Chapter 1: Whiskey, Lies, and Surpriese
Doug walked into the strip club. The Velvet Liunge, with his co-workers, slightly miserable. He didn't really want to be here but they'd pressured him to come along.
He went up to the bar and ordered a whiskey, figuring he'd have a drink or two and then slip away once the guys got distracted by the dancers.
He leaned up against the bar as he sipped his whiskey, taking in the sight of dancers moving through the crowd, bringing drinks to tables and flirting with the men there. Then, to his shock, he caught a familiar sight, the unmistakable sway of his wife Becca's hips as she moved through the crowd, clad in a tight leather mini skirt and corset, her long blonde hair up in a tight ponytail, and a little black choker around her neck.
She was on the other side of the club, so it was pretty unlikely that she'd see him, but still Doug found himself walking backwards into a darker corner of the bar, watching her with disbelief as she stopped at a table and leaned over it, passing a drink across the table to a man, leaning unnecessarily far over to show off her cleavage in the process.
Doug's drink was still in his hand, and he took a large gulp of it, the whiskey burning its way down into his stomach, trying to settle the sudden turmoil he felt. He watched as Becca took the money placed in front of her by the customer and tucked it into her corset before moving on to another table, her hips swaying with an almost hypnotic rhythm as she walked.
He couldn't take his eyes off of her, and it wasn't just because he was shocked to see his wife working in a strip club. There was something about the way she moved, the way she interacted with the men around her that was intoxicating.
Doug felt a strange mix of anger, arousal, and confusion churning in his stomach.
She leaned over to let a man whisper in his ear as he passed her a few bills. She smiled and then led him by the hand off to a private booth at the edge of the bar, where she was likely going to give him a private lap dance, the sight obscured by a flimsy curtain that she pulled closed behind them as they entered.
Doug watched this all from across the room and despite the anger and betrayal he felt, his cock twitched to life in his pants. He couldn't believe how turned on he was by the sight of his wife being so sensual and seductive with another man.
He took another sip of his whiskey, feeling the warmth spread through him as he watched her. He could imagine the way she'd be moving, the way her hips would be gyrating against the man's crotch, the way her long blonde hair would be falling over her shoulders as she leaned in to whisper in his ear.
He could almost hear the soft moans she'd be letting out, the way she'd be playing with her hair, twirling it around her fingers as she ground her ass against the man's cock.
His own cock was rock hard now, straining against his pants, and he knew he had to get out of here before he did something stupid. But he couldn't move, he was frozen in place, watching the curtain sway gently as the man and Becca moved together behind it.
He took another swig of his whiskey, feeling the alcohol flush through him, heating his blood. He was so fucking hard it hurt.
He adjusted himself, trying to get comfortable, but the bulge in his pants was only getting bigger. He could almost feel Becca's mouth on him, her soft lips wrapping around his cock, her tongue swirling around the head.
He was snapped out of his thoughts when the curtain opened and the man walked out, broad grin on his face, and Becca stepped out shortly after, adjusting her top. It could've been the light, but Doug could swear he saw the sheen of wet cum on her lips.
Becca resumed making her rounds while Doug ordered another drink, trying to settle his nerves. When another man called her over for a private dance, Doug decided he needed to be closer. He flagged down a dancer near him, hoping to get a dance at the same time, in the booth next to hers.
She was a tall, busty brunette with dark eyes and a sultry smile. "Sure, honey," she said, taking him by the hand and leading him to the booth right next to Becca's.
She sat him down and started grinding against him, her ample tits nearly spilling out of her skimpy top. But Doug's main focus was on the sounds coming from the booth next to them, separated from his wife and another man by a flimsy wall.
The dancer ground her ass against his cock, which was as hard as can be, giggling at his obvious arousal. Then Doug heard the sound of a zipper being pulled down in the next booth, and a satisfied groan shortly after.
He could picture Becca's fingers wrapping around the man's cock, her lips parting as she took him into her mouth. He imagined the look in her eyes as she looked up at the man, her long lashes casting shadows on her cheeks. He could almost feel the warmth of her mouth, the flick of her tongue against his own cock.
