JOE AND CELIA HARPER LEFT THE STODGY CORN BELT TO JOIN THE swinging life on the West Coast. Young, naive and eager, they soon lost their mid-western morals and indulged in the mate-swapping game with a gusto that shocked even the old swinging pros. "(Wife-swappers) are trying harder than anyone else on earth to get full sexual pleasure out of lifeand failing dismally," writes Benjamin Morse, M.D., in his book The Sexual Revolution. "The desperation of their efforts is only pathetic, and foredoomed to failure. The marriages ... end in divorce within a few years, giving the Ve to the rejuvenation argument. The people themselves follow the hectic sexual pace for an indeterminate period of time; whether they continue forever or break down as a result of their actions is a moot point." The Harpers' fling with swapping was orgasmic-uncontrollable, violently ecstatic ... and brief.
I
AS LEW WESTCOTT MOVED FORWARD between the spread legs of Linda Milton and covered her voluptuous body with his, he glanced to his right and noted with pleasure that his cute, brunette wife was swinging a leg across the recumbent form of Linda's husband.
Lew nosed his rod into the forest of red curls that lined Linda's cunt, while Marge Westcott impaled herself on Chuck's upstanding prick.
The two swap couples began to screw. This wasn't the first time they had played the game. They were fairly old hands at it. That's why there was no concession to modesty. Everyone screwed in the same room. This was more exciting, they all agreed, because they could watch as well as do.
Lew and Linda were on the living room rug, while Marge was on the sofa, atop Linda's husband. Marge rotated her hips, turning the soft, wet socket of her sex on his upstanding pecker. He gave a few little upward bumps into that twisting, gliding enclosure.
Lew's humping of Linda was at present in the form of long, jarring thrusts of his cock, delivered in a slow, steady tempo. She gasped and whimpered. Her pussy bobbed gently beneath him.
"Ooh, that's it!" she cried. "Bop me! Let me have it! Oh, you horny bastard!"
This caused him to speed up a little, but he continued to drive deep and hard.
Chuck groaned as he probed blissfully upward into Marge's wet, swirling twat. Her lush titties hung above him, and he pawed at them, enjoying the way they wobbled.
Lew was enjoying the rhythmic quiver of Linda's tits, which were even larger than Marge's, but were spread out now, because she lay on her back. Her nipples were light-red, and they poked three-quarters of an inch above the corrugated red circles which surrounded them. As Lew jab-jab-jabbed, the nipples jump-jump-jumped.
He kept stroking his hot cock into Linda's wet, warm cunt, and he glanced at his wife, who was having a real workout atop Chuck. What hips she had! Lew was proud of her.
She panted and gave out a little squeal, then lay forward against the man. She bowed her back, and shifted her wild hips into high.
"Oh, shit!" Chuck yelled, gripping her, and pounding upward into her body.
"Uuh ... uuuuh ... uuuuuuuuh!" moaned Marge.
She had it, sheathing his cock deeply in her snatch and vibrating all over.
Lew bore down into Linda, giving her everything he had.
"Oooh, Zouerrr!" she screamed and gave as good as she got.
They pumped together in savage frenzy.
Orgasm gripped Lew first. But Linda was very close. When she felt his hot squirts of passion, she let go. Her cunt grasped his pulsating pecker and milked his balls of their last drop of cream while she shook and moaned voluptuously.
Another swap party had ended with success for all.
Marge sat up in bed, nude, and stretched. Her rounded titties lifted and tightened, swelling out and upward, their dark nipples stiffly jutting. Her black hair fell in a tangle against her shoulders.
She looked down at her sleeping husband. "Hey, sport, you gotta get up and help me straighten up this place. Celia and Joe will be here this afternoon."
Groaning, Lew flopped onto his back, displaying a bare, hairy chest and a handsome face darkened by an overnight beard. He worked his mouth. It tasted awful.
"Wha time izzit?" he mumbled.
"After ten," Marge yawned.
"Shit, I wanta sleep a while longer." His eyes remained closed.
"Oh, no you don't! It's share and share alike around here ... in play and work."
She gripped the covers and tossed them off him, exposing his limp, circumcised peter and hairy, brownish balls.
"Goddamnit!" he said, and clawed for the covers. But they were out of reach.
Marge laughed. "Come on ... up and at 'em!"
He lunged at her, but she made it off the bed safely, her big breasts bouncing. The tuft of hair at the convergence of her thighs and belly was as black as the disheveled hair on her head.
"Want to shower with me?" she asked, smiling at him.
He thought that over.
"Okay," he said, and sprang to his feet.
They romped into the bathroom together.
Under the warm, tingling spray, they laughed and twisted. His hands slid up and down her sleek sides; hers rubbed soap into the mat on his chest. His hanging cock rubbed and tickled her lower belly.
His hands moved up to grip her wet, hobbling titties. He kneaded them as her hands went to his rump and soaped his hard, lean buttocks.
They did more feeling than washing for a while, but the washing got done eventually. By the time they were through, Lew's prick was up.
"Now, my proud beauty..." he said, gripping her after they stepped out of the tub. He sought to bring his mouth into contact with hers.
But she squealed and side-stepped away from
"Hey, you're not gonna leave me like this!" he protested, pointing to his up-thrust cock.
"Nope. You're gonna leave me. I have to douche."
"The hell with that," he said, and tried to close in on her again.
But she held him back, with her hands against his chest.
"We'll play later," she promised. "After Celia and Joe leave."
He looked forlornly downward. His pecker was already slumping.
"Oh, well," he said, "it got a pretty good workout last night."
"Linda was really wild for it, wasn't she?"
"No more than you were with Chuck."
"They're good people," she said, and smiled at him.
"Damned right. Hey! Do you think there's any chance of breaking Celia and Joe into swapping?"
Marge blinked. Talk about two minds with a single thought! Why else had she been working so hard on Celia for the last few weeks, in her letters, trying to persuade her to get Joe to move West?
Marge hadn't taken Lew into her confidence about this, because she feared he would be jealous. She had known Joe when Celia was dating the guy, and Lew would immediately jump to the conclusion that she had lusted for him all this time.
It was true. She had.
She'd always thought her desire for him was hopeless, until the Miltons taught Lew and her about swapping. It had worked out so well, Marge saw no reason why it wouldn't work out with Celia and Joe Harper, also-and the result would be even happier for her!
"Well? What do you think?" Lew insisted.
"I think you should cool it, buster. Celia is a very proper and strait-laced person, if you will recall."
"I remember how she used to be in the old days. But she's been married for almost two years now. That's bound to have changed her, don't you think?"
"Maybe. But don't get your hopes up ... or your pecker, either. Now, get out of here, will you?" She handed him a towel and started to push him toward the door.
"I've always wanted to watch you douche," he said wistfully.
"You can ... some time. But right now I've gotta hurry. Please!"
He let her back him into the hall, grinning. She closed the door and locked it. He shook his head, but he took the rebuff in good spirits.
He toweled himself as he strolled into the bedroom. As he got dressed, he thought about beautiful, blonde Celia Jackson, who now was Celia Harper, an old married woman of twenty months.
She was exactly Marge's age-twenty-three. They had roomed together at the university. Celia had remained a virgin while dating Joe, who worked in an office in the small Midwestern city where the university was located. Lew was enrolled as a postgraduate in engineering. He and Marge screwed on every date, except when she was having her monthlies.
It was funny-both girls came from the same small-town, Middle West background (Marge's father owned a grocery store, while Celia's father was a druggist) but they were as different as night and day-in appearance, personality, and everything. Still, there was a strong bond of affection between them. Maybe it was because they complimented each other so perfectly. He had known other cases like that, where opposites seemed to exert a powerful attraction, although this went against the teaching of modern psychology.
The two girls had always seemed to trust one another completely. Since college, they had remained close, by letter, even though they hadn't seen each other during the entire time.
Marge and Lew had married right after her graduation, and they moved to Los Angeles, where he had a job waiting in the aerospace industry.
Celia married Joe shortly thereafter and settled down. But according to her letters, Joe was unhappy with the prospects for advancement where he was. He finally became convinced (largely through Marge's glowing accounts of the opportunities awaiting an eager young man in Southern California) that his future lay on the shore of the Pacific.
The Harpers were staying at a motel, following their arrival in Los Angeles the night before. Marge had invited them to move into the Westcotts' small apartment until they became permanently settled, but Celia wouldn't hear of it, because she considered it an imposition. On this Saturday afternoon, the two couples were going to get together for a visit, after which Lew would take them all out to dinner.
Both he and Marge were looking forward to it, and both entertained the same hope-that perhaps the Harpers might prove good prospects for swapping.
To Lew it was only a casual notion, but to Marge it was a burning desire. Though she loved her husband, Joe's all-American good looks and manner had long been her ideal. If Celia hadn't fallen in love with him first, Marge would have grabbed him in an instant.
She had no regrets, really. She and Lew were happy, and they had a good life. Before long, they would start having children.
Who knew but that perhaps she was better off than if she had married Joe. She and Joe might never have gotten along. There was a wild streak in her which Lew understood and which agreed with his own nature, while Joe probably was stodgy through and through.
Still, she wanted him.
Now she hoped that she might have the opportunity to have him at last.
"Honey, we can't do this! We've gotta get dressed. Marge and Lew are expecting us."
"I don't care who's expecting us," Joe murmured against his wife's sweet-smelling neck. "What's a motel for, if not to have fun in?"
"But we had fun last night," she protested, only half-seriously. (She wanted her handsome young husband to make love to her again, though she thought it wasn't quite right to admit it.)
He was leaning over her in bed, his hands now sliding up her front to caress her breasts through her thin nightgown. Celia had small tits, but they were very firm and quivery to the touch. Joe loved to rub them and feel their stiff pink nipples scratch his palms.
There was only one trouble with the rubbing right now-her nightie was in the way and, thin though this was, it bothered him. He took hold of her shoulder straps and slid them down.
"Mmmmmm, baby," she murmured, as the fabric pulled away from her small but jutting nipples, and her tits quivered in the nude before him.
"You're so lovely," he said, and bent his face to the delightful breasts.
His whiskers scratched her delicate flesh, but Celia didn't mind that. In fact, it enhanced her excitement in a strange way. As Joe went from nipple to nipple, nibbling and sucking at them, she held his bushy blonde head between her hands and cooed pleasurably.
Her golden hair lay in disarray around her shoulders but, since she wore it in a straight style, it didn't look bad even now.
Her pussy was heating up. When Joe moved a little, she felt his hard penis against her thigh.
What a wonderful thing that long, stiff tool was! What pleasure it gave her! If she had realized, during her virgin days, what a tremendous thrill it was to take that hardness inside her, she probably couldn't have held out.
But she was glad she had remained a virgin until her wedding night, because Joe knew that no other man had ever possessed her. And no other man ever would, she vowed. She didn't need anyone else, and neither did Joe. But oh, how she needed him! And she needed him right now.
His hands restlessly moved over her lithe body, pulling up her nightie and getting underneath it. He delved into her gossamer panties and stroked her curving cunt, with its covering of wispy hairs. Celia had the finest and most silken pubic hair he had ever touched.
Her legs moved farther apart, and he stroked into the tender gash of her pussy. Its lips were slick with moisture, and the inner crevice was ready for him. He would only have to give his prick a little nudge, and she would swallow up the entirety of it, warmly and snugly.
His head became a little light as he thought about it, and he moved to slide her panties off. She helped him, and he tossed the covers back, away from her.
He gazed at the pink, dewy flower of her womanhood, and his cock throbbed harder than ever. It thrust more than seven inches, straight out and upward, through the fly of his pajamas. The skin over its head was pulling back, exposing the pink, moist tip of the prick.
He slid over Celia's thigh and settled into the saddle of her loins.
"Darling..." she said, and her delicate hand surrounded his rock-hard pecker, pointing it toward the tingling little pussy which wanted it so.
He nosed his cock into that dainty cove. He felt her slick, warm membranes surround the tip of his penis. He pushed, and the shaft sank within her, inch by delectable inch. Her cunt was snug around it. and her flesh shoved back his foreskin as he entered her. He continued to push until the throbbing pecker was into her all the way.
She gasped and moaned with delight, "Oooh, baby!"
"And you didn't want to do it," he reminded her, grinning down.
"Don't ever listen to me. Just move hard and deep." When he began, she murmured passionately, "Ooh, that's the greatest! I pity all the ... girls in the world ... who aren't married."
"And I pity all the ... guys who have to ... make love to ... other women."
"Angel!"
She gripped him around the neck and lifted her legs to bracket his pumping flanks. She kept her legs in the air for a little while, flexing them as he stroked in and out of her happy hole, then she brought them down around him and clamped on. She began pulling herself against him rhythmically, moving in time with his glorious prick thrusts.
This was screwing as it was meant to be-as the angels had devised it. Nothing could be better, she believed. Nothing in all creation.
Big, handsome Joe gradually increased the tempo of the humping until his husky prick stroked up and down inside Celia at a rapid rate, rubbing her clit with ecstatic effect. She gripped him with arms and legs and moaned as she bobbed her red-hot cunt around his rod. They approached a blissful mutual orgasm at break-neck speed.
When it happened, she squealed. Joe's groans mingled with her high-pitched cries while their bodies were mingled, their sex organs throbbing in perfect union.
After the thrills had tapered off, she continued to cling to him for quite a while, and his kisses told her he was a happy, well-satisfied man. This gave her just about as much pleasure as her own physical satisfaction.
When marriage was so very good, how could a wife-or husband-even think of roaming around?
Her reunion with Marge, that afternoon, was as much fun for both of them as they had known it would be. They monopolized the conversation, chattering about old times. Lew and Joe could offer little besides an occasional brief comment.
It wasn't until Marge took her old friend on a tour of the apartment that the men had a good opportunity to get reacquainted. Their conversation turned immediately to their careers-the opportunities which Lew had found in Southern California, and those which Joe hoped to find in his own line, which was business management.
In the kitchen, the talk was a great deal different.
Marge invited Celia to sit down across the table from her, to finish the drinks Lew had poured for them. It was then that Celia discovered her erstwhile college chum had grown a great deal more sophisticated during the intervening years.
"Well, honey, how do you like married life?" Marge inquired pointedly.
"It's groovy!" Celia said with girlish enthusiasm. "Joe's a wonderful man. I can't get over how lucky I am to have him."
"That steady screwing is really out of sight, isn't it?"
Celia blinked. "Marge! How long have you been using words like that?"
"Screwing, you mean? I always have, haven't I?"
"Not when we were in college."
"Well, I guess I didn't use them with you, because you were very much the little virgin. I didn't want to shock the panties off you." She grinned. "But I used to talk that way with the other girls sometimes ... and with guys, when we were doing it"
"But you only did it with Lew."
"Not exactly. I had some other experience before him," she admitted. "Anyway, what makes you think Lew doesn't talk that way? Don't you and your hubby use dirty words once in awhile, when you're in bed together?"
