He asked me for stories about what I had done in public spaces. I had had enough wine to admit to having given my boyfriend head under the table at a ...hai restaurant. After further encouragement, I told him about using the toilet at a Manhattan art Gallery for a quickie. What can I say? Impressionistic art turns me on.He asked if I had ever visited a sex club, and was surprised when I answered yes."I don't mean a strip club," he said, "I mean a real sex club."I told him I knew the difference. Though I knew he’d notice (he was always quick and generous with the compliments), I didn’t expect his eyes to slide down me the way they did. As I turned to take a seat on the examination table, I could see his reflection in the mirror over the sink as he stared lustily at my ass and legs. I flushed, and I could feel myself moistening. Just that one look from him would have been enough to satisfy me. Then he handed me the paper gown and said, “Rita [his nurse] had to leave early on personal. I took her sweatpants off and began kissing a path down her body, from her neck to her pussy. She was still wearing a thong but was already dripping wet. It wasn’t long before the thong came off, revealing her glistening wet snatch, just begging for me to stick my cock in it. I leaned in and slowly licked it, flicking my tongue over her clit. Liv moaned loudly and gritted her teeth, and grabbed my head and forced my tongue inside her. I took it as an invitation and started tongue fucking her,. The head was in her mouth. A balding, naked, middle aged man wearing a locked plastic chastity cage was standing in the background. He was smiling as he watched the woman, who I assumed was his wife, give the man a blow job. An impressive set of deer antlers were mounted on the wall above the painting. I immediately grasped the significance of the arrangement. A brunette, in her early thirties, wearing a skin tight white peasant blouse cut so low that it barely contained her large breasts and a.