Chapter 6: Coughlin's Club

When John finally got home -- he had had quite a bit of unfinished business at his MacDonald franchise -- Argie was waiting for him, and handed him a Scotch on the rocks even before he was in the door.

"What?" he said, and would have said more but Argie hushed him, saying, "We have to talk."

Taking a sip of his Scotch, he nodded, and said, "So talk."

"It's not a time for sarcasm, John. I want to get this over with before the kids come home. They'll disrupt everything."

He sat down in his favorite chair, took another sip, and said, "Well, thanks for the drink. I needed it. So what's the story?"

"I'm not sure how to begin, so I'll jump right into it. Doctor Coughlin called me back to the office this afternoon." She pulled a tissue from her pocket and wiped at some moisture that had built up just above her upper lip.

"God, I've been sweating like a pig since he called. Sorry. Anyway, he's asking us if we'd be interested in joining a club that he belongs to."

"Which one? I don't have too much time for clubs; they tie you up at the worst possible times."

Argie grimaced at his words. "It's not that type club."

"He's a sex therapist, isn't he?"

"Yes, of course..."

"He's already got you putting out for his... clients, right?"

"It's a valid occupation, helping those in need. Not like your little hobby -- fucking everything in skirts."

"Okay, let's stop throwing bombs at each other," John said, holding his hands out in an amicable fashion.

"Well, anyway" Argie said after a second or two, "you're close. He's offering us a membership in a very discrete sex club.

"How discrete can a sex club be?"

"As close-mouthed as its weakest member, darling. Right now that would be us. And I have to tell you, John, that Doctor Coughlin has some important members in this club. They can crush us if they wanted too. Believe you me."

"But we're not members," he said, puzzled.

"We have an invitation to join. If we decline, we have to keep our mouths shut. If not, I lose my job, and you may discover that the home office suddenly has major problems with the way you're running the franchise."

"I don't know..."

"John, you're always chasing pussy."

"That's not fair," he replied defensively, "I'm going to Sex Addicts Anonymous, aren't I?"

"Yeah, sure," Argie spat out, "and what's the first thing you did at a meeting? Cull a slut from the ranks and fuck her brains out. Yeah, you need Addicts Anonymous, and I need another ass hole."

"What about you?" he said, "and... and that boyfriend. And what about those patients needing a blowjob, or whatever?"

"Go to hell!" Argie shouted, and bent down, removed her right show, and threw it at him, hitting him in the shin.

As he hopped around in pain, he glanced at the clock on the mantle and saw that the kids would be arriving in just a minute or two.

"Wait," he said to Argie's back as she was leaving the room. "C'mon back here. I'll listen. I had a bad day and didn't appreciate hearing that my life, such as it is, is about to be controlled by your Doctor Coughlin."

"He's not about controlling us," Argie told him, doing her utmost to remain calm. He knows about you. He certainly knows about me. So a couple are being transferred to Las Vegas, and he thought we would be the perfect couple to take their place."

"How does this club work?" John asked.

"He'll tell us both tomorrow. We're invited to lunch at Spenser's."

John's eyebrows went up. Spenser's was the most exclusive place to dine in the region. He had tried to get reservations there several times to celebrate their anniversary, but had been told they were booked up months in advance.

Now Doctor Coughlin was having them to lunch there. The other members must be quite well-off and in powerful positions to accommodate them like this, he thought.

"Let's see what the good doctor has to say," he said, and Argie gave him a fierce hug.

The following afternoon, they arrived at Spenser's and turned their car over to the valet. John wore his best suit, a dark blue pin-stripe, with a yellow tie. Argie wore a new dress, a pale yellow with a revealing neckline, that had cost her over three hundred dollars.

Doctor Coughlin was waiting for them and they sat at the bar while waiting for their table.

"I'm pleased to meet you, John," Coughlin said amicably.

"The pleasure's all mine," John said in return.

"And you, Argie, look like a movie star," Coughlin added a second later.

"Oh, Doctor..." Argie gushed. She felt a little giddy as they made their way to the table, and she realized that she had already had three drinks. 'Where had they all gone?' she wondered, and then forgot about it as her eyes went wide on seeing the sumptuous table setting before her.

"Wow! They believe in going all out, don't they?" she said as the server held her chair out for her to be seated.

A bottle of fine wine was brought to the table, opened and poured. They drank, and then Doctor Coughlin got down to business.

"John, Argie, one of the reasons I asked you both here this afternoon was to extend a formal invitation to join a small club of which I'm a member."

"I would ask that you hold any questions for the moment. The club, or group, is relatively small in size, made up of... let's just say, prominent personages in the area. The two of you meet the qualifications for membership. There are no dues, by the way. Discretion is an important -- I might say, vital -- aspect of membership."

"I'm given to understand that part," John said. A row of sweat was evident across his brow.

"The members swap spouses with one another," Doctor Coughlin told them, and followed with, "It's surprisingly common, John."

"Excuse me," John said, "but is Argie already versed in the requisites of membership?"

"I'm sorry," Coughlin said, "I should have addressed that already. "Yes and no. That is, Argie has some idea as to what is involved, of course. Otherwise we wouldn't even be having this conversation. As, of course do you. My purpose here is to amplify on what you have information-wise, and answer any questions you might have."

John remained silent for several seconds. He glanced at Argie, found her looking down at her napkin. He drained his glass of wine, and waited until the Sommelier had refilled it, before speaking.

"So who's in this club?"