The brunette dancer noticed Doug's eyes were closed, his head tilted back against the wall, his chest rising and falling rapidly. She smirked, thinking he was enjoying her dance a little too much. She leaned in closer to him, her lips grazing his ear.
"You like that, don't you?" she whispered, her voice a sultry purr. She could feel the heat coming off of him, his body tensed and ready. She began to grind harder against him, her breath coming in soft pants.
Doug couldn't respond, his mind was too consumed by the images playing out in his head. He could hear the sounds of Becca's mouth working on the man's cock, the wet sounds of her lips and tongue. He could imagine the way her eyes would look as she looked up at him, her long lashes casting shadows on her cheeks.
Doug was on the edge. He could feel the pressure building, and he knew he was close.
The brunette dancer, sensing his urgency, reached down and began to rub his cock through his pants.
"That's it," she whispered in his ear, her voice barely audible over the music. "Let me tsle care of you." as she unzipped his pants and stroked his cock in the open. "I don't like cum in my mouth though, so if you want that, it's extra. I don't do it for the love of the game like she does." She said with a giggle, pointing at the booth next to them.
Doug heard a guttural moan and then the man's voice saying "Oh fuck yeah, take it all you beautiful slut."
Followed by the wet, sucking sounds that confirmed Doug's fears. The man groaned deeply and then Doug heard audible gulping and swallowing as he said "Fuck yeah, drink every drop." The brunette smirked, her hand stroking Doug's cock faster. "Want me to make you cum like that?" she asked, looking him in the eye.
Doug was struggling to focus, the images of Becca on her knees, the sounds of her swallowing were too much. He shook his head, his voice barely a whisper, "No, just... just make me cum."
She giggled, a sultry sound that would've turned him on any other time but now was just a distraction from the thoughts of his wife.
She sped up her strokes, and Doug felt his balls tighten as the pressure built.
He closed his eyes, trying to push away the image of Becca's lips wrapped around another man's cock, but it was no use. The thought consumed him, and he could feel his orgasm barreling towards him like a freight train.
He let out a low groan, and the brunette dancer leaned in, her breath hot on his ear. "That's it, baby," she whispered.
The thing that pushed him over the edge however was instead the sound of his wife's voice saying "Mmm, thank you. Delicious." The image of Becca licking her lips, the glint of satisfaction in her eyes, as she said those words was the final straw. Doug let out a groan, his body tensing as he came, his release spilling into the dancer's hand.
She continued to stroke him gently, milking him until he was completely spent. When he opened his eyes, the brunette was looking at him with a smirk.
"Was that good for you, baby?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
Doug just nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
He was still reeling from the explosion of feelings and the unexpected turn of events. The brunette dancer laughed, a sound that was way too cheerful for the situation. "Good, 'cause it's time to hit the stage, sugar. And I gotta say, you were one hell of a tipper."
She left the booth, leaving Doug alone with his thoughts. He quickly zipped up his pants, his hand shaking slightly as he tried to compose himself. He looked up and saw Becca standing at the edge of the stage, waiting for her turn to dance. She looked different up there, confident and sexy, nothing like the sweet, innocent wife he knew.
He watched her as she took her time, letting the music build before she started to move. Slowly, she turned around, giving the crowd a glimpse of her ass as she arched her back and ran her hands up her thighs.
Doug felt a pang of jealousy, but it was quickly overshadowed by the arousal that coursed through his veins. He couldn't stop watching, couldn't stop thinking about what she would do next.
Becca turned back around and started to dance, her hands roaming her body, her hips moving in a way that was both sensual and provocative.
Doug watched, mesmerized, as she slid down the pole, her legs parting slightly before she stood back up, her hands running through her long blonde hair.
As she moved, Doug couldn't help but think about what she had done earlier, the way she had taken that man into her mouth, the way she had swallowed his cum. The image was branded into his mind, and it was both disturbing and arousing at the same time.
He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but it was no use. Becca was a vision on stage, and he was totally captivated.