Ladies of the Club

Dear Reader: This story is a continuation of the story told by Diane Miller in "The Perfect Wife" and is now told by a new character Fred Clarke.

The ladies of the club were out in force tonight, I thought, as I surveyed the dining room. In the corner I saw Bridget with her bright red hair and big tits sitting next to her distinguished, grey haired husband who was at least 75 years old. The gals in the club called her Trixie. She was 35 years old and looked stunning in a bikini – her body was everything her husband had paid for, but usually he was too sleepy to use it.

We were not the richest golf club in Orlando but we had our share of moneyed folks and sometimes it seemed like we had more than our fair share of rich old guys with trophy wives. There were three or four good-looking trophies here tonight.

My name is Fred Clarke and I am manager of this luxury golf club. I'm married but recently separated. My wife went back to live with her folks in Palm Beach. I still manage some of their properties in and around Orlando, but my main job is running this club. I live in this exclusive gated community in a lovely home with a pool and a golf course view.

Looking back at the bar, I see Diane Miller in a bright yellow dress that shows off her fabulous figure. She's alone. Her husband John must be off again on one of his trips somewhere in Florida.

John Miller and his partner Bob Lafferty specialized in Maritime Law – what the English call Admiralty Law. Both John and Bob have great reputations so they travel a lot all over Florida consulting with other lawyers about complex maritime cases, especially those that involve foreign ships in American waters.

Bob was off on a vacation with his new wife Margie. He'd been married only a few weeks. I'd often seen him at the club with Diane when her husband John was on the road. And I had an idea that he'd been fucking her. I had tried to check that out last week.

One of the properties I manage for my father-in-law is a little mall with a hair salon run by this guy from Brooklyn who fakes a French accent. It was called "Jean-Pierre Vanity Hair" and the guy used the same name for himself.

Pierre was gay − as queer as a three-dollar bill and he spoke with an exaggerated feminine voice in what he thought might be a French accent, misusing French words and waving his hands like a girl. A flaming fairy, but many of the gals in the club thought he was the best hairdresser in Orlando. He did Diane's hair.

I had stopped by last week and asked him about Diane.

"Oui, Monsieur. I do her hair."

Then he made a sly smile and whispered, "Top AND bottom, Monsieur. The bottom when she's meeting her special friend."

"Do you know her special friend?" I had asked him.

"Non Monsieur, except that he is, as you Americans say ... well endowed."

Then he giggled flourishing his hands in the air almost like a girl.

Here was this gay guy from Brooklyn pretending he was French and fooling no one!

Anyway according to Jean-Pierre, Diane was fucking somebody and it might have been Bob because Diane had not seen her "special friend" for over a month.

Looking at Diane's body as she sat at the bar made me want to invite her for a drink. Maybe there was something there, I thought. I got up and walked over to the bar.

"I have a quiet table back there if you'd like to join me," I said.

She looked up and gave me a bright, friendly smile.

"Oh Fred I'd love to."

I picked up her glass and taking her by the arm I escorted her back to my table. It was impossible not to observe the view down her yellow dress as I walked next to her. Her tits were beautiful and her dress showed them off to perfection.

"John's in Miami for a few days," she said. "I guess you read about that cruise ship that had all those problems."

"Yeah I read about it. Gives Florida a bad name."

"True, but it makes a good living for John and me," she said laughing. "If they keep having problems like that they'll have to put John and Bob on a retainer."

"Where is Bob," I asked, knowing full well where he was but wanting to gauge her reaction to my mention of his name.

Her mood changed instantly. I had been right. There HAD been something between Bob and Diane.

"Off in Jacksonville with his new blond bride Margie," she said.

She was trying to be light and easy but I could see from her body language and the way she said Margie's name that Margie was not her favorite person.

I signaled the waiter.

"What are you drinking?" I asked.

"Glenmorangie on the rocks," she said. "John drinks it like the Brits with no ice and a little water but I need the rocks. John learned to drink it that way in London where he spent a year studying Admiralty Law."

The waiter arrived and I said, "Another for me and Glenmorangie rocks for the lady."

"Make it a double," Diane said.

That's encouraging, I thought. I made a quick calculation and concluded that if she were fucking Bob it had been almost five weeks since she's had her ashes hauled. That fit with the last time Jean-Pierre did her bush. She was probably very horny by now.