"Never."
"You poor kid. That makes screwing more fun."
Celia couldn't suppress a gasp.
Marge laughed. "Okay ... okay ... I'm sorry. I'll try to watch myself. Lew and I travel in a rather fast crowd, I guess. We all talk that way so much that I just sort of take it for granted. Hey, how is Joe as a lover?"
"He's all any girl could ask for."
"Is he? Really? That's saying a lot."
"Well, it's true."
"How is he hung?"
"What?"
"How is he hung, silly? How many inches does he have?"
When Celia continued to gaze at her as if she had propounded a question in nuclear physics, Marge lost her patience and blurted, "How long is his ever-loving cock?"
Celia nearly choked on her drink.
"Well, it's a perfectly reasonable question," Marge insisted. "You two must have measured it. All newly married couples do."
"I ... I never heard of such a thing," Celia replied, blushing furiously. "And we don't call it a ... a ... "
Marge chuckled. "All right. Penis, then. How long is Mister Wonderful's penis?"
"I don't have any idea," Celia insisted, still blushing.
"Does it touch bottom?" Marge asked with a wicked glint in her dark eyes.
"Marge, I won't sit here and discuss Joe's intimate anatomy. For goodness sake!"
"Lew doesn't have an especially large one," Marge went on, undaunted. "It's only six inches, which is about average, I understand. But he sure knows how to use it. And that isn't all he knows how to use."
She watched her friend closely to see whether the last remark had registered. But Celia seemed so shaken by the whole subject that it was hard to tell
"You know what French means, don't you?" Marge prompted.
"The language ... the people?"
"No, dummy," Marge said with a gentle laugh. "In love-making! Don't you know what it means to French?"
"To kiss with tongues?"
"Hooray! We're finally speaking the same language. But I'm not talking about kissing each other's mouths."
She waited to see what response that would bring, but Celia refused to look at her. And the other girl was so flustered that Marge gave up the entire subject.
The conversation shifted to inconsequential matters, and they continued their tour of the apartment.
Lew grabbed a moment alone with his wife just before the foursome went out to dinner.
"Did you feel her out about swapping?" he asked.
"God, no! Lew, she'd just as square as she used to be. I'd shock her out of her pants if I so much as brought up the subject. And don't you, for Pete's sake."
"Shit," he said, "I was kinda hoping I might get into her this evening."
He grinned to show his wife that he wasn't completely serious.
"Well, you'd better get that right out of your horny head," she advised tartly.
Marge wasn't about to banish it from her own brain, however. Now that she had seen Joe again, she wanted him all the more. And she was going to swing it, if there was the slightest possibility of doing so.
II
"HOW OFTEN DO YOU CATCH YOUR husband looking at other women?" Marge asked, when she and Celia were enjoying their first girlish tete-a-tete in the formers apartment. (Lew was at work, and Joe was interviewing for a new connection.)
"He never looks," Celia insisted stoutly.
"Oh, come on. All men look. The question is, does he let you know it, or is he sneaky about the thing? If he doesn't let you see him doing it, it's bad news."
"What do you mean?"
"It means you two aren't as close as you ought to be."
"Marge, that's silly. We're as close as any married couple could be. We tell each other everything."
"How many times has he commented to you about a cute ass or a juicy pair of tits that jiggles by?"
Celia put her hand to her cheek. "Marge, you're awful! Where did you pick up such words?"
"Don't evade the issue. Has Joe ever even praised the looks of an actress or girl singer on TV? I'll bet he hasn't."
"I don't see what that has to do with anything."
"You don't, hmm? Listen, baby-men have balls, and their balls are busy manufacturing juice all the time. That juice is the stuff that keeps them looking at women, and I don't mean only their wives.
After a while, they do more than look ... then you're in trouble, unless you've prepared for the day."
Celia was blushing furiously, but Marge had stimulated her interest. She asked, "Does Lew look at other girls?"
"Of course."
"And that doesn't bother you?"
"It would bother me if he didn't."
"Marge, I don't understand you any more."
The other woman laughed gently. "I haven't changed. I just figure I can be more frank with you than I used to be, that's all. We're both experienced now. But, getting back to men ... I let Lew have his fun. That's the only way to do it, honey."
"You mean, his fun looking?"
"Looking ... and touching ... and screwing."
"Marge, no!"
"Of course. We screw together." She smiled at her friend's look of horror. "We swap, silly."
"Swap? What's that?"
"Baby, you're more naive than I thought. We exchange husbands and wives with another couple we know."
Celia stared, speechless for the moment. "Lots of people are doing it these days," Marge said. "It's very in."
"But it's ... adultery!"
"So? Words don't scare me. And I'm not scared of the competition, either. I don't think there's a woman in the world who could take Lew away from me, especially since I let him have his variety. All men need that. Even your Joe."
"Well, I certainly wouldn't let him go to bed with another woman!"
"Honey, he's gonna do it some day, whether you let him or not. And if a lot of frustration and resentment builds up in the meantime, it's apt to wreck your marriage. There's no resentment between Lew and me, because I'm not standing between him and his outside fun."
"But sex is something sacred."
"Oh, bullshit. It's just a form of human expression, that's all. Sex and having babies are two different things, thanks to The Pill. Modern women don't have to take screwing as seriously as our mothers and grandmothers did."
"Well, it's still a serious thing to me."
"Serious as a form of enjoying yourself, sure. But we're getting off the subject. The point is-every man needs more sex than one woman can give him. Love has nothing to do with it. He can love his wife and want to stay married to her, but he still needs to step out once in a while. That's how men are."
"It sounds to me as if Lew has given you a great big snow job," Celia said.
"I didn't get this from Lew. It's what the top psychologists say. Oh, I forgot-you didn't take psychology in college, did you?"
"No, I didn't. I think that Freudian stuff is all baloney."
Marge studied her for a moment, then shook her head. "That's the kind of attitude that leads a wife into trouble. Believe me."
"And you think it's all right to ... turn your husband over to another woman for the night?"
"Sure. As long as she'll turn her husband over to me. She can't do anything for Lew that I can't, and she can't do it any better. She just gives him a little variety, and that keeps him from feeling marriage is a trap."
"Joe doesn't feel trapped," Celia insisted. "Doesn't he? Are you sure?" Marge gave her a wise look.
"Well, he's never said..."
"Of course not. He doesn't want to hurt you, and he doesn't want you to think he's a lech. But he's looking at other females, don't worry. And he's wishing he could take a crack at them. You know what they say about wishes, honey-that they're father to the thought. And when a man has the thought, can the act be far behind?"
Celia was shaken. No one had ever talked to her along these lines before. It certainly did give her something to think about.
The knowledge that Marge and Lew swapped partners with another couple was a tremendous shock. If Marge were just a casual acquaintance, Celia would have dropped her after hearing this. But she couldn't dismiss an old friend so lightly ... and she couldn't lightly dismiss what an old friend said, either.
The conversation turned to other matters, but the swap subject continued to roil Celia's mind.
Marge had known it would. That was why she brought it up. She had no intention of pushing it right now. Just let Celia think about it for a while. Then, after she got over her shock, and after the swap notion really sank in, Marge would proceed to capitalize on it.
"I mentioned swapping to Celia today," Marge reported that night, when she and Lew got into bed.
"You did?" he responded eagerly. "What did she say?"
"She was shocked, of course, as I said she would be. But she's thinking it over. Maybe something will come of it."
"I hope so! How come you changed your mind and brought the subject up?"
"I didn't change my mind, silly. I intended to do it all the time. I just didn't want you screwing things up by mentioning it that first day-and especially not with Joe present. He's probably a bigger prude than she is."
"Well, if that's the case, I don't see..."
"Right. You don't see. It's female psychology I'm working on, and what would you know about that? Now, let's get off the subject, shall we?" She snuggled close and whispered in this ear, "How about some action, mister?"
"Lady, you just said the magic word."
His eager hand came up between her legs to cup her hot cunt. The soft bearded lips nestled in his hand, and the heel of his palm pressed her firm mound, where there was a thicker blanket of hair.
He kissed her, dipping his tongue between her lips and into her honeyed mouth. She held him and ground her large tits against his body.
His rod came up quickly.
His middle finger sought the passageway into her secret depths, found it, and sank into the moistening softness. As his tongue lashed the interior of her mouth, his finger stirred her pussy.
Her hand slid down his body, causing him to shiver with delight. It caught his up-thrust prick and surrounded it snugly. She stroked his sensitive corona and returned his kiss with her tongue.
Torrid desire built within them to a point where it would no longer be satisfied with mere mouth-kissing and caresses by the hands. When Lew terminated their kiss and began to change positions on the bed, Marge knew immediately what he had in mind, and she slid off the pillow, arranging herself kitty-corner to the mattress, so that they would have more room.
69ing was one of the Westcotts' favorite joys. Lew usually spread himself atop Marge and bent to the succulent delicacy between her thighs while thrusting his prick between her waiting lips and deeply into her mouth. The topmost position protected him from suffocation and also made it possible for him to screw her mouth in an active way. He could stroke his happy prick in and out, bunting its head against her palate. He had to be careful, however, not to plunge too deeply, which he sometimes had an urge to do.
They assumed the position, with Lew's legs straddling his wife's face and her thighs open to receive his head. He wasn't hesitant about getting his face down onto her cunt. In fact, he dug right in as if he liked it, sinking his tongue into her slit and suctioning his lips against its soft, slick rim.
She accepted his cock just as eagerly, opening her mouth wide so that he could jam it well in. He began to hunch, stroking the prick in and out between her lips and between her teeth, which scraped his tender flesh delightfully. The end of his dick pressed deeper and deeper into her throat. She sucked on it avidly and stroked it with her wet, slightly abrasive tongue.
He twisted and turned at her loins, licking into her cunt from different angles. He sucked up her honey and swallowed it. His lips nibbled at her tingling little clit. His nose pressed into her intoxicatingly fragrant flesh.
Marge gripped her husband's buttocks and worked them with her fingers as he pumped away at her face. He ran his hands up the undersides of her thighs to the soft, rubbery pillows of her ass, and he took hold of them in the way that she was holding him. He kneaded the pliant flesh, his fingers sinking into it as his tongue sank rhythmically into her pussy.
He stirred his wife to a frenzy, and her sucking, licking mouth brought him to a state where his balls were extremely congested. A few more licks at his peckerhead ... a few more thrusts of that pecker deep within her sucking mouth ... and he would ejaculate into her throat.
Sometimes he had let this happen, and she had learned to enjoy it. But tonight he wanted to finish in the soft little crevice which Nature had designed for that purpose.
He pulled his prick from her mouth and let it bob above her face, trailing a gleaming string of saliva mixed with cock lubricant. He turned. His knees scrambled between her splayed thighs.
She gazed up at him hotly. Her eyes were burning coals of passion. Her lips lolled. Her tongue was visible between her gleaming teeth.
He fastened his mouth down onto hers and sank his tongue into it as his hot cock sank into the slick, warm flesh of her vagina. She began to move immediately, setting the rhythm. He stroked in time with her bobbing hips, and he moved his tongue in her mouth at the same tempo.
Once more he was screwing her, in the same two places at the same time, but with the instruments of screwing interchanged.
She sucked at his tongue and even bit at it as she ground her needy cunt around his pumping pecker. He moved faster and faster. The bed sighed and creaked beneath them.
They grasped for the whipping tail of their passion kite, caught it at exactly the same moment, and held on. It shook and buffeted them blissfully.
Gradually the storm ebbed, and they drifted gently back to earth.
Celia lay wakefully beside her sleeping husband and thought about her old girl friend's disquieting remarks when the two had talked that afternoon.
Did Joe feel trapped by marriage? Did he have the urge to sample other women, as Marge had said?
He was starting a new job tomorrow. Would there be some beautiful girl ... or girls ... in the office who would appeal to him? What would he do about it? If they flirted with him, would he respond?
He had never given Celia any reason to doubt his love or fidelity. But perhaps Marge was right. Celia had always given her girl friend credit for knowing more about the world than she did, especially when it came to matters of love and sex.
Marge had indicated that swapping of mates was the answer to a husband's roving urge. But Celia feared that the "cure" was as bad as the disease, in this instance.
Oh, she was being silly to even think about it. Maybe Marge was wiser than she, but no one could generalize about husbands and say that they all followed the same pattern. She knew Joe very well-better than anyone in the world, and that certainly included Marge. He wasn't the roving kind.
It didn't enter her mind that Marge had an ulterior motive in bringing up the subject of mate swaps. She trusted Marge, even though she didn't agree with her in all cases.
She tried to calm herself and drop off to sleep.
But this took some time, and meanwhile she continued to be troubled about what Marge had said. Somehow, she couldn't lay the subject to rest.
Southern California was a great deal different from the part of the country where she and Joe had always lived. Life moved at a faster pace. People were apparently more free and easy in their attitudes. (Look what had happened to Marge and Lew since they had moved out here!) And the place abounded with beautiful women.
What if Joe were to meet a girl who was very free and easy, and what if she fell for him? He was an attractive guy.
Damn!
When Celia finally did fall asleep, her dreams reflected the troubled state of her mind.
In the morning, it was with a strange sense of trepidation that she sent him off to work ... in a large company, located in a huge, gleaming building on Wilshire Boulevard. What would he find there? What effect would the people that he met have upon him?
More to the point, what could Celia do about it?
The answer to that seemed to be, nothing.
Again she tried to convince herself that she was silly to anticipate a problem where none really ought to arise. But again the admonition failed to work.
She was restless throughout the day. She had an urge to phone Marge, but she resisted that. What advice could Marge give her? Marge was the one who had put the fear in her mind.
Darn Marge, anyway!
But Celia couldn't be angry with her old friend. Marge undoubtedly was sincere. She spoke from her own standpoint-with Lew in mind more than Joe, no doubt.
It was in this that Celia found some measure of comfort. Lew and Joe weren't alike. What applied to Lew wouldn't necessarily apply to Joe at all.
But the nagging uncertainty, which Marge had planted in her mind, remained.
III
"MAN, I ENVY YOU! I'VE BEEN SLOGGING away in this place for over a year, and look what I've got for a secretary-old Mrs. Houston, with piano legs, no tits, and hips like an oil drum. You walk into the joint this morning, and they give you that. Hell, there's no justice!"
Hal Peters grinned as he said it, so it was clear that he harbored no resentment toward his new colleague in the company. In fact, he and Joe had taken a liking to each other right away.
Joe sympathized with the other man's bantering complaint. He had met Mrs. Houston, and she was no prize. On the other hand, his secretary, to whom Hank referred, was a sexboat.
The men watched her through the glass which separated Joe's small office from the larger room where several secretaries and stenographers worked. Actually the girl, whose name was Sandra Cooper, didn't work for Joe alone; he shared her with two other men who had cubicles next to his. Hank worked at the other end of the section, but he had been given the assignment of breaking Joe in and showing him around.
