The Foxxy Bunny Club

Traci’s body pulsed from the disco beat vibrating throughout the club. Looking around at all the different hues of lavender and blues, she knew she was out of her element. It was one thing to be adventurous, but quite another to be stupid. Raun seemed to be able to talk her into things that she shied away from in the past. Why’s there a bed in the middle of the dance floor? The only way to describe the bed was to think of a twin bed inside a standing circle, like a hamster’s cage. Traci wondered if it was a rocking bed, because it did not have legs, but was attached to the wheel like structure by the head and foot. The pristine white bedding glowed under a white spotlight, as if the bed was the main focus. Gazing around the dimly lit room, Traci saw male servers in lavender loin cloths, their hard arbs and taunt ass on display. Was this a strip club for women? Then again, men seemed to be more prevalent than women. Traci drew in a harsh breath, when a glistened male server bent over a table to retrieve empty dishes.

“Raun?” Was that his balls or his dick?

“Yes love,” Raun replied as he caught Traci eyeing the server’s behind.

“Did I just see–?” She peered into Raun’s laughing eyes. Was he laughing at me? What was so bloody funny? That guy was almost nude! And why the hell was there a bed in a club? The women were no better, and they kept rubbing their coochies on Raun’s arm resting along the back of the dark leather sofa. “Keep moving sister.” Traci growled under her breath. Who could blame them? Raun looked and smelled delicious in a navy blue buttoned dress shirt tucked into gray slacks, his matching blazer on the seat next to him. His clothes fit him like a GQ model. A broad muscular chest beckoned eyes to devour him. Clean cut, sculpted eye brows, close crop hair, full kissable lips, narrow slit eyes, and a powerful physique, Raun personified the cliché tall, dark, and handsome. “Ummm…” The musk scented cologne made Traci want to tear off his clothes and fuck him right where he sat.

“Did you say something?” asked Raun mischievously.

“Nothing. Nothing at all,” muttered Traci.

A couple glided over to the bed, as the music changed to a slow beat. The man kissed the woman’s neck, while his hands ran up and down her arms sinuously. The woman started rubbing her ass against the man’s cock in accord to the slow beat. Traci stared in shock at the undulating couple in the center of the room, and other dinners placed strategically around the wheel or oval shaped bed. What the hell is going on? Traci tried to pull her gaze away, but wanted to see how far the couple would go in their seduction. When the man turned the woman to face Traci, she felt her cheeks grow very warm, and did not know where to look. Her head swung to Raun, she tilted her head over to the couple as if to say, do you see this? Only to find Raun gazing at her, while his breath escaped rapidly, as if he was the one engaging in physical congress in front of an audience.

“Come.” Traci read the singular word on Raun’s lips as he whispered it. She felt it on her clit. Shaking her head vigorously, Traci clamped her legs together and leaned away from him. Looking back at the stage as the tempo increased, Traci’s mouth dropped open. What the fuck? The man had whipped out his penis. There was no other way to describe the action. One minute that organ was safely tucked away behind a leather barrier, and the next it was sliding up and down the woman’s naked outer thigh. Maybe the word was escaped instead of whipped, because that guy smashed the record that said white men have small dicks. From her position, Tracy could see the veins standing out on that “monster.”


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