She asked about my wife and I explained that we were separated. I was not rich enough for her I said sarcastically. Diane had nodded and made a disparaging remark about Palm Beach. We talked easily together and she ordered another drink. I switched to wine and asked her to dance. She was a very good dancer.

Back at the table again Diane looked around the room and her eyes settled on Trixie.

Then she asked, her voice dripping sarcasm, "Been swimming recently?"

I chuckled. It was widely known that after hubby went to bed Trixie went swimming in her pool starkers. All a guy had to do was join her for a swim and then take her into the pool house where there was a large bed.

"On occasion," I said. "All the guys do. But I don't think her husband minds. He bought her as a display model."

"Well some of the ladies are not her fans," Diane said laughing. "One gal in the bridge club woke up one morning and discovered that her husband had 'pool hair.' She said he denied everything but she thought he was guilty."

Across the dining room we saw Walt Higgins and his wife Beth. Walt was a very obese guy and Beth was a buxom thirty-something bleached blond. She looked like a trophy wife but actually they'd been married since college where he'd played football. She was the gal he had dated since high school.

Diane saw me looking at them and said softly, "That's a sad story."

"Yeah, I said. "It was a storybook romance until Walt's weakness for booze got to him."

Tonight Walt was getting quite drunk as he often did. Walt had a big belly and Beth had big tits. She also had a reputation for having a needy pussy. I watched as Don Knox our golf pro walked over to join their table. He had been seen frequently helping a drunken Walt home.

I sighed and whispered, "That's what happens I guess when a husband can't satisfy his wife."

"She could be a little less obvious about it," Diane said.

"Why bother," I said. "Everybody in the club knows about it."

"How do you think that poor bastard feels?" She asked.

I tried to put myself in his place. It wasn't easy.

"I'm sure he doesn't like it but what the hell can he do? I think he still loves her after all those years. But he can't give her what she needs and she's still young enough to need it. At least she only does it when he's drunk."

"But he knows it's happening!" Diane said. "He'd be a lot better off if he didn't know. Guys don't handle that sort of thing very well – not well at all."

I thought about her husband John. Diane talked like he was totally unaware that she was fucking his partner Bob. Maybe he was. If John knew, then he was handling it very well. Anyway, she was now looking for a new stud. Maybe I could fill that role.

I took Diane's hand and led her out to dance again. This time she pulled me close – obviously horny. I danced her over to the darker part of the dance floor and she molded her body to mine and began rubbing her pussy on my thigh. I reached down and played with her butt. She wasn't wearing any panties. She wants to fuck, I thought. Not exactly like shooting fish in a barrel, I said to myself, but damn close.

I pulled her closer and whispered in her ear, "My place or yours?"

"Mine," she whispered. "John usually calls about ten-thirty. I like to be in bed by then."

Then she paused and finally added with a chuckle, "You know ... resting."

That was easy!

I looked at my watch and thought we had plenty of time to fuck before ten-thirty and then I had a second thought and I said to myself, maybe not. It all depends on what this horny bitch is expecting from me.

I led her out to her car in the parking lot. I kissed her and played with her ass. Then, she fumbled around in her purse and handed me the keys. I drove to her place and parked in her garage. We went in and she led me directly to the guest bedroom.

"Never hurts to be careful," she said as she started to undress. "Don't want spots on the marriage bed."

When she had stripped down to heels, hose, and garter belt I said, "Why don't you mix me a drink?"

"You bastard! If you wanna ogle a naked woman walking around why don't you go to a titty bar?"

Then she laughed and posed for me – hands behind her head to show off her tits. God! She was beautiful!

She casually strolled across the room with an exaggerated motion of her ass and poured me a scotch with a little water added. The booze and glasses were all set up like she was expecting to bring some guy back here, I thought.

I had ample opportunity to admire her lovely body and a delightful dark brunet, almost black, beaver. It was extremely hairy tonight – like a jungle. She needed to see Jean-Pierre for a trim.

When she handed me the drink I sat it on the bedside table and took her in my arms. Her body was soft to my caressing hands

"Oh God your hands feel good," she moaned. "It's been so damn long."

Her hands reached up and began unbuttoning my shirt.

"You seem to be in a rush," I said chuckling.

"Don't tease me! Please don't tease me," she whispered. "Just do me. I really need it tonight Fred. It's been a long time."