Sandra was blonde and young-probably not more than twenty-and she had the kind of figure that was made for sweaters, which probably explained why she wore a sweater today. Her skirt was short and as form-fitting as the current style permitted, proving that she not only had tits which were standouts, but a voluptuous ass, as well ... and legs which would have qualified her for a Las Vegas chorus line.
Joe got a pleasant little itch in his loins when he looked at her. The fact that he was going to be working closely with her during the weeks and months to come struck him as one of the finer fringe benefits which his new employer had to offer.
But that was as far as it went. He loved Celia, and he hadn't been married to her long enough to take her for granted. He might look at other women ... he might even fantasize occasionally about taking them to bed, but he had no active desire to do so. Celia was his wife and would in due course become the mother of his children, he hoped. He had no wish to jeopardize all that for an inconsequential fling.
After awhile, Hank left him, and he called Sandra in to discuss with her certain details of office procedure. She took the chair beside his desk and crossed her luscious legs. The shortness of her skirt afforded him a view of her thighs, nearly all the way to their tops, but, since she wore panty hose, he glimpsed no bare flesh.
She smiled faintly when his touring gaze lifted to her face.
"See anything you like?" she asked.
He colored a little. "You have beautiful legs."
"Thanks. Is that what you called me in to say?"
"Not exactly." He smiled and directed his attention to the papers on his desk. He launched into the questions he wanted to ask her.
That night, Celia listened with great interest to everything Joe had to say about his new job. Then she surprised him by asking, "How about your secretary-is she pretty?"
"Sure." He grinned a little uneasily. "She's not really my secretary, though. She works for a couple of other guys, too."
"Is she young?"
"About twenty, I guess. Hey, what's all this, anyway?" He chucked her under the chin. "You weren't interested in who took my dictation back home."
"What's her name?"
"Sandra."
"Mmmmm. Very glamorous. Is she the Hollywood type?"
He decided to bug Celia a little. She was asking for it, wasn't she?
"Oh, she's very good-looking, if that's what you mean. Nice legs. Rounded hips. And, man, does she wear a sweater!"
"She does, hmm?" Celia's eyes flashed.
He laughed at her. "Baby, if you could see yourself right now!"
"I don't want to talk about it any more," she sniffed, and asked abruptly, "Are we going out apartment-hunting tonight?"
"Sure. Right after I take you to dinner." He tapped the tip of her pretty nose. She didn't smile.
He wondered what had started her on the jealousy kick. She'd never been that way before, and he certainly had never given her any cause to doubt his love.
He decided he would have to give her a real good screwing tonight.
Celia's thoughts ran along a different line altogether. What he had just said about his new secretary, though it was offered in a light vein, seemed to confirm what Marge had said yesterday about the roving eye of husbands. So Joe was like the others, after all. That meant to Celia that she did indeed have something to worry about.
The next question was whether Marge's solution to the problem was as sound as her diagnosis of the problem itself.
Celia could hardly bring herself to think seriously about mate-swapping. But if it worked for Marge and Lew...
Was Marge suggesting that she and Joe swap with Lew and herself? They were the only couple she and Joe knew in Los Angeles right now, and Celia trusted Marge. But it would be such a daring step. And what if Joe decided he liked Marge better than her?
For the very first time, she thought about going to bed with Lew. He was attractive enough, but she'd never had any yen for him.
How would it be with a man other than Joe? She simply had no idea.
She was afraid she couldn't face up to it, and she didn't believe she could give Joe a free ticket into another woman's bed, either, even if she trusted the other woman as much as she trusted Marge.
Oh, what was the matter with her? She was letting her fears carry her away. Joe hadn't done anything to give her grounds for suspicion. Maybe he was looking at other women, as Marge had warned, but that didn't mean he would do anything about it.
That night, when Joe initiated the lovemaking, Celia threw herself into it with as much abandon as he had ever displayed.
She reached into his pajama pants and began to caress his pecker. She slid its velvety foreskin against the ridge of its head. This caused Joe to groan with pleasure, and he pawed at her taut little titties. They shook like Jello-O. He bent and gobbled up a thrusting pink nipple. He laved it with his tongue, then drew it deeper into his mouth and sucked voluptuously.
Celia squirmed and gripped his cock harder. He slid his hand down across her rumpled nightie and to her cunt, which he had previously denuded. He stroked its soft lips with his fingers.
She drew her knees up and parted her thighs. His middle finger glided into her slick cove. As he stroked her pussy, delighting her stiff little clit, his mouth ranged over her entire upper body ... kissing, licking and nibbling at her delicately scented flesh.
His mouth reached hers, and their lips clung. Their tongues stroked liquidly.
She extended a leg around his waist and tugged at his cock to get him to come closer. He moved up to her, his prick a thrusting column of bone-hard flesh aimed at the moist, warm mouth of her pussy. She guided it, and it entered the elastic little orifice, stretching her membranes slightly, the way she liked him to do. He sank into her, inch by blissful inch, until his pecker penetrated her to a depth of seven throbbing inches. She had her cunt tilted exactly right and pressed snugly against him, so that, even though they were on their sides, the fit was perfect.
His hand slid down her back and around her curvy little bottom. He grasped hold. He squeezed and kneaded the firm cheeks of her ass as her hips pumped against his pumping. His prick slid in and out, in and out, in and out of her eager cunt.
The last thing Joe would have thought about right then was another woman. He concentrated completely on the pleasure which Celia was giving him.
She enjoyed herself, also, but she couldn't help thinking about the secretary in his office, whose sexy charms he had described. She wondered if Joe wished he were with her right now. Did he want to stick his big hard rod into her vagina?
Then a corollary suggestion came to Celia's mind: What if the cock inside her belonged to a different man? What if it were Lew's-would she enjoy it more?
Such questions, at a time like this, were a form of hysteria, to be sure, for she was very happy to have her own husband's cock where it was, screwing her deliciously.
She forced the giddy doubts from her mind and tossed her cunt at Joe with greater gusto. He pumped vigorously into the soft, wet hole. Their merging organs made a liquid sound. The inner-spring mattress wheezed.
Finally the sensation got so goddamned good for Joe that he couldn't tolerate the restricted motion of this position.
He panted, "I want to get on you."
"Oooh, yesssss!" she said.
He rolled atop her, keeping his cock in her cunt as they turned. Her legs lifted at his sides. He began to hunch harder, driving his rigid dick deeper and deeper into her twat until its blunt head battered the entrance to her womb.
He growled exultantly and shifted into quicker tempo. Celia wound her legs over his back and gripped him hard. She pumped with him, stroke for stroke.
Up ... up ... and away they went To the paradise which only lovers know. Celia clung to her husband and quivered ecstatically as his hot bursts of passion exploded deeply within her.
Let some other woman have him? Never. And she never wanted another man. That seemed to settle the matter ... for now.
During the next day, Celia busied herself phoning landlords who had furnished apartments advertised in the paper. She set up a couple of appointments for that evening. She and Joe were anxious to find a place and get settled as quickly as possible.
Toward the middle of the afternoon, right after she hung up the phone, it rang. She snatched it quickly and answered.
"Good Lord!" Joe exclaimed. "I've been trying to get you for an hour."
"Sorry, darling," she said, "but I've been calling about apartments."
"Well, anyway ... I wanted to tell you that I won't be home tonight until late."
A little chill crept along her spine. "Oh?"
"There's a special meeting that's been called. Then we're all going to have dinner together. It may run on into the night."
"How late?" Celia asked, her voice strangely tight.
"I don't know. Eleven ... maybe midnight or so. It shouldn't be much later than that."
"Well ... have a good time."
"I'm not out to have a good time, Celia. It's business."
"Yes, darling. Of course it is."
"I'm sorry that you'll have to go to dinner alone."
"Oh, I'll manage." There was frost in the air. "Celia? Are you angry."
"No. Why should I be angrv."
"You shouldn't."
"And I'm not. Good-bye, darling." She hung up.
She didn't disbelieve his story exactly. But her suspicions were aroused. He had never worked late on his old job. Now, on only his second day on the new job in Los Angeles, he had to stay out at night. It was funny.
Add this to what he had told her yesterday about his hot-looking secretary, and Celia saw plenty of cause for alarm.
Everything Marge had told her came tumbling back into her mind.
As she thought about it, she became miserable.
Her misery reached such a pitch that she called a taxi and rode over to her husband's office building just before his normal quitting time. She took a front table in a little coffee shop across the street and waited, watching the building's front entrance.
The parking lot which he used was down the street, he had told her. That meant he would-likely leave his building by the front way.
Sure enough. At precisely five minutes after the hour, he appeared in a crowd of fellow employees. She couldn't tell at first whether he was alone or not but, as he turned to walk toward the parking lot, she saw that he wasn't.
There was a beautiful girl walking beside him. She was blonde and gorgeously curved. She wore a miniskirt, and her legs were very shapely.
They walked along conversing in a bright, animated way.
Celia was numb with shock.
Her worst fears had come true.
She had an impulse to leave the coffee shop, cross the street, and catch up with Joe and his companion. But she couldn't do that. They couldn't have a scene right on the sidewalk.
Anyway, what was there to tell him? It was obvious that he was going out on a date with this girl, probably his secretary. There was no business meeting at all.
She felt desolate as she watched them disappear from sight.
What did a wife do at a time like this? Some women would have packed and left their husbands. Should she do that? Even as angry and hurt as she was, she didn't want to take such an extreme step. Perhaps their marriage still could be saved.
She reviewed again what Marge had told her, and now she saw it in a different light. Marge was completely correct. She knew men, especially what happened to them in a city like Los Angeles.
Celia was prepared to believe now that Marge also knew the only practical cure for the problem, as unpalatable as it seemed: If a husband was bound and determined to play around, the modern, intelligent wife had to make it possible for him to do it without upsetting their marriage. Swapping with someone she trusted appeared to be the answer.
She hurried back to the motel and called her friend right away.
"Celia!" Marge exclaimed. "It's nice to hear from you. How're you getting along?"
"Ooh, Marge!" Celia broke into tears.
"Hey ... that's no way to feel. What's the matter?"
"It's Joe," she sniffled. "You were right about him. He's ... having an affair with another woman."
"What?"
"It's true. I just saw them leave his office together. He called me this afternoon and told me he was going to work late but ... well, I don't believe him. So I went over to his office. He left with this gorgeous girl-his secretary, I think. They were laughing and having a good time. Oooh, I don't know what to doooo." She began bawling once more.
"Easy," Marge soothed. "It's nothing to get all upset over. But it bears out what I said, doesn't it?"
"It certainly does." Celia sniffed back her tears. "And maybe you were right about the other, too."
"The swapping."
"Y-yes."
Marge was overjoyed. She'd had no idea that things would work out so quickly, and so favorably from her point of view. She had counted on Celia's feminine anxiety bringing her around to an acceptance of the swap idea eventually, after Marge had plied her with suggestions about the adulterous inclinations of the married male. But Joe had turned out to be more of a swinger than Marge had thought, and this had made the whole ploy ridiculously simple.
"Don't worry about a thing," she told Celia. "Lew and I will have you two over this Friday evening. We'll discuss swapping, and we'll let things take their course. You back me up, hm?"
"Marge, are you sure this will make him give up the other girl?"
"Why not? All he wants is strange tail."
"Ooh, Marge. You make it sound so ... vulgar."
"It isn't vulgar. It's natural. Joe will get what he wants from me ... and you can trust me. You know that. Lew will take good care of you, also."
"Marge, I don't know if I can go through with it."
"Of course you can. Just let me handle everything."
"What if ... " She stopped. "Yes?"
"What if Joe becomes infatuated with you?"
Marge laughed. "I won't let him. What kind of a friend would I be if I were to let something like that happen?"
"But, maybe you won't have to do anything. Maybe Joe will just go overboard for you."
"I told you that you can trust me. You believe that, don't you?"
Celia didn't hesitate. "Yes."
"Then relax. It's gonna be fun and games, that's all-a nice pleasant evening. And after it's over, you'll have a more secure marriage than you have now. Guaranteed."
With her husband running around with his secretary, Celia didn't see how her marriage could be much worse.
Had she known the truth, her attitude would have been altogether different. But panic had gripped her, and this was due in large part to the corrosive suggestions Marge had planted in her mind.
To Marge, the ploy was innocent enough. Swapping hadn't hurt Lew and herself, she believed. In fact, it had made their life more exciting. So, why shouldn't it have the same effect on Celia and Joe?
As to what she had told Celia about men, Marge believed it. She felt she was doing her friend a favor to wise her up before it was too late.
Joe would have been shocked if he had known what the two women were planning.
Seated now in a conference room, with his secretary at his side, he was deep in a discussion of marketing trends with representatives of several companies who did business with his firm. He had brought Sandra to the meeting because there was a great deal of information to be made available which he would need for future reference. Sex was as far from his mind right now as Scientology or Sanskrit.
When the business discussion broke up, Sandra left. Joe and the other men went out to dinner. Afterward they had a few drinks and watched a show. The party ended at a little after eleven.
Celia lay awake in their bed when he arrived back at the motel at twenty minutes to twelve. She closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep. Joe didn't disturb her.
When he climbed into bed at her side, she couldn't get over the thought that he had been out with another woman-wining and dining her, then screwing her undoubtedly. Celia dwelled on the idea of his penis in the other woman's vagina.
Well two could play that game, as he would find out. She would have another penis in her slit come Friday. Lew's penis, to be precise.
And Joe would get into Marge.
This thought hurt, in a way. But not as much as her imagining of what had happened that very evening.
At least, the swap would wean him away from the hot, young blonde he'd been out with. And if he felt trapped and frustrated by marriage, he wouldn't need to feel that way any longer.
Her mind drifted to thoughts of Lew and what sort of lover he would prove to be. He'd had a great deal more experience than Joe, most-likely-both before and after marriage.
She wondered how she would feel toward Joe after another man had laid her. Would she appreciate him less or more? Would they be as close?
But that was a laugh. They weren't close as it was, or he wouldn't be stepping out on her.
It was quite late before she finally fell asleep.
IV
ON FRIDAY EVENING, CELIA WAS TENSE with anxiety and excitement, because she knew what was going to happen. Joe, who had no idea what was in the offing, was relaxed as they drove over to the Westcotts' apartment.
He couldn't understand why Celia was so uptight. But he'd had difficulty figuring out her state of mind for several days now. He finally had put it down to the fact that she had been uprooted and brought to a strange locality for the first time in her life, and she hadn't made her adjustment yet. Tomorrow they would move into the apartment they had rented, and she would begin to feel more relaxed, he believed.
The visit with Marge and Lew tonight ought to help.
Glancing at his wife out of the corner of his eye, Joe noted that she literally was biting her fingernails.
"For Pete's sake, honey, calm down," he said. She jerked her head in his direction. "What."
"Calm down." He grinned at her. "I know this traffic is bad, but I'm getting used to it now. And you don't see me breaking any speed limits."
"Oh. I wasn't worried about your driving."
