Marcy and Rodgers' strip club adventure
Some words about the author:
I started writing while working as a purchasing manager in the afternoons when all my work was done, and I carried on writing after my retirement.
My stories are fiction. I use tag lines that should make readers aware of the storyline. I understand you have a first amendment right to free speech. But I also have that same right, and I use this forum to become a better writer of erotic stories. So if you see something in the tag lines that may offend you, please move on.
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I will delete them, and all other writers should do the same
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When I started writing, I thought LibreOffice's spelling and grammar checker would catch my mistakes. I was never so wrong in my life. I then downloaded Grammarly's free edition and found my writing got somewhat better. Things improved after getting a new laptop with one free year of Word. I recently upgraded to the paid version of Grammarly, and I now feel much better about the two software's catching and correcting my grammar and spelling. I use them as my editors, so if you have a problem, take it up with them. So please vote and leave positive comments. I hope you all enjoy reading my stories.
There is a great writer who posts on this forum that says this is our world and anything can happen in our world. Please remember that these are not real and are written to pique the sexual interest of the reader. Please enjoy.
Tag lines: Girl on Girl, Man sucking cock, Wife stripping at clubs, Hotwife, wife sharing. If you do not like any of these things, say good night Gracy and move on to another story, You have been forewarned.
This story is about a trip to a strip club on my husband's 45th birthday. It occurred in March of 1973 on Thursday night, the night before his birthday. It was before the advent of cell phones. Before we left that evening, I was not the outgoing, sexual woman I have grown to be today; that night changed my life in a very good way for all involved going forward.
A little backstory about me: my name is Marcy, and I was, at the time, A 45-year-old woman who thought I had lost all my sexual appeal (Don't all women think that once we pass 40?), but my husband always had told me otherwise. I thought I was frumpy even though I worked out regularly, including yoga, running, and cycling. I was a cheerleader and fit back in college. I continued my fitness routine after leaving college and can still do splits. Doing yoga helped me a lot to stay very flexible.
My husband always told me I was still as beautiful as the day we met. But for some reason, like most women, I never felt that way. I thought that was something a husband had to tell his wife to make them feel good about themselves. Little did I know that I would find out that night that he was not just saying it to make me feel good about myself.
At the time, I never showed any sexuality except toward my husband in the bedroom. In the bed, I was a freak between the sheets, doing almost anything to please him. We even watched porn and recreated what the actors and actresses were doing in the movies. I have to say those were some very steamy nights. The raw sex would flow over for weeks to come.
We also regularly acted out my husband's fantasies; he had many of them. One that came up often, he would tell me I should go out and find a man to have sex with. I might find out I was missing out on something, and afterward, I should come home and tell him all the juicy details. I always blew off that suggestion.
So, we came to the night I took him out to celebrate turning 45 years old. I bought a new outfit for the occasion. I would never have worn it out in public, but for this night, I wanted to be the center of his world. I wanted everyone to notice my sexy husband. To do it, I had to draw attention to myself.
It started with a very sheer black button-up blouse that was almost see-through. I paired it with a short, flared black skirt that came well above my knees and barely covered my silk stocking and garter belt while standing. It also had a five-inch slit on each side that showed the satin straps of my garter belt.
My large 38-C breasts still have very little to no sag because I never had children, but they have a slight jiggle that attracts a man's attention.
So, at the last minute, I decided to give him even more of a thrill and not wear a bra, letting my breast and nipples be seen by all that wanted to see them. You could faintly see my breast's outline in ambient light, but in the right light, they were visible. The thought of being naughty kept my nipples hard and my panties damp.
I did not want Roger to see me dressed until I got to the restaurant, so I took a cab. I had to scold the cab driver several times to keep his eyes on the road. Rodgers, jaw dropped as I walked into the bar area where we had to wait for our table. The place went quiet. I felt that every man prayed that I would walk up to them. Everything returned to normal once I walked up to Rodger and kissed him.
At one point, Rodger told me all the men in the restaurant were checking me out. I told him, "Stop it; you're just saying that."
Then I noticed servers and some other men in the restaurant walking out of the way to pass by our table, paying attention to me and checking out my breast. This made me very proud of myself, and my nipples got hard as diamonds and stood out like bullets poking out of the very thin material, giving them more of a show.
We had received two bottles of wine from admirers in the restaurant; I guess they wanted to keep walking by our table, catching glimpses of my nipples or the tops of my stockings because, at this point, if they wanted to see a sexy woman, I was going to oblige.
I was feeling the effects of the wine, so while drinking bottle number two, I unbuttoned a couple of buttons and let some more of my cleavage show. When men would walk out of the way, I would tweak my nipples while they watched me. I enjoyed the attention and was proud of myself, and I noticed many bulges in the men's pants, plus my panties were getting very damp. Some of the wives were throwing daggers with their eyes.
The wine was affecting me, and I was getting braver. When a waiter was pouring a glass of water for a man across from us, he was paying more attention to me than what he was doing. I unbuttoned a third button and spread the blouse open so you could see my areola with the rock-hard nipples standing tall. He overpoured the glass and spilled the whole water pitcher over the table, getting the man, and his wife covered in the cold liquid. The wife caused a large disturbance, screaming and yelling at both men, calling them perverts and me a floozy.
When I went up to the owner to pay our bill, he pulled me off to the side in a hallway and told me if I showed him my tits, he would comp the $75 meal. At first, I did not want to, but I thought, what the fuck, maybe just maybe I was still appealing to men. I told him not here in the open, so we went into his office, and he locked the door, and I opened my blouse so he could get a good close-up look.
Then I got brave and told him if he also tipped the waiter, he could touch them. He raised his hand and played with my breast, and pinched the nipples until he made a grunting sound, and I noticed that he had cum in his pants. I left that restaurant a very proud and now confident woman and realized that what Rodger had been telling me about still being beautiful and sexy was true.
On the way home, we passed a club that was having a reopening. There was a crowd out front, and there was a sign that said.
"UNDER NEW "FEMALE" MANAGEMENT"
"WOMEN AND COUPLES ARE ENCOURAGED TO JOIN US AND ARE MORE THAN WELCOME."
I suggested we stop for a drink.
My husband asked me, "Are you sure? You know it's a strip club, Right?"
"Yes, I know, and I'm sure I can get you a lap dance for your birthday."
We went around the block and pulled into the parking lot. The bouncer working the rope line called us to the front of the line because the new management wanted to bring more women into the club.
We went in, and a young girl named Joe sat us at a table and took our drink order.
When she returned, I asked her, "Can I get a lap dance for my husband? It's his birthday."
She asked, "Will you be joining him?"