I got naked and we got into bed. She reached down and began stroking my cock. I am uncircumcised and she quickly put her mouth on me and moved her tongue around the head of my dick.

"Oh God I love that taste," she said looking up at me after sucking the juice from under my foreskin. She was eager and completely out of control.

Moving rapidly, she threw one leg over my body and mounted up to do me cowboy. Reaching down she guided me into a dripping wet pussy and shoving her hips forward she rammed that sausage home. Then she began to hump frantically, supporting herself on her extended arms. I could feel a thick hard clitoris rubbing against my pubic bone as she humped. The bitch knew exactly what she was doing.

Her tits were bouncing vigorously over my chest and her face was a mask of passion. Her eyes were closed and clenched tight, her mouth was open and she panted rapidly, and her head was arched back. She was the very picture of a horny bitch in heat sating her passion.

It was less than three minutes till her contractions began and she screamed with each one. Finally her sweating body collapsed helplessly on top of me gasping for air. Not once during the entire time did she give a single thought to me or to my pleasure. It was all about HER! Satisfying some powerful demanding monster inside her pelvis.

I lay there unfulfilled but very happy as I realized that I owned this horny bitch. She was mine! She needed sex so much that I could make her do anything I wanted. I had no idea why her husband could not satisfy her but I didn't care. She was a whore and I didn't care about that either because she was gonna be my personal whore.

I rolled her sweating, panting body off of me and went into the bathroom to take a piss. On the counter were two bottles of Jean Pierre Vanity Douche. The bitch was ready to clean that damn thing up after I used it, I thought – make it smell nice again.

When I got back in bed she cuddled up to me and whispered softly.

"Thank you for that. Fred, you have no idea how much I needed it."

Then suddenly as if realizing for the first time that I had needs as much as she did, the selfish bitch sat up and spoke almost desperately, "Did you cum? Was it okay for you too?"

I embraced her tenderly and patted her on the back. "It was wonderful for me. This is not a one-time thing Diane. I expect to use you on a regular basis when John's out of town. And of course some afternoons when he's at the office you can walk over to my place and no one will see you come in the back."

She pulled me close eagerly and whispered, "I will. I will. Any time you want me."

I looked at my watch. It was not ten-thirty yet.

"Let's talk," I said.

"What about?" She asked.

"How long did you fuck Bob?"

She took a deep breath and looked off in thought trying to decide whether to open her life to me. Then she turned to face me, as if she had reached a decision.

"John and I got married about four years ago. He's a wonderful man and I'd never hurt him, but after a year I concluded he couldn't please me in bed."

She threw her head back and laughed. I watched her tits jiggle as she laughed.

"He couldn't ... well ... you know, he just couldn't ring my bell."

"He couldn't bring you to orgasm?" I asked.

"No he couldn't," she said. "He'd fuck me till HE had an orgasm, about five minutes. Then he'd go to sleep. I never had one and after a few weeks I started to fake it."

"But just now," I reminded her, "YOU did all the work and brought yourself off and it took way less than five minutes."

"I tried that with John but he wouldn't do it that way. He got upset when I did that. I think he felt that a lady should not act that way ... I mean ... like a whore. He even said that once."

"And, well," she continued, "Bob fucked me that way – fucked me just like a whore. I started fuckin him regular a little over two years ago when I finally gave up on getting pleasure from John. But don't misunderstand ... I LOVE my husband! He just can't bring me off."

I chuckled, "You and John are just like Walt Higgins and Beth."

"Like Walt Higgins?" Diane almost shouted.

"Yeah," I said. "Walt and Beth love each other. He just can't bring her off."

She sat up with an angry expression on her face.

"It's not the same. It's not ... Shit! Well yeah ... I guess maybe it IS the same ... except John doesn't know I need another man. And please God never let him find out. I can't turn him into another Walt Higgins, listening helplessly as his wife gets banged in the next room."

"Have you fucked Beth," she asked.

"Yeah I have. Several times."

"Did you spend the night?"

"Only once," I said remembering that terrible morning. "I fucked her the next morning and then went into the kitchen for coffee. Walt was there, sober, and I suddenly realized he'd heard us fucking. Beth grunts when she pumps her ass and then screams when she cums. The look in his eyes made me ashamed of what I had done."

