Lily: Part II

I barely slept that night. Tossing and turning, my body couldn’t keep still while my mind fixated, steadfast on the woman in the cotton dress, Lily.

Our new bedroom in our new home was hot and sticky, even with the window completely open. Dale attempted to “adjust” the settings on the air conditioner earlier today. The guy will be by any time between twelve and two tomorrow to fix it.

I could hear crickets chirping outside, a persistent soundtrack to my growingly obsessive thoughts. I wondered where she lived. Today when we talked she said, “on Elm”. Where was Elm? Was it close?

It took me the rest of the afternoon to wipe that silly grin off of my face before Dale came home from work. I still couldn’t believe she stopped and talked to me.

“You’re new here, aren’t you?” she asked immediately while sitting across from me.

“Yes, my husband and I just moved here from New York.”

“That’s quite the change,” she said in the most seductive, Southern accent, dipped ever so slightly in her own personal delicious drawl.

“Quite,” I replied quietly.

“Where are y’all staying?” she asked.

“Not too far, over on Benson.”

“Not far at all, I’m on Elm. I suppose I’ll have to drop by and bring over a pie.”

“That is so sweet of you. We haven’t met any neighbors yet.”

“Gracious, no, really? Shame on your neighbors. You and your hubby should be drowning in casseroles by now!”

I shrugged my shoulders coyly.

“I would more than appreciate your pie.”

She may have blushed. I know I did, damn word vomit.

“Well, in that case, you’ll be sure to get a big ol’ slice of my famous cherry pie. How’s tomorrow? Will you be ‘round?”

“Yes, tomorrow would be great.”

“Perfect,” she said with a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow then…my goodness, I didn’t get your name!”


“Virginia. What a lovely name. I’m Lily.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Lily.”

“Tomorrow, then?”


We stood and she hugged me, quite the Southern lady. I was startled but no doubt appreciative.

That evening at dinner, I focused all of my energy on Dale’s tale of his first day at the office. My poker face was strong with others but not with Dale; he always knew when something was up with me. I kept my eyes calm and made sure to move my eyebrows and the corners of my mouth up and down in perfect unison with the ups and downs of his day.

Now laying in this bed I was free to let my mind return to its desired subject. The more I focused on her chestnut eyes, her glowing skin and her tight embrace, the hotter and stickier the room became.

My hands trickled down the sheer teddy that clung to my sweating body, and rested on the warmth between my thighs.  Dale, passed out next to me, was quite the deep sleeper. He wouldn’t be disturbed.

With thoughts of Lily swimming through my head, my index and middle fingers circled that spot that these days only I seemed to be able to find. My body wormed its way free from the thin cotton sheet that covered both me and my husband. The slight breeze that managed to accumulate on this hot night reached my body easier. My free hand grazed my cooled nipples while my other was hard at work, each moment fantasizing that these hands were not my own, but hers.

My eyes closed and with each twist my body turned, my mind journeyed back to Bruce’s, back to Lily, back to Vegas. The Vegas trip was my first and last experience with a woman. It was Dale’s thirtieth birthday.

Only because it was his birthday. 

We both worked all the time. The hours we had face-to-face stayed tightly contained between 8 p.m. and 5 a.m.  while we lived in New York. Home at eight, up and out the door by five to catch the train. It was no way for a married couple to live, especially newlyweds, but we were slaves to the office. I figured for the big 3-0 I'd do something special for him, for both of us. I demanded he clear his schedule, knowing it would be just as hard for him as it was for me. 

We arrived in Vegas on a Thursday night and would leave on Sunday morning, giving us ample time to nap Sunday afternoon before getting back to that Monday morning grind. The first night we hit up the buffet and spent the rest of the night on the slot machines. Neither of us were big gamblers so we took it easy, vowed to only do it for one night, didn't need any addictions forming. 

For at least a month before the trip I wrestled with the idea of taking him to a strip club while in Vegas. We'd never been to one as a couple, I'd never been to one at all. I'd never had any desire to watch a woman disrobe; I damn sure couldn't imagine actually paying to watch someone take there clothes off. Dale and I could do that at home for free. But, it was his birthday.

Only because it was his birthday.

On the second night of the trip I went all out. We started with a fancy dinner, followed by a limo ride and a blindfold for Dale. He was hesitant at  first but I rubbed his thigh in the privacy of that tinted vehicle and told him to trust me. A few more rubs that moved further up his thighs, and a suck of the tongue and his nerves calmed while other parts excited. 

We arrived fifteen minutes later. Stepping out of the limo and removing the blindfold, I thought my husband was going to faint right there on the sidewalk.

"You want to go in there?" he asked me.

"Happy birthday," I whispered seductively in his ear. I took a step forward, looked over my shoulder sensually, took his hand and led him inside as if I had a clue of what I was doing. I'd never seen such a monumental smile dance across his face like it had that night, not even at our wedding. 

