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BetweenHerLegs says --

This story, like all BetweenHerLegs stories, is a literary exploration of sexual fantasy.  
It it not intended to describe actual persons or events, nor to condone or encourage any of these activities.  
Likewise, this and every other piece of erotica on this site should not be read by or to minors,
nor by or to anyone for whom these materials are illegal, immoral, or ill-advised.

Otherwise... enjoy!

Love and kisses,

Jenny (ManyJennies@yahoo.com)

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"Would She Dare Again?"

by BetweenHerLegs

© Jenny Clark, 2008

Twenty-six year-old Margaret and her husband Steve had embarked upon an adventure which had resulted in their cohabitation with Jennifer, a twenty year-old college student of Steve's and their mutual lover.  For a couple of months, the adventure had been romantic, exciting, and mutually satisfying for all.  What had begun as a sexual indulgence had become an emotional attachment. And Margaret, herself an attractive and curvaceous blonde, had thought she understood the ground rules.

Until one day when she came home from work early.

When she opened the living room door, she found her husband lying naked on the couch while Jennifer's pretty head face-fucked him and another girl, an Alaska native that Margaret did not recognize, rode Steve's face.  At Margaret's entrance Jennifer paused, gave her a big smile.  "Come on and join us, hon."  The strange native girl looked over and agreed.  "My mouth could use a playground, babe," she said brashly, squeezing her own breasts to indicate her desire for the married woman's large tits.

Margaret was shocked.  She had thought that the relationship which they had developed and cultivated was a mature and committed one, even if sexually exploratory.  But here were both of her lovers with another young woman.  There was no denying the beauty of the native girl's lithe figure, bronze skin, and black hair, and certainly no denying the magic in the way she moved her hips over Steve's face, but she was still an outsider.  They were cheating on her.

The married woman didn't know what to do, so she said, "No thanks," very awkwardly and hustled off to the bedroom.  Though she tried not to listen, the sounds of their continued sexual activity in the living room were unmistakable.  When the cries, groans, moans, and creaking of furniture had finally subsided, Margaret finally relaxed by a small measure.  And then, she tensed up immediately as she heard the door open.  It was Steve.

"Hey, hon, how come you didn't join us out there?" he asked with smile, sitting beside her on the bed.  He was totally naked, his manhood spent and covered with another woman's juices.  "We wanted to share."

Margaret forced a weak smile, but had no intention of putting on a front.  "When did this relationship become about fee sex whenever and with whomever?" she challenged him in a soft voice.

Steve seemed honestly confused.  "I said we wanted to share."

"But the two of you were still sleeping around.  Just because you wanted to include me..."  Margaret sighed with earnest frustration.  "I thought you, me, and Jennifer were about love -- and sex, yes -- but about love."  Seeing the almost hurt look on her husband's face but unable to say anything to put him at ease, she just went on.  "If the introduction of Jennifer to our lives is doing this to us...  It's important to me that we keep a sense of commitment, faithfulness, togetherness... I've grown to love Jennifer very much, but my prior commitment is to you, and if her presence is an end to commitment, then we need to do something different."

Her husband was dumbfounded.  "Honey, I don't think there's a problem... Honestly, we brought Lisa home for all three of us.  We got talking in class about sexuality and after class Lisa talked with Jennifer and me and one thing led to another, and... Well, when we got home, we tried to wait for you, but we couldn't.  But we really wanted you in on this.  Just a romp, nothing more."

"But you didn't ask me if I wanted any part of it," Margaret said, rising from the bed to leave.  "I need to go think for a little while.  I'm sure some of this is shock, so let me go catch my breath, and I'll be back later."

With that, she left Steve sitting naked on the bed.  As she walked through the living room, she saw Jennifer and Lisa curled up naked together on the couch, Steve's semen still evident on Lisa's inner thigh, as the girls drowsed, idly caressing one another in their light sleep.  She looked on for a moment, very conflicted, and then left.

Margaret just drove around town for a while.  She felt like she couldn't grasp the very concept of bringing a stranger home for sex.  She realized that when she had met Jennifer and brought her home, it had been somewhat like that, but they had made a connection, and Margaret had known that Jennifer already knew Steve, so there was another connection.  This, however, was all about sex.  A one-night stand.  Strangers in the sack.

