“Want to come get in line for the fun, sugar?”
As I have no idea whatthe funis, I shake my head and point to the bar. “I need a drink.”
“Okay, sweetie. See you soon.”
She waves her fingers at me and sashays off. I do as I said and head to the bar. I want time to observe. To look at this new species of people as if I’m a wildlife photographer, watching. I grab a double vodka tonic and make my way to a darkened corner, near what looks like a side door to the club. There are not so many people over here, and, as I sink to the back of the room, I feel safe to take it all in.
Big groups of men are clustered around the place, some as many as twenty strong. There are a few smaller groups, too, mostly sitting at tables. The barmaids aren’t topless this time, but a mix of girls in crop tops or sexy bras. One woman, who is in nothing but a push up lace bra with her jeans, must be in her forties, but she’s got a good pair, so why not? The men certainly don’t seem to mind by the way they’re ogling her as she walks past.
God, this place is so sexist. Did Vani see all this growing up?
For a while, I stand in the dark, sipping my drink and watching it all play out. Ghost is in a far corner, sitting alone, nursing a beer, which he barely seems to touch. Rook is with a group of other, younger looking men. Neither of them seems to have noticed me, or, if they have, they don’t acknowledge me. There’s no sign of Jack.
I finish my drink, enjoying the buzz it’s given me, and get another. I’m still too uptight, and I want to shrug off that mantle and become someone else.
After about fifteen minutes, the door opens and my heart picks up, hoping it’s Jack, but it’s not. It’s a huge guy, almost as big as Jack, with short, shaved hair. He’s dragging a woman into the bar with him, and she giggles as she totters on high heels. She looks like her outfit was inspired by the eighties, in a pair of thigh-high black leather boots, an incredibly short skirt, a tiny white bandeau style top—which barely contains her massive tits— and thick, teased blonde hair. She stops as the doors close and turns to her man, pulling his face to hers and kissing him hard. He kisses her back, his hand going to her nape and holding her in place. The muscles beneath his t-shirt flex, and I spy tattoos peeking from beneath his sleeves and up the side of his neck.
These two are sexy as hell together, and they seem completely oblivious to anyone else in the clubhouse.
Still kissing, he half guides, half carries her over to a pool table that no one is using. With one hand, he rolls the balls out of the way then lifts her up to sit on the edge. She wraps her long legs around his hips and pulls him closer.
From where I’m standing, I get a perfect side view ofthe couple. I know I shouldn’t be watching, but I can’t seem to tear my eyes off them. They’ve got a kind of magnetic energy that’s pulling me in. I take another sip of my drink and look around to see if anyone else has clocked them, but, if they have, they’re not taking any notice. I realize Ghost is no longer where he was sitting, and Rook seems to have vanished, too. Did Ace finish getting his ear sewn up yet? I wonder if he’ll come and join me, despite what he’d said.
There’s still no sign of Jack.
For a moment, nerves hit me. None of the men who are my self-appointed guards are within eyesight, and that means I’m standing here, in a biker bar, dressed in a sexy outfit, without any protection from the men. It’s terrifying, but also a tiny bit exhilarating. I wanted to live on the edge, didn’t I?
My attention returns to the couple on the pool table. Their kisses are growing heated as the man grabs a handful of her hair and yanks her head back so he can move to her throat. He runs his tongue from the base of her throat, then nips at her jawline. Her eyes are shut and her lips part as she lets out a cry I can’t hear over the music. It’s one of pleasure rather than pain.
Beneath my dress, my nipples tighten, and a zing of arousal shoots directly between my thighs. How must it feel to be kissed like that? To be so desperately desired that neither of you cares everyone is watching. I ache for it, a need that feels as powerful as thirst or hunger. Like I might die if I don’t get it.
I wonder at what point these two will decide to get a room, but, to my surprise, the biker yanks down the front of her top, completely exposing her breasts to the entire club. I don’t know if they’re real or not, but they’rethe biggest pair I’ve ever seen in real life. She makes no attempt to cover herself, and instead tilts back her head, her hair hanging down, and arches her back as though offering herself to the man who’s just exposed her. He takes her offering, ducking his head and covering one of her large, puckered nipples with his mouth. Her fingers spear through his hair, and her lips part. I think she must be crying out with pleasure, but the music is too loud for her sounds to carry.
The sight of him feasting on her tits intensifies the sensation between my thighs, and I squeeze my legs together, wanting more, and find my panties are damp with arousal. I put myself in her place, splayed out on the pool table for everyone to see. Does she feel free and vibrant and alive? Some people might say it’s demeaning, but I disagree. She’s like a goddess being worshipped, and a quick glance around shows me that every man in the place is staring in awe.
The big biker cups her breasts in his massive, rough looking hands, pressing them together, moving from one nipple to the other as he devours her. His mouth pulls them into long, elongated peaks. He grinds himself between her thighs, and I wonder how far they’ll take this.
The woman sits back up, still bare-breasted, and reaches for his belt buckle.
Holy shit, is she actually going to get his cock out in front of everyone? I find myself squirming, my cheeks heating.
The zipper opens and she reaches one hand inside his jeans and pulls him out.
My eyes just about bug out of my head. Holy shit. I can see this man’s cock. And wow, what a cock it is.
The beautiful woman on the pool table must sense me staring, which is weird aseveryoneis staring, but she turns her face in my direction and locks eyes with me. I almost choke on my drink, as something strange and silent passes between us, but she throws me a wink, breaking the moment, and turns back to her man.
Understanding dawns, and I want to slap myself for being so freaking sheltered. This must be what gets them off. They clearly enjoy people watching them fuck. It’s their kink.
I feel like I’ve been given permission to enjoy this, and my panties get even wetter. My fingers tingle, and I’m tempted to put down my drink and slide my hand under my dress. What would Jack say if he saw me doing that? Standing in the clubhouse, with all these people around me, touching myself as I watch two strangers fuck? He’d call me a slut and a hoe, but so fucking what? He does that anyway, and I’m still a virgin. If I’m going to be punished for a crime, I might as well go ahead and commit it.
The woman touches the biker, running her hand up and down his huge cock. She’s half sitting, her calves still hooked around his hips, her already short skirt now hiked up around her waist, and her breasts fully bared and on display. She rolls her tongue around the inside of her mouth, then bends over his dick and spits right onto his cockhead. Then she uses her thumb to smear the saliva with his precum. His eyes slip shut and his head tips back, his lips parting as she rubs him.
I press my free wrist to the front of my dress, hoping I’m being subtle, while the pressure causes my pussy to throb. I’m so needy and desperate, I want to cry out. Maybe I should run from here, straight back to thehouse, and take care of myself there while I replay the mental image of what’s happening right in front of me.
I’m so caught up in the show, my panties soaking wet and desperate to touch myself, that I don’t even notice that someone has positioned themselves directly behind me. A hand reaches around and spans the breadth of my throat, strong fingers locking my chin in place. I suck in a sharp breath. My face is held rigid and I’m unable to do anything other than stare at the scene in front of me.
Sheer panic breaks out in my body, and I want to run. Instead, I freeze in fear. I almost drop my drink but thankfully don’t. My fingers reflexively curl around the glass. The panic has me locked in place, but there’s something else holding me still. Something dark and hot deep in my core that keeps me rigid in this stranger’s grasp.
