BF-199 Kitty Kat Club

Book Details

BF-199 Kitty Kat Club – It was always the personal goal of Mrs. Beth Smith to be the perfect housewife – the All-American Happy Housewife. But when her husband is fired from his sales job, she must go back to work. And so she comes to the Kitty Kat Club…..

Beth has been entirely unsatisfied by her husband’s small equipment and their resulting lackluster sex life for ten long years. The Kitty Kat Club is just the kind of place that she doesn’t realize she needs so desperately in order to find fulfillment at last, both in the arms of some very well endowed black patrons, as well as one of her closest girlfriends.

Includes 10 illustrations.

Excerpt: Kitty Kat Club

Chapter One

“C’mon honey!” said the sweet, melodious voice.

“It’s time to go to work!”

The one thing which could he said about Beth Smith, was that she was an ideal housewife. She kept an immaculate house, liked to cook all of her own meals, and took delight in making the yard beautiful. Unlike a lot of modern women, she truly loved the role of being a housewife. She relished it. She’d been doing it for ten years, and would be happy to do it for the rest of her life.

“C’mon sleepyhead!” she called again. “Hurry! Get up! You’re gonna be late.”

“I’ll be down in a couple of minutes, sweetheart,” said Herschel, her husband.

She rushed back to the kitchen to see about the scrambled eggs. She prided herself on never burning anything which she cooked. Everything was perfect. Always. She wouldn’t have it any other way. In fact it could be said that she had a perfect little home on a perfect little street in a perfect little middle class, Middle American neighborhood. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect.

Even her body was perfect. She was tall, lean, well sculpted and beautiful. Many of Herschel’s friends thought that she was the best looking woman in the city. Whenever they saw her, they frequently sprouted intense erections.

She never heard any of the comments which were whispered behind her back whenever she walked down the street. She was too busy standing straight and walking with her head held high-not because she was snotty, but because this was the perfect way for an attractive woman to walk. Of course when she passed a group of men—working stiffs and executives alike—they would mumble, “Mmmmm! I’d like to plug that lovely piece of ass!” or, “I’d like to fuck her every which way under the sun.”

Nearly every able-bodied male in Parsleyburg felt the same way. Yes, if a man could develop a hard-on, he wanted to stick it in some orifice of Mrs. Beth Smith. Either her mouth, anus, or cunt.

But Beth had never had many hard-ons stuck in her. From all appearances, it looked as if she had the perfect marriage and a wonderful sex life, but in truth her perfect body was sexually unfulfilled. Oh sure, her husband fucked her every now and then in the missionary position, but it just wasn’t enough. Twice a month left her yearning for more.

And his penis wasn’t as big as she desired. Four inches might be fine for a budding adolescent who didn’t know diddly squat about sex, but she was a fully grown woman who wanted things to be perfect. Heck, whenever Herschel stuck his tiny dick into her, she couldn’t feel a thing.

But she wouldn’t complain. After all, she must maintain the facade of having a perfect marriage. People would think less of her if they knew the truth. She would remain silent and work on polishing her image as the All-American Happy Housewife.

Yet, she was coming to realize that she truly did have sexual needs. Frequently during the day she would rub her thighs together and bring herself off. As she’d grown older she’d come to understand that her libido was growing stronger—not weaker! Yet Herschel seemed totally unaware of this slow transformation taking place in his wife.

“C’mon Herschel!” she called once more. “If you’re not down here in five minutes, you’ll definitely be late for work. Now hurry! Hurry!”

Herschel didn’t want to get up. He wanted to stay beneath the covers and go back to sleep. He knew what was in store for him today. He would be laid off. It had been coming for weeks. Business had been slow, and his sales figures had been atrocious. His boss had only kept him on as long as he had out of mercy.

Herschel didn’t know what his problem was. He rolled over on his back, looked at the ceiling, and began thinking. Here he was, thirty-six years old and about to be terminated from his job of the past fourteen years. Shit! The economy was slow and the likelihood of him finding another sales job soon was practically nonexistent. To make matters worse, he realized that he was married to the most beautiful woman in town, and yet he didn’t seem to be sexually excited by her anymore. Could it that what they said was true? That familiarity really did breed contempt—or at least boredom.