Yet, even as she disparaged it, Margaret felt a stirring of arousal inside.  No matter how much she might think it a bad idea for their relationship, she couldn't help but appreciate the erotic appeal.  Maybe part of her problem was that she didn't think herself capable of that sort of sexual freedom.  That sort of impulsiveness, listening to nothing but the burning between her legs.

At that moment she dared herself to try to understand her husband and her girlfriend, just a little bit.  She drove to a local exotic dance club.  She didn't know what to expect, but she was forcing herself to admit a sense of arousal at the idea of watching beautiful strange women perform before her eyes.  It was very against her character; all the more reason for her to do it.

The atmosphere was far from anything she'd ever seen on TV.  It was simultaneously more repulsive and more erotically charged.  It smelled and looked like any other dirty bar in Alaska.  Smoke, beer, urine, sweat.  Add in the scents of sexual arousal and hints of male discharge.  The lighting was bad, the patrons anything but glamorous.  The music was loud and tinny, and the dancers were a bit older and more world-worn than she'd expected, their movements lazier, their faces more bored.  And yet...  And yet, everywhere Margaret looked she saw men with hardons, many rubbing themselves through their pants.  The sight of all that male excitement had its effect on Margaret.  As did the raw, unembarrassed (even if weary) self-presentation of the women who were performing.  The twenty-six year-old blond was not the only female in the audience.  There was one college-age couple, male and female, one woman who was clearly a hooker looking for business, and a couple of dykes in the masculine-ish, goth-ish vein.  

Margaret took a seat at a table by herself close to the dancing stage, ordered an apricot brandy from a young waitress whose young body would have been worthy of display on the stage, and sat back to watch.  She found the women's movements intoxicating, no matter they didn't look like porn stars.  There were three dancers.  One was a young native girl with  long, messy black hair; she danced in matching white panties and bra that gave her a sort of good girl appeal as she circled her hips semi-expertly and massaged her own breasts with less skill.    Another was a blond with short, spiky hair.  She was thin, even skinny, but the curve of her waist was attractive.  She wore a sheer red nightie which revealed her rosy nipples, and she danced with two fingers tucked inside her red lace panties.  The third was a middle-aged brunette with wholesome, mom-next-door looks.  She had a pretty face, and curves similar to Margaret's.  There was a sparkle in her eyes as she moved that was lacking in the others.  Though she was probably in her early forties and wore a black nightgown that concealed much of her flesh, she was the star of the show.

Suddenly Margaret became conscious of a male joining her at the table.  She looked at the thin man with his rugged face, unwashed hair, and unwashed clothes.  Then she looked down at his hardon.

"That blonde's pretty hot," he said, squeezing himself.

Her eyes were on the lump in his pants, but she said nothing.

He went on.  "I like blondes."

She looked briefly into his eyes, then down at his crotch again.  "You been here a while?" Margaret asked, taking a drink of her brandy to calm the butterflies in her stomach.

"Yeah, I've got my eyes on that blonde," he said.  He was probably at least a little drunk.  "You here for the boys or the girls?" he asked her.

The young married woman didn't really know the answer to that question.  "I'm here for me," she said obliquely.

The strange man's eyes were clearly working her over, and she was suddenly very conscious about being undressed by his eyes.  "For you?" he asked, his eyes on her 38D chest.  "You gonna dance?"

Margaret couldn't help laughing.  "No."

"You should," he said, his eyes now trying to penetrate the crotch of her jeans.

She squirmed.  Uncomfortable, aroused, confused...  She remembered her self-dare and took another, larger drink of her brandy.  "I'm here to push my limits," she said, widening her eyes teasingly at him.  She knew her eyes were unusually large, exceptionally blue, and very long-lashed, and she knew that most men found them quite alluring.

"By doing what?" the stranger asked tightly, starting to rub himself more vigorously.

The married woman downed the last of her brandy.  "I want you to look at that blonde on the stage, and I'm going to tell you all about what she wants to do to you."

He glanced at the dancer, then back at Margaret. Her chest, her eyes, her crotch, her hips, her chest again.  "I'd rather look at you."