"Then, what is it?"
"I don't know. I'm all right."
He gave her another quick look. She seemed more composed. Actually she was just doing a little better job controlling the outward manifestations of her tension, while inside she was as tightly strung as ever.
Lew, she kept thinking. He's going to have me tonight. And Marge is going to have Joe. God!
She wasn't about to back out, however. She and Marge had talked on the phone that afternoon, and the other girl had further reinforced Celia's conclusion that this was the only way to curb Joe's disastrous tendency to screw around.
The truth of the matter was that Celia was looking forward to the opportunity to sample a new love partner, herself. She wouldn't admit this fully and frankly to her conscious mind, but it was very much in her subconscious. Without this factor being present, she might not have gone through with the scheme, in spite of her conviction that it would help save her marriage.
Marge and Lew greeted them enthusiastically, and Lew immediately poured drinks. It seemed to Celia that he was looking at her in a new way, though this might have been due to the fact that" she was paving more attention to him.
Marge took Joe's arm and walked him across the living room to the sofa. The lights were pleasantly dim, and a stack of LPs were playing on the hi-fi.
He wondered about the special gleam in Marge's eyes when they sat down together. She was even more animated than usual, and she didn't take her gaze off him for more than a few seconds at a time. This made him a little nervous, but it appealed to his ego. He gulped at his drink, looking to the alcohol to relax him.
Lew stood close to Celia, at the opposite side of the room.
"We're gonna have quite an evening," he said in a warmly suggestive tone.
When his fingers closed around her bare arm, she shivered.
He chuckled. "What's the matter."
"N-nothing." She tried to smile and made a botch of it.
"Don't worry," he said. "Marge and I were first-timers once. In fact, the truth is that we're a little nervous tonight ourselves. We've only swapped with one couple so far."
"Shhhh."
"Okay. Okay. But when Marge goes to work on your husband, he'll be as eager for this as I hope you are." Emphasizing the word hope, he gazed at her over his glass.
She didn't know what to say, so she took a large swallow of her drink. It was strong. God, Lew had really loaded it.
Marge and Joe were chatting about impersonal subjects. But her seductive gaze was on him constantly.
Finally she said, "I really feel wild tonight. How about you?"
"I feel great," he admitted. "Especially now that I've got a little bit of this inside me." He indicated his drink, and called to Lew, "You sure didn't skimp on the portions, buddy."
"Too strong for you?"
"Who's complaining?"
Marge moved closer to Joe and touched his thigh. He felt an electric thrill.
"I heard a cute story the other day," she said. "But it's a little raw. Think you can take it?"
"Try me." He grinned.
"Well, Mama was giving little Johnny a bath, and his sister Judy came in. She pointed to his peter and asked, 'What's that?' The mother said, 'It's nothing, dear,' and she left to get a clean diaper. When she got back, little Judy looked devilish, so Mama asked, 'What have you been doing?' Judy said 'Oh, nothing. But you know that funny little thing-I found out it's not a whistle.' "
Joe laughed so uproariously that Celia looked his way. "What's going on over there?"
"We're telling dirty stories," Marge said. "Know any good ones?"
"Heavens, no."
"I do," said Lew. "This gal walked into the bar, and the bartender noticed that her elbows were all rough and red. So he joked, 'Did you get your elbows like that from doin' it dog fashion?' And she said, 'That's right-my dog doesn't know how to do it any other way.' "
Celia turned red, and Joe laughed loudly again.
"Well, it looks like we're getting in the right mood," Marge said. "I was just telling Joe," she continued to Celia, "that I feel really wild tonight. How do you feel, honey?"
"Great," Celia said, tensing up again. Here it comes, she thought.
"We're all old friends," Marge went on. "What do you say we fool around a little?"
"I'm for that!" Lew spoke up.
"Just what did you have in mind?" Joe grinned, as he leaned close to the pretty brunette, burlesquing a confidential manner.
"Let's pair off for the evening, the way we are right now-you with me and Celia with Lew." She glanced at Celia. "Doesn't that sound like fun?"
Joe was nonplussed. He looked at his wife and was surprised to see her smile.
"Sure," Celia said. "It sounds groovy!"
"Hey, now wait a minute," Joe said. He asked Marge, "What do you mean by pairing off?"
"Oh, just fool around. Do whatever we feel like. Are you afraid?" she challenged, leaning toward him until only an inch separated their faces.
"Well, no, but..."
His gaze was swimming in her eyes, and he inhaled her exciting perfume. He glanced downward at the creamy tops of her titties which were visible almost to the nipples, now that the bodice of her dress was hanging forward.
"Come on, let's go into the other room," Lew said softly to Celia, and he took her arm.
Joe turned his head and watched them leave the living room.
"Hey..." he started to protest, and he tensed himself to stand.
But Marge didn't let him carry through with the action. She cupped his chin in her cool, smooth hand and turned him to face her. Her parted lips met his softly, but with insistent pressure. His. mouth opened, and her tongue slid sensuously inside.
Warmth blossomed at his loins. Blood surged into his penis, enlarging it and threatening to make it stand up.
Marge leaned back. "How was that?"
"Damned good," he said in a husky voice.
"Want to play some more?"
"What did you have in mind?"
"Anything you like. I told you, I feel wild tonight."
Excitement charged Joe's blood. It had been a long while since any female had come on so strongly with him. He had known Marge for years, but she had never behaved like this before.
Suddenly he remembered Celia and Lew.
"Say, what is this, anyway?" He tensed again to get up.
Marge moved closer to him, jamming a resilient tit against his arm. He gazed down into her cleavage and his head seemed to swim.
God, what a pair of knockers she had!
Just then her hand landed in his lap. She gripped his swollen pecker through his clothes.
The thrill which went through Marge was at least equal to the one Joe felt, and that was a whopper. She shivered with excitement as she rubbed his large rod.
Before he could gather his wits to say something, Marge found the zipper tab of his fly and pulled it down.
"Hey...! "
Gazing downward, he watched her slim hand snake into his jockey briefs. With a tremendous charge of excitement, he felt her fingers surround his prick. She pulled the sizable tool out of his underwear, and it stuck straight upward from his lap, locking into spike-like erection.
"Maaan," Marge purred admiringly, and she slid his foreskin back.
The knob on the end of his cock was a huge rosy thing, choked with blood. His shaft quivered in its intense rigidity.
Her hand surrounded the immense, pulsating peckerhead. He sucked in his breath as she tenderly squeezed.
"Marge, for God's sake!" he said. "Doesn't it feel good?" Her fingertips were dancing against the end of his cock. "Sure, but..."
"Then don't argue. Just enjoy. And while you're at it, how about giving me a thrill?"
She carried his hand to her thighs.
He couldn't help thinking that she had come on like a whore. And Celia had acted like a whore, also, going with Lew into the bedroom.
What the hell was this? Celia wasn't that kind of woman!
He dislodged Marge's hand from his cock and tried to stuff it back into his clothes. But it was so gorged with lust, and his clothes were so snug-fitting, this was a physical impossibility while he was sitting down.
He tried to stand, but Marge leaned against him. Her tits were like twin air pillows pressing his chest.
"What the hell's going on here?" he demanded. "Is this some kind of gag? Where are Celia and Lew?"
"It's no gag," she murmured, her lush lips moving close to his. "Celia and Lew are gonna have some fun ... just like we are."
"Don't kid me. It's a joke, and you and Celia must have arranged it."
"Okay. We did. We thought it would be fun to swap."
"What?"
"Swap mates for the night," Marge explained. "Celia agreed to that?"
"Yes. We're all old friends. Good God, who can get hurt? It'll be fun for everybody. Now, for gosh sake, settle down, and act like you're enjoying yourself, or you're gonna give my ego a hell of a rap."
What could he do? There he was with his naked cock sticking up and a beautiful young woman clinging to him. Her perfume was in his head. Her soft, white titties were crushed against his chest. Her skirt had pulled halfway up her thighs, exposing bare flesh above the tops of her stockings.
She apparently was all his for the taking.
It would have taken a stronger man than he to turn her down.
This was in spite of the fact that he knew Celia and Lew were going to make love in the other room. He didn't like that. It would have bugged the hell out of him if he'd had a chance to really think about it. But Marge was forcing him to make a quick decision, and his will power was as soft as his pecker was hard.
She was stroking his cock and nibbling at his lips with hers. Her moist tongue snaked out and slid between them.
He gasped her and pulled her even more tightly against him. She groaned. His tongue pushed hers out of his mouth, and it speared into her mouth deeply.
His hand slid up the outside of her thigh, pushing her skirt along.
Her flesh caught fire wherever he touched. And at the center of her body-in her moist, rosy core-she felt like a volcano. She had never responded this way to Lew, even on their wedding night or on the first night she had screwed him.
She couldn't remember ever having felt this way about another man.
Her thighs lolled open as he stroked the outer side of one, above the top of her stocking. His hand dragged across her taut garter straps and got between her legs. She opened her legs wider. Her tongue speared avidly into his mouth and she gave a muffled moan. Her hand clutched the head of his cock for dear life.
Joe's hand slid all the way up between her thighs and touched the sleek, warm crotch of her panties. He rubbed the snug nylon up and down, enjoying the plushy softness of flesh and hair beneath the thin covering.
His head swirled with passion. He hadn't gotten this close to another woman in nearly three years-twenty months of marriage and a year before that during which he and Celia were engaged.
Everything about Marge felt strange ... and wonderful. Her mouth. Her thighs. Her cunt, on the other side of those thin panties.
Christ!
His fingertips dug between a panty elastic and her soft flesh. He pulled the elastic aside, exposing her cunt to his caress. He trailed his fingertips in her curly hairs, which felt coarse compared to Celia's. He traced Marge's soft slit and found it moist.
He tore his mouth from hers, gasped for breath, and pressed her onto her back on the sofa. Her legs lifted, one of them reaching the top of the sofa, and the other curling around him as he bent forward.
Her panties were pink and white, adorned with lace and little flowers. They were exposed to their top. The crotch piece had snapped back into place, but he could make out the shadow of her dark pubic hairs.
He rubbed her there, then on her belly. Now his anxious hands moved to the top of her dress and, as she moaned delightedly, he opened it, exposing her low-cut bra with its widely spaced straps.
He trailed his fingertips across the tops of her titties, enjoying the way the responsive flesh quivered.
"Get them out!" Marge demanded. He rolled her slightly to get at the bra hooks. He worked them with some difficulty, then let her relax on her back once more, and he lifted the bra away. Her large, luscious tits lay bare before him. Their dark nipples were up, sticking toward him like little thumbs.
He fell to the delightful feast. How long he kissed her titties he couldn't have guessed. He spent a long time with them, licking and nibbling and sucking. He drew the nipples well up into his mouth and waggled his head, shaking the lovely boobs. It was a real treat to play with such plump, full knockers.
Marge came while he was toying with her this way. She couldn't help herself; it was too wonderful. But there was no letdown after the fleeting, superficial orgasm. She needed more-much more from this handsome man tonight.
Joe was tight with passion as he backed up, sliding his hands down to her belly. He gripped the elastic band at the top of her briefs and began to lower the cute little garment.
Her rounded belly was exposed, then the tuft of black hair at its base. He pulled the nylon pants along her thighs, and she lifted her legs high in the air in front of him. As he took the panties off her feet, she bicycled her legs, and he glimpsed the soft folds of flesh between the tops of her thighs. It was delightful, with her dark curls clinging to it.
With the panties gone, her legs yawned, and her cunt opened like an exotic flower.
Sitting back on his heels, he tore at his own clothing, tossing off his jacket, then clawing open the waist of his trousers. He pushed his pants down. He kept his shorts on, with his cock sticking out through the fly of them.
He fell forward atop Marge. She whimpered, clutching him with her arms. His eager cock found its way into her moist pussy.
She said, "Ooooooooo!" as it sank to its full throbbing length within her.
"Ooh, that's a big one!" she panted.
"Does it hurt?"
"Baby, it feels wonderful! Screw me, Joe. Screw me hard!"
He began the screwing, and his head felt like a toy balloon on a string.
He hadn't stroked his cock in and out of her more than five or six times before the string broke, and the balloon soared into the sky. He came.
"Ooooooooh!" she wailed, and moved her hips rapidly, trying to catch an orgasm before he was through.
But it was no use. She wasn't quite close enough. "I'm ... sorry..." he panted "It's all right," she said, but there was a ragged edge to it.
She hugged him to her.
In the bedroom, Lew had immediately drawn Celia into his arms and begun kissing her. His gentle but demanding lips slid from her mouth to her cheek, chin, throat and shoulder. He then kissed the back of her neck and, at the same time, slid down her zipper tab.
His fingers stroked across the strap of her bra.
She shivered with delight. Her nervousness had changed to erotic excitement. Strangely enough, she forgot all about Joe and Marge, for whom the party ostensibly had been arranged.
Lew deftly unhooked her bra.
"Oh, noooh," she murmured.
"Come on now," he purred. "You want me to undress you."
"Mmmmmmm," she said, and writhed gently in his embrace.
He kept planting quick kisses on her face, neck and shoulders.
"You want me to bare your sweet breasts," he said, as he began shoving her dress down.
His erotic conversation helped turn her on.
"I want to suck your nipples," he told her.
She felt moisture oozing at her loins.
Her bodice dropped to dangle at her waist. Now he lifted her brassiere away.
"They're beautiful," he said huskily, gazing down at the pink, spike-like tips which projected from her small, firm boobies.
He rubbed his hand tenderly across them, shimmying the taut mounds and exciting her nipples all the more. Celia was wildly aroused. She amazed herself. She hadn't been aware of any desire on her part for a swapping date-this was supposed to be for Joe-but she was enjoying herself immensely.
Lew bent his head and turned it sideways. His warm, moist mouth gobbled up the tip of a titty.
"Ooooooooh," she moaned passionately, and cradled his head in her hands.
He moved from one tit to the other-tonguing, sucking and nibbling at them. Her nipples ached gloriously. Her cunt was fast turning into a swamp. Oh, God, her pants would be all wet by the time he pulled them off!
She wondered if he was hard. She wanted to find out, but she wasn't quite bold enough to feel for his cock.
As he continued to lick and lip-nibble her tits, he tried to push her dress the rest of the way down. But he discovered that it had to come up instead.
He straightened up and took a firm grip on the garment, at both sides. He pulled it up.
Celia cooed as the fabric drew away from her body. She felt marvelously wanton and voluptuous. She could hardly wait for Lew to place her on the bed.
Her straight blonde hair fell back in shining splendor against her shoulders as he tossed the dress away. She wore a short, lacy, blue slip with blue bikini briefs underneath it, and a matching garter belt to support her beige hose.
Lew resumed kissing her all over the face, neck and shoulders. His lips touched her eyelids, the tip of her nose, her cheeks, her jawline, the point of her chin, then slid down her graceful throat.