"Can't tell you that, either of you, until you join."

"How's it work?"

"Well, on or about the fifteenth of each month we meet at somebody's house for a cocktail party. We rotate the homes; it helps deflect curiosity on the part of nosy neighbors. That person provides the usual party items, booze and light fare, mostly snacks, to tell you the truth. Then, about half-an-hour into the party, things get a bit more personal."

"Does one toss their house key into a hat?" John asked with a wry, but nervous smile.

"No, the president will have already selected who goes with whom," Doctor Coughlin said, and avoided the smirk he felt about to surface across his face.

"So there is a possibility that a husband can be matched with his wife," John said.

"Yes. I might add that on occasion, such might be the case when a couple is asked to perform before everyone else."

"Or a random selection might be used instead?" John asked, finding that he was getting into the swing of things, and he bit his lip for making such a ludicrous pun at such a serious moment in his and Argie's life.

A few days later, Argie came into the bathroom as John was coming out of the shower. "Know what today is?" she asked pensively.

"Friday," he said, not immediately following her drift.

"Right, its Friday, the fourteenth of the month."

"Oh, shit! Already?"

She glanced at his penis, which was in as dormant a position as it ever got, and giggling, said, "Rise and shine, big fellow. We ride the wild pampas tomorrow."

Argie began undressing in front of him. John could not help but admire her figure, even after all the years they had been married. She skipped into the shower, laughing as his erection reached full size.

He went to the bar and made them each a strong drink, and brought the glasses back to the bedroom and he waited for her to finish.

Argie knew her husband very well, for when she returned to the bedroom about ten minutes later, she had blow-dried her blonde hair, and was wearing a transparent white, ankle length nightie. From the way in which the material clung to her thigh, he could discern the slit of her recently shaven cunt. To add to the overall effect, she wore a pair of six-inch stiletto heels, shoes she wouldn't dare wear outside her home.

"Looking good for an old married woman," he told her.

Knowing he meant the compliment, she smiled, and said "I hope that big thing poking out of your shorts is for me."

"I made us some drinks," he said, handing her a drink, unable to tear his eyes away from her gracefully seductive form.

Argie gazed at him over the glass, and sipped slowly, but fully. She had added a touch of lipstick and eye shadow, and John detected a hint of her favorite perfume.

Even as his eyes filled with lust, he asked himself, 'How in God's name could she do this in fifteen minutes, and other times several hours aren't enough time to get ready?'

His erection was at its zenith. Argie, her eyes riveted to his crotch, put her drink down and moved to him.

"Me being a sex therapist and all, I can tell when someone's in need. And I must say," she paused and rubbed her left nipple as she spoke, "that condition of yours looks painful."

"It is," he said, dryly.

"Maybe I can reduce the swelling," she said, and knelt between his legs, putting both hands and her face in his lap. Using the technique she knew he loved, Argie began to pump his cock, twisting her wrist slightly on the backstroke.

John moaned loudly at the first touch of her tongue as it licked over the bulbous knob of his cock. He leaned back in his chair, placing his hands on top of her head, not to guide her, but just to be touching her as she did her thing.

Argie had by this time had the opportunity to suck other cocks beside that of her husbands. She threw caution to the winds, and experimented with him. Stroking the length of his rock hard shaft, licking teasingly along the underside of his corona; sucking hard, sucking gently, rubbing the head of his member all over her face and lips, and then sucking firmly, making loud, slurpy sounds designed to heighten his pleasure.

Just when he thought it couldn't get better, Argie raised up a bit, and allowed the head to loll on her tongue for a few seconds, waiting for her husband to adjust to the sensation she knew it brought; and then she unhurriedly engulfed his entire cock.

'Where the hell did she learn that?' he wondered, but all such thoughts vanished as her face rose and fell the length of his manhood, her tongue swirling over the cockhead as he emerged from the depths of her throat, stopping when he reversed engines and dove deep again, until he could hardly stand it.

A split second before he was about to call out and beg her to end it all, Argie did stop, but then began a relentless vacuuming-like suction that caused her cheeks to implode to a most unsightly point.

John glanced in the mirror across the room, and seeing what was happening to her bulging cheeks, quietly began to explode in her mouth.

Argie never stopped sucking, except at one point when his ejaculate was just too much to swallow, and she brought him out from between her lips for a moment to permit her to swallow what remained in her mouth. A pulsating second later, she shoved him back in and caught the next jettisoned rope of cum. That last spasm emptied his balls, and he lay back gasping for air.

Argie looked up at him, a trickle of his cum oozed from her slightly open mouth. Turning away from him, she reached out and found her drink, brought the edge of the glass to her mouth and scooped the translucent fluid from her chin, and watched as it slowly mixed with the alcohol. Looking directly into his eyes, she swirled the drink around until his cum was thoroughly mixed in with the other ingredients.

"Here's looking at you," she said wantonly, and raised the glass to her mouth, and emptied it down her throatin a long, seductive swallow.

John picked her up and carefully laid her on the bed. He crawled down her torso and allowed himself the luxury of studying the thick lips of her labia. They were wet with her own juice, and a musky, although very familiar odor of her sex began to intoxicate him.

"Ain't nothing as beautiful as a freshly shaven twat," he said softly. Argie found to her surprise that his words aroused her even more than she already was.

His hands expertly slipped under her legs to the velvety contour of her calves. Argie pulled her knees back as his face approached her pussy, her ass began a series of involuntary, undulating circles on feeling his hot breath upon her inner thigh.