Free Club Himeros by G Doucette

naked. 
    The part of her that had sat in the cab afraid to put on the ridiculous mask, that blushed when the driver had gawked at her legs, that tried to run when she walked past the second floor curtain… that part of her gave up and either fainted or died. 
    Look at me , said a new voice.
    Mocha caressed her thighs and hips with strong hands while remaining where he was on the couch.  He was waiting for her to tell him what to do next, she realized. 
    He did know what that chain was for.
    She ran her fingers along the crew-cut hair on his head, and leaned forward.  “Take them off of me,” she said.
    Without a word, he slipped the mandatory G-string down to the floor.  She stood back again, her hand still on his head.
    Across the room, dark mask had come closer for a better view. 
    Get a good look . 
    He was joined by a woman, and another man.
    She was ready to tell Mocha to lick her, the way Olive promised to, but there no longer seemed to be enough time for it.  The low hum of arousal had become far more urgent in the past minute, and she was ready for something Ms. Olive couldn’t have provided.
    Lindy knelt down and unbelted Mr. Mocha, and then got him out of the club-issued underwear.  He helped without being told, which was a good idea, as he was fully erect and might have been harmed if she’d torn the pants off on her own.  Also, he needed the time it took to extract a condom from one of the pockets and slip it on.
    He kissed her hard on the lips.  “We have an audience,” he said.
    “I know.”
    “Do you want me to—”
    “Just shut up.”
    She knelt forward, opened her thighs and straddled his erection, and pushed herself down on top of him.  She gasped, and just flat-out stopped breathing for a few seconds as he drove into her.  Then his hands were on her hips and butt and squeezing, guiding her up and down.
    She could see the other two on the couch behind them, still going at it, working at an almost frantic pace, nearing the end.  The girl was trembling through what was undoubtedly not her first orgasm of the encounter.  Lindy could almost feel what the girl was sensing, and then a gushing avalanche of a release as her own orgasm snuck up on her, completely by surprise.
    This , Lindy thought, as she squeezed Mocha tighter, this is what I’ve been missing.
    She held on tightly until the first wave was over.
    Her partner was making good use of those impressive ab muscles, flexing and thrusting up in time with her, driving deeper and hitting that spot , that itch she’d been feeling all night, the one that had exploded once already.  He seemed to want to touch every part of her, with his hands, with his tongue, with everything, while she wanted to order him to do something—bite her nipples, lick her ear, something, it hardly mattered as long as he obeyed—but she couldn’t speak.  All that jogging she’d been doing every morning and she was out of shape for this.
    But it was okay because he could feel her lagging and had started to take charge, and that was just fine with her.  He wrapped one of his strong, strong arms around her waist and pulled her tight.  His other hand gripped the back of her neck, and then he pushed with his hips and picked her up by the groin.  She wrapped her legs around him to keep their balance and also to cope with the violent second orgasm he’d just given her.  She was still having it when he got her flipped around and on her back.  Her shoulders landed on the armrest of the couch, her breasts jutting into the air and no doubt looking spectacular for the many onlookers they were pointing toward, her head dangling over open air beneath them.
    She was still coming, unless it was a third or fourth one, she couldn’t tell any more.  The muscles of his lower back and butt writhed beneath her legs, her ankles locked behind him.  Her right arm was intertwined with his left, his left hand still latched on to her neck.  It was the only thing keeping