Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
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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

   (C) 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:
   /~BetweenHerLegs/spoilers.html