• articles >
• tuscl

tuscl

A catch-all account

I hereby lay my claim to the title of "Pathetic-est Loser of All Time" before the court.

My SB (Becky) called a couple of weeks ago and said she was coming to town to visit and take care of some unfinished baby daddy issues. Sans hubby. Sans kids.

After my heart started beating again, I far too casually asked her where she was staying. When she told me her mom was putting her up, I offered an alternative to staying with a drug addict who only dates abusive assholes.

It didn't take long for her to stop protesting, so I asked her how long she'd planned on staying. When she answered "how long do you *want* me to stay", I nearly had another heart attack. She had to be there on Thursday and a bit Friday, and was planning on flying in Wednesday afternoon (the Wednesday before the Detroit meet-up). By a happy coincidence, my wife was going to be covering for a vacationing co-worker at *her job, and would be gone most of the same weekend. (When I told her, she just rolled her eyes and told me to have fun. I really *love* that woman.) Becky didn't *have* to be back home before the following Monday, so without any hesitation, I got her a room for Wednesday night through Sunday morning. I didn't tell her it was at the Galt House. When Wednesday rolled around, I picked her up from the airport and took her downtown to the hotel.

At first, she was all "No, I can't possibly stay here. It's going to cost you too much." But that last only until we actually got into the room, at which point all argument left her pretty little head. The Galt House is one of Louisville's top hotels, and while it's certainly one of the more expensive, there are ways to get less expensive rooms, like using one of the many discount booking apps or web sites, which is what I'd done. It also wasn't one of their premier rooms, though *none* of the rooms there are anything at which to turn up one's nose. So it wasn't actually *that* expensive.

After unpacking what she'd brought, and after a couple hours of what she called "making up for lost time", making it satisfyingly crystal clear that she was as happy to see me as I was to see her, I dropped her off at her in-laws, who were lending her a car for the weekend to avoid a rental, and went home.

Thursday, she spent all day taking care of her business, and spent most of the evening visiting family, but asked if we could do something Friday afternoon, when everything was completed. As if there was any possibility of any answer other than "YES!"

I took half day off from work, and when she called me at about noon, I left to go down to the courthouse to pick her up, and we went to get some lunch.

I don't know quite how to describe the afternoon and evening that followed. Suffice it to say that it was a PL's dream. Hours of talking, fucking, cuddling, fucking, sleeping, fucking, talking and fucking. I still don't know how I managed it, even *with* my little blue friend to help me along. I suppose it *could* have had something to do with the company.

I think it was around 11 o'clock when she was finally done with me. Or she sensed I was about to die; I don't know which. We drifted off to sleep and the next thing I know, the sun is streaming in the window and she's waking me up the best way. In a surprisingly short time, I was returning the favor. After that, we took a shower, and she went to visit family again, while I went home.

Saturday afternoon, she called me and suggested that we go visit her old club that night. I asked her if she was sure she wanted to be seen with me, given what happened the last time we were there. To which she responded, "I'm a respectable married woman now. I'll just be there with a friend, and whatever gossip they might decide to spew, I'm above all that. Besides, I told Frank (her husband) before I left I was probably going to go, and that you were probably going to take me. And don't get me wrong, your dick is good and all, but I need some pussy. I can't get any at home; everybody knows who's fucking who there and Frank is weird about it." All with that mischievous little smile in her voice.

So I met her at the hotel, and we went to the club, getting there about 8, just as the night shift was ostensibly starting, though most of them were still back in the dressing room. As soon as we walked in the door though (I think she called and told them she was coming), the girls who'd been there when she was there (quite a few) were streaming out of the back and going just ga-ga over her. Basically all over her, which she enjoyed to the fullest. Though I swear, Becky could *smell* the whores, even the ones she'd never met before, because though she was groping and grabbing pretty much everybody, the only ones she was getting dirty with were the ones that consistently turn me down.

After a half hour or so, Becky had set her sights on one of the newer girls, a young (she says she's 21, but it wouldn't surprise me in the least if she were 18 or 19; she *looks* even younger than that), kind of chunky, plentifully endowed blond girl I'll call Felicia. I've gotten nice, full contact dances from her, but no luck with anything else.

And when I say "set her sights," I mean full court, sexual predator press. Every time Felicia was on stage, Becky would tip her. She'd slide her hands up Felicia's legs, tease her pussy, rub her nipples through the fabric of her outfit, basically do all the things the guys wish they could get away with. She'd extort the male customers to tip and pull her tits out so Felicia would play and kiss on them. I don't know what this girl was thinking, but she had a deer in the headlights look on her face, albeit a very pleased version, for much of the night. I supposed it helped that she made a butt load of tips when Becky was up there with her.

One of the other girls who'd known here when she was working said to me, "She hasn't changed a bit; she used to do that same shit to all the hot new girls when they started."

Then she bought some lap dances (Becky did, not me, though I would have). They had some special going because it was the owner's birthday or something, so she got a block of five songs for half price or something like that. Before the third song was over, *Becky* was giving the lap dance, and Felicia was sitting in the booth with Becky's tongue down her throat, and Becky's hand down her panties.

When they were finished, Becky had apparently talked the girl into doing a VIP, because they came up to the bar (Felicia's face was all flushed) and Becky was laying enough money down for the hour. As they headed back, Becky looked at me sitting at the bar and said "You coming?" Of course, the bartender/manager immediately said I couldn't, or that we'd pay double, to which Becky basically said, "Bullshit. It's *my* dance, he's just going to sit there and watch," and grabbed my hand and dragged us both in the back...