She was wearing a three-button pullover top, and she almost couldn't believe herself as she undid all but the last button, and gave her breasts an accidental rub.  She wasn't really revealing much cleavage, but it still felt daring to her, and she was surprised to find her nipples hardening a little at her brushing touch.  Even though she was barely showing the curve of her breasts, the man's eyes fixated on what he could see, as if there weren't three ladies showing far more as they danced on the stage.

"You'd love to taste my breasts, wouldn't you?" Margaret said in a soft  voice, breathing deeply to force her chest to swell.  She couldn't believe that she was doing this, but she was serious about pushing the limits as long as she still found pleasure in it.  "You'd like to clamp those lips around the tips of my breasts, feeling my soft pink nipples swell to fullness in your mouth."

"Yes, yes," he said, still staring at her with open hunger.

She stretched, showing off her waist.  "You'd like to kiss your way down my tummy and sides, too, wouldn't you?" she asked.  She spread her legs very slightly.  "And you'd just love to lower your mouth slowly right there... right, where you're looking... open your mouth, stretch out your tongue..."

And with no more than that Margaret watched the strange man's eyes glaze over, his body twitch, and she looked down to see a dark stain, spreading in his jeans.

Without another word, the man rose awkwardly and hurried out of the club, as if he were the first man to cum in his pants here.

For her part, Margaret couldn't decide whether to blush, grin, hide, or cheer for herself.  Instead of any of those options, she returned her gaze to the stage. The native girl was in the same place as before, still circling her hips and massaging her breasts with an empty expression on her face.  From time to time she was now tugging on the cups of her white bra to reveal flashes of nipple.  The skinny blond was now on her knees, orally servicing a large pink dildo.  Their banal filthiness, for all its lack of erotic flare, was nonetheless sexually compelling.  Still, Margaret found her gaze returning to the older brunette with the sparkling eyes, hint of a smile, and lushly toned curves.

The dancer was moving less now, staying basically in one place.  She slowly lowered each strap of her black nightgown to her shoulders, and rotated her hips around, but slowly.  She inched the hem of her nightie up to near the top of her thighs, then let it fall.  Almost immediately after, she lifted it again, showing just a flash of a black lace thong before dropping the hem again.  She squatted, caressing her own calves and thighs luxuriatingly, and then stood again, raising her arms above her head and allowing her nightgown to slide down to where it revealed most of her breasts.  She wore a black lace bra, and little more than her nipples was concealed at this point.  Margaret found herself willing the woman to disrobe completely, and actually pressed her hand against her own warm crotch when the woman's hand disappeared inside her nightie, and re-emerged shimmering with her own moisture.  Margaret, against all her nature, was aching for more.

But just then, the music came to an abrupt halt, and the dancers came off the stage.  The man at the bar came forward and announced the forthcoming performance of a dancer called Amy Blue, who was apparently quite a star, judging by the audience's response.  Intrigued, Margaret's attention was so riveted on the stage that she barely even noticed when someone joined her again at her table.  When she finally looked to see her guest, her stomach flip-flopped and her mouth went dry.  It was the middle-aged dancer, the woman who was practically old enough to be her mother... the stranger who's pussy she had just been aching to see on public display.

The woman just gave her a subtle smile and said, "You'll like Amy Blue.  She's Thai, and she's very good."

Margaret smiled nervously, wondering why she was nervous.  "I'm sure she is," she said, her voice cracking.  After a moment in which the two women simply looked at the empty stage, Margaret added, "You were quite good."

The dancer smiled, looked sideways at the blonde married woman.  "I noticed that you liked it," she said.

"Do you often get women watching you dance?"

"Not really.  Do you often watch women dance?"

"Never before."

"Then I'm glad you liked your first time."  They were now looking at each other, their eyes searching through one another's faces in the dark smoky club.  "My name's Mary."

"I'm Margaret."

Mary reached out and touched Margaret's cheek briefly.  "It's nice to meet you, Margaret."

Margaret could only smile back at her.  She was very self-conscious about the whole situation.  Mary, this beautiful, sexual woman was still wearing her dancing outfit, though she had replaced the shoulder-straps.  Margaret was wearing a partly un-buttoned top and pair of tight black soft corduroys.  She felt out-of-place, but she didn't want to leave either.  she was saved from thinking about it by the emergence of Amy Blue to the sounds of traditional Thai music.

