Ladies of the Club

Pussy makes the world go round. When you get it you're happy. When you get a lot of it you're happier. I am happier. Three wonderful ladies have told me how wonderful I am in bed. I have reconnected to a former college girlfriend Margie, married to a friend of mine who travels on business; my regular girlfriend Diane is married to another friend of mine who also travels on business; and a third gal, Rachel the wife of a doctor, tells me I'm the only guy who can meet her "special" needs.

I got it made. Life could not be better! I keep reminding myself that this cannot last forever. For weeks I have had this haunting premonition that something bad was gonna happen. Every morning waking up I worried whether this was the day I was gonna discover that I was right!

My name is Fred Clarke and I am manager of a luxury golf club in Orlando. I'm married but recently separated. My wife, the bitch, went back to live with her rich parents in Palm Beach. I live in this exclusive gated community in a lovely home, walking distance from the club. I drive a brand new BMW convertible. I got an AmEx black card with unlimited charging and my wife's estate pays the bill every month.

This afternoon I am leaving work early to get ready for my date with Diane this evening. I'm keeping her company while her husband is consulting in Miami. I am walking briskly like a happy man should, thinking about pussy, and then suddenly it happens. My premonition was right!

As I approach my house I see a large pile of luggage on my front porch. Expensive luggage. Unfortunately, the luggage is familiar. Shit! My wife has returned. I hope for only a short visit. But that's a fuckin lot of luggage!

As I went in the front door Thelma got up to greet me. She was wearing shorts and a T-shirt and my eyes flashed over the woman I had fallen in love with -- great legs, nice ass, narrow waist, large tits, beautiful blond hair, and the worst personality in central Florida. She was a good-looking woman but the problem was that she was just like her mother. She was a bitch!

She walked up to me smiling and offered her cheek for me to kiss. I gave her a short peck, which is what she expected.

"Fredrick, mix me a drink," she ordered in her usual commanding manner that almost made me salute.

"Let's go out on the patio. We need to talk," she said.

When she said we needed to talk I figured it was bad news. Bad was not the half of it.

I went to the bar and put napkins, two glasses, a bottle of Macallan 12, and one of Glenmorangie on a tray. Then stopping off in the kitchen I got some ice and a bottle of water and carried the tray outside. I put the tray on the patio table, where my wife had settled into a chair.

"Frederick, please get a pitcher for that water. It's gauche to pour out of a plastic bottle."

It had begun! I did as she asked. Then I poured Macallan and water on the rocks for Thelma and Glenmorangie on the rocks for me.

We made a silent toast -- my silent toast being a wish for a short visit -- and then we sipped our whisky. After a few moments of contemplative silence my wife began.

"Frederick I had a long talk with Mother," she intoned. "And we have reached some important decisions. I intend to move back in with you. We are going to have a good marriage. A long marriage."

Well, I thought, that deals with my wish for a short visit. Thelma was exactly like her mother. A woman in charge! She had the voice of a commanding officer in the Marine Corps.

Thelma's mother had inherited a three-figure million-dollar fortune and the men to manage it. By now it had to be nine figures -- making the Forbe's list. Her husband served the purpose of social escort, sire of her heir, and powerless figurehead of her company. Thelma was an only child and no doubt planned to live her life just like "Mother Dear." The script for my role was already written. Her daddy was living it.

Thelma continued in her commanding voice.

"Now we need to deal with some little things first. Mother had some of her people keeping an eye on you while I was gone. There's the wives of those two lawyers and that Rachel person, the doctors wife, we have to talk about briefly. You won't be seeing them any more. All is forgiven of course. But in the future if the need arises you can accompany Daddy to Vegas for gambling and ... well ... It's so easy in our jet to get there non-stop. And Vegas is ... shall we say not so conspicuous. Here we absolutely must keep up appearances."

Oh my God! The bitch -- that is the mother bitch -- had had me followed! No fucking except in Vegas. Shit! I hate hookers. They don't have orgasms. They just go "ka-ching" like a cash register. What a deal! I can fuck whores in Vegas but at home I need to keep up appearances? Shit!

I sat there in shock but there was more to come.