She had never felt so adored. Even when she was first married, Joe had never showered her with affection like this. And Lew's touch was so deft. He knew exactly how to kiss each and every part of her so as to produce the most voluptuous sensation possible.
His hands slid down her sides, caught the top of her slip, and lowered that flimsy garment, until gravity took it the rest of the distance, and it pooled at her feet.
He dropped to his knees.
"Ooooh, darling..." she heard herself say.
Quivering with delight, she gazed down and watched him kiss her smooth belly, planting fire there. His tongue snaked out and licked her navel. It slid along, just above the rim of her garter belt.
She wore the garter harness atop her very brief bikini, and there was a thin strip of bare flesh between the elastic top of the panties and the lower rim of the belly band. His index finger hooked that elastic and drew it toward him. He gazed down into her pants.
Lew had dared to hope she was a real blonde. (Marge hadn't told him.) He was thrilled to discover that his hope had come true. And the hairs on her mound weren't merely blonde-they were light and delicate as corn silk.
He stretched her panties farther forward and dug his face down inside them, kissing into the golden fluff.
"Lew ... oooh ... angel ... "
This very sweet word inspired him to go farther (not that he wouldn't have done so anyway!) and he worked her panties down, bunching them at her thighs. His fingertips browsed in her delightful cunt hairs. He found her dewy slit and traced it.
Throbs of pleasure rocketed upward, through Celia's body. She felt unsteady on her legs.
"Let me ... lie down," she begged.
He was very happy to place her in a horizontal position, and he helped her back up to the edge of the bed. He supported her as she lay over onto her back.
He knelt again and quickly opened the garter clasps which held her stockings in place and trapped her bunched panties. As soon as the garters were loose, he drew her nylon pants the rest of the way down her legs, noting how moist the crotch of the small garment was.
What a hot, sweet baby! he thought. She was more responsive then he had dared to expect, since Marge had always described her as prim.
He took her shoes off, along with her panties. He gazed at her little pussy as he drew her stockings down. He couldn't see all of it yet, because her thighs were still close together.
But they wouldn't be for long.
Shit, he wanted to open her like a picture book!
He did so, firmly but with a tender regard for the beauty he was about to see. Celia throbbed with passion as she felt her thighs being widely parted. Cool air kissed her moist, warm vagina.
Lew sucked in his breath. It was a gorgeous cunt. Most of her hairs were above it; only a sparse fringe extended downward along the sides of the organ. Its fleshy folds were a fresh, bright pink. It was slick with moisture. Little droplets ran along the lips. Her inner slit was open, begging for the insertion of cock or tongue.
Of course, Lew intended to use his tongue first.
"My God, but you're beautiful," he murmured. "What a lovely pussy!"
"Oooooooo," she moaned, and her pelvis gave a little jerk.
There was an increased flow of moisture from her.
Lew lifted her legs and placed them over his shoulders as he bent close.
Joe had never approached her cunt this way. She knew there was such a thing as "going down," but she didn't believe nice people did it, so she had never thought about it in relation to herself. Now that it was about to happen to her, she was wild with excitement.
As Lew bent closer, he inhaled her delicately musky fragrance, mixed with the light cologne she wore. His hands slid down the undersides of her up-tilted thighs, until his thumbs were on the larger lips of her cunt. He stroked them gently, wiggling the pliant flesh and opening her more.
Celia began to pant and whimper. Her hips wanted to move, but she forced them to remain steady.
Lew's thumbs crawled into her wet folds of flesh, and he opened the mouth of her channel until it was nearly round. Her sweet little clitty was rigidly erect, tingling with expectation. He could almost see it quiver.
Now he hunched down very close to it with his mouth, and he blew gently into the pink, dripping orifice.
"Ooooh!" she cried, and her hips gave an involuntary jerk.
He realized that she was about to come, and he fastened his mouth onto her cunt firmly. He sank his tongue as deeply into her sweet crevice as it could reach.
She climaxed, bumping against him and wailing with bliss. Her legs wound tightly around the back of his neck. He gripped her buttocks and squeezed, as his loving tongue pistoned in her spasming pussy.
Her orgasm was wonderfully intense for a few moments, but it didn't last as long as usual or reach as deeply. Thrilled though she was, she felt a sense of disappointment.
But that didn't last long.
The moment that her legs slid away from him, Lew got to his feet, gulping air. He helped her slide fully onto the bed, and he turned her so that she lay with the length of it.
Standing beside the bed and gazing down at her, he tore at his clothes. Celia's eyes remained shut for a while, as her brain slowly spun to a stop.
When she opened her eyes, Lew was stepping out of his briefs. His cock was bristling. She was, surprised to note there was no skin to cover its head, and the head was of a darker color than Joe's. Also, Lew's tool wasn't as long as her husband's.
She wondered how it would feel when he poked it inside her.
She was wild to know!
Lew lost no time now in perfecting his possession of this exciting creature. The way she had responded to his tongue in her twat told him that only the surface of her passion potential had been scratched.
He climbed over the foot of the bed and lowered himself atop her. Eagerly she brought her arms up around him, and she lifted her slim legs at Ivs sides.
"Want it?" he asked, grinning down at her, his hair mussed.
"Yesss!"
"Tell me."
"Stick it in."
"Really tell me. Talk dirty."
Celia had never used this kind of language with Joe, but she told Lew, "Stick your cock in my pussy."
"That's very good," he replied, keeping his hips high to tease her for a final moment. "But say it another way. You know the word."
She knew. For the first time aloud, she used that forbidden verb:
She said it.
Lew drove his hard cock into the channel of her cunt, and it sank to its full length in her encompassing, slick, warm flesh.
The mere fact of being penetrated by a man other than her husband thrilled her, and it put her back in the ballgame wholeheartedly. But she was immediately aware that Lew wasn't filling her as deeply as Joe did (yet she was so open, there was nothing to prevent him from going all the way). His penis simply wasn't as long, nor as big around.
This, however, was the last negative impression which crossed her mind, for he began immediately to screw his prick in rotating fashion as he slid it in and out. Celia jammed her eyes closed, and she rose and fell to this delightfully new and different kind of thrust. Joe didn't screw like this. He just slid his cock in and out, straight and hard.
Her cries and murmurs were music to his ears, and he increased the intensity of the screwing, whipping his hips and twisting them as his cock fairly danced in her hot little hole. She keened and pushed herself up on the balls of her feet, which were pulled well back. She was as wide open as a girl could get, and she was getting all that Lew had to give a woman-which was more than enough, considering how deftly he delivered it.
His hand grasped one of her titties, squeezing the firm, quivery mound and rubbing its nipple. His mouth swooped at hers, and his tongue surged between her teeth to stir the inside of her mouth as his prick stirred her pussy.
She was inundated by delectable sensations from cunt, tit and mouth-and she surged toward a crashing climax, grinding her blonde-tufted loins against his cock and balls.
Lew could have lasted longer, but he perceived that she was going for a quick payoff. He didn't object. A thirty-second screwing could be as great as a fifteen-minute one, depending on the mood of the participants. This one was going to last for about a minute and a half, non-stop.
He moved faster and faster. So did she.
She whimpered sharply, then cried aloud.
She squealed, having it, and his hot prick jerked within her, gushing forth its thick cream.
"Ooooooooooooh," she sighed deeply, when the spasms had finally ended. Her legs fell like spaghetti against the bed, and her arms slid off his body.
He pushed himself up on straight arms, keeping his cock within her.
He grinned. "Well, what do you think of swapping?"
"Grrroooovy!" she said, and she meant it with every ounce of fervor which remained in her passion-sated body.
Lew chuckled.
It was going to be a long and pleasurable night, he felt certain.
V
"DON'T TAKE IT OUT," MARGE PLEADED, as Joe started to lift himself from her and remove his cock from her cunt. "Keep it there. It'll get stiff again."
"It's liable to take a while," he warned.
"Maybe not. Ooh, come on, cock!" she implored.
Her use of the dirty word thrilled him, and a surge of blood did go back into his pecker. But that wasn't enough to stiffen it.
"I'm sorry I was so fast," he said again, "but. . . well, this was a great thrill for me."
"For me, too," she told him passionately, and she took the lobe of his ear between her teeth.
"Don't you think we ought to get the rest of our clothes off," he suggested.
"No! Don't move. I don't want to lose that prick until I get something from it."
He laughed ironically. "You got just about all I have to give. I feel drained."
"Your balls will manufacture some more stuff. Come on. Talk dirty and help me."
"Do you like to talk dirty?" he asked, twisting so he could look down into her face.
"Doesn't everybody-especially when they're like this?"
"Celia and I don't."
"You poor kids. That adds to the fun of screwing ... or just playing, for that matter."
Now that Celia had come to mind, he resumed thinking about her in the other room with Lew. And since he was satiated for the moment, panic came back over him.
He pushed himself off Marge
"Nooooh!" she wailed, and clawed at him. But it was too late. He already was on his feet.
He quickly stuffed his pecker back into his briefs. He gave a quick glance at her moist, used cunt, then turned toward the bedroom of the apartment.
"Joe!"
The urgency in Marge's voice halted him. He turned back toward her.
She was sitting up on the couch, her stockinged legs together, but her dress was still wound around her middle. Her luscious bare titties swooped forward, but he hardly looked at them.
"Don't go in there," she said.
"Why the hell not? Celia's my wife."
"And Lew's my husband. Not only that, but I've known Celia longer than you have. We're very good friends."
"What the devil does that have to do with anything?"
He turned toward the bedroom once more.
"Joe, she's doing this for you," Marge blurted, fearing that if he walked into the bedroom right now it might louse up everything for all of them.
The remark was so shocking that he had to stop again and look at her. He just stared.
"It's true," she said, getting up and moving toward him. Her titties bobbed. "Swapping with good friends is the best way to save a marriage that's going sour."
"Going sour? What the hell are you talking about?"
Marge moved very close to him. "Celia knows you were out with your secretary the other night."
"Whaaat?"
"She saw you two leave the office together."
"You mean, she went over to spy on me."
"I suppose you could say that. Anyway, she saw you."
"But that's ridiculous! We were going to a business meeting. I told Celia that. I had to take my secretary along to take notes on what was said. After the meeting, she went home, and I went out to dinner with the guys. Marge, I've never touched another woman since Celia and I were married. Until tonight," he added sheepishly.
"Is that the truth?"
"Of course."
Marge sighed.
He turned toward the bedroom for a third time, but she gripped his arm.
"For God's sake, don't! Things have gone too far now. Anyway, there's no harm done. What's happened tonight will be good for both of you."
He realized she was right about things having gone too far. He had screwed her, and no doubt Lew was screwing Celia right now, if he hadn't already finished.
Shit! And all because of a lousy misunderstanding.
Only when he had stopped and faced Marge again did he begin to contemplate what she had said about the swap being good for Celia and himself. That struck him as a strange observation.
"I don't understand you." he said a little bitterly. "I have to confess that I don't understand Celia, either. How could you two have cooked up such a hare-brained idea?"
"It isn't hare-brained. Joe, for Christ's sake, don't be such a prude. You're standing there in your shorts. You weren't exactly reluctant to go after me when you had the need."
It was true. He had gone after her like a randy bull! How could he blame Celia? How could he sermonize about what had happened?
Marge perceived that he was weakening. Now was the time to get the party back in the groove. And there was one sure-fire way to do it, her experience told her.
She dropped to her knees in front of him, and pulled his briefs down. His cock hung limp and still-moist from their screwing.
Marge didn't mind the taste of male juice ... or the tang of cunt-honey, either. She and Linda Milton had fooled around a couple of times during the day, unbeknown to Lew or Linda's husband. And in college, Marge had balled with a cute little Lesbian more than twice. She had never told Celia that.
As far as mouthing a used cock was concerned, she had done that often with Lew and several times with Chuck Milton. There was nothing dirty about it. What came out of a cock during sex was a darned sight cleaner than piss, and men pissed through their peckers every few hours, if not oftener.
Joe was immobile with shock and excitement as Marge lifted his limp penis toward her lips, skinning its strong-smelling head at the same time. It began to lose its limpness immediately. Such a surge of fresh blood coursed into it that it swelled and threatened to stand up of its own accord.
She blew on its tip, and Joe shivered with delight.
Her mouth came down around it, wrapping the tingling head in her moist, warm lips, and her tongue laved it all over. He groaned and tightened from head to toes. He lifted onto the balls of his feet. His cock was rigidly erect now, throbbing mightily.
Marge mouthed his prick like the accomplished fellatrice she was, sucking gently as she bobbed her head, licking at the sensitive tip of the pecker and at its equally sensitive underside.
But she knew just how far to go and when to call a halt.
She slid her mouth off his prick wetly, like a little girl relinquishing a lollipop. She looked up at him and smiled.
"Damn you," he growled, and dropped to the floor with her.
He clawed her dress away, leaving her in a white garter belt and beige hose. She spread her legs for him.
He clambered atop her, experiencing a little difficulty because his briefs were wound around his knees. But he got himself into position.
Before he drove his rod into her, he gripped her softly quivering tits and shoved them together. He rubbed them against each other and squeezed them, enjoying the give as his fingers sank in. Her nipples stuck up, big and firm.
With a growl, he dropped his face to the luscious mounds of flesh. Marge yelped her pleasure as his teeth clamped onto a tall, rubbery nipple. He bit it, then pulled it deeper into his mouth and sucked, lashing the tiny tower with his tongue.
Marge gripped his cock and pointed it down to her dribbling slit. She rubbed his burning pecker-head against that marvelous soft gash. He threw his hips forward, sinking the prick into her cunt.
"Oooh, God! Screw me hard!" she demanded.
He hadn't had a woman say that to him since he had bedded a prostitute in Chicago-before he had met Celia. It was marvelously exhilarating to hear the word from the lips of Celia's best friend and an ostensibly respectable married lady.
He proceeded to screw her with everything he had. He drove his stiff prick into her so straight and hard that her titties shook and his pelvis slapped into her soft, moist crotch.
She socked herself against him with a vigor which approximated the force with which he was socking his cock to her. Her head grew light. Her eyeballs rolled back beneath her shadowed lids.
Her mouth lolled, and she raved passionately, "Ooh, what a cock! Maaan! Drive it, drive it! Shit! Ooh, Jesus! Screw me, screw me, frig me ... ooooooooh!"
The husky, blonde-haired man vindicated the desire she had always harbored for him. He gave her his big-peckered love with gusto, and she returned it in the same spirit, encompassing his massive piston deep within her wet female warmth.
She had no sense of sentimental fulfillment as he screwed her. She'd never been sentimental about her regard for him. She had lusted for him as a man lusts for a woman. Now, finally, she was able to give that lust its head.
Her soft ass bounced against the carpet. His hard prick pumped time after time, in and out of her slick, bobbing quim. They rose, jolt by blissful jolt, to the epitome of passion, and suddenly all hell broke loose as she began to come, shaking and crying and clutching at him with the muscles in her cunt.
He jerked and let her have his hot sauce in sizzling spurts.
