The Freyja Club

At the time I met Jennifer Logan, she was a 42-year-old Vice President of Purchasing and the head buyer for a major clothing company, and I was a 40-year-old executive active in the M&A field. Both of us traveled extensively as part of our jobs, so it was only fitting that we met on a plane. She was married but was childless and intended to stay that way. Later, she explained to me that she and her husband Steve had married under the condition that their marriage would be an open one and infidelity would be a feature, not a defect.

Steve, who was a senior partner in a law firm on Wall Street, had several stand-ins for Jen when she was on the road, which was frequent. In fact, despite her company being headquartered in Chicago, Jen and her husband lived in Connecticut, so often she would commute there, she also made it a point to visit suppliers, most of whom were either in China, Southeast Asia, or South America. By the time I met her, she had been a member of United's million-mile club several times over.

We soon became lovers and would plan our respective business trips so that we could meet, sometimes only for a day, but on occasion for longer periods. In between we would often talk on the phone, most memorably when we were alone in our respective hotels in different cities, both naked, playing with our respective boy or girl parts. Our erotic conversations always lead to very satisfying orgasms on both ends of the line, which were only surpassed when we were together and our physical bodies were joined.

Our affair lasted for four years, and it only ended when our respective travel schedules became impossible. It had now been three years since I'd been with her and about three months since we last talked. I had begun an affair with another woman, Karen, and Jen had taken other lovers too.

I had learned that Jen and two other associates of mine were members of a secret social club and had recommended me for membership. Four days ago I joined the Freyja Club in Paris, and last night, after returning to New York, I experienced a very erotic evening at the club on East 91st Street.

Upon landing in New York, I called Jen in Connecticut, not only to thank her for her sponsorship but to see if she and her husband would be interested in meeting me at the club if they were available. The call had gone to voicemail, so I was hoping that I had a message from her.

Imagine my relief on entering my room at the Intercontinental Hotel and finding the red message light flashing on the room phone. It was from Jen. She said it had been over a year since she had written the letter of recommendation and had been interviewed about sponsoring me, so she was delighted that it had borne fruit. Of course, she and Steve would love to meet for dinner and other "activities." She said she'd make reservations for us at 8 p.m.

Fortunately for me, one of the meetings that I'd scheduled at Lehman Brothers was canceled on their end so I had a short business day and was back in my room by 2 p.m. With only a couple of hours of sleep the previous night following a trans-Atlantic plane ride, I was exhausted. I threw the covers back and set an alarm for seven and was asleep in less than thirty seconds.

The buzz of the alarm was jarring, and when I opened my eyes I couldn't believe that five hours had slipped by so quickly. I had taken a shower and dressed before I realized how hungry I was. My last meal had been on Air France at about five p.m. the previous evening. Food and drinks were covered by my $2,000 per month club fee and I idly thought that this month, they might lose money on me.

When I got to the club, there was a line of people waiting to get in, but Jen and Steve weren't in it. So, I followed several couples and watched as each was clicked through security. Once through, the men went straight ahead into the club, while ladies split off to the right and went through a door decorated with an ornate leaded glass window in the image of a swan. The couple would be reunited inside but, of course, by that time, according to the club's "iron rule," the woman would be naked.

I did a quick check of the restaurant, but still no Jennifer, so I ended up in the bar and ordered a Heineken. There hadn't been a hostess at the podium when I came through, and I hadn't seen Kyree anywhere on my walk, so I didn't know if she was off duty or just elsewhere. I wondered if she was as tired as I was.

The Freyja Club is perfect for people-watching. From my seat, there were at least fifteen very naked ladies in my field of view counting both members and staff. One woman was sitting at the bar, maybe, fifteen feet away that was drawing my attention. Only her side was presented, but she had nice pear-shaped breasts that hung from her chest and the angle reminded me of hanging fruit. Another, sitting at a table kept crossing and uncrossing her legs, each time revealing a nicely trimmed pussy.

