Strip Club Cuckold 1

Sarah drags Cole into the club expecting naked girls and cheap thrills to wake up their dead marriage. Instead they find male dancers. She’s ready to leave when the lights hit Draven—fireman outfit, big arms, black hair plastered to his neck from sweat. She forgets the plan. Money goes in his thong before she even thinks twice. After the set he nods toward the private booths. Sarah grins, grabs Cole’s wrist, and pulls him along. Draven’s lap dance starts tame—hips grinding, her skirt riding up—but soon her tits are out and his mouth is on them. She drops to her knees, pulls his cock free, works him with both hands then her mouth, spit shining on those heavy tits when she wraps them around him. Cole sits two feet away, watching. Draven turns her around, bends her over the bench, spreads her ass and licks her from clit to hole while she moans loud enough for the bouncer outside to hear. Last call comes, chairs scrape, people file out, but the three of them stay. Cole’s face is white; Sarah’s already climbing onto Draven’s lap again, grinding wet heat against him, daring her husband to say stop. He doesn’t. The door locks. The lights drop to red. They’re not done.