I'm happy to present the eBook edition of my recent Adult Fiction novel: 'The Suburban Wives Club'. This is the sequel to 'Mary's Addiction', and if you thought that book is mild, this one is going to blow your mind.
For my esteemed followers, I'm leaving you here with an excerpt from the novel. It presents the five horny wives as they take a journey across statelines to an infamous BDSM-type club that's known as the Submission House. The one place for every white couple to visit and explore their 'Black-Owned' fantasies.
The book will in time be made available through my UK publishers on Amazon and other outlets, so please be patient. This would be the best erotic gift any husband can present to his wife. Enjoy!
Desire in hell.
Paradise on a silver platter.
Sex and pleasure unlike anything she could have envisioned beholding inside the mansion. Yet with all that passed before Jolene’s eyes, everything she duly noted and absorbed, she couldn’t think of a concrete word or phrase to sum up what she beheld. Just when she thought she had a befitting word to describe it all, her eyes befell on something else that swept the initial word off her mind. Something outrageous, repulsively decadent, and just plain bizarre . . . and yet she couldn’t help but feel welcomed by it.
She and Bunny stuck with each other like Siamese twins while Hailey broke off and went with Gail and Monica, who looked just as delighted and unperturbed with exploring the mansion’s sanctum. Monica wore a black leather tank top, mini-skirt that barely covered her butt, and knee-length booths. Her top hugged her breasts so tight they, too, seemed to want to roam free like she.
Plenty other women wore similar outfit like her. Some wore matching S&M outfit with their male partners, whereas Jolene was awfully intimidated by others she encountered wearing dominatrix-type gear. Everyone wore face masks and Jolene couldn’t help but notice the different color of bracelets on their wrists. Gail’s bracelet was silver. Later Jolene would learn that one of the easy and suitable means to obtain full membership was inviting a certain number of women or couples to sign up at the club. Was it actually a club? Everything she saw as she and Bunny furtively roamed one corridor after another, observing the perverted sexual debauchery happening in each room, seemed to tell her otherwise. One time they had been trailing after Gail and the others, but with each succeeding stop they made to investigate the rooms, Jolene realized they were alone with themselves. It felt to her like she was back at the swingers’ house where she and Marty went with the couple during their honeymoon. Except here the unabashed sex was far more erotic and even memorable than anything she’d encountered before.
They left the corridor they were in and returned to the main ballroom from whence they had started. Every branching corridor in the ground floor converged into the ballroom, which contained a buffet table laden with assortment array of cuisine and plenty of liquor to quench all appetite. Many of the couples, especially the women, paraded about, some flirting openly with whichever black man they encountered. In the Submission House, all women were hands-off by their husbands or companions to do whatever they pleased with their chosen black men.
Jolene and Bunny went and sat at the bar that took up the left section of the room. Bunny turned to look everywhere and was just as awed by everything she saw. They ordered two Bloody Maries with twisted lemon—everything in the house was free. Other women too occupied the bar, some chattered while sipping drinks from flute glasses or smoking cigarettes. The men paraded about, observing their women accost any black man they found and then walking off with them into any of the adjoining corridors. The black men all wore black Speedos and black face masks. They were all muscle and their package appeared to swell their crotch as if to let everyone know they were ready for business. Jolene caught sight of Monica locked in the arm of a black man, even heard her laugh at whatever before they then slinked out of view. Across from the bar, past a see-through curtain, was a rectangular room with blue lights on the walls. A rectangular bed filled the room and it was occupied with numerous women that were getting fucked. Their male counterparts stood before the curtain watching the show. Jolene craned her head to see past the small crowd and could heard explicit moaning cries coming from the room as well see one or two of the women inside enjoying their black lovers. As if too afraid to get drawn in, she turned to face the bar and sipped her drink.
A woman’s silky voice spoke behind her, followed by a hand that tapped her shoulder. Jolene turned in her seat to look at the woman. She had a thick mane of silver hair and a perfect hour-glass for a body. She wore a net swim dress showcasing her voluptuous breasts. Jolene thought how perfect her breasts looked, and was even surprised later to find out they were real. The woman had a pair of blue eyes staring at her from behind her face mask and her smiling pink lips.
“You’re new here, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am,” Jolene said, then gestured at Bunny. “So, too, is my friend here.”
The woman exchanged handshake with Bunny, though her interest remained on Jolene.
“By the way, I’m—”
The woman stopped her by raising a finger to her lips, still maintaining the pert smile on her lips.
“No names, and no identity,” she said. “Those are Submission House rules. Aliases are fine, but no real names. I want you for my playmate. Come with me.”
Jolene was stymied by the woman’s commanding tone as she was still ogling her body behind her swimsuit. The woman extended her hand toward her and Jolene noted the platinum bracelet on her wrist. Jolene left her martini drink on the counter and took the woman’s hand as came down from her stool. Bunny was looking at both of them curiously.
“You going to be okay alone?” Jolene asked Bunny.
“Don’t worry about her,” the woman said and she looked around she found a lonely black man and gestured at him to come over.
“Our friend here will take excellent care of her while we do our thing,” the woman purred.
The black man slid past Jolene to go and stand beside Bunny. Bunny looked uncertainly tense and uncomfortable as the man felt his hand on her thigh. Bunny drained her martini drink then allowed the man help her down from the bar stool. She looked at Jolene, wanting to voice a complaint but the words never left her lips. Jolene watched the man lead Bunny away from them without a word, and her mystery playmate watched as the crowd of onlookers parted way for the man to lead Bunny into the curtained sex room.
“I’ve never . . . never been here before?” Bunny admitted as the man found them a spot amid the mingling bodies on the bed.
“Really?” the man’s voice was deep and seductive. “Aren’t you enjoying the place so far?”
“Oh yes, I definitely am,” Bunny replied.
The man laid her next to another couple and Bunny gasped when his hands stole under her top to grope her breasts. Her nipples became instantly hard before he even made contact and she couldn’t help feel over his arm while his thighs pressed against hers.
“God, I want something better right now,” she moaned.
“I’ve got what you need right here,” he guided her hand toward his crotch.
Jolene and the mystery woman pushed past the viewing crowd to see the man relieve Bunny of her top and then wrapped her breasts around his face while she threw her head back and moaned from the experience. Jolene felt her playmate’s hand caressing her arm. She luxuriated in her soothing touch while watching Bunny become absorbed by her passion as were other couples in the room.
“You see what I told you?” the woman said to her. “I told you your friend is going to be fine. How about we find ourselves someplace to know each other better. Come with me.”
The woman took her hand and led her away from the crowd toward the staircase at the right corner of the room.
“What’s upstairs?” Jolene asked.
She looked over her shoulder and saw a white man in a pair of briefs wearing a dog collar with a chain dangling from his neck.
“And who is he?”
“Upstairs is a lot quieter,” said her playmate. “Better rooms and more energetic cocks to fuck. And don’t mind the slave behind you. That’s my husband.”