I was still buttoning my shirt as I stepped out of the little room, where I'd just been having sex with a comely woman who was not my wife. Please don't get the wrong idea. I wasn't cheating on Mindy. No, my wife, Mindy, was in the adjacent room screwing the living daylights out of that woman's husband. Based on the screams, Mindy and her lover were still going, and knowing my wife, she could be a while. I'm not a minute man by any means, but I don't usually last all that long on my first pop. It's just the excitement of being in the swinger's club and doing something as illicit as bedding a stranger, while Mindy did the same—hearing her was a huge part of it—pushed all the right buttons.
I could have stayed with Candace, and maybe even gone for round two, but honestly I just wasn't all that into her. She was pretty, and talented with her mouth, but I just wasn't feeling it—not in the way that Mindy flipped for her husband. I like my women more slender and toned, and Candace was not quite my type. That was okay. Mindy and I were not always going to be equally drawn to both members of a couple. No one took one for the team, as they say, but we didn't both have to be gaga to make it work. I could go out and chill at the BYOB bar until Mindy was done. I might even meet someone else to have fun with. Mindy and I were not attached at the hip the way some couples in the Lifestyle are.
It was a crowded night at the club and the dark, narrow hallways in that wing were busy. I excused myself past several people on my way out to the open area. The swingers' club was a sprawling establishment in a large, converted industrial space. The main section was set up like any normal dance club, with a large dance floor and seating around the edges. There was a DJ booth in the corner and a bar against the wall. Another corner held a stripper pole, which became very busy later in the night, as the drinks flowed. Since this was a private club, the bar was strictly BYOB. I'd brought a bottle of whiskey for myself, while Mindy toted her usual high-end vodka. Two wings jutted off of that main section of the club. One contained a smaller, more intimate lounge area, with a sunken pit that was padded with mats on the floor. This was where crazy group things tended to happen. The other wing was a warren of tiny rooms, barely larger than a queen-sized bed, connected by narrow, dark hallways. There was also a booth handing out clean towels and linens, right next to locker rooms.
I slid up to the bar and asked for a fresh drinking, whiskey neat, giving the bartender the number on my bottle. She was a pretty, heavily-tattooed young blonde wearing nothing but a bra, boyshorts and fishnet stockings. The owners wanted you thinking of sex everywhere you look. The DJ played something with a driving beat and a brunette who looked like a suburban soccer mom was working the stripper pole. When everyone thinks of strippers they have this idea that it's all hot young couples getting together to fuck each other, but the truth is very different. We've found clubs to be a cross-section of society just like everywhere else. Except for the occasional exotic looking couple, the people we've met at the swingers' club have been people we could have run into at the grocery store—except with less clothing.
Mindy and I got into about a year ago, after a long conversation about our fantasies on our fifteenth anniversary. I wouldn't say we'd become boring, but perhaps the old spark wasn't burning as brightly. Neither one of us had ever been uptight or jealous, so we weren't particularly worried that we would have a problem with giving swinging a try. The first time we went to a club, it was with the intention of just dipping our toe in and watching, but before the end of the night we were in one of the rooms with another couple fooling around. We did not have sex with that couple the first time, but we were quickly full-blown swingers. As we became more self-assured in the Lifestyle, we also realized that we didn't always have to be playing in the same room. We were secure enough to go to the club and so our own thing.
I don't know why the blonde initially caught my eye. Yes, she had an incredible, lithe body that was right up my alley. Maybe I instinctively knew there was something familiar about her, even without realizing who she was. She was tall, probably 5'8" or so, even without the platform Lucite stripper heels she was rocking. I only saw her from behind. Her ass was rocking in a tiny vinyl skirt that barely covered it. And I loved the criss-cross lacing of what was obviously some kind of bustier. Her golden hair was poker-straight and fell just to her shoulders. She was walking to the other side of the club and I was hooked enough that I hopped up from the bar to follow her.
The lighting in the lounge area was pretty dim, so when she sat and began chatting up a tall, well-built black guy I still couldn't tell much about her. She kept her head turned to the side so that I could only see her pretty hair. Whoever that guy she was talking to, he was very lucky. He had his arm around her and she rested a hand on his thigh.
They were only talking for a few minutes before they started kissing. I wondered if they knew each other well, or they had only just met. For some reason, I didn't think the man was her husband—we were in a swingers' club after all. As I watched her, it began tickling at the back of my mind that there was something familiar about her. I catalogued the blondes I knew, but could not place who she could be. She was not anyone from work or church or the neighborhood. She opened her thighs when her friend pushed his hand between them and I work see her hips start to move as he played with her pussy.
She leaned over and lowered her face to his lap, meaning I could still only see her blonde hair. He held the back of her head and stared down while she worked on his cock. It was too dim and my angle was too bad to see what she was really doing, but he must have been good, because I could see him cooing to her, encouraging her. Only when her head started bobbing up and down was I sure what she was doing.
