All characters in this story are entirely fictitious and bear no resemblance to any person living or dead.
This story is about a group of wives – mostly sexually frustrated wives – who started their own club. It is a private club for which you need membership (wives only), or an introduction by an existing member giving you the right to go there (others). That said, its existence is reasonably well known where I live, as what happens there is legendary.
I found out about this club through an acquaintance, Alan, who was divorced some years ago, and now goes there as a Member’s Guest. After telling my wife, Leanne, about it, she became very curious. The story is about how my wife came to join the “Burrinjack Social Club”.
Alan had told me stories about the club that were quite exciting. After telling Leanne, my beautiful, highly sexed wife, about it, we had some great sex sessions where she truly gushed cum – as she does whenever she is “really in the mood”. My wife has a great figure for someone nearing 40, with 34B breasts featuring pointy, responsive nipples that stick out quite a bit when aroused, a gorgeous round bum (about 37) that drives me wild, and a pussy that I always have lovingly called a “fucking machine”.
We basically had a mainly monogamous relationship until the club, although I always had an inclination that her occasional Friday night out with her girlfriends sometimes involved some extras – particularly when she would get after midnight pissed and roaring to fuck. On my work trips, I had once or twice needed to purchase extra services to get me through – being away over two weeks tends to do that to a male.
Anyway, we had talked lots of times about doing something “extra-marital” without ever taking that definitive step. It certainly helped liven a fucking session or two over the 15 years we have been together.
It was during one particularly ravenous session where Leanne was gushing cum on tope of me that she raised the issue of the club. To my utter surprise, she told me that she was curious to see what this club Alan had told me about was really like. I thought it was just dirty talk to liven up our sex, but when she again raised it the next day, I realised she was for real. I called Alan. He said “leave it with him”.
About 4 days later, an email arrives from Alan. In it, he had forwarded onto us an invitation from Mrs Rosie Adams, Convenor of the Burrinjack Social Club, to attend the next scheduled meeting of the club that Saturday Night, and asking for a return acceptance back to her email address. In the email, she had asked Alan to pass on the invite. We had nothing on that evening. I checked with Leanne – before I could really fully comprehend it all, she had organised a sitter for the kids & accepted.
Having heard about the club, but not really known fully what went on (it turned out Alan had told me far from everything), I found it a little curious that the invite provided no indication of what dress standard was required.
We decided to go in “good gear”. I was in smart, casual clothes (good slacks, quality polo shirt – what you would to the football), and Leanne wore a sexy outfit, that was not over the top but featured a very nice short Houndstooth skirt, sheer black blouse & black boots. We soon enough found out she needn’t have bothered.
We arrived at the club, which was actually located in a converted warehouse in one of the industrial parts of town. There was only a small sign beside the doorway which said “Registered Address of Burrinjack Social Club Pty. Ltd.”.
As you stepped through the doorway, you walked into an Entry Hall which was again fairly nondescript and gave nothing away (no photos or indication what went on behind). There we were greeted by a very attractive lady in her early 40s I would guess, wearing a sexy short dress and high heeled pumps. “Hi, my name is Tammy, and I am a member here at the club. My husband, James, is a doctor, and is inside. You look new, your names are?”
