She claimed she could put a part-boiled egg into the middle when she left home, and find it hard-boiled by the time her train arrived. It may have bee... true, but her great broad grin always left a shadow of doubt. So there we were in the window of the coffee bar looking out on the crowds of office workers and municipal employees, drinking coffee and deciding how to spend our day. I was conventional enough, rather a precious graduate student in my green corduroy jacket and bow tie, but Jane –. I had no idea who it was. “You’re right,” the third voice whispered, “he is a good kisser.”Danny raised up off of my chest, even as Betty continued to work on my stiff cock. I could smell the aroma of lust and sex in the air.“Untie me,” I begged.“When we're ready,” Danny replied. The blindfold kept me in the dark. I knew there was a third person in the room and I desperately wanted to see who it was.“He’s ready,” Betty remarked, as she slurped on my stiff cock. “Can I?” the unfamiliar voice. One couple, the founders, were 30 and married and it met at their house twice a month. It was an informal and secret club, for reasons you will understand.The name of the club was “Frequently United Cocks and Cunts”. The members were horny people who liked fucking a variety of partners with little social overhead. Membership was by invitation and the costs just covered the parties/meetings expenses. There was a legal agreement to enforce secrecy and reduce liability.Todd had already attended. At least we wouldn’t be in that hellhole for the whole day. Let me tell you crawling around in that old boiler, removing and replacing old fire bricks has to be near the top of the list of the worlds worst jobs. The way I looked and felt after being inside that iron beast all day proved that. By the time I got home after work I was worn out, filthy, and just a bit on the grumpy side of things. No that’s an understatement. I was well on the way of being bad-tempered and only wanted to have that.