I guess I had stopped paying attention to the doorway when I felt two naked arms wrap around and someone was kissing the back of my neck and nibbling on my ear. The aroma of Crystal Noir tickled my nose, which immediately brought back fond memories as I only knew one woman who wore that perfume.

Without bothering to look around, I said "Hi Jen, is Steve with you?" Hearing his name, Steve grabbed my arm and came around the table. We shook hands and looked at each other, but Jen was still busy kissing my ear.

When she stepped into my view, she was just as I remembered. For a 48-year-old woman, she looked incredible. In the three years since I'd seen her, she had put on perhaps five pounds and her gorgeous tits had a bit more sag, but I would bet that most of the other ladies in the room would have killed to have her body.

"So nice to see you again... particularly under these circumstances," she said as she glanced between me and Steve. and leaned forward, putting her arms on the back of one of the empty chairs across the small table. As she did, her wonderful breasts jiggled deliciously and settled into position hanging in space.

My eyes roamed over her naked body. Her skin was still flawless and I thought back to the times when my lips had covered every square inch of it. She was wearing a beautiful set of pearls around her neck with matching earrings which, I thought, enhanced her nakedness. Of course, one of my main areas of interest was her pussy, but unfortunately, it was hidden below the table, so I would have to wait a bit to find out if she was still a connoisseur of the shaved look.

Steve suggested that we adjourn to the restaurant where I could see two groups of people waiting to be seated, so I chugged the last of my beer and took Jen's arm as Steve led the way. It felt good, really good, to touch her again, and I appreciated the nice smile I was receiving from this beautiful creature.

When we got to the hostess station, I was pleased to see that the lady doing the duty was Jenna.

Jenna had been my tour guide the previous evening and she and I had spent most of the evening together. I had been curious about how it was to work in a Freyja Club and Jenna had filled in some interesting blanks for me. Later, she permitted me to fingerfuck her to a thundering orgasm, so we had a connection.

When Jenna saw me, she smiled, but I wasn't so sure about the look she gave when she saw Jennifer on my arm. Certainly, a Freyja Club should be the last place that anyone should look for sexual fidelity, so I suspected that normal female possessiveness might have been at work. We were led to a table and when I seated Jen I was able to confirm she still preferred a hairless mound. Just looking at the curve from her tummy to between her legs sent tingles through my groin.

This would be my second dining experience in a club. The first being in Paris four nights ago when I was first introduced to the Freyja Club concept by Danielle who was the club's managing director and a stunningly beautiful woman in her own right. Now, in place of Danielle, my dining companion was Jennifer. My mind was off busy comparing mental images of the two women and after a moment of contemplation, it told me that Jen was the winner by a nose.

Steve made some suggestions about wine and entrees that he thought were particularly good and I followed his lead. The Merlot was excellent and a portend of the food that followed. As you might imagine, most of our conversation was of the catching-up variety. I had maintained sporadic contact with Jen since the end of our affair, but I doubted that Steve was included in the loop, so a lot of what I said was directed to him.

I had met Steve on two previous occasions years ago, once for a nice dinner we had at the top of the World Trade Center in the renowned "Windows on the World" restaurant. The thought that the remains of that beautiful restaurant now lay in a landfill on Staten Island still leaves me sad.

The second occasion was when I was staying at the Plaza. Jen's car was on the fritz and Steve had helpfully chauffeured Jen to the hotel. We'd had a drink at the famous Champagne Bar, and afterward, I took Jen's arm to escort her to my room. Steve shook my hand and said, "have fun, she's wet." How he knew that I left to my imagination.

Several times through dinner, people would stop by to say hello to either Steve, Jen, or both, which led to some very interesting conversations about my companion's carnal connection with those people. One woman, who I was introduced to, apparently swung both ways and Sara had been fucked by Steve and sixty-nined with Jen. I would have liked to have seen that. Twice after Jen had introduced me to women who came by the table, she had given them a "thumbs up" sign which I interpreted as a recommendation of sorts.

