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“What?” she asks.
“Any requests?” my friend repeats.
“What do you want to watch them do to each other?” I ask and move my index finger a little lower, indicating I want to be inside her.
“Anything,” she says.
My friend picks up her favorite strap-on and says, “I’m going to let her ride my dick.”
She gets ready, and I stroke. I want her again. I don’t care if it’s now or down the hall in another room we have all to ourselves. As I stroke, I feel her wobble a bit.
“Do you want to sit down?”
“Huh?” she asks.
“I’d really like to go down on you while you watch,” I say, thinking I want my mouth on her and my fingers buried deep. “Would that be okay?”
“Go…” she starts but doesn’t finish as my friend moves back to the bed.
Her wife straddles her hips, and the dildo slips inside her.
“Over here,” I say, trying to focus on the woman in front of me and not the two women in bed.
When I move beside her, she opens her mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. There’s a small sofa in this room where I can kneel in front of her and take my time if I want; if she wants. But the expression on her face tells me she’s not sure about something.
“I…”
“It’s okay,” I say quickly, trying to keep her here. “We don’t–”
“I have to go,” she says.
“You have to go?”
“Fuck!” my friend yells at the worst possible moment.
“I can do what I just did if you want,” I say as I move back behind her, trying to recreate what we just did. “Is this what you want?” I cup her breast again and move my other hand to her center and up her softly.
“I have to go,” she repeats and steps away from me.
My hands fall from her instantly. I don’t want her to think I’m pushing. She pulls up her bra and zips her own dress back up. Then, she picks up her purse, which I hadn’t even noticed she’d dropped to the floor, and she turns around. I just nod at her because I can’t think of anything else to say or do. She nods back and walks past me. I wait a second, take a deep breath, and then go after her. By the time I’m at the landing, she’s already at the front door. She looks back up at me. Our eyes meet, and I can see that she’s thinking about something. Is it whether or not to come back to me? She takes her jacket abruptly from the guy at the door, and just like that, she’s gone.
I wait a whole minute just in case she comes back, but when she doesn’t, I rush down the hall, find an empty bathroom, close and lock the door, and unbutton and unzip my pants. I slide my hand into my underwear and start stroking. I’m leaning against the glass shower door because I need something to keep me standing. I let my pants fall to the floor, spread my legs, and thrust my fingers as deep as I can, biting my lower lip to keep from yelling out. I thrust and thrust, and my free hand goes to my clit. I’m working myself up inside and out, head back against the shower door, and I come so hard. I come harder than I ever have on my own before, or with another woman, or while watching my friends. What has she done to me?
“Oh, my God,” I say to myself.
MONTH 2. PART 1. – Back for More
(POV Member)
I stare at the screen in front of me and consider what I’m about to do. I’d waited until the last possible moment. While membership guaranteed access, an RSVP was still required. Members had up until twenty-four hours prior to the event to respond to an encrypted email with a yes or a no. Before I can do that, though, I have to make the annual commitment and pay for the full year upfront. The amount I see doesn’t worry me – it’s more about what it represents. That amount represents me paying for sex – me paying to watch other people have sex and maybe even having sex with those people – and it’s not something I ever thought I’d do.
Truthfully, I’m what most people would call attractive enough. I’m not supermodel material or anything, but I’m not bad, either. I come from old money, but I also have a successful career. I earn enough on my own to be able to afford something like this, but it’s not like I can’t get sex when I want it – I’m a well-known out-and-proud lesbian. I’ve wined and dined women, and some of them have also wined and dined me. Usually, the sex is okay. Sometimes, the sex is great. I’ve had a few long-term relationships and a lot of first dates that have led to good sex, but I’ve never had an orgasm as good as the one I’ve had just under a month ago by a stranger’s hand while I watched two other women have sex on a bed.
It’s always been there, I guess, my desire to watch others. And I don’t mean pornography – that’s all fake, often overly dramatic, and it doesn’t appeal to me. Watching two people be intimate in person, though, has been something I’ve been thinking about for a while now. Sure, some people are paid to be there, but the two women I watched last month were both members, which means they wanted to give one another pleasure, and that was a turn-on I never fully understood I had until that night.
Since then, I haven’t been able to focus on much of anything in my life. I think about that night constantly – that moment when I came and nearly tipped over, and strong, secure arms held on to me from behind, and soft, warm lips pressed to my neck before a gentle husky voice told me that she had me.
I enter my bank account information and click submit. A few seconds later, I get the payment confirmation, and the next screen that pops up asks me if I’m going to attend the next event. If I say yes, I’ll be sent the location and further information; and if I say no, they’ll message me about the next event in a couple of weeks, requesting an RSVP. I’ve spent this past month trying to deal with my issues about how much I actually want to say yes for the next eleven events and, likely, many more beyond that. I’m like an addict that can’t think of a life that doesn’t involve these parties anymore, and I’ve only been to one.