"She's twenty years old, believe it or not," Mary noted quietly.  The Thai dancer looked both younger and older than that.  Older, because she had that elegant and preposterous figure that only Asian women seemed capable of having -- long, thin limbs, a thin delicate face, yet very round hips and a well-developed ass together with a full, proud chest.  Younger, because her face had a youthful innocence that looked barely legal.  Amy Blue was wearing a tight flower-print dress which clung to her curves as she danced what was, so far, a fairly traditional Asian, if not Thai, dance.

Suddenly she stopped, and the music stopped.  She was facing away from the audience, her ass cheeks highlighted by her tight dress, her long, thin legs spread to a point where the dress rode up on her thighs.  She reached behind herself and slowly pulled the zipper down on the back of dress.  Then, thereby teasing the entire audience, she resumed her slow, exotic, increasingly erotic dance.  The tightness of the dress kept it on, despite being unzipped from her shoulder blades down to her dramatic lumbar curve.  

Margaret couldn't help touching herself through her cords.  Self-consciously, she glanced at Mary, saw that the other woman's hand was on her lap, inside her nightgown.  Margaret stared for a moment at the dancer's creamy white thighs and the movement of her hand under the fabric.  She heard a slight sound, and saw that Mary had noticed her appreciation and was smiling at her.

Uncomfortable, but unable to bring herself to move her own hand, Margaret quickly returned her attention to Blue Amy, who was now on the floor of the stage doing the splits for the audience, showing off a hint of green satin bikini underwear.  From that position she started to rub her breasts through her dress while lolling her tongue around outside her mouth.  All the while, she was slowly moving her waist forward and back in a serpentine motion.  Margaret rubbed herself harder.

"It's okay if you need to touch yourself more directly, honey," Mary said, moving closer and whispering in her ear.  "After all, I am."  This drew Margaret's eyes back down to the older woman's lap, which was now fully exposed.  Margaret could easily see Mary's fingers beneath the black lace of  her thong, raking her dark bush.  Her middle finger was clearly buried deep inside her love hole.

Reminding herself of the dare she'd given herself, Margaret bit her lower lip and unzipped her corduroys.  She scooted forward in her seat to allow her hand to slide more easily underneath her red cotton bikini panties.  She wasted no time and sliding two fingers between her warm, wet labia.  She could smell her own arousal and could hear the movement of her own fingers in the sloppy wetness.

Mary evidently could as well, because she inhaled deeply, and leaned in, lips nearly touching Margaret's ear, and said, "I love that sound."

The two women sat close, pleasuring themselves as they watched the Thai dancer.  Amy Blue had by now slipped out of her dress. And was dancing a less traditionally Asian dance in her green satin panties and bra.  Her nipples were evidently hard. The young woman reached behind herself, and they watched as her hand came around between her legs from behind and started to stroke her mound through her panties.

Margaret and Mary both worked themselves harder.  The two women in the audience kept looking at one another between lusty glances at Amy Blue until the Thai girl lay on her back and started humping slowly up at the air while masturbating and licking her own face obscenely.  At that point, the brunette and the blonde looked in one another's eyes for just a moment and with no further coordination than that, their hands traded places.  

Margaret bit her lip hard.  It was all she could do not to scream with pleasure as the stripper's fingers found their way between her folds and expertly plumbed her depths.   She couldn't believe her own fingers were massaging the inner walls of a stranger, a sex-trade worker, in a public place.  They stared into one another's eyes as they masturbating each other, not seeing but conscious of the erotic display on the stage and the sexually charged atmosphere of the club.  They both were breathing hard through parted lips.

"I don't normally do this," Mary said, "and it's pretty bad policy to mix with customers, but I couldn't help respond to the way you were looking at me."

Margaret couldn't get any words out.  She simply nodded dumbly, her face screwing up in pleasure.

"Shall we cum now or later?" Mary asked.

"Is both an option?"

"It's the best option," the brunette purred, and with that they each knew what to do, and the two strange hands each tweaked strange clits in just the perfect way to bring sexual climax to a strange woman.  Margaret literally swallowed blood from biting down on her lip so hard.  Mary had simply clenched her jaw and it took a moment before she could speak after.  "Your place or mine?" she asked.  "I'm off-work."

Margaret's mind raced.  "My place has a husband and another girl or two in it."

"Yours then," Mary said with a wink.