"Mother said I should get something out in the open. Mother said, 'Up front.' Mother said she wasn't sure you understood what exactly would happen to you if you lost your job here at the club and had no references to find another one. And if you lost this house and payments were no longer made automatically on our American Express black card. Mother said you'd probably be eligible for some sort of welfare program, maybe unemployment, but she didn't know how much it would pay. And what else? Oh yes - Mother said I should remind you that the BMW is in my name just like this house."

If I heard one more "Mother said" I was gonna piss my pants!

"Now the next thing Mother said was that we should talk about your future job."

I looked down to be sure my pants were still dry.

"My ... my future job?" I asked, puzzled.

"Yes Fredrick, your future job. We don't need the money of course but it will look much more respectable -- appearances you know - if you have a job title. Daddy is President of the company."

Shit! Daddy had a job title all right but no job! All he did was go to an office once a week and sign papers that "Mother Dear" had ordered people to write for him. It was a farce. He was a farce.

"Mother said you should come to Palm Beach two or three days a month so her people can instruct you on Daddy's job. It's only a short flight in our helicopter. Mother said Daddy will be stepping up to President Emeritus in a few years. Of course you will be acting president at first."

Shit! I would have a job as Acting Farce when Daddy became Farce Emeritus. And her mother said my alternative was welfare. I could change my name and move to California, of course, but not many other options seemed viable. My nuts were in a vice and Mother Dear had her hand on the crank.

The bitch pulled a small card out of the pocket of her shorts and looked carefully at it. Oh shit, she's got a checklist! I could see her mentally checking off the things her mother had told her to tell me.

"Mother said it's important for you to smile when we are in public and tell all your friends how happy you are that we are back together again. And in a month or two Mother will pay us a visit to be sure everything is okay."

"Now dear, please go out and bring in my luggage. I need to unpack. Then we can go to the club for a nice dinner. I haven't arranged for any help yet to cook and do things."

I worked up a sweat carrying bags. Then I sneaked a call to let Diane know what had gone wrong. Then we went to dinner at the club. I made an effort to smile. It was not easy.

It was three weeks of absolute hell before I was able to have a private talk with Diane. We sat at an inconspicuous table on the far side of the club pool where we had some privacy, sipping a couple of tall rum drinks.

I recapped my initial conversation with Thelma and as I did so Diane actually began to smile and then to chuckle. She was amused. I failed to understand why.

"The bitch has got your nuts in a vice," Diane said. "A few phone calls to the board members of this club and you're history. You'll have no job, no house, no car, no income, no references, and your credit card won't work."

"I know, I know," I said.

"Is the bitch friendly?"

"Aside from explaining to me how she could destroy my life, she's very friendly," I said. "But underneath she's just like her mother -- all business all the time."

"Do you fuck her?"

"Well," I said. "Sorta."

"Sorta? How the hell do you "sorta" fuck somebody?"

"It's kinda hard to describe," I said, thinking that this was so embarrassing I didn't want to talk about it. This had never happened to me before. Girls didn't treat me this way.

"Try," said Diane with a grin.

"Well ... ah ... you see ... she has an orgasm real fast and then she ... ah ... she ... kinda pushes me off the top of her and ... ah ... rolls over on her side and goes to sleep."

I thought Diane was gonna break up laughing. People on the other side of the pool looked over at us and stared.

"Do YOU cum?" Diane asked, still laughing.

"No," I said very softly, shaking my head.

Diane laughed again and then collecting herself she asked, "Does she fart?"

That was crazy! What the hell did farting have to do with anything?

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

Controlling her laughter, Diane said, "All across this great land tonight millions of wives will see their husbands come home from work, enjoy a fine dinner, have several drinks and go to bed. Hubby will crawl in the saddle and pound his loving wife until he ejaculates. Then he will roll off of her, turn on his side, fart, and go sound asleep leaving his loving wife frustrated and playing with her pussy like a high school girl. That's why I asked if the bitch farted before she went to sleep."

"Stop laughing. It's not funny! And she doesn't fart," I said.

"It is funny. If I could write an article about this for the Atlantic or the New Yorker, I would have women all over the country convulsed in laughter and writing to ask if the bitch farted. You're just a vibrator without a battery that she puts back in the drawer when she's finished with you."