Sitting in front of the "Main Stage" my husband seemed awfully comfortable while I couldn't help but squirm a bit. How is one supposed to react to a naked lady's parts flapping in your face? The men who looked excited came across as creeps while the stone-faced "cool guys" made me think, "You're not fooling anyone, Buddy." I had no idea where to look or what to do with my hands or facial expressions. I decided to just focus on the pineapple juice and rum I held in my cup. I told the cocktail waitress to keep them coming. 

Even with a growing amount of alcohol flowing through my body, Dale could still sense my discomfort; he always could.

"Come with me," he said, standing swiftly and holding his hand out for mine. 

Without question, I held on to my husband to see where he would take me. That, and my heels were a bit too high and the drinks a bit too strong. Dale gave a large security guard a slight head nod as we walked past a red curtain and into what looked like a much more private area. I'd like it here. I needed a break from all the tits and ass and wanted nothing more than to take off my shoes. 

My husband sat me down on a padded bench tucked away from everyone else in the private area. We were snuggled away in a corner where no one could see us. He sat close and kissed me slowly. I never imagined a strip club could have such potential for romance. 

"Do you trust me?" he asked, in between kisses.

"Of course I do."

"Then I'll be right back."

"What do you mean? Dale, where are you going?"

He didn't respond. Just walked away and left me there, tucked away in that corner, alone. A few minutes later he returned but wasn't alone. He came back with a bikini-clad dancer that looked like nothing I saw on the "Main Stage". She was curvaceous with a plump ass and large breasts. I looked at her and felt something although my mind couldn't process what exactly, couldn't admit to it at that point. 

I looked at her. I looked at him. I figured out what was going on.

"Oh no," was all I could say.

Dale came and sat next to me and asked me once again, "Do you trust me?"

I nodded my head. I knew what was coming. I swore to myself this would never happen again, swore he better engrave this night in his memory because no way it would be repeated. 

Then the music started. A voice sang tantalizingly in French. I couldn't understand one word but I knew I liked it.

With my husband by my side, this woman stood before us and moved her body to the music. I held Dale's hand and stared at her shoes.

She danced in front of us for a mere thirty seconds until the next thing I know she's lifting my chin to meet her gaze and taking my hand away from my husband. She made me touch her stomach, moved my hand up to her breast, cupping her right hand over my left, forcing me to squeeze. She felt good. Too good. I felt shocked and embarrassed as I realized what all the hype was about. Tits were amazing. 

She straddled me and leaned backwards, pussy in my face. She came back up and ran her fingers through my hair. I couldn't move. I couldn't stop her. I had no power here. I prayed she would move on to Dale. It was his birthday after all and he was the man. My prayers would not be answered. I wondered if Dale told her to focus on me. I wondered if he knew I would enjoy this as much as I was. It was definitely a surprise to me. I wanted to run and hide. I wanted to stay forever. I hated that Dale was watching but I was glad he was there. I wouldn't have survived without him. 

Before I knew it, the bikini was gone and a naked woman sat, straddled on my lap. She moved up and down, rubbing herself against me, refusing to let my hands rest anywhere but on her body. From ass to breasts, she left no inch of herself uncovered by my two hands. 

She got on her knees before me and looked deep into my eyes as if she were asking my permission for something. Lost, I looked at Dale who looked just as confused. She spread my legs easily due to the flow of my loosely fitted dress and moved her lips to my right knee, all while maintaining eye contact with me. I looked over at Dale and at this point his jaw was to the floor. Clearly, we were getting more than he paid for. 

Her lips moved up my thigh, deeper and deeper into my body. Biting my lip and stroking her hair, I gave her permission to continue.

Her tongue swiftly pushed my cotton underwear to one side and she dove right in. I was a complete strip club novice but I was pretty sure this was not a part of the usual package. I was unable to protest even if I wanted to which I absolutely did not. I was on fire. 

The circles she drew with her tongue grew more and more concentrated on that spot she found so quickly. I grabbed her head with one hand, my dumbfounded husband's arm with the other. 

I had no idea how she was doing it but she was doing it. She was making me come, with her tongue, in the back of a strip club, with my husband seated next to me. And I loved it. I absolutely loved it.

I twisted and turned in my bed, my mind racing back from Vegas, back to Lily, wishing it were her tongue between my thighs in this moment. My fingers dipped deep inside of myself as my yearning grew. 

"Babe," I heard a groggy voice call out to me from the other side of the bed.

Without a word I grabbed my husband and pulled him on top of me. He needed no instruction or explanation. Seconds later his hard cock was inside of me. We moved instinctively together, falling into our usual rhythm.

"Harder," I told him.

"Faster," I commanded. 

I flipped us over and rode him, rubbed my clit against his body while I imagined her. 

I had to see her again. I had to know if there was any chance, any chance I could have a taste.