"Look in his eyes?" Diane said.

"Yeah. He looked at me like I'd kicked him in the balls and he was helpless to do anything about it. He'd been a tough football player, you know, aggressive, masculine, but now he couldn't do a damn thing about a guy fuckin his wife in the next room and then joining him in the kitchen for coffee."

"Did you go back?"

"She's good pussy so yeah I went back. I fucked her while he was drunk and asleep and then I left. The next morning he knew she'd been fucked but I doubt he remembered who fucked her."

"That's sad," Diane said softly. "I don't want to do that to John EVER."

The phone on the bedside table rang and Diane answered it with a bright smile in her voice.

"Good evening darling! I just went to bed. How's the case going?"

She listened as he described the passenger lawsuits against the cruise line.

"That could be expensive," she said. Then she listened some more.

"Fine print? On the tickets? You wrote it last year? Oh my God!"

Then she laughed. "You damn lawyers! That's why everybody hates you."

She settled back on the pillow comfortably and reached down with her hand and began to caress my balls as she talked to her husband, almost like she didn't want me to feel left out. My dick got hard.

She talked and listened some more. Then her voice got soft and loving. "I love you too darling. I miss you so much when you're gone. I'm laying here in bed naked and wishing you were here to make love to me. I'll think about you as I go to sleep tonight. Please hurry back."

"Me too, darling. Good night," she whispered into the phone.

She hung up and turned to me and let go of my testicles and began to stroke my erect cock. Then, spreading her legs wide, she pulled me on top of her.

"Make it a long slow one, baby. But do it hard. Pound me! I'm in the mood for rough sex tonight."

I fucked her like she asked and it was good pussy. She started to grunt and talk dirty like a gal who was getting properly fucked. Yeah I said to myself – if John didn't like a whore, he wouldn't like his wife tonight. She's a real slut tonight.

I came twice before we went to sleep and brought her off twice. It's nice to fuck a woman and not have to go back to a lonely house. To lie next to her and go to sleep knowing there's friendly pussy waiting for your piss hard on the next morning.

I spent the next afternoon balancing books and signing checks. By cocktail time I was finished and I gave Diane a call. She met me in the lounge at the club. She had on another revealing, but decent, dress. It was clear from her demeanor that she expected to get fucked again.

"When does John get back?" I asked.

"We have three more nights darling," she said with a giggle.

"I hope I'm up to it," I said with a big sigh, feigning exhaustion.

"I stopped by to see Jean-Pierre today," she said. "I'm all trimmed and neat and as Pierre said 'Fit for a gourmet.' He criticized me for letting it grow out like a jungle."

I laughed. "I still have trouble picturing you on your back, legs spread, with that fake Frenchman down there with scissors and comb, his face inches from your bush."

She giggled, "Pierre is harmless."

"Harmless for you," I said, "but I wouldn't let that fag bastard anywhere close to MY groin!"

She threw her head back and laughed loudly. Then she whispered, "He'd do a better job on that blue-veined monster than I would, darling. All you'd have to do is close your eyes and you'd never know the difference."

"I'd KNOW the difference! I'd KNOW the difference!" I said laughing with her and cringing at the thought of that fag sucking my dick.

"I was thinking, darling, is your pool private?" she asked. "I mean can you turn off the lights so we can swim without the neighbors seeing us?"

"What a wonderful idea!" I exclaimed. "That would be fun. I have a big soft double lounge right next to the pool."

She giggled.

"Let's have dinner here and sip single malt till it gets dark and then walk over to your place. But we need to watch the clock. I want to be in bed when my loving hubby calls."

"You're always careful to be where he expects you to be," I said.

She smiled and said softly, "When you love a man as much as I love my John you're careful never to disappoint him."

We had a lovely dinner, then swam naked in my pool. I discovered that my big lounge was perfect for eating pussy and the bitch loved it. Then she talked about sex as she lay on the couch in the moonlight, legs spread, me on my knees, my face inches from her now well-satisfied pussy.

"My God you do that well," she exclaimed. "Bob did it and brought me off but you are a real gourmet. You know, Bob always bragged about his nine-inch pussy-pleaser even though it wasn't really that long. But you're shorter and thicker than he is and please me just as much. I fucked a guy with a real short one in college once and he brought me off just like you and Bob. Why the hell can't my husband bring me off?"