Controlling her laughter once again Diane asked, "So what do you do laying there with a hard on?"

"Well the first time I started to masturbate," I said, remembering that ugly night.

"Did she get the hint?" Diane asked.

"She said she was trying to sleep and if I wanted to do that I should go into the bath room."

Diane doubled over in laughter and then said, "You are married to a genuine bitch."

"I know but she was so beautiful and sweet when we were dating."

"She was on a mission to get you to marry her," Diane said. "And she succeeded."

"And now there's nothing I can do about it," I said sorrowfully.

"Oh but there IS something you can do about it," Diane said. "You are the most skillful man in bed with a woman that I have ever met. If any man can do it YOU can. What you need to do is to fuck her but not bring her to orgasm. Just tease her."

"It's hard to fuck a woman and not bring her to orgasm," I said.

"Oh?" Diane said with a chuckle. "My husband did it for years."

"I don't know," I said.

"Look Fred, you just naturally feel the way a woman is responding and you give her what she needs. It's automatic. That's why you had pussy lined up outside your bedroom door. I don't know how you learned to fuck but whoever taught you was an expert. You can do this if you try. Your instinct will tell you what she needs. All you gotta do is NOT give it to her."

I instantly remembered that ugly fat girl who taught me so much my senior year in high school. Diane was right. If I could keep my head and be careful I might bring it off. Diane's husband had said that it was difficult to think and fuck at the same time but I was gonna have to do exactly that.

"So then what?" I asked.

"If you did that to me I'd do exactly what that doctor's wife does -- I'd beg. I'd beg like you can't imagine. You make Rachel beg for it don't you? How'd you like to hear Thelma beg?"

"Thelma will NEVER beg," I said emphatically.

"Fred, you'd be surprised what a horny, trembling woman thirty seconds from an orgasm would be willing to do to finally get herself off. Even a certified bitch like Thelma."

So I tried it. The first time I teased her for about ten minutes and then let her cum. The second time I teased her until I was able to ejaculate and then I quit fucking her and as she lay there I pretended to sleep. She went into the bathroom and I heard her vibrator running.

After a few more times I teased a while, then pretended to stop fucking and she whispered, "Please don't stop."

I did that a few times and I was starting to make some progress. Then I had to leave town on a planned trip to the Ocean Reef resort on Key Largo. I was checking out some club policies and procedures and this was probably the most successful resort in Florida. If you wanted a successful operation to learn from, this was it. I learned a lot in that week and when I got back Diane had some important news.

I had flown back on an early flight and was home shortly after noon. Thelma was not there but there was a note from her on the table by the door. It said, "Fred, please call Diane Miller first thing." I called her and we met at the club.

We got a couple of tall, cool rum drinks and sat in our usual secluded table on the far side of the club pool.

"What's this big news you said you had?" I asked.

"Guess who invited me over for evening cocktails twice last week," Diane said.

"Who?"

"Thelma the bitch," Diane said triumphantly.

"What was she mad about?" I asked. "You and I haven't been together except to talk out here by the pool."

"She wasn't mad about anything. She wanted to talk."

"Talk? What the hell did she want to talk about?"

"Fucking," Diane said. "Somehow she had the idea that I was an expert on fucking."

"What did the bitch want to know," I asked.

"First of all Thelma is NOT a bitch ..."

"Stop right there," I said trying not to yell. "Thelma is a certified bitch just like her mother."

Diane shook her head no emphatically.

"She's trying to ACT like her mother but you wife is not a bitch. She's a scared little girl, pretending to be a bitch."

"Scared little girl my ass. I don't know what she said to you but she's in a position to destroy my life. She's got my nuts in a vice and she's ready to squeeze."

"Will you shut up and listen to me! Your wife and I talked to each other for hours late into the night on two occasions last week. John was out of town and I stayed overnight on Thursday. I KNOW what I'm talking about."

I shut up and listened to a story that turned my life around.

"First of all it took hours to work through everything and it didn't come out in any particular order. It was all confused and jumbled up and she cried a lot. Let me rearrange it for you so that it makes sense."