I didn't feel weird watching. If people fooled around in one of the public areas, it was assumed they wanted to be watched—or possibly even joined. The same assumption was made when people left the door to their little room open in the other side of the club. I even moved closer, relocating to the far side of the long couch that sat on. Her hair was still all down around her face, but I did see she had a neat little tribal tattoo on the back of her neck. You'd never see it normally. The guy glanced over at me and gave me a knowing smile, then hung his head back to enjoy what was obviously an awesome blowjob.
The woman was hungry. She kept sucking like a Hoover and never pull back for a rest or to catch her breath. I was getting hard watching them, but I refrained from touching myself. I'd use that arousal when I met up with Mindy again, if she wasn't too worn out.
"Oh baby, you'd better slow down. I'm going to..." the black guy warned.
The blonde didn't stop. It looked like she was actually sucking faster. He let out a deep groan and I knew he was filling her mouth with his load. I could hear the wet sounds of her sucking him over the background noise. She was determined to get every last drop. She finally pulled off that big black cock with a lip-smacking kiss, sat up and pushed her hair back behind her left ear. Shockingly, I knew that gesture well.
My heart froze as I released I'd been watching my sister Jessica sucking off a black stud in a swinger's club. And that stud was definitely not Chris, her husband. My brain tried to reject it. I had to be wrong. But no, that pretty blonde was definitely my sister. It was her blue eyes and perfect nose, her red lips that could smile so warmly, or quirk up to the side when she was being sarcastic. My brain said no way, that's not her, but it was absolutely Jessica.
I had to get away. I could not let my sister see me—especially see the big lump in my pants, but I was rooted in place. Shock had frozen me. Jessica took a big draw off her drink—it looked like vodka and cranberry—probably to wash the taste of that guy's cum out of her mouth. She was laughing and talking to him and had not noticed me. I thought I had a chance to slip away, but as soon as I moved the motion caught her eye.
Jessica's mouth dropped open in shock and her eyes went wide. Without a word, she turned and fled. Now that she was running away, all I could think of was catching her. I felt like I had to explain myself, though I had no idea what I could say. The guy noticed something had happened and he tried to talk to me, but I blew past him. He probably thought I was her husband and that I was pissed. Jealousy is a pretty common occurrence at the club, and not all couples are good at hiding it.
I crossed into the main part of the club and just caught sight of her going into the other side. I hurried, knowing it would be easy to lose her in that dark warren of little rooms. I had to push through some people, more rudely than I liked, but I managed to catch Jessica as she turned a corner and ducked into the first open door she could find. She tried closing that door behind her, but I pushed into the room. I closed the door.
As I said, the rooms were mostly bed, so there was not much room for Jessica to escape from me, unless she climbed onto the bed. She whirled on me and I don't know what I saw in those familiar blue eyes. Shock? Anger? Disgust?
Jessica was probably as confused as I was. The last place I ever thought I would see my sister was at a swinger's club. And it was not just because it was a sex club. Jessica was so perfect and proper it was almost painful. It had not always been that way. Although we were five years apart, I'd heard some stories about what a party girl she was in high school. And I know she was such a wild child in college that our parents had to go and get her out of trouble a couple times. But as soon as she graduated college, everything changed. She took a job as a pharma rep and she worked hard. Jessica was always perfectly put-together, always focused—the quintessential driven young career woman. Within a couple years she was dating a young doctor she met through work and they had been together ever since. Jessica was 32 now, and they'd been engaged for over a year.
"Jimmy," she sputtered. "What the hell?" Jessica and my mother were the only two people who still got away with calling me Jimmy. I was Jim to the rest of the world and had been for years.
There seemed to be an accusation there, and I didn't like it. We were in the same boat, weren't we? "What the fuck are you doing here, Jess?"
"I wasn't watching you going down on someone."
"I had no idea it was you. I just saw some hot blonde and wanted to check her out." I realized I'd just said my sister was hot, so I shut up.
I'd always known my sister was hot. Keeping from friends from trying to fuck her was like a part-time job. Of course, I was a hypocrite then, too. I was trying to screw her hot friends. Jessica was a hot cheerleader type from early on, and she knew how to make the boys crazy. Maybe a few times I caught a glimpse of her ass in tight jeans, or saw down her shirt, and I got an improper thought, but I easily pushed them away. She was my sister, after all. But seeing her in that outfit, having seen what I had just seen, I couldn't keep the depraved thoughts out of my head, no matter how quickly I pushed them down.
Jessica stared at me. She realized what I'd just said. I guess tried to ignore it. "What are you even doing here? Where's Mindy?"
"I'm assuming she's off doing what people do here. Chris is here somewhere, isn't he?"
"Not tonight. They needed him at the hospital." A cloud went over her face.
"Does he know you're here?"
"Of course! We usually come here together. He just doesn't mind if I come on my own if he's stuck working."
