Sheila kept her silence although she fumed internally. Her friends were lamenting about how frequently their husbands wanted sex. At an appropriate pause in the conversation, Sheila arched an eyebrow and in her natural southern accent she said, "Y'all are going ‘bout this all wrong.”

She sipped a little wine. Should she share her long-held secret with her friends?

All of the women turned towards her. They blinked expectantly waiting for Sheila to finish her thought.

"Y'all's husbands want to have as many orgasms as possible and here y'all are, practically throwing them into another woman’s arms by saying It’s too much and who has time for this?”

Sheila fanned her face to mimic a Southern lady’s modesty fan.

"Y'all should be helping him have an orgasm whenever he wants one. Y'all shouldn’t be finding excuses, or doing anything else until his manliness has expressed itself.”

Sheila’s friends all began to roll their eyes upward toward the ceiling. You could see it on their faces. They only thought about themselves and all the time it was going to take to spread their legs until their husband’s balls were drained and then they might have to do it all over again a few hours later. And then there’s the clean-up.

“Now, now, now. I know what y'all are thinkin'. Y'all are thinkin’ about all the things you have to do so he can be sated or satisfied or whatever, but really, if you would just train him right then it takes almost no time at all and he’ll be a happier man.”

“Train him? Like a puppy?” Pamela’s voice had the undertone of a parent about to correct a child.

“No, train him like a man who has a sex goddess for a wife. You are your husband’s goddess, aren’t you? I’m Billy’s sex goddess and I’m dedicated to his amazing orgasms whenever he wants one. He’s always having terrific climaxes ‘cause I help him. We began our marriage with him having orgasms as often as he wanted ‘em,”

Sheila smiled. “And he wanted a lot of ‘em.”

“I call baloney,” Samantha said it lightly and everyone laughed. “Your Billy travels almost every week and he works with beautiful women. He must be hard all the time and you can’t possibly be with him when he’s traveling or be there whenever he wants to… you know.”

Samantha would never say “Fuck” in the presence of others. She was too polite to use a coarse word.

Sheila gave her a bemused look, arched her eyebrows, and mimed the universal sign for male masturbation; her fingers encircled an invisible cock and she stroked the air.

“Well,” Sam said quietly, “I see, I mean, not all men do that…” Sam stopped speaking; she realized how silly she sounded.

Sheila saw Samantha looking modestly down at the table. "Y'all are newlyweds. Y'all don’t know nothing ‘bout men, yet. Men have a penis and an ego. Both need to be stroked. If y'all are doing one without the other, your marriage is at risk and if you aren't doing either one, y'all are handing your man to another woman. Might as well give her your wedding ring, too.”

Pamela and Wheezy waited patiently for Sheila to say more.

The four had been friends a long time and Sheila figured there was no reason to be shy. Her friends needed to change their thinking.

Sheila continued. ”Ok, let’s just say it straight. My husband takes care of his orgasm when I’m not around. Whenever I’m not with him, I make sure he has great ones. Y’all may be prudes, I don’t know, but I make sure my husband has one whenever he wants one.“

“TMI, Sheila.” Pamela looked her straight in the eye.

"Well, y'all better change your attitudes about your man or you’ll lose him to another woman soon enough. He ain’t going to orgasm alone for the next thirty or forty years. And if, every week, he’s having three or four orgasms alone for one with you, well, you're just asking for trouble. When it comes to your husband having orgasms, if you don't do it, someone else will. Remember that.

“Ah know what you’re thinkin'. Y'all are thinkin’ that one spurt in you on Saturday night is enough for your husband. Well, it ain’t enough for him and it ain’t enough for you either.“

oOo

Two weeks later, Sheila came through the foyer and flopped into the folding chair next to the table of dildos. She was late, as usual, and the hostess of the sex toy party was introducing herself as Sheila walked in.

“Hello, everyone. I’m Valeria. I’m in the business of helping couples get their groove on. There's no judgment here about whatever groove you have. In fact…” Valeria paused as a seductive smile crossed her lips.“I’ll tell you mine if you’ll tell me yours.”

“Hi, I’m Sheila. Sorry for being late.” Sheila nodded and raised her eyebrows to her friends Wheezy, Pam, and Sam. She smiled at Barbara and Valeria.