This time his balls really emptied themselves, and he was a man exhausted when the ejaculation was finally through.
He couldn't be angry any longer at the scheme which she and Celia had cooked up. He couldn't even fret about Celia lying in the arms of another man, in the adjoining room. He knew there would be a day of reckoning tomorrow, but he was willing to let tomorrow take its turn.
Marge helped him off with his shirt and undershirt, and he pulled the twisted briefs off his legs. He even removed his socks.
Now he settled down with the luscious brunette again, right in the middle of the floor, and he caressed and tugged at her dark-nippled titties, enjoying them to his heart's content. Marge petted his hair and cooed delicious obscenities at him. He began to say the obscenities back to her.
What the hell. If this was sin, at least he could enjoy it.
Lew had turned Celia onto her belly on the bed, and he was making a feast of her smooth, sweet-scented flesh-up and down her back, into the dip at its middle, onto her taut little buttocks which were so perfectly formed, down the backs of her thighs.
She just lay there and enjoyed it. She had given one brief thought to Joe and Marge, then had put them out of her mind. What did she care what they did?
She would be shocked at this later-the fact that she had been able to give her husband over to another woman (albeit an old friend) with so little concern, after fretting so painfully about his presumed involvement with his secretary.
But for the moment her world was populated only by Lew and herself. He was so wonderful! God, what he could do with his lips and tongue!
Now he was licking her fanny. Really licking it all over. Going under the cheeks, in the little grooves at the tops of her thighs ... then mouthing his way up across a buttock and hopping to the other.
"You have a lovely ass," he said, when he sat up and looked at it.
"Nobody has ever kissed it before," she said, and giggled.
"You like it?"
"Yes!"
"How would you like me to kiss it in the crack?"
"No, Lew! Ooh, God, no! Lew...! "
Predictably, Lew paid no attention to her protests, and got his face right down on the center of her sweet little bottom. He started kissing at the top of her groove, running his tongue into it. His tongue reached deeper as the groove got deeper, and then he was actually flickering his tongue tip against her anus.
Oh, sweet heaven, this was too much!
She bobbed her ass against his face, and he licked and sucked harder, getting his whole mouth down between the satin cheeks of her butt.
She tightened tremendously, feeling as if she were about to come for the third time. Her tense ass-hole tingled.
But she didn't come. He raised his face finally, just in time, and hopped down to her thighs once more. He licked down one of them, to the back of her knee, then skipped to the other and licked upward.
She rolled over, swinging a slim leg over his head. Her pink pussy was wide open in front of him, drooling her excitement, mixed with traces of his own come.
He got his face down onto it and began to suck.
She was shocked again-for what seemed to be the umpteenth time that night-but she was marvelously thrilled again, also.
"I'm going to ... come..." she warned him, breathlessly.
He raised up, surged atop her, and sank his reinvigorated cock into her juicy snatch. He began to screw her for the second time.
She did come rather quickly, but he kept screwing. At first, this distressed her. She didn't feel like receiving any more stirring from his stiff, strong stick. But as he continued to do it anyway, her interest returned.
Soon she was bobbing her sopped cunt on his hot cock as before ... whining and panting, and gripping him with her nails. He bore down and shifted into high gear with his strokes. She speeded up with him. When his hot cream began to jet into her, she kicked her legs in the air and bicycled them wildly as she took squirt after squirt from his pulsating pecker.
"Ooooooooooo," she cooed as she subsided, blissfully pleased again.
"You know, baby," he said, as he idly fondled a tit, "I believe you're gonna turn into one fine little swapper."
"Could be," she admitted, her eyes shining as she gazed up at him.
"Marge and I have these friends ... I believe she told you about them. They swap with us every week or so. I'm sure they'd like to have another couple join the game."
"Oh, I don't think Joe and I ... " She stopped.
God, this thing was getting out of hand.
"Maybe we'd better get dressed," she suggested.
"You're kidding."
"No. I mean it. This is all so new to us, and Joe may be worried." Lew laughed.
"What's the matter?" she wanted to know.
"Joe may be many things before the night is over-like laid, relayed and parlayed-but one thing he won't be is worried. Not with Marge taking care of his cock."
"Ooh, Lew. Please. Don't talk that way now."
Gazing at her, he chuckled again. "You're too much, you know that?"
Her eyes flashed. "Well, I'm sorry if I amuse you!"
"You don't amuse me, baby," he said, leaning close. His cock was still in her cunt. "You thrill me. You're the sweetest little thing I've ever touched. I'm crazy about you. Understand?"
"Lew, don't talk that way," she warned softly.
"I mean it. And this is just the first of many times we're gonna be together. Marge digs Joe. You know she always has. So there should be no problem, hm?"
He attempted to kiss her, but she turned her face away.
"I didn't know Marge cared about Joe," Celia said, concerned.
Lew realized he had put his foot in it. "I mean she-likes him. That's all. Just friends. But the fact that she does like him will make it easy for us to get together as often as we want. And, baby, I want you as often as I can get into you. Dig me?"
He gave his pelvis a little bump against hers.
"I think we really should get up now and get dressed," she said.
"You want to go into the bathroom first?"
"I ought to."
He backed off of her. "How about if I open the door a crack and call Marge? If she's free right now, she can help you. Show you where things are. You know."
What he really had in mind was the possibility that Marge might convince her to keep the party going. Marge could assure her, he hoped, that everything had gone well in the other room.
"All right. Could I slip into a robe, though?"
He chuckled. "You don't want to be nude in front of your old girl friend, but it's all right to be nude with your girl friend's husband, hm?"
"Oh, you're twisting things."
He said, "There are a couple of Marge's robes hanging in the closet." He pointed.
Celia got off the bed and walked over there. Lew followed her with his eyes. What a nymph she was-so sleek and graceful!
Look at that sweet little ass!
He remembered his pleasure in kissing it, and a little surge of warmth returned to his lax cock.
As Celia slipped into a robe, he stepped over to the door and opened it slightly, standing out of sight.
"Marge?" he called.
She was still lying on the floor with Joe, kissing and caressing. "Yes?" she said.
Joe tensed.
"How about stepping in here for a minute? Celia wants to freshen up. Maybe you could help her."
"Oh. Sure." She brought her lips close to Joe's and murmured, "Don't go away."
He didn't say anything. But he didn't make a move to get up, either.
What a crazy business this was!
He wondered about facing Celia. Would it be difficult? What would her attitude be?
Well, she couldn't blame him for what had happened. That was for sure. She and Marge had set up the whole thing.
He watched the beautiful brunette walk to the bedroom door, twisting her lush ass, framed by that garter belt and her shining hose. It had been a revelation, this hour or so that he had spent with her.
He mentally relived the blow job she'd given him.
Christ.
He wondered whether Celia had...
No, of course not. She wouldn't have gone down on Lew, any more than he (Joe) had gone down on Marge.
He considered the possibility that Marge may have expected him to do it.
Well, he wasn't that kind. Some people were oral, and some weren't. Cunnilingus and fellatio were perversions, after all.
But, man, it had certainly felt good when she took his cockhead in her mouth!
Had Lew mouthed Celia's pussy, he wondered.
A man who was married to a woman who gave head would almost have to reciprocate, wouldn't he? And if Lew went down on Marge, he would probably go down on another woman, also.
Mmmmm. This thought disturbed Joe. If the other man had tongued Celia's cunt, and if she had liked it, that could prove embarrassing to Joe in the future.
Well, there was no point worrying about it now.
He and Celia would have some adjusting to do after this, all right. But it would be an equal proposition on both sides. One thing he would have to do was to convince her she was wrong in her suspicion about Sandra and him.
But if he did that, it would explode the whole basis for the swap, wouldn't it?
That wasn't so good.
Things were apt to be a little sticky, any way you looked at it.
Marge had spoken to Lew briefly at the bedroom door, then had entered the room. The door had closed softly behind her.
She smiled at Celia, who looked a little wan after her thorough workout on the bed. She returned Marge's smile weakly.
"I understand you'd like to freshen up," Marge said.
"I think I'd better." Celia nervously touched at her hair.
"Come into the bathroom with me."
Celia had been gazing at Marge's charms, which were blatantly exposed. Lew remained naked, also.
The women didn't have to go through the living room to get to the bathroom, a fact for which Celia was grateful.
"You're not thinking of going home, are you?" she asked, as she let Celia precede her into the John.
"I believe we should," the slender blonde replied, including Joe by implication.
"Nonsense. The evening's just getting started. In fact, the best thing we could do right now-I mean, after we've cleaned up a little-would be for all of us to get together in the same room."
"Ooh, Marge ... noooh!"
Marge laughed. "Why not? That's the surest way to avoid any hangover about this thing."
"But I couldn't! It would be so embarrassing."
The bathroom door closed behind them. Lew grinned and shook his head.
VI
"JOE HAS A MARVELOUS COCK," MARGE said matter-of-factly as she got her douche bag out of the cabinet, under the sink. "Marge! Really...! "
"What's the matter?" she said, laughing. "If we can share the same pecker, we can certainly talk about it. Here." She handed the douche appliance to Celia. "You go first. We can sponge ourselves off with washcloths, if you like."
She moved to help Celia off with her robe, and Celia didn't resist. She supposed it was rather silly to concern herself over nudity when Marge was naked in front of her.
As the girls freshened up, Marge continued to chatter, and Celia gradually fell in with it.
"Did you have a good time with Lew?" Marge asked.
"Yes," Celia admitted.
"I was right about him, wasn't I? He isn't hung too damned well, but he sure makes up for it. Did he go down on you?"
Celia looked away.
"Come on, baby," Marge coaxed, laughing. "You might as well tell me, because he will, anyway. He sucked you off, didn't he?"
"Yes," Celia admitted, still averting her gaze. Her cheeks felt warm.
"I suppose you and Joe don't do that with each other, hmm?"
"No. We don't."
"That's one thing you'll have to change. A marriage is nothing without some oral stuff mixed in. Husbands expect it, you know."
Celia looked at her. "Do they?"
"Of course. And most husbands secretly want to be oral with their wives. Maybe Joe's been afraid you wouldn't like it, or maybe he hasn't faced up to his own desire yet."
Celia had to ask, "Did he ... with you, I mean?"
"No," Marge admitted. "But I think he was building up to it. He spent a lot of time sucking my titties, so he has a good oral inclination. Maybe after I'm all flushed out, he'll try it."
Celia wanted to ask whether Marge had been oral with him, but she didn't dare.
She needn't have hesitated, because the question certainly wouldn't have offended Marge. On the other hand, it wasn't necessary to ask. Marge volunteered the information a few moments later.
She said, "Joe's prick is so big, I could hardly cram the head of the beautiful thing in my mouth."
Celia gasped and stopped what she was doing to gaze, pink-cheeked, at her friend.
"You heard right," Marge said, smiling pertly. She wanted to get Celia over her lingering trace of shyness. "I took his cock in my mouth. That really turned him on, too. You'll have to try it some time."
"I couldn't," Celia murmured.
"Don't be silly. Of course you could. Why don't you try it with Lew tonight? When you find out how much fun it is, you'll want to do it every time you and Joe have sex."
"But it's ... it's a perversion."
"Well, la-dee-da! So is cunt-lapping. But Lew did that for you."
"I didn't ask him to. And I didn't promise anything in return."
"Of course you didn't, honey. You didn't have to. Lew loves the taste of twat. But he also enjoys getting a blow job, and you'll enjoy giving it, once you try."
Celia could hardly believe she was having this conversation with her old school chum, complete with words like "cock."
"cunt" and "blow job." There was certainly a lot about Marge that she hadn't known before.
But she didn't have to look as far as Marge for a shock like that. How about herself? She hadn't really known herself until tonight, either.
She really and truly had enjoyed making love with Lew. She had thrilled to every moment of it. And that included his going down on her.
Especially it included that.
And how about his kissing her behind? Good Lord! She blushed now at the thought.
"When we get out of here," Marge said, "let's stroll naked into the living room and shock the balls off old Joe. What do you say?"
"I couldn't!"
Marge laughed. "You keep saying you couldn't do this and you couldn't do that, but you wind up doing all the things, one by one. You'll go out to the living room with me. And what's more, Joe will be pleased about it. Men like sex to be casual. It's women who usually make such a big deal over it.
Joe will be pleased to see you've wised up and can swing the way he does."
He's really ... a swinger?"
"Sure. What man isn't, at heart?"
"I guess he was swinging with his secretary pretty good, the other night," Celia said, a bit ruefully.
"Oh. About that ... "
"Yes?"
"Never mind," Marge said, catching herself at the last moment.
It was better, at this point, if Celia continued believing Joe had cheated on her. Otherwise, she was going to start feeling guilty for setting up the swap date.
"Well!" Marge announced as she hung her wash cloth on a rod. "That just about does it, I think. Let's ask Lew if he wants to use the facilities here, then we can go out and greet Joe."
"Marge, I'd rather not."
"Nonsense. You're gonna do it. I don't want there to be any hang-ups tonight. We're all enjoying ourselves, and we might as well all admit it ... together."
They stepped into the bedroom totally nude, carrying their garter belts and stockings.
Lew was sitting on the bed. "What a pretty sight!" he enthused.
"Thank you, kind sir," Marge returned gaily. "The john is yours, in case you have to take a leak or something."
"You're too kind," he said, and winked at Celia as he left the room.
"Come on," Marge said to her, and moved toward the living room door.
Did she dare walk out and confront Joe this way? Celia asked herself.
She decided that she did. In fact, tonight she would dare almost anything.
It was amazing how much she had changed in just a couple of hours.
Joe had changed, also.
He realized that when he gazed at his naked wife, standing beside an equally naked Marge. There was color in Celia's cheeks, but she was smiling, and she looked pretty composed, all things considered. What amazed Joe about his own reaction was that he felt no resentment over the fact that she had just been with another man. It was because he had just been with Marge, he supposed.
This swapping was really remarkable!
He smiled at his wife and said, "Hello, there."
"Hello," she replied a bit bashfully, but she looked directly at him.
"Lew's using the John," Marge told Joe. "You can have it after him."
"Thanks."
He and Celia continued to gaze at each other.
"Well!" Marge said brightly. "Anybody care for a drink?" She walked to the liquor cabinet, her plump buttocks twisting.
"Maybe a little one," Joe said.
"Celia?"
"Okay."
Joe got up from the floor and walked over to take his wife's hand. She smiled warmly at him, and her hand squeezed his hand. N
They both felt reassured and more relaxed.
"Here we go," Marge said, bringing the drinks over.
They each took their glasses and began to sip. Lew entered the room, naked. His prick nodded atop his balls.
"So it's booze time, hmm?" he remarked, and headed for the liquor.
Joe finished his drink quickly.
"Excuse me," he said, and left for the bathroom.
"Well, how is everybody?" Lew grinned, as he joined Marge and Celia, carrying his drink.
"We're fine," Celia replied.