And, is if in some insane, pornographic dream, the two women parted only momentarily so that Mary could get her winter coat from her changing room and Margaret hers from the hooks near the door.  The met again at the door, looked into each other’s eyes, and Margaret impulsively kissed the woman on the lips before rushing out to her car, Mary following behind, enjoying the way the younger woman's ass moved in her tight soft black pants.

"You should dance!" she called out with a small laugh.

Margaret spun around, her eyes flaring wildly.  "Okay..." she said.  Drunk with the spirit of the evening, she sauntered the rest of the way to her car, exaggerating the roll of her walk and the sway of her body as she went.  When she arrived at the car, zero degrees out or not, she spun around to face Mary again, and threw herself back against the side of the car.  A lusty look in her face, she wriggled her back against the car, and slithered up and down, slowly unzipping her jacket as she did.  Mary grew close, staring at her hungrily.

Feeling the power she was suddenly wielding, Margaret danced towards Mary, made as if to kiss her and then returned to the car, leaning over it, arching her back and wiggling her ass at Mary.  She turned slowly back around and let her coat fall to the snow.

Before she could continue her dance any further, Mary pressed her against the car, and covered her face with a flurry of wet kisses, devouring the blonde's soft, pale flesh.  "Open your car," she demanded, barely giving her space to operate.

Margaret somehow managed to comply, and the dancer, whose hands were now exploring the younger woman's body, further ordered, "Turn on the engine, then get in the backseat."

Margaret did as she was told, and flung herself into the backseat once the engine was running and the car's heater operating.  Before she could position herself, Mary joined her in the backseat.  Margaret was on her belly, and the dancer just grabbed her hips, raised her ass in the air and began fumbling with her belt.

Yanking pants and panties down in motion, Mary exposed the young woman's smooth ass cheeks, puffy pussy lips, and luscious thighs.  Her mouth closed in first on the ass cheeks.  "Oh, honey, you're so gorgeous," he purred.  Her mouth slid down to thigh flesh.  "You taste and feel as good as you look."  And with no further pre-amble, her mouth found its ultimate target, the still-moist pussy which lay between those thighs.

Margaret let out a long, low moan.  She'd never felt such expert lips before.  "God, you don't play around, Mary."

Mary only issued her own moan, leaning back and pulling Margaret with her so that they ended up with Mary leaning against the inside of the car door, Margaret practically sitting on her face.  Going crazy for the skilful way in which Mary's lips were manipulating her pussy and her clit, Margaret humped savagely against her face.  The action of her cunt against the older woman's face left a wet slick of love juices up and down its path.

Margaret clumsily pulled the bottom of the other woman's coat out of the way, then lifted the hem of the nightgown she still store.  Seeing and smelling Mary's pussy up close, she couldn't even wait to move the thong.  She dove into an awkward 69.  Mary cried out with pleasure as Margaret's tongue worked its way under the thong.  She raised her legs, squeezing her thighs around the blonde's soft, pretty face.

Margaret gave a muffled groan into the dancer's dark muff as she felt her inner walls spasm once in preparation for greater things to come.  Mary sensed the spasm and focused in on the blonde's clit, sucking, licking, tweaking with her lips.  Her fingers clenched the other woman's ass.  She bucked her own pussy up against Margaret's face.

"God, yes, I love it!"

"Mary, you're so amazing!"

"Oh, god, Margaret!"

Before long the two strangers had once against reached their pleasure threshold, only this time they didn't feel compelled to keep it quiet.  Margaret came with a piercing scream as her entire body convulsed, her ass spasmed, and she squirted a stream back onto Mary's face.  This drove the older woman over the top, and she arched her back, grunted repeatedly, and nearly crushed Margaret's head with her thighs as she came and then came immediately again as the blonde refused to let up.

The two strangers collapsed, their bodies entangled in the backseat of the car, still placing soft, gentle kisses on one another's thighs and pussies.  Margaret had certainly pushed her limits tonight, and as they moved into an upright embrace and kissed, tasting one another's mouths and left-over love, she was no longer angry with Steve or Jennifer.

"I can't wait to take you home," she murmured into the other woman's mouth.  "They're going to love you."

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Read more from Jenny about this story at:

http://www.asstr.org/~BetweenHerLegs/spoilers.html