“Sheila, we were just starting to introduce ourselves. Would you mind beginning? Tell us who you are and a little bit about yourself. ”

Sheila put on her professional customer service face, swallowed her accent, and said, “I’m here to find something that will give my husband more amazing orgasms. I have the same husband for twenty years now and we have a son and a daughter in college. I work at The W at Foshay Hotel as front desk manager, but I might want to sell sex toys if I can get a discount on that big boy there.”

Sheila pointed to a replica of Tommy Gun’s penis.

As everyone laughed with Sheila, Valeria stage whispered: "We keep reading size doesn’t matter but we know differently, isn’t that right?”

More smiles around the room.

“Where you from, Sheila? I hear a slight southern accent.”

“The accent’s mostly gone now but I can bring it all back if’n ah want too,” Sheila purred. “I grew up in Gulf Shores, Mississippi. Moved here after college to stalk the man I wanted. He's second-generation Swedish and I'd never met a man like him before. Still, haven't. He’s a stalwart son-of-a-bitch and he’s all mine.”

“I’ll go next. My name is Eloise, please consider me a friend and call me Wheezy. I offered this party to help Valeria, and I hope some of you will sign-up for an event with her. She does showings for men, too, and we’re all curious how those turn out. Maybe she’ll tell us. Sheila and I are cousins. We were inseparable double daters at college until she found her husband. She was a lovely bride and I miss her every day. We take weekends together whenever we can.”

“Wheezy, you don’t have an accent. How come?”

“I was raised here in St Paul but went to Ole Miss with Sheila.”

The woman in black slacks and a white blouse spoke up. “I’m Pamela. I’m thirty and I’m a divorce attorney for women. I hope you don’t ever need me but if you do, I’m fair to you but not to them... unless you want me to be.”

Barbara waved her hand in the air like a beauty pageant contestant and said, “I’m Barbara. I work with Sheila at the Foshay. I love my work.”

Barbara flashed her wedding ring and continued.

“Recently re-married. I wish I knew Pamela five years ago. I could have used her in my divorce. My three boys are in the Army and the oldest is stationed in Japan, the others are in Afghanistan.”

“You still have the house?” asked Pamela. “If so, some things went right for you.”

“They did actually. But there’s nothing right about explaining to your sons that their father wants to eat, pray, and love his way through South Beach. My new husband is a gem and the boys all love him.”

“My name is Samantha but call me Sam. I’m twenty-four and I work in a bank. Just married six months ago and we have two Great Danes, Bruno, and Calley.”

Wheezy looked around the room with its folding chairs and folding tables. “Valeria, let’s turn this over to you .”

oOo

It was bound to come up at a sex toy party. It wasn’t long before her girlfriends teased her about ensuring her husband had a great orgasm every day.

“We call them ‘ahhh-gasms’ because you should be satisfied with the climaxes you have. Am I right?" Sheila paused and waited for signs everyone agreed.

Sheila continued, "Y'all don’t know but Billy masturbates to the three of you. “

Wheezy smiled brightly but Pamela and Sam were uncomfortable at what Sheila had said. Barbara was amused at the revelation and said aloud, “I’m feeling left out.”

Sheila smiled at Barbara. “It’s only because he doesn’t know you yet.”

Valeria waited patiently for the conversation to turn. It happens at sex toy parties that a sexual secret slips out. She had her secret but there was no need for her to talk about being a sometime sex worker. She simply waited for her turn to speak again.

Samantha spoke first. “Billy masturbates thinking about me? I don’t want to know this.”

“Sam, your new husband is masturbating, too. Are you saying you don’t know who is on your husband’s mind while his dick is in his hand? You might want to find out. I'm hoping it's you because y'all are newly married. But what if it's not you?”

Pamela took a sip of her white zinfandel. “If you get a video of your husband doing that, we will win your divorce case if you ever have one. I assume Billy’s using pictures of me?”

Pamela paused.

“Do you know which ones?”

Wheezy continued to smile brightly. She was extremely pleased to hear Sheila’s husband Billy masturbated with her on his mind. To her own husband’s dismay, Wheezy enjoyed the attention of men. She called it catch-and-release flirting and she used her over-sized twin assets to attract men. She nicknamed them Thelma and Louise. No matter the social event, Wheezy wore cleavage. If it was a formal event, she wore an appropriate underwire bra. If it was casual, she didn’t. She didn’t want another man, she already had one. What she wanted was a man’s attention and, once secured, that man could keep his hands to himself. It pleased Wheezy to know she’d made her mark on Sheila’s husband.