"Damned right," Marge said. "Say," she asked her husband, "how did you like my old chum, anyway?"
"Tasty," Lew said, and clicked his tongue.
Celia blushed, but not as much as before. She was getting over that.
"I was telling Celia about Linda and Chuck Milton," Lew went on. "We oughta all get together one of these times-maybe next weekend."
"There'll be time to talk about that," Marge said quickly. "There's a lot more fun to be had tonight."
"You know it!" Lew agreed, and took a hefty swallow from his glass.
Joe returned in a couple of minutes, and the four friends exchanged small-talk, just as if they weren't all naked and engaged in what many would consider a shocking swap orgy.
The liquor had relaxed Celia and given her a pleasant glow. When Lew moved up to her and took her in his arms, she didn't resist, even though her husband was right there, watching.
Joe took a surprisingly objective view of the embrace. But in one sense, his attitude wasn't objective: He was proud of Celia's appeal to another man. It was as if Lew's attraction to her complimented him.
Marge turned to Joe. "How about it, lover? Ready to swing again?"
"Why not?" he said.
They embraced.
His cock fattened as it pressed against her belly. Her balloon-like titties spread slightly as she pressed them to his hard, hairy chest. Her nipples pricked him.
Her warm, sweet mouth was a perfect haven for his tongue.
Lew licked into Celia's mouth, also, and his hand caressed her quivery ass. His cock showed signs of responding.
As if by mutual consent, though the matter wasn't discussed, the four swappers lowered themselves to the carpet and proceeded to make love, all together, each within touching distance of the others.
The Westcotts had succeeded in bringing the Harpers to this stage much more quickly than the Miltons had done with the Westcotts.
Joe's hands moved all over Marge-rubbing her belly and the inner slopes of her full thighs, rolling and squeezing her tits, which quivered and changed shape under his ardent caresses. His cock became fully stiff.
Lew tongued Celia's nipples and caressed the blonde fluff on her mound, while his other hand stroked his wife's curving ass, which was turned toward him. Joe noticed this and reached across to caress Celia's right titty, which Lew had just deserted in favor of her left one. She smiled at Joe. He felt warm and good.
Lew slid downward along Celia's sleek body. He poked at her belly button with his tongue.
Joe had wanted to kiss Marge's belly, which was a little more rounded than his wife's and softer. Now he did so. She purred with pleasure and writhed gently against his loving mouth. Her hands came to rest on top of his head. She hoped he would go all the way down.
But he didn't.
He thought about it (as he had thought about it many times with Celia) but he rejected the proposition now for two reasons: First, it would be too shocking, he believed, with Celia and Lew watching ... and, second, he didn't really feel he wanted to eat cunt. He never had.
Lew was afflicted by no such inhibitions. His eager mouth slid into Celia's corn-silk.
She caught her breath and looked at Joe. She wanted to open her legs to the oral caress which Lew was offering, but she was afraid of what Joe would think. He wasn't looking her way now, but he might glance up at any moment.
Lew's fingers danced along Celia's thighs. Gradually he applied a prying pressure.
Joe lifted his head from Marge's waist and moved up to a titty. His wet, warm mouth clamped itself around the rubbery spike of her nipple, and he lashed it with his tongue as he sucked.
He looked at Celia and Lew.
Damn, he's really got his head down there, Joe thought. He acts like he wants to go all the way with her. But she's keeping her legs closed.
His eyes met hers, and he could see she was troubled. She seemed to be asking him something.
She wants Lew to tongue her twat, Joe thought. And she's asking me if it's all right. Well, I won't tell her.
He averted his gaze and concentrated on tugging at Marge's tit, rolling the rigid but resilient nipple between his lips. His hand worked the other breast and thrilled to the spongy fullness of it.
He doesn't seem to care, Celia thought, concerning her husband's attitude toward Lew's impending cunnilingus on her. Well, if he doesn't ...
"Come on, baby ... open your legs," Lew said.
She opened her legs to him and drew her feet back. He happily hunkered down into her crotch.
Marge was looking that way, and it thrilled her vicariously to watch her husband go down on Celia. She glanced at Celia's face and read the passion which was etched there.
She wanted Joe to watch.
"Look what they're doing," she whispered at his ear.
He raised his mouth from her nipple just far enough to say, "I don't care what they're doing," and he clamped his lips onto her tit again.
She knew she was going to have trouble with him.
He was truly square when it came to oral sex.
As Celia thrilled mightily to the thrust of Lew's tongue, in and out of her sizzling slit, she couldn't help thinking about the other couple, wondering whether Joe would go down on Marge. Celia wanted him to do so, and yet she didn't. Oh, God, she didn't know what she wanted now. But she was very concerned about it.
Lew ate Celia's succulent meat like the gourmet he was. He licked up and down all the slick rosy folds. He nibbled at the lips. He lapped in and out of her throbbing crevice and swabbed her clitty, which tingled for dear life. Finally he centered on that little clit, sucking and nibbling gently.
Celia could have squealed with delight, but she suppressed this by biting her knuckle, and she gazed at Joe and Marge through the smoky film of passion which had spread over her eyes.
Marge envied the thrills which her friend was getting. Joe's sucking at her own tits hardly was a fit substitute.
Finally she forced him to raise his head.
She urged him onto his back and leaned above him, beginning to kiss him on the chest. Celia watched her pink tongue snake through Joe's chest hairs, her red lips nibble at Joe's useless titty tips.
Those tips might be useless, but they were sensitive nonetheless, and Joe enjoyed the attentions which Marge was paying to them. He also enjoyed the fact that her breasts cascaded forward and down. He cupped them in his hands and jiggled them, delighting in the way the resilient flesh bobbed.
Marge kissed downward, browsing at his middle.
Joe became concerned that she might go all the way and shock Celia. Then he called himself a fool. He and Celia had just about graduated into the ranks of the unshockables.
(But if that was so, why hadn't he kissed Marge's cunt a little while ago? Because he was chicken, he realized now. He had never gotten his face down onto one of those smelly, wet things, and he was afraid he would never be able to ... though the thought did fascinate him.)
Marge wasn't a woman who derived her jollies from mental titillation. She had to have the real thing. And she wasn't tolerant of other people's faint-heartedness, either. She intended to force the issue with Joe, if she possibly could.
When her kissing mouth ranged below his belly button, her hand surrounded his up-thrust pecker, and she stroked it gently, rubbing his foreskin against the sensitive ridge of his cockhead.
Lew looked up from Celia's twat just as Marge began to reverse her direction in relation to Joe's body. Her plump ass moved close by Lew's face, and he leaned to take a nip at one of the buttocks.
"Ooow!" Marge cried and turned toward him, swinging her hand playfully at his face.
He grasped one of her shaking tits and pulled downward, as if he were milking a cow.
Celia enjoyed watching this fooling around, even though she was painfully hung up at the moment. Lew's sucking and licking at her pussy had turned her on in a gigantic way, and she wanted the stab of his cock in order to finish the job.
He seemed in no particular rush to screw her, however.
He sat back on his heels and watched his wife straddle Joe, facing south. Only when this maneuver had been completed did Joe realize he was about to come face-to-face with a crisis. (He had been concentrating on the horseplay between Marge and her husband when he should have been taking action to forestall what was going to happen next.)
At first, Marge didn't attempt to place her pussy down onto his face. She aimed her ass in the air and bent to his throbbing penis, licking at the tip of it with her wet, wiggling tongue. Jolts of delight traveled upward through Joe's body, and his pleasure was enhanced by the view he had of her split ass, with its hair-fringed pussy and cute little anus.
Celia watched, also. Her throat got tight and her mouth turned dry as she observed Marge's tongue darting at Joe's pecker tip, sliding down the side of the red, swollen knob, then circling it to move once more to its pinnacle.
"Look good, baby?" Lew grinned, as he gazed hopefully at Celia.
"Ooh, God..." Celia said in a barely audible whisper.
"Wanta try it?"
"I ... couldn't."
But her tone gave the lie to her words. She could
. . . and would, Lew believed. All he had to do was coax her a little.
He sprang around to her side, kneeling next to her chest. His cock was up, pointing nakedly at her. She ga?ed at it, fascinated.
Watching her face, he encircled the base of his penis with his forefinger and thumb. He leaned forward and tilted his pecker toward her lips.
"Just lick it, honey," he said. "You don't have to take it in your mouth. Just touch it with your tongue."
"No. Ooh, noooh," she murmured, as she stared at it glassily.
Joe watched this little drama while his own cock was being thoroughly licked by Marge. For a brief moment, he had the feeling that all this was part of some wild, erotic dream, and that he would soon wake up with a hard-on.
Well, he had the hard-on, all right. What a hard-on he had! But he certainly wasn't sleeping. This was for real. In fact, it might prove to be the realest thing in his life to date.
Marge's ass waggled in front of him as she licked down one side of his pecker, swabbed her tongue over his balls, then licked up the shaft once more. Her flickering tongue-tip danced around his corona and over the top of the head.
He held on and let the thrills rocket through him. Thank God his balls had a minimum of congestion in them, so he could take a lot of stimulation without shooting off.
Lew pushed his pecker very close to Celia's lips.
"Stick your tongue out, honey," he implored.
"I'm afraid," she told him.
"What of?" he chuckled, holding his cock there.
"I'm afraid I'll ... get sick."
"Baby, if women died from licking cocks, there'd be no population explosion. In fact, there'd be no women after a while."
Celia's mouth was moistening now, in contrast to its very dry state a little while ago. She sniffed at the pecker and found it didn't smell bad. In fact, the scent was rather teasingly attractive.
Her mouth moistened more. Her lips wanted to open, and her tongue wanted to protrude. But she was still too afraid to let it happen.
Lew became more demanding and moved his rod the final inch or so, closing the gap between it and her lips. He touched its tip to her lips and rubbed it slowly back and forth along them.
Celia was quaking inside. She whimpered with her mouth closed. Her lips tingled as the cock caressed them.
Suddenly her mouth flew open. She didn't try to protrude her tongue, and Lew didn't give her a chance to do it. He just shoved his dick into her mouth.
"Uuuuuuuhh!" she said.
She tasted his cock, thrilling wildly as she rubbed her tongue against it. Then she gave another groan-a hungry groan this time-and clamped her lips around the fullness of the cockhead.
Lew growled pleasurably and forced it a little deeper inside. She really had it now, and she tight-end her lips around the back of the knob as her tongue swabbed over its crest.
Marge's mouth was on Joe's cock, also-sliding up and down on it, sucking and licking. And she began to back up.
Turning quickly from the exciting spectacle beside him, he watched Marge's twat come closer. Oh, God! he thought, and then there was nothing to do but accept the inevitable as her wet, warm pussy came down over his mouth.
She ground her meat against his lips and teeth, deriving a wonderful thrill from this. But she wanted to feel his tongue spear up into her. That would really set her off.
Joe felt as if he were suffocating. Marge's tangy cunt-juice dribbled into his mouth, and he inhaled the musky fumes of her twat. His stomach lurched, then surprisingly steadied itself.
He reached up and grasped Marge's buttocks. He squeezed those pliant rubbery mounds and wiggled them. She groaned with her mouth around his cock-head and sucked harder. He let loose his tongue, driving it upward into her slippery slit.
Now they really went at it-Joe tonguing her twat while she bobbed her sucking mouth on his pecker. The more avidly she sucked and licked his dick, the more urgently he jammed his tongue up into her. His stimulation of her clitty was intense, and Marge thrilled more wildly to this than she had to any cunnilingus in a long, long time.
By now, Lew had straddled Celia's face and was gently stroking his prick up and down in the circle of her lips. Her tongue flickered over it. His balls bounced against her chin. She sucked a bit too hard for comfort, but he wasn't about to complain.
Celia came as she cocksucked him. He could tell when it happened, because she bit his peckerhead hard.
He almost went off, but he managed to control himself. At a later party, he would let her drink his ball-juice. He didn't want to force his luck with her now. Anyway, he was more than pleased with what had already happened.
He pulled his wet prick out of her mouth, scrambled backward, and landed between her splayed legs. He drove his pulsating cock into her pussy and began to pump it rapidly, fucking her for dear life.
Marge fingered Joe's nuts as she suckled the immense, swollen head of his prick. She sucked harder and harder, driven by the stabbing of his tongue into her tingling pussy. She pulled at his balls.
Giving a mighty groan, which was muffled by the wet folds of her snatch, Joe let his hips surge upward, jamming his jerking dick into her throat. It twitched wildly and jetted its juice, which splashed against Marge's gullet and slid down to her stomach. It didn't cause a lurch. She had gobbled cock-cream before.
But it happened that Joe bit her meat as he let go, and this intense shock (on top of a million thrills which had gone before) triggered Marge's orgasm. She shook against his face, showering him with her honey. His tongue lolled, his mouth remained wide open, and her rich juice flooded down his throat. He swallowed it all.
Everyone was fatigued by this time, and they slept.
Joe and Marge snuggled together on the sofa, while Lew and Celia had the use of the bed.
In the middle of the night, Joe awoke to find his wife squeezing his arm.
"Shhhh," she whispered. "Let's go back to the motel."
"Just walk out and leave them."
"They won't mind. The party's over, wouldn't you say?"
He looked up at her in the gloom. She was fully dressed. Her eyes twinkled down at him, "Yeah. I guess the party's over, all right," he agreed.
He got up carefully, so as not to rouse Marge. He gathered his clothes and got into them. He and Celia didn't say anything to each other.
He cast a final glance at Marge's shadowy, naked form as he prepared to leave the apartment.
Driving through the Southern California night, he and Celia had surprisingly little to say to each other. This was counter to Joe's assumption, earlier that evening, that a lot of explanations and adjustments would be called for.
Maybe they were both just too tired to face up to it now.
Joe wasn't quite certain how he felt at that moment. He had lived a lot in a very short time. He had enjoyed himself. But where did it all leave him? At the moment, he couldn't say.
Celia's mind was in something of a foggy tangle, also. She did the only sensible thing and elected not to try to unravel it tonight.
She put her head back against the car's seat and visualized Lew. What a lover he was!
VII
LEW AWOKE WITH A BURNING NEED TO piss.
He blinked, remembered, and felt the bed beside him. It was empty.
He sat up and turned the lamp on. Sure enough. Celia was gone.
He threw his legs over the side of the bed, stood up, and walked to the door. He opened it, noted that the rest of the apartment was dark, and felt his way across the living room to the couch.
Marge lay alone there.
"Hey, swinger," he said.
"Hunh?"
"We're all by our lonesome."
"What?"
"You're alone, aren't you?" he asked.
"Yeah. Where'd they go?" She sat up, ruffling her dark hair.
"Home, I suppose. I just woke up. Have to take a leak."
"I wonder if they were sore, taking off like that." She followed him toward the light in the bedroom.
"Sore? Are you kidding? They never had so much fun in their lives."
"That was the impression I had, too. But why didn't they wake us up to say good-bye?"
"Consideration, baby."