"What you did to her in bed before you left turns out to be VERY important. It was the first time she had ever asked a man for more sex. She fucked several guys in college and they were all just like my hubby John used to be, wham-bam-thank-you-mam. She talked to her mother about it and learned that ALL men were that way ALL the time. What a woman had to do, her mom said, was get off as fast as possible. Her mother said that a man is just a vibrator without batteries."

"Jesus," was all I could say.

"So I told her the story of my husband and how I was so frustrated that I looked for pleasure elsewhere. I told her about you and me. She knew we'd been fuckin but she didn't know why I needed you or what you were doing for me that my husband couldn't do. I told her how John went to you for help and you helped him and persuaded him to get counseling."

"I told her that John was improving -- giving me orgasms sometimes. Not the nuclear explosions in my pelvis that you give me but orgasms and maybe they would get better. I told her that what a woman gets from the right man is so much better than what she gets from her vibrator that it's like comparing a hand grenade to an atom bomb."

"Did she talk about me fucking her?" I asked.

"She did and then she talked about how you changed recently. Like you were losing interest in her, she said. It scared her. She asked me if I thought you didn't want to fuck her any more and she told me how difficult it was for her to ask you to fuck her longer. That's when I took a big risk."

"Big risk? What big risk did you take?" I asked.

"I told her you thought she was a bitch just like her mother and that you thought she was a lousy fuck. And I said I told you to tease her and make her want it more and she might turn out to be a much better fuck - maybe what she needed was lessons I said."

"What did she say then?" I asked.

"She was real quiet for a long time and I got worried. I was afraid I'd said too much. But finally she said that she had been fuckin you just like those guys in college had fucked her. I think she had learned an important lesson about fuckin. Fucking is a two-way street. Then she asked me to tell her about you fuckin ME."

"The details?" I asked a bit shocked. "And you told her?"

"The details! Every dirty little secret! How sometimes I lost control and just climbed on and did you thinking only of myself. How you owned my body and sometimes made me beg for it. How you ALWAYS brought me off exactly when and how you wanted to. How a woman has to give herself to a man before she can really enjoy sex. How you were the best man I had ever been in bed with."

"And then I told her she was the luckiest gal in the world and if she had any interest at all in sex she'd never let you go. You were the best guy I had ever had in bed. I said that if I had your testicles in a vice like she did I'd keep 'em there and never let you get away. And I'd fuck your brains out."

"She said she loved you and didn't want to keep you that way and so I said, 'Then you damn well better learn how to fuck!' And we talked about fuckin for hours."

"Oh and one more thing. She started out calling you Fredrick but before we finished she was calling you Fred."

Suddenly remembering, I said, "The note she left for me was addressed to Fred."

As I said that I turned and there was Thelma walking out of the club towards us. She had on shorts and T-shirt and I once again admired her figure, only this time I was thinking about fucking her tonight. If what Diane had said was true she might turn out to be a great piece of ass -- or at least good on her way to getting better.

"May I join you?" She said as she reached the table. "Welcome home Fred."

She leaned down and kissed me on the lips, then joined us and signaled a waiter.

"I hope you two have finished talking," she said. "I thought we might have dinner at the club tonight and then go to our place for after-dinner drinks. John is in Miami and there's nothing to keep Diane from visiting with us for a while. We can talk some more. I think we need to."

After these talks between Diane and Thelma my life was never gonna be the same. I had fallen in love with Thelma on her good behavior. But her mother had conditioned her to be a bitch. After we got married the bitch came out and we began having our problems.

But maybe now we could start over again. Her attitude toward sex has to change. Maybe I can teach her how to fuck or Diane can help her learn. I helped John and now maybe Diane can help Thelma. Both John and Thelma still have a lot to learn. We didn't say it directly that night but there were several broad hints of exactly HOW they might learn.

The talks between Thelma and Diane while I was in Ocean Reef had changed everything in my relationship to my wife. That bitchy tone of voice had vanished. Our sex was improving. Thelma still had a difficult time relaxing and making love because what her mother had taught her about men had a crippling effect on her sexuality. But I had no doubt that things would get better.