“Pamela, with all of your divorce lawyer experience, you should know that a mismatched sexual expectation is the main reason couples seek divorce.“ Sheila smiled sweetly.

Pamela nodded then waved her wine glass in the air. "Infidelity is the number one reason and arguing about money is second."

“Infidelity brought on by mismatched sexual expectations. Someone’s going to cheat if someone’s not getting laid, am I right?”

Pamela nodded again. “I accept that.”

Samantha blushed. Her pale skin and red hair made it all the more obvious. The twice-daily sex demands of her husband were starting to wear on her after a year of marriage. Anytime you do something seven hundred times a year, the thrill is gone. She didn’t want to be a tool for her husband’s release but she was beginning to feel that way. She’d spread her legs, he’d enter, he’d release. Twice daily. He was considerate and would seek her orgasm first but Sam didn’t want two orgasms every day so she’d started faking them. Other times, she simply pulled her husband in close and encouraged his release as quickly as possible. When he tried to go down on her, she’d pull him up and say, “I want you inside me.”

But still, she was starting to feel used and she knew that wasn’t a good thing.

“I want to know more.” Sam looked tentatively around the room to see everyone’s reaction.

Barbara chimed in. “I do, too. I mean, my new husband is a good man but there are plenty of distractions out there that could be trouble. Trouble that begins with a T and rhymes with a P and that means another woman’s Pussy. “

Wheezy spoke up. “Me, too. You never know what might be needed to keep a good husband.”

Valeria smiled. “I might want to get in on this, too. I’m not married but anything that helps me to keep a man is something I should know.” Valeria was thinking about her sex worker business more than this one. Keeping a sex client was far easier than replacing one.

Sheila looked over at the lone holdout.

Pamela once again waved her glass of white zinfandel in the air. Her husband was also a good man but then again, most of the men across the divorce table were good men, too. She’d accepted the idea her husband would eventually have an affair and she’d taken steps to protect her financial assets. She was practical about her husband but then no one accepts marital infidelity. If she could keep both her husband and her assets, what’s not to like?

“Okay, I’m in but consider me skeptical about all of this.”

Sheila smiled. “Ok, let’s meet weekly for the next four weeks and talk about how to ensure your husband has amazing orgasms every time he wants one. We can decide what to do after that.“

“You mean like a book club?” Pam asked.

Wheezy smiled brightly. “More like The Masturbating Husband Club… of Minneapolis.”

Everyone smiled or giggled at the idea. No one suspected at the time how the club would become the center of their sisterhood.

oOo

Samantha’s husband, Eric, pushed Bruno and Calley into the guest bedroom and closed the door. The two Great Danes were far too playful to be with Sam’s garden party guests today. This was the third time in six weeks that Sam had a get together with her new friends.

Eric looked out the kitchen window at the six women. Christ, they were good looking. And that one called Wheezy was as flirtatious as they come. Even now, she crossed and uncrossed her legs in a short sundress and Eric swore she had no panties. She had the cleavage-thing going for her though. Her breasts looked like they might pop out at any moment. She appeared to go out of her way to bend over in front of him. Perhaps she didn’t know what she was showing when she did. Eric smiled at the idea that maybe she did know what she was doing.

That lawyer woman had a nice ass and wore short shorts. The kind that accentuated the length of her legs. She wore fuck-me heels, too. Eric wished he could see her naked in bed with those damn heels high in the air and her legs spread above her head. She would likely have a glass of wine in her hand. He couldn’t recall ever seeing her without one.

Eric wished he could be alone with his wife Sam for about twenty minutes. His cock twitched at the thought of fucking his wife while these women were on the patio. Sam had been a sex kitten the past few weeks. She’d been texting him naughty messages and she’d sent him a few selfies. Teasing selfies, never overt sexual images, but the kind of selfies that told Eric she was available to him if he wanted to have sex. They’d had many masturbation experiences together in the past few weeks and she’d given him several handjobs. Sam had even teased him into masturbating on her pussy. These were unforgettable experiences, every one of them.

Eric felt a need to orgasm twice a day. His testes ached for it. The past three weeks, his climaxes were intense no matter how they occurred.

Eric touched his penis and held the head of it in his fingertips, feeling it grow.

Suddenly Eric froze. Sam had just touched the breast of that woman with the southern accent. It wasn't a sexy touch but she did touch her tit for an instant. What the heck?

