Sammy would only have seen queers acting up in public.

Then we headed for the showers but not the members' stalls. Pietro is the club pro. He gets a good private space, not a monk's cell. His shower is big enough for a horse so the four of us weren't too crowded. First thing, Chick grabs my wrists, raises my arms straight up, and sniffs my sweaty armpits. 'You almost smell like a boy, too.' I don't know if that was praise, or what. But he slapped my ass so I guess I passed.

We shampooed and scrubbed-down real good, and rinsed, and taste-tested. All our armpits got sniffed and licked, mine too. Then Pietro knelt to blow Chick so I got on my knees and blew Julie. I did him real slow, just teasing. Chick blew a load into Pietro. I looked at Pietro and said, 'So you think you suck good? Get over here.' I pulled him next to Julie and stuffed both of their dicks in my mouth, white and black, side by side, while they kissed. My tongue worked under and around their dickheads and my hands held them in place and jerked them, still slow going, till I felt them throb.

I worked on timing, on synchronization. Julie's big black cock was already primed so I focused on Pietro, and hey! I got it just right! They came together -- well, Julie might have started a couple seconds sooner and lasted a few seconds longer. I'm almost surprised he managed to hold until then. But I'm skilled. My fag-boys cum when I let them!

Julie and I knelt together to blow Chick's dick back to strength. Pietro got behind Chick to rim his mestizo asshole. Chick rejuvenated, you bet! Viagra would come later.

That was all preliminary.

Pietro's apartment has a luxurious love seat, just one wide cushion covered in soft leather. It was a good place for me to go airtight for awhile at least. Pietro took the seat because it's his place. My ass was lubed when I sat on his dick. Chick lubed before sliding into my pussy. I was airtight while I blew Julie's engorged snake. But then he was hard and wet, so he moved behind Chick to put his big black cock in its natural resting place, a friendly rectum.

Then came the Viagra, and eternal hardness, and more dick-sucking and ass-fucking than I can count, and more double-dicking and triple-dicking for me. Am I a fag hag? No, I'm only their play toy, not too bad despite lacking my own dick, although I sometimes peg their butts with a strap-on. Someone might be fucking my ass then, too. It's all geometry.

And all that time, like every time, I was thinking of Sammy, how he just doesn't measure up. He's less a man than my fag-boys. But I do him anyway.

Before I left Pietro and his pals to fuck the night away, I took a light shower, just enough to take most of the sex stink, and I nozzled my holes real well. But I got home looking well-exercised and smelling just fresh enough. Tranh fixed the usual good dinner. Sammy worked on his computer; I watched the Discovery Channel.

At bedtime I tore into him like I really meant it.

I know how to get him hard, fast. A good blowjob - and then I dip my finger in Tiger Balm and slip it into his ass. He loves the burn! If I can't suck a cum out of him then, I sit on his just-adequate dick and pull his mouth to my little tits. A bit of bouncing, and he's had it! Then I squeal to let him know he's manly. I'm on the pill so I don't mind his live sperm soaking my womb. He says he doesn't mind not having kids yet, but maybe soon, after the next payout? Sure, I say. He seems happy.

----

Alicia said, "So I'm a loving wife who satisfies her man and gets well-dicked by Pietro and his other steroid-sucking fag-boys. There's a assortment. And I love sucking all those dicks. That's control, y'lnow. He's my slave when I'm sucking him dry."

Control. Heads around the table nodded at that. They all knew about control.

The women were still thirsty. I refilled their drinks again. I might have to call cabs for some of them before the night was over. That is common. But now I serve them and let the tab accumulate. My bar was not crowded but that table made this evening profitable.

I stayed behind the bar except when serving. I had not eavesdropped; I never do. Oh, I catch some louder words. Expressions, postures, and gestures made an easily-decoded language. I can catch the plot if not the details.

My front door opened maybe a half-hour before it was time for me to start calling cabs. A slim, well-dressed man entered. He did not look happy. He scanned the room and the Cheating Cunts Club table. He walked in that direction, looking even less happy.

I signaled Trey, the off-duty cop who usually sits in a dark corner munching snacks and watching porn on his phone. He smoothly intercepted the unhappy man. Stop trouble before it starts - that is my motto. Trey confiscated the small Glock from the man's inside coat pocket. That is not a good place to hide a weapon. Too much trouble, and obvious.

Stop trouble before it starts here. Take trouble off my premises, not inside, not on the sidewalk, not in the parking lot. Take it far away. I run a quiet bar.

---

Trey was convincing. The man left.

The woman walked out of my bar for the first time.

Would she walk in again? No murders were reported in next day's news.