He ran his hand over his whiskers and scratched his face. Maybe he would find her more desirable if she were more of a regular slob, instead of always playing Miss Perfectionist. Shit! A particle of dust didn’t have a chance in their house. The instant it settled on something it was wiped up. Of course, he realized that if she didn’t have so much free time on her hands, she wouldn’t have the time to be the ideal housewife. She’d be worn to a frazzle like him.

He heard the footsteps on the stairs and heard her call one more time, “Honey! C’mon! C’mon! You don’t want to be late.”

He looked at their wedding picture atop the dresser. Ah yes! There she was, Mrs. Beth Smith. What an image of perfection. Moderate length blonde hair with every single strand in its perfect place, clear blue eyes set in perfectly white irises, perfect peach complexion kept in perfect condition with vigorous exercise and oodles of moisturizers, and a perfect body which rivaled the absolute best in the girlie magazines. And incredibly, she looked as good today as she did on her wedding day. Over the years the only physical change he had noticed was that her tits had gotten a little fuller. But that was okay, it actually looked sexier.

Yes, any man would be proud to be married to a woman like that. Any man. However, he never fully got to appreciate that beautiful body of hers. She was a blonde dream boat, but he didn’t know how to row the oars. It wasn’t her fault—it was his. He just wasn’t much of a man. He lacked sexual self-confidence. Maybe a change of pace was necessary to rekindle the flame in the marriage.

He chuckled slightly into his pillow. “Change of pace. Shit!” he whispered. “When I tell her I’ve been laid off that will be a real change of pace. When I tell her she’s got to find a job, that should throw some sparks into an otherwise dull marriage.”

Beth was placing the scrambled eggs on the table when Herschel finally came downstairs. “Well, there you are, sleepyhead. I thought you’d never get up. C’mon! You’ve got to eat,” she said in a motherly tone. “We’ve got to get those calories in you. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, you know. Now, eat up. I’ve made you a nice hearty breakfast.”

That she had. There was enough food on the table to feed several man twice his size. Oh well, it was better than not having any food at all on the table. That was probably the worst thing that his friends, Sam and Fred had to put up with. From the way they talked it sounded as if their wives never got out of bed and didn’t give a shit about domestic chores. Fred’s wife, Cynthia, sounded as if she couldn’t even keep her knees together. The woman was like a cat in heat who was ready to hump every night of the week—a real true to life nymphomaniac.

Of course, the same could be said for Sam’s wife, Donna. From what Sam had said, it sounded like that good-looking brunette liked sex better than life itself. One day in the men’s room he turned to Herschel and said, “My wife drinks at my fountain at least three times per night.”

“I don’t follow,” said Herschel.

“You know, we have intercourse at least three times every evening. I’d do it more but I can’t get the damn thing up more than that,” Sam said with a ribald laugh.

Although Herschel was bored with his marriage, he was certainly glad that Beth wasn’t like either Cynthia or Donna. He wouldn’t know how to behave if she was. Heck! With his low self esteem he could barely get it up twice a month as it was. Goodness knows what would happen if he had to perform more than that.

Unlike Beth, he was actually quite pleased with the sex in his marriage. He was glad that he had married a beautiful woman with a low libido. It made it so much easier in the long run.

He sat down to eat his breakfast and watched his wife busy herself cleaning up the kitchen. He never understood her passion for cleanliness. It bordered on being a mania. A speck of dust didn’t have a chance in the house. He remembered going over to Fred’s one night for dinner. Cynthia not only didn’t dust—she could give a shit if it piled a quarter-inch high. Apparently what Fred said about her was true. She truly did like to spend all day in the sack.

Of course, Cynthia worked nights. She’d been employed as a waitress at the Kitty-Kat Club for several months now. He asked Fred how she enjoyed it and he replied that she made good money, but was always exhausted when she got home.

“How good of money?” asked Herschel.

“Real good money. Sometimes she makes more in one night than I make in one week.” Herschel kept the details of that conversation in mind. After all, he knew that things were not going well for him at his place of employment. If he were laid off, it might be necessary for Beth to get a job at the Kitty Kat. From what he understood the only requirement was that a woman had to be beautiful in order to be a waitress there. His wife was certainly that. Wherever she went, she made men’s heads turn.

Excerpt From: Anonymous. “Kitty Kat Club.”