French Quarter by Lacey Alexander (small books to read .TXT) 📕

“Mais, you’ve sure as hell succeeded at that,” he said on a laugh. Then he looked toward the door of the establishment, open but revealing only darkness inside. “So, you wanna go in?”

She nodded, her skin tingling with anticipation. It was truly like a drug to her, having the power to keep shocking her lover, and now she was excited to see what exactly was taking place inside this building and how she would respond to it.

Stepping up to the door, she waited as Jack paid the doorman, then took her hand and led her into the dark interior.

They stepped into a small lobby area, where a cute but scruffy-looking guy stood behind a counter selling glasses and t-shirts with the Pussycat’s Claw logo. Hard rock music filled the air, along with the smells of alcohol and…undeniably, sex.

The guy silently pointed the way and Jack led her through a curtained entrance to another room, dark but for the brightly lit stage where, as expected, a man and a woman were fucking. The woman lay on her back on a small bed covered with a girlish pink bedspread—she wore white stockings with a pink garter belt and pink high-heeled shoes. Her hair was in two blonde ponytails, tied with pink ribbons. The man wore a suit, with only his cock exposed. It was so raw; unlike the strip club, it held no teasing, no slow sensuality. It was real—a very hot fuck between what was portrayed to be a businessman and a young girl. He drove into her slow but hard, making her cry out with each thrust, and her face looked as impassioned as any Liz had ever seen. “Yes! Yes! Give me that cock!” the woman cried out, sensually pinching and toying with her nipples as she met his rough strokes.

Liz felt a bit frozen in place by the bluntness of the act before them, but Jack led her through the room until they reached two plush chairs. The chairs reminded her of the ones at Club Venus, except they were clearly older and well-used. They were sprinkled around the room, which, to her surprise, was somewhat full, with quite a few other women in the crowd. Although the room was kept very dark, likely to protect the patrons from being seen, Liz could make out enough to know the spectators crossed the spectrum from t-shirts and baggy jeans to guys in suits just like the one on the stage. The women were more like Liz—dressed sexy and looking ready. They all appeared entranced by what was taking place before them, and indeed, it was captivating to Liz, as well.

She was not as comfortable as at Club Venus—as evidenced by the chairs and other small details, the Pussycat’s Claw was less lush and sophisticated, and the very rawness of the show gave her the sense she was witnessing something she should not be. Something intimate and forbidden, much more so than even the many lap dances she’d seen performed at the other club.

Yet the woman on stage appeared to be enjoying herself as much as Liz did when Jack was buried in her. She was beautiful with large, firm breasts and long, lovely legs which were now upright, her ankles resting on the man’s shoulders as he thrust in and out of her. Every so often, the girl cried out, “Yes, baby,” or “More, more,” and as her initial shock wore off, Liz’s pussy resumed the same hot throbbing she’d felt earlier—only now it was stronger, aching, needful.

After a while, the girl turned over, onto her hands and knees. The man reinserted his big cock and she let out a sexy moan. “Fuck me,” she begged. “Please fuck me.” The suited man pounded into her, picking up speed, making her whimper and moan. When he slapped her on the ass, she emitted a low growl. “Oooh, yeah, spank me! I’ve been a bad little girl!” Liz spotted beads of sweat trickling down the man’s face as his slick shaft drove in and out of the blonde, who clenched her teeth now, saying, “Yeah, baby, give it to me! Let me have it!” They fucked much more frantically now than when Liz and Jack had first arrived and Liz was beginning to feel intoxicated by watching, drawn into the heat and roughness of their performance. As if reading her needs, Jack reached over and eased his hand high onto her thigh, caressing.

The man’s groans grew deeper, louder, more intense, until he finally pulled out and shot his seed onto the blonde’s pretty round ass, rubbing it in while she moaned. Liz’s breasts felt so heavy she wished she could unzip her dress and reach inside to fondle them. This blunt, dirty live sex had aroused her wildly—with its bluntness, its very realness.

As curtains closed on the two “performers,” Jack leaned over and, despite the room’s darkness, she saw the wicked glimmer in his eye. “Wanna sit on my lap, little girl?”

She couldn’t help smiling—and leaving her chair for his. Snuggling up on him and feeling the warmth of his arms close around her, she leaned to whisper in his ear. “Would you like that? Would you like me to dress up like a little girl for you?”

His grin was filled with heat. “I like all your surprises, chere. Don’t tell me, just do it sometime.”

His low whisper and the sexy possibilities his words implied made her cunt surge with moisture. She drew him into a slow, sexy tongue kiss and he ran his hands over her curves. “Just like the way you look tonight,” he went on. “I love that you didn’t tell me, that I just found you in a bar lookin’ like you’re gonna tie me up and make me obey you.”

She smiled down at him. “Would you like that? Being tied up?”

“Didn’t you hear me? I like all your surprises, and I like that you never seem