I discovered that Jen had first been identified as a prospective member of the Freyja Club five years ago. I remembered that our affair was still hot and heavy back then, so the fact that I was just now learning about it was a testament to the secrecy that the club demanded. After Jen was invited, she refused to join unless Steve was admitted as well, so both had been initiated three years ago. Jen had received three nominations which didn't particularly surprise me since I knew that some of her lovers were probably in that class of people that could qualify.

Steve was accepted only on Jen's sponsorship, so I learned that spouses and significant others could be admitted as a pair. This answered a major question that had been bouncing around in my mind. Danielle had told me that about forty percent of members were women, but that just wasn't computing with me. Now that I knew how Jen and Steve had been admitted, the number made a lot more sense.

Our waitress was a pretty statuesque brunette named Loren, who had nice small tits but whose most striking feature was her legs. When I mentioned this, Steve laughed and told me that Loren was a professional dancer and her other job was with the Rockettes. He went on to tell me that she had said to him that if she ever had to choose, she'd stay at the Freyja Club since she made three times the salary. He also told me that two other women on the staff were Rockettes and I idly wondered what the Christmas Special audience would have thought about those three women if they showed up dressed for work at the club.

As I'd learned in Paris, carnal acts weren't confined to private suites, the entire club was open for anyone not minding, or seeking, an audience. So it was with some interest that the three of us watched a lady at a nearby table slip to the floor and orally service the two other men at her table. I took a drink and mentioned that I hadn't seen that as an appetizer on the menu, and Jen laughingly offered, but dinner arrived before I had a chance to determine if she was serious.

I described the mysterious invitation that I'd found on my flight to Paris, my conversation with Danielle, and her subsequent initiation into the club. Jen told me that she'd found her on the seat of her locked car, one frosty morning. She had been as mystified as I and after discussing it with Steve, she'd decided to scratch the itch of her curiosity.

The Managing Director of the New York Club was a man named Vince Malfano who had explained the Club and its conditions. After discussing it with Steve, she'd told them that she would only join as a couple. It had taken a year for Steve to be vetted, so they'd both joined three years ago, just about the time my affair with Jen was ending. Steve looked around, but said he didn't see Vince, but would introduce me if he saw him.

Vince has initiated Jen, and I learned from her that he was more than an acceptable lover, but that he was inferior to her dining companions. Steve and I just looked at each other with the same question on our faces. Jen just looked at us and chuckled.

Steve was evaluated by a woman named Marley, who he said was now the Managing Director in Miami. This brought to my mind several questions about how people pursue careers in the Freyja Club, so apparently, interclub assignments played a part. I gathered that I still had a lot to learn.

The lady at the nearby table had stopped sucking her companion's cocks and was now circling the table letting them return the favor. As I watched, my oral desires were piqued and Jen, reading me like a book, leaned over and whispered in my ear, "easy, cowboy, that's scheduled for later in the evening." I reached and squeezed her hand and returned my gaze to her.

My God, she was beautiful. I was well into my second year of an affair with Karen, who was a different personality than Jen, but in her way just as erotic, but while Karen gave an impression of being a lady even when six inches of male flesh was embedded in her mouth, Jen was cooly professional on the outside, but an unrepentant slut on the inside and she relished both personas.

After dinner, Steve excused himself and said he was going to look up a friend. By the way, he said it, I was sure the "friend" was female. He kissed Jen on the cheek and winked at me as he headed to the bar. I looked around, but the thirty or so people in the restaurant were, for the time being, behaving themselves. My gaze returned to Jen and we both leaned forward for our first real kiss in three years.

Jen has only seductive kisses. I think she can't kiss someone, man or woman, and not communicate an intense desire to fornicate with them. I knew that was the effect on me, and the electricity she generated went directly to my cock. In our relationship, I knew that Jen could be aggressive and demanding, but she preferred that her men were men, so without further ado, I pulled her from her seat and set out for the "board." I wasn't interested in any of the cards that were posted there by members seeking whatever, but the board monitor also handled the keys to the activity suites, and that's where I wanted to go with Jen.

