Saya's most wild fantasy came true when her ex boy friend called to ask for a favor. They decided to meet at a bar for a drink and discussed a lot. The discussion came to their sexual fantasies and talked like they didn't have while they were together. Saya told him that always fantasized about having sex with two men but always afraid to make her fantasy come true. Steve told her that he could arrange something with one of his friends at his country house next weekend. Saya couldn't believe that agreed to that even if the thought made her very wet and horny like never before.
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We'd had a long lunch with plenty to drink before Lisa dropped me at the front door, and headed off toward the bar a mile down the road. I'd told her to give me half an hour before she came back, and to wait in the parking lot. "Drive carefully" I said to her as I closed the door and entered the dimly lit strip club. I stepped inside and waited a second, letting my eyes adjust from the brilliant Canadian sunshine to the dark interior of the strip club. It was two-thirty in the afternoon and predictably the place was virtually empty, with maybe twenty men sprinkled about the bar. Ten or so strippers casually sauntered around and two waitresses lounged at the bar, mostly killing time before the late afternoon rush. Once I could see clearly, I made my way to a far corner and took a seat beside the wall and noticed for the first time the girl up on stage, gyrating to a slow song.
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Dante's was such a good club. Isn't it funny that it always seems to be the really good places that close down? Well, it's still there I suppose. It's got a different name now and you wouldn't recognise it at all. New owners, new decor, different music, different clubbers. Higher prices. But I'll always remember it as the rock club where I met her that night. The night she showed me the time of my life. Lydia. Sex goddess. Rock chick. I'd been living in Sheffield for two months, training with a multinational company that had a local office in the city. I was living in a bed & breakfast paid for by the company and had enjoyed exploring the city's night life. A friend from work called John told me about a small rock club that had opened about a month ago out in an old mill on the outskirts of the city. It was supposed to have a real good mix of music. Metal, rock, indie and even some chart stuff thrown together in such a way that you just didn't want to leave the dancefloor. Moshing one minute, bopping the next. And rock chicks have always turned me on. Yeah, your townies are all well and good; short skirts, high heels, skimpy tops, - you wouldn't kick 'em out of bed, y'know? But rock and goth chicks. More mysterious. Black, dark purple and red clothing, lace, leather, PVC, fishnets, boots, buckles, piercings, tattoos, eyeliner - attitude. Not just blonde sheep grazing their way across the dancefloor giggling inanely at anything and everything and blowing bloody whistles in time to a machine's 'drumbeat'. What can I say? Rock chicks do it for me.
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