Something familiar, part 2

Continuation of this post, featuring Jen and Mara.

So back we went – we picked up our clothes and shuffled out of the dark little room in which we’d begun fucking and sucking and licking one another. Mara apologized to me: “I felt sort of bad, fucking him before we’ve even fucked – it’s sort of a territorial thing, I mean, I came here with you, and….”

I told her to relax, that she and I would fuck. (And not so secretly, was thrilled: she’s insanely hot, and from the moment I saw her, I was dying to fuck her. And of course, there are no guarantees in these things – she was Jen’s friend. Would she want to fuck me? Would I want to fuck her? As I’ve written before, I’m not quite the slut I sometimes make myself out to be, and the world seems often to be filled with women who don’t want to sleep with me.)

Anyway – the good news was, Mara wanted to fuck me.

So back we went, to the locker room. Albert gave us two lockers, one on top of the other. There was some brief discussion about whether the women should retain their panties or go bottomless. (“It’s one less thing to keep track of,” I pointed out, to winning effect.) We wrapped ourselves in towels and headed out.

The crowd this night was attractive. Le Trapeze is variable, both in terms of numbers and quality. Some nights, there seems to be no one there; other nights, only fat septuagenarians (nothing against being either or both – just not my personal turn-ons); other nights, only nebbishy older guys with paunches and younger African-American prostitutes; still other nights, only Russian mobsters. But this night, it was looking promising. We peeked in the big party room, saw four or five hot couples fucking in there, and headed up the spiral staircase. On the way, we passed an attractive couple – a hot brunette in thigh-highs and black silk panties, and her somewhat less attractive, shorter, boyfriend/husband. “Join us?” I said to them as we walked past, toward one of the smaller, 2-3-couple back rooms.  “May we just watch?” she asked, in some Eastern European-accented English. “Of course.”

Jen, Mara and I settled down in the back corner of the upstairs of the club. The hot couple settled down in the corner, by the door, where the view was best.

I don’t recall the sequence, exactly, but there was kissing, and fucking, and sucking. There was a growing audience at the door, as Jen and Mara (clearly the two hottest women in the club – lucky me!) made out while Jen sat on my cock (or did she? did this happen yet?). After a bit, there was some rotation, I went down on Mara some more, on Jen some more, both women sucked my cock, Mara went down on Jen, there was more kissing. (Jen was reluctant to go down on Mara because she had her period; this doesn’t/didn’t deter me.)

After a bit, there was (ahem) mounting noise from the room next door. A woman was being fucked, hard, and she was clearly having a good time. The crowd at our door seemed to be shifting toward the other door. And the three of us, somewhat reluctantly, got up to look. Jen had a clear line of sight, as the hot brunette was being pounded, standing, against a wall that seemed suddenly flimsy. Mara couldn’t quite see, so she climbed atop the fucking furniture. And me? I really was content to watch Mara. As she stood, I found myself smacking her ass, hard, watching her flesh jiggle, enjoying her yelps of surprise and pain, as she tried to keep her eyes on the fucking couple.

Mara asked me what the furniture was for, and I suggested she lie back. She did. It’s not very comfortable, being made of a combination of steel and latex, with slight padding, but it held her as she reclined, her legs spread. I slid my cock into her, and began fucking, hard. Her head was banging intermittently against the padded metal and the wall behind it. She didn’t look comfortable, but I kept going, at least for a few minutes, pounding into her. (She wasn’t comfortable, but she seemed to be feeling pretty good, and I knew I was feeling pretty fucking awesome.) All the while, the woman in the other room was moaning more and more loudly, and the audience was increasingly finding itself torn: watch the loud chick, or the hot one on the steel furniture?

Eventually, Mara’s discomfort (or at least my sensitivity to the possibility of it – I know, some dom) got the better of me, and I eased her up. “Let’s go downstairs,” I said.

The three of us walked down the hallway, and down the spiral staircase, up to the front of the club. We got some water and lemonade and wine (Jen had brought), and sat ourselves down on a leather couch under a TV playing raunchy porn. We chatted a bit, Mara’s hand on my cock, through the towel, keeping it hard, and Jen testing out the stripper pole. Jen’s not a stripper, and hadn’t previously used a stripper pole (to the best of my knowledge) but she pulled herself up to the top and spun herself around pretty expertly. Mara and I didn’t have any singles (we were naked, but for our towels) but if we had, they would have been Jen’s.

A few more minutes, and we headed back in, this time, to the party room. Once in there, we were, once again, the stars of the show. Over the next 45 minutes, Mara rode my cock, Jen sat on my face, we all made out, Mara licked Jen’s clit some more, and the couple next to us, a beefy white guy and his (Russian?) wife with big, fake tits, sidled closer. (“Your tits are amazing!” said Jen. I was incredulous. Could she not tell they were silicone?!? Did she not appreciate the enormous difference between her own amazing breasts and the monstrosities to our right?) In the cab, later, on the way home, she confessed that she said that for the woman’s benefit, and because she had never before felt fake tits.) And the couple with the loud chick who had been fucking down the wall upstairs sidled over, as well. There were some more fingers, some more tongues, some more kissing, some more sucking, some more fucking. I came twice – once in Jen’s pussy, and once in her throat (or on her tits? now I don’t remember), I think. And Mara and I discussed my view of fucking vs. oral (I told her that I think of fucking as being salad to the “steak” of oral, in contrast to how most people think about them).

Right after my second orgasm, Mara announced that she wanted some more salad. Her timing was exquisitely bad. I had just cum, as had the loud chick’s partner, as had the fake-titted chick’s partner. I pointed to an older guy with a raging hard-on to our left. “You could do him?” I suggested, tentatively. He didn’t look so appealing to me, and neither did the woman who was stroking that hard cock. Mara confessed that she really needed to be told what to do, that suggestions don’t quite work so well for her. Ah, now you tell me, I thought. And she raised a nipple to my mouth. “Would you bite my breast?” she asked. As my teeth clenched on her nipple, on came “It’s Closing Time….”

We reluctantly stood up, and found our way to the locker room. We got dressed, and emerged into the night. Mara headed to the place she was staying, just a few blocks away, and Jen and I got in a cab.


  1. “Eventually, Mara’s discomfort (or at least my sensitivity to the possibility of it – I know, some dom) got the better of me”
    Better to be sweet and contentious…than a not-concerned ass…I always say.

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