The door to the suite had hardly clicked shut when our lips mashed together in a long and soulful kiss. When it broke, we both said the same thing, almost in unison, "God, I've missed you." This broke us up, and I sensed that foreplay might not be necessary. Jen slipped my jacket off and began unbuttoning my shirt. I felt her fingers move over each button, taking her time, undoing them carefully, savoring each new piece of flesh that was exposed. Her eyes watched mine as she finally reached the last button and slipped the shirt from my shoulders. My chest was now bare to her gaze, to her touch. Jen's head bent and kissed me, our lips melting together, tasting each other. Her fingertips explored my neck, and my collarbone, and her lips followed, kissing a wet path down my chest.

My breath caught as Jen began kissing lower, reaching my pants. Her gaze was laser locked on the prominent bulge there as I felt her slowly lower the zipper. She pushed down and deftly removed her pants and underwear in one smooth motion. Though Jen has seen, touched, and tasted my manhood on multiple occasions, I still enjoy her evident delight when she frees it from captivity and watches it bob before settling into its resting position.

Jen always looks into my eyes before she touches me. I think she's seeking to confirm the power of her femininity at that moment and I'm hungry to grant her wish. She can grant or withhold the pleasure I seek, but without telling her, I know I possess the same. Jen ran her finger along the length of my cock, breathing softly as she continued to look up at me.

"Sit," she whispered as she pushed me into the chair next to the bed and moved between the V of my legs. Jen smiled at me as her tongue snaked out and ran along the tip of my semi-hard cock. The first touch was so tentative, soft, and slow that I almost didn't feel it, but as she began moving along the top, down the side, and nibbling and tasting every inch the touch became electric.

Before sucking me deep into the warmth of her waiting mouth. Jen seemed intent on teasing. But we had been lovers for so long that I knew that, as much as I wanted to feel her take me, she was desiring the thickness of my cock filling her mouth just as much.

Jen moved slowly, wanting to prolong each movement. Her hands were resting on my thighs as she continued the slow torment. I reached for her head, guiding her as lightly as her mouth moved over me. "You haven't lost your touch," I said, not expecting an answer as the lady's mouth was filled with my hardness, but not yet wholly consumed.

As Jen's movements became faster, my hands were busy in her hair, not pulling, but for the moment, along for the ride. Her tongue ran along the underside of my cock, up to the top, with kisses along my shaft, until after a short pause, I felt her mouth slip over the head and I was finally seated in the warmth of Jen's mouth. I emitted an audible groan from the pleasure and I felt my body stiffen as all nerve impulses seemed to be coming from my groin.

My fingers slid to Jen's cheek and I could feel my hardness pushing and ballooning there. It was the first time I'd ever done that, and the eroticism of this simple act made my cock jerk and Jen's eyes widened in response. I could feel that I wasn't the only one that was being stimulated, as she mewed several times as I felt her apply more suction and roll me around with her tongue.

Many times in the past, Jen had commented on how much the musky taste of a firm cock combined with masculine pheromones was as arousing to her, as her sucking was to me. There was no question that she was being turned on by the act and I was loving the feeling that ranged through me with that knowledge.

Jen's technique was to vary the pace. Long slow strokes with a lot of tongue action, particularly under my glans, then harder and faster with firmed lips. She's not into "deep throat," but she can engulf most of me well short of her gag reflex. My cock grew thicker with her renewed vigor, but just as reached the point of serious arousal, Jen backed off and returned to rolling and tasting. She was, and is, a master at maintaining her man in a state of simmering frustration.

I have emptied myself in Jen's mouth on multiple occasions and have marveled at the delight she seems to exude when she feels her mouth filled with male semen, but I have no intention of having our evening together end prematurely. At 48, I'm acutely aware of my sexual limitations and I have much more of this woman to savor. Jen is probably not surprised when I pull from her mouth and signal that it's time to switch places.

Jen knows that I like her butt on the edge of the chair since it's a position that exposes her pussy to its fullest extent, and I intended to cover all of it. As I indicated, she is a master in the art of cock sucking, but I think I'm her oral match when it comes to pleasuring her pussy.