Eric’s cock swelled. Was Sam interested in women, too? Unlikely, but then what possible reason could one woman have for touching another woman like that? Implants? Oh, god, no. That woman had real breasts, Eric was sure of it.

Eric’s cock swelled more fully. He unzipped. He was already hard as he pulled his dick out and began to stroke it.

~~~~~

“How’s he doing?” Sam asked. Sam could not see Eric from where she was standing but Sheila could.

“He’s still at the kitchen window looking at us.”

“Did he see?”

“I think so. He’s looking at us.”

Sheila turned slightly toward the window and adjusted her bra. This would keep Eric’s mind on her breasts and his hand on his member for a while.

“How’s he really doing?” Shiela echoed Sam.

“Great actually. He’s having plenty of orgasms. And I’m not feeling used anymore.”

Sheila nodded. “Has he seen the pictures of us shopping for swimsuits?”

A wide smile crossed Sam’s face. Then she giggled. “Oh, yes. I’m not sure whether his eyes or his pants bulged more when he saw the picture of Wheezy in that micro-thong. That woman can throw a tease and a pass farther than an NFL quarterback. Even in a photo.”

Sheila laughed. Wheezy’s cleavage seemed to be in the center of every girlfriend picture taken the past three weeks. Last week Sheila had packed a few of Wheezy’s swimsuit pics into Billy’s luggage as a surprise. She then teased Billy into giving a tribute to Wheezy’s pics and sending Sheila proof. When she received the semen-covered pic in a text message, Sheila sent one back with the emojis for a red heart, an eggplant, cherries, and sweat. She followed it with emojis for kisses and hugs showing her approval. Billy returned her text with a thumbs-up emoji. He seemed to be saying he enjoyed his ahhh-gasm.

oOo

Under Sheila’s guidance and tutelage, the club members ensured their husbands were having amazing daily orgasms. The ladies had stopped complaining months ago about how much time they spent satisfying their husbands’ carnal desires and instead they focused on creating amazing experiences for them.

Over weekly luncheons, the women had been exchanging downblouse, upskirt, and body flashing pictures to excite each other’s husbands. Chardonnay, arugula salads, and tuna-stuffed croissants complemented the conversation about how to provide tasteful and erotic masturbation material.

Pamela, Sam, Wheezy, and Barbara no longer had concerns about their husbands having extramarital affairs. Valeria was still single but her business had prospered along with the club. As the club developed, Valeria became a spokesperson of sorts and she recruited a dozen more women through her sex toy parties. She also developed a personal portfolio of sexy photos and videos and sold them through different outlets.

Valeria’s largest consumer of her masturbation-worthy photos and videos was a local erectile dysfunction clinic called Up4It. Founded by the enigmatic John Bull and three of his former lovers, Up4It had worked with Valeria to specifically develop her masturbatory material as an adjunct to their ED treatment program.

The Masturbating Husband Club of Minneapolis was a private club and it would always remain so, but expansion clubs had formed in other cities. To ensure members’ privacy and yet allow them to recognize each other, John Bull had recommended, and they adopted, the red bandana as a trademark for women who ensured their husbands had amazing orgasms. The usefulness of a red bandana to identify each other and in cleaning up after a husband’s experience had proven its value so often that when expansion clubs formed in other cities, John Bull recommended that they set up an S corporation and call it The Red Bandana Society.

It was amazing how clever the members were to incorporate the red bandana into their attire or accessories. Publicly, The Red Bandana Society was a group of women participating in charity events. They uncovered needs in the local community and then set about filling those needs. Time, money, influence, and attention were often needed to help a cause and the National Red Bandana Society provided it. Privately and secretly, the Red Bandana Society helped each other address the sexual appetites of their husbands.

It became common for women with red bandanas to acknowledge each other and then provide an extramarital body-flirt to each other’s husbands. It was even more amazing their husbands never caught on.

Pamela thought it was not so amazing. As a divorce lawyer, she knew men did not question anything about sex even if the clues were abundant. A man’s ego appeared to swell more than his manhood when he was in the presence of an adventurous woman with an extramarital flirt.

o0o

The members agreed they should celebrate the club’s first anniversary in Aruba.

The first annual meeting was called simply 100 Local Wives Who Care and John Bull was the guest speaker. He had become a counselor of sorts to The Red Bandana Society due to his connection with Up4it and the Foshay Hotel where Barbara and Sheila worked.

