The bass thumped through the soles of Jack’s shoes as he pushed open the door to The Velvet Edge. He hadn’t been here before, some club on the industrial side of town Stacy had mentioned in passing. She’d taken a bartending gig three weeks ago to help with the mounting bills, and she always came home exhausted, smelling of smoke and something else he couldn’t place. Tonight, he’d decided to surprise her, maybe share a drink and remind her why four years of marriage was worth fighting for.
He scanned the room, a sea of bodies grinding under strobe lights, and then he saw her. His breath caught in his throat. Stacy stood behind the long chrome bar, completely naked except for a pair of strappy heels. Her 38DD breasts swayed as she poured whiskey, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, her skin glowing under the neon. Jack froze, then slid into a dark corner booth, his heart hammering. She hadn’t seen him. He ordered a beer and watched, his cock stirring against his jeans as his wife laughed, her nipples hard, her pussy bare and glistening under the bar lights.
He couldn’t take his eyes off her. She moved with a confidence he’d never seen, her ass jiggling as she reached for bottles. Then a man approached the bar, slipped her some cash, and she nodded toward the end of the room. Stacy walked to a set of heavy red curtains, parted them, and disappeared. Jack’s beer grew warm as he waited. Twenty minutes later, she emerged, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, her breasts shiny with sweat. She went back to pouring drinks like nothing happened. She did it again an hour later, and again after that. Each time, a different guy, a different exchange of cash.
Jack’s curiosity burned into a raw, aching need. He flagged down a guy at the next table, a regular with a knowing smirk. “What’s the deal with the curtains?” Jack asked, his voice tight.
The guy laughed. “You new? Fifty bucks gets you a blowjob from the blonde. A hundred, and you can fuck her any way you want. Worth every penny, man. She’s a freak.”
Jack’s stomach twisted, but his dick throbbed. He paid his tab and circled the room, finding a gap in the curtains near the back wall where a loose panel hung crooked. He pressed his eye to it and watched.
Stacy was on her knees on a stained mattress, her mouth stretched around a thick black cock. The man attached to it groaned, his fingers tangled in her hair, fucking her face with slow, deliberate thrusts. She gagged, spit dripping down her chin, but she didn’t pull away. Another man stood behind her, his hands gripping her hips, his dick buried in her pussy. He slammed into her, her ass cheeks rippling with every impact, her moans muffled by the cock in her throat. A third man waited, stroking his length, his eyes locked on her asshole.
“Switch,” the one in her pussy grunted. He pulled out, his shaft slick with her juices, and the third man stepped up. He spit on her asshole, rubbed the head of his cock against it, and pushed in. Stacy screamed around the dick in her mouth, her body bucking, but she pushed back against him, taking him deeper. They used her like a fuck toy, filling every hole, their dark skin contrasting with her pale, sweat-slicked body. Jack watched his wife get railed, her tits bouncing wildly, her eyes rolling back in ecstasy. The man in her mouth came first, pulling out to shoot ropes of cum across her face and tits. The one in her pussy followed, slamming deep and groaning as he emptied inside her. The last one pulled out of her ass, jerked himself off, and added his load to the mess on her back.
Jack slipped away, his jeans tented painfully, his mind reeling. He drove home in a daze, his cock leaking pre-cum the whole way. He stripped off his clothes, sat on the edge of the bed, and waited, stroking himself slowly, replaying every filthy second.
Stacy came home an hour later, her hair a mess, her makeup smeared. She froze in the doorway when she saw him sitting there, his erection in his hand. “Jack,” she whispered, her face pale.
“I saw you,” he said, his voice hoarse. “At the club. Behind the curtains. With those three men.”
Her eyes widened, then softened. She didn’t deny it. She walked toward him, her hips swaying, and knelt between his legs. “The bills are paid,” she said, her breath hot against his cock. “And I’m still yours. Always yours.” She took him in her mouth, tasting of salt and need, and Jack realized he didn’t give a fuck about the money anymore. He just wanted to be next in line.