John began his speech with the storied anecdote of President Coolidge and the First Lady.

“The President and Mrs. Coolidge were being shown separately around an experimental government farm.” John Bull paused for effect.

“When the First Lady came to the chicken yard, she noticed that a rooster was mating frequently and vigorously.” John cocked an eyebrow and smiled at the audience.

“She asked the attendant how often that happened and the attendant replied, 'Dozens of times each day.'"

John paused again. There was a twittering in the audience.

“Mrs. Coolidge then looked at the attendant and in her finest First Lady voice she said, 'Please tell that to the President when he comes by.'"

More twittering from the audience.

“Now when the President arrived at the same chicken yard, he was told about what the First Lady had seen and how the First Lady had wanted him to know that the rooster was mating often and vigorously at least a dozen times a day.”

A few giggles went around the room and the ladies began to lean in towards the handsome John Bull with the bull elephant cuff links. They seemed to catch the light whenever he gestured with his hands.

“A thoughtful look came over President Coolidge’s face and he stroked his chin.” John mimed his impression of the President thinking.

“After a few seconds of thinking, the President then asked the attendant, ‘Same hen every time?’ The attendant replied, 'Oh, no, Mr. President, a different hen every time'."

Smiles and laughter circled the room. The punch line was coming. It was palpable.

"'Please tell that to Mrs. Coolidge.'"

Laughter circled the room. A few red bandanas were waved in the air.

John Bull continued, “Imagine what might have happened if those hens had been members of the Red Bandana Society. That rooster…”

The room exploded in laughter and more red bandanas were brought out and waved overhead.

John Bull waited and then finally raised his hand for silence.

As the room quieted down, John smiled.

“If those hens were members of the Red Bandana Society, that chicken farm might never have produced a single egg but that rooster would have died from exhaustion.”

The laughter exploded again across the room and now there was a sea of red bandanas waving vigorously in the air.

After the laughter died down, John went on to talk about how to invoke masturbatory habits in married men as a defense against straying. Additionally, he proposed that clubs should consider creating and selling masturbation-worthy trading cards and then use the proceeds to fund their charity events. Many of the members were already exchanging private photos and this simply expanded the idea. John suggested the clubs could create, buy, and sell trading cards specific to their clubs. He predicted that Red Bandana trading cards with pictures of real wives in masturbation-worthy poses would become collector items. Since it was all for charity, the trading cards would be accepted in the same way that pin-up calendars of college co-eds and ladies garden clubs had been accepted.

After the meeting, the six founders of The Masturbating Husband Club of Minneapolis lounged by the pool with red bandanas on display. Pamela, Sam, Barbara, and Sheila wore two-piece swimsuits while Valeria and Wheezy wore micro-bikinis. Wheezy’s was see-through when wet, of course.

With Pina Coladas in hand, they chatted on about John Bull and the growth of The Red Bandana Society, and whether the clubs should expand to include alternative lifestyles or set up as separate operations.

While talking, they each took turns at spreading their legs out wide while sitting and also at unhooking their tops while lying down. This would make a nice visual for their husbands if they were watching.

Pamela raised her Pina Colada and proposed a toast.

“To Sheila, the woman who taught us to train our husbands for amazing orgasms every day and for organizing our first annual event.”

Sheila nodded in recognition and took a sip. “I also propose a toast and say thank you to each of you for helping my Billy have amazing ahhh-gasms every day. It’s been a good year for him and all of us."

Sheila motioned slightly towards the hotel. “If you haven’t noticed, you might want to casually look over at the hotel. It’s something you’re not likely to see again.”

Each of the women looked towards the hotel and began to smile. Wheezy giggled and spread her legs wider.

Across the breadth of the hotel, at least thirty men were standing in the windows, masturbating to the all-female crowd below.

“You’re right, Sheila, we’re not likely to see anything like this ever again… well, maybe not until next year.” Barbara grinned and took another sip of her Pina Colada.

“Are we taking bets on which of our husbands will finish last?” Sam asked.

“It might be more appropriate to bet on who will finish first. I’m thinking Billy’s been in training the longest.” Sheila laughed.

Wheezy simply smiled, popped her breasts out of the flimsy fabric, and shook them towards the hotel.

“Well, I’m hoping for a photo finish. Want to help me?”