She followed him through the bedroom, into the john.
"Did you see how Celia took to my cock?" he asked, as he moved up to the toilet.
He held his limp peter and shot a stream of piss into the water.
"Joe was no slouch, either," she said, as she watched her husband urinate. "After I coaxed him a little," she added.
Lew reached to flush the toilet.
"Save the water," Marge said. "I have to piss, too."
He stood aside and watched her seat herself on the potty. Her piss tinkled into the water.
"Let's set up a date with them and the Miltons for next weekend," he suggested.
"I don't know. Maybe that's rushing it."
"Rushing it, shit! Celia and Joe are converts now."
"Not necessarily," Marge said, as she lifted her bottom off the toilet seat and reached for some paper. "There could be a negative reaction."
"Oh, baloney! Don't be a worry bird."
"Well, I'll call Celia first thing in the morning and see what her attitude is."
"Then call Linda right away to make sure she and Chuck don't set up another date."
"They'll be crazy for Joe and Celia," she said wistfully.
"Damned right."
She flushed the toilet. "Doesn't it bother you to think of Chuck screwing Celia right away-before you've hardly had the chance to enjoy her yourself?"
"No. Why should it? She's just another cunt."
"You tender-hearted bastard," she said amiably.
"Come on. I know what's the matter with you. You don't want to share Joe."
"And that's why you're so eager to ring the Mil-tons in on it, hmm?"
"That's part of the reason," he admitted.
"Well, you don't have to worry about me, tomcat. I don't let a little nookey go to my head."
"Even Joe's nookey?"
"Even Joe's."
They walked back into the bedroom.
"He does have a pretty big stinger, though."
She grinned at her husband. "Does that make you feel inadequate?"
"Are you kidding?" They got into bed. "It ain't what you've got; it's the way that you use it."
"Touch'."
She settled down, and he leaned to turn out the light.
She thought about Joe. He did have a wonderful big stinger, and he used it well, also. Perhaps not with the sophistication of Lew, but in a way she liked very much. He had really socked it to her.
And he'd eaten her cunt nicely.
It was true that she didn't like to think of him swinging with that cat, Linda Milton.
Celia was a lucky girl.
"Hi! It's me. How are you?"
"Oooooh," Celia said. "I just woke up." Her voice was husky.
"You mean I woke you?" Marge asked.
"Yes, but it's all right. Unless my bedside clock is fast, it's time I was on my feet."
Marge asked softly, "How do you feel?"
Celia settled down into the covers and spoke quietly into the mouthpiece, so as not to disturb Joe, who was sleeping at her side. "I'm not sure how I feel," she said.
"You're not sore at us, are you?"
"Of course not."
"Are you sore at Joe?"
"Maybe I'm sore at myself."
"Why?"
"Oh, Marge, it was so wild."
"Sure. Wild and good. Free. Uninhibited. Pure pleasure."
"I wouldn't use the word pure if I were you."
"Pure pleasure, I said. You did enjoy yourself, didn't you?"
"Yes," Celia admitted. "You enjoyed all of it?"
"Yes!" Celia said, her voice rising slightly. "Maybe that's the trouble."
"I see. The old Puritan pleasure-guilt pattern."
"I'm not a Puritan."
"We're all Puritans by cultural heredity," Marge said.
"Oh, don't give me that psychological malarkey."
Marge snickered. "That isn't psychological. It's sociological. What did you learn in college, anyway?"
"Maybe I'm not awake yet."
"Where's Joe?"
"Beside me. Asleep."
"What did he have to say last night?"
"Very little."
"How come you two left without a word."
"We didn't want to bother you and Lew."
"That was the only reason?"
"Of course."
"Celia, there's no reason for you to feel you did anything wrong-not the slightest. We all had fun. That was it ... period. Fun is good for its own sake. And don't feel you have to atone for it."
"I don't. But ... well, the whole thing was kind of ... cheap, don't you think?"
"Mm-hmm."
"You admit it was cheap?"
"Sure. But what's wrong with that? It's silly to think of sex as something sacred. It's kicks."
Celia hesitated, then said. "Maybe that's where you and I don't agree entirely."
"We agreed last night."
Celia couldn't dispute that. Last night they had been sisters in sin, if sin was what it was.
"Well, I won't keep you," Marge said. "I just wanted to make sure there were no hard feelings."
"No. Of course not."
"Give me a call after you and Joe talk things over."
"All right."
"Bye, now."
"Good-bye, Marge."
Celia hung up the telephone and turned to look at her sleeping husband. She wondered how he really felt about what had happened.
She wondered, also, strangely enough, how she really felt about him.
As if her thoughts had reached down and touched him, he stirred. In a moment, he flopped onto his back. His cheeks and chin bore a trace of beard.
His eyes opened, and he looked up at her. "Good morning," she said gently. He sat up.
"Well, we're gonna have to talk about it sooner or later," she said. He looked at her. "What do you think?" she asked. "I think..." He sighed. "That bad, hmm?"
"No." He was looking down. "Not bad. Strange, I guess."
"You had fun. Right?"
He looked up quickly. "Don't tell me you didn't."
"Oh, no. I did." Her tone was wistful. "Then I guess that's all there is to say. We both had fun."
"But isn't there more we ought to talk about."
"like what?"
"Well, did we ... hurt each other?" He gazed at her.
"Did we, Joe?" she asked, more urgently. "No," he said. "Are you sure."
"Yes."
"Do you ... want to do it again."
"Yes."
She let out the breath she had been holding back.
"Well, I guess we'd better be getting up," she said, feeling relieved.
He reached for her, took hold of her arm, and pressed her down against the pillow.
"Joe...? " There was a hint of alarm in her tone and in the way she looked at him.
He bore down for a kiss. He ground his mouth against hers, opening it, and he thrust his tongue inside. After a moment of shock, she kissed back.
He straightened up and looked at her. She blinked and gazed up at him.
"Still the same?" she asked. "Sure. Why not?"
He touched her tits through her nightie, rubbing his hand back and forth across their quivery crests. The nipples rose immediately.
He was gripped by an urge to screw her, and he tossed the covers back. He began pulling her nightgown up.
"Joe! No! Not this morning. Please, don't!"
He gazed at her triangular blonde patch. Everything about her looked the same, even though she'd been used by another man. Well used, too.
"You don't want me to touch you?" he asked.
"It isn't that. But I'm ... not clean. I was so tired last night, I didn't do what I should've done."
"I'm not clean either, I suppose. But if you don't care, I don't."
She gazed at him. "Are you sure you can do it?"
Perhaps it wasn't altogether an idle question. He hadn't become hard yet. But he didn't really think he would have any trouble. He'd never in his life had trouble getting a hard-on when he wanted it.
He snuggled down against her and worked a shoulder strap of her nightie down. Her pink nipple popped out and he touched it with his tongue.
She closed her eyes. The touch was like Lew's, and yet it wasn't. Every man was a little different, she guessed, in the way he went about things.
He lowered the other side of her nightie and rubbed that tit. He slid his mouth from one to the other.
His hand moved down her front and across her love garden, which was still covered by her nightgown. The garment was short, however, and she hadn't put or. the panties which were supposed to go with it.
He pulled the nightie up and caressed her fluff. His cock began to harden.
Hell, yes! He could screw all night and still have energy left for the morning.
He opened her legs and rubbed her smooth, wiggly pussy lips up and down.
She began to get the message. She parted her legs wider and drew her knees back. He found her slit and poked his middle finger at it. She felt sticky there.
She softened for him ... a little. He worked his finger in.
Celia would have preferred for him not to take her this morning. She didn't feel like it, after everything that had happened last night. She was surprised that he did.
In fact, she reached for his pecker to find out whether he was capable of it, or if he was only kidding himself.
Kidding, hell! His cock was sticking up, big and hard as ever.
He was a pretty good stud. She had to give him that.
Funny she should feel this resentment, she thought, as she went on feeling it. Or was it funny? His screwing around with his secretary had set this whole thing off. Except for that, there wouldn't have been any swapping with Marge and Lew.
So, she was sorry it had happened!
No, she wasn't.
Oh, God, she didn't know.
Joe was stroking his finger in and out of her pussy now, preparing the channel for his prick, as he licked and sucked at her nipples in turn.
Celia just wasn't with it. Her pussy had moistened to a certain degree and had opened for him, but she would have been glad if he'd forgotten the whole thing.
Not Joe. Not now, especially. He seemed to have to prove something to himself ... and possibly to her, as well.
He swung atop her, his cock projecting out through the front of his pajamas. He gripped it and wiggled the head of it against her cunt.
Her cunt yielded dutifully, and his pecker slipped in.
The fucking was fated to be a disaster, because (a) he really didn't want her this morning, and (b) she really didn't want anybody. He wanted only to prove that she was still his wife and he was the cock of the walk. She was resigned to her duty as a wife.
It was a bad scene.
He screwed her vigorously-too vigorously, at the start. She tried to move with him but gave up. He stroked faster and faster. Her cunt might as well have been anesthetized.
He came, bucking and jetting a modest amount of cream into her. It wasn't even very warm, because his balls hadn't had a chance to heat up.
Celia wasn't close to a climax.
When he realized she was getting no satisfaction, the point he was trying to prove turned into a mockery. He pulled his prick out of her and flopped onto his back.
Neither of them spoke. They just lay there, side by side, staring at the ceiling.
Finally he said, "Okay, get up now, if you want to."
She sat up. She adjusted her hair, lifting the long golden strands behind her shoulder and looked down at him.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I guess I didn't feel in the mood."
"Sure." He didn't look at her. "Joe, we shouldn't have tried this morning. I told you."
"Do you want to get up, or not?" She got up.
In the shower, she scrubbed and scrubbed. But she wasn't sure whose traces she was trying to wash off-his or Lew's.
Joe lay on his back and thought about Marge. What a hot bitch she was! The way she had used her mouth on him was something else.
And the way he had used his mouth on her...!
He smiled to himself. He hadn't realized he had it in him.
It just proved, he supposed, that it took a certain kind of woman to bring it out.
VIII
ON MONDAY MORNING, HE REGARDED his beautiful blonde secretary in an entirely different way.
She was plunder, and he was a pirate.
"Do you have a boy friend, Sandra?" he interrupted his dictation to ask.
"Well! What brought that on?"
"I'm just curious. Do you?"
"No one special," she said.
"That's funny. You're a very pretty girl."
"Well, let me explain something. I use my maiden name around here, but I've been married."
"You're so young."
"I got married at seventeen. It lasted two years. I've had my fill of that, thanks."
"He didn't appreciate you, hmm?"
"He used me like an appliance," she said levelly. "The trouble was, he used other girls, too. But he wouldn't grant me an equal privilege. I decided, the hell with that noise. So now I do what I like when the spirit moves me."
He grinned. "You sound like my type of chick."
She looked pointedly at the ring on his hand.
"My wife's broad-minded," he explained.
"I wonder if that's what my husband used to tell the sluts he screwed around with," Sandra said bluntly.
"In my case, it's true."
"You mean, you let your wife screw around?"
He nodded.
She lifted a perfectly shaped eyebrow and regarded him speculatively. "Busy tonight?" he asked. "No."
"Interested?"
"My, you really come on! I'm surprised."
Joe was a little surprised at his own boldness. But he was a changed man since Friday night.
"We'll go to dinner," he said confidently, "have a few drinks, and..."
"And?" That eyebrow was still up there.
"A motel, if you like."
She opened her mouth, and he saw her pink tongue moving against her teeth.
"All right," she said. "Once. No strings, no promises."
"That's fine with me."
"Seven-thirty?"
"Great."
She scribbled something on a blank sheet of her stenographic pad, ripped it out, and handed it to him. It was her address.
She reread her last shorthand, ". . . and accordingly we wish to advise..."
"Yes." He cleared his throat. Goddamn, that went smoothly! "We wish to advise ... "
When he called Celia that afternoon and told her he had to work late, she didn't say anything for a moment.
"I'm sorry," he said, "but it's part of getting settled in a new job."
"I see." Her tone was cool.
"Celia, look ... I can't help it. All right?" His tone was sharp.
"All right. When will you be home?"
"Don't wait up for me."
"This is our first full day in the new apartment. I thought I would fix something nice for dinner."
"Tomorrow, hmm?" She didn't say anything.
"I have to hang up now," he said. "See you later."
She touched the switch button on the phone and pressed it down.
When he heard the click, without a good-bye from her, he squinted. She apparently suspected what he was up to, because she thought she had caught him cheating before.
Well, so what? She had no kick. She had screwed with another man ... and she had sucked his goddamned pecker, too. She had her fun, and he had his.
He would maintain the pretense of fidelity, except when they swapped together. As for tonight, if she came over to spy on him she would see him leave the building alone. He intended to go out and rent a motel room early, then spruce up a little before his date.
He gazed through the glass at Sandra, working away out there as if nothing was going to happen tonight. She took her sex pretty casually. Well, that was good. That was just the way he liked it.
Shit, this was a swinging world! But you had to be a swinger to know it.
"He's doing it again," Celia blurted. "He says he's working late tonight." Marge laughed.
"Now, listen! You told me the swap would put a stop to that. I know, I enjoyed myself the other night. . . but the main idea of the whole thing was to give Joe a chance to get his variety without cheating on me."
"He's not cheating on you," Marge said.
"The devil he isn't! I saw him leave the office building with his secretary before, and I know darned well that if I went over there this afternoon..."
"Whoa! Cool down, will you? He didn't cheat on you the other time."
"Oh, Marge, come on. I'm not that simple. Really."
"I'm telling you the truth. Joe and I talked about it the other night."
"What? You told him I saw him with that blonde?"
"I had to. He was going to upset the hay wagon when you and Lew went into the bedroom together. I had to let him know what was behind the whole thing."
"Marge how dare you!" Celia flared. "I'm sorry, baby. I couldn't help it. He would have ruined everything, otherwise."
"Well, what did he say?"
"That he really went to a business meeting the other night, and his secretary went along to take notes. After the meeting broke up, she went home, and he went out to dinner with the men."
"Do you believe that?"
"Yes. He was sincere."
"Then why didn't he break up the swap?"
"He decided, by then, it was too late, I suppose. Anyway," she added with a giggle, "he wanted to screw me."
(Marge had altered the facts a little. The truth was, by then he already had screwed her. But Marge thought it would sound better this way.)
"Ooooh!" Celia moaned.
"Relax. You have nothing to worry about. Swapping is lots of fun, anyway. Both you and Joe enjoyed it. You will again."
Celia didn't say anything.
"You can rest assured about tonight," Marge went on.
"I suppose I feel a little better about that."
"You should feel good about everything."
"I don't know. I feel more guilty than ever about the swapping."
"Good Lord!" Marge exclaimed. "Guilty for what? For enjoying yourself? Grow up, Celia!"
"Okay. Good-bye, Marge. And thanks."
"Forget it. See you soon."
They hung up.
"Well, let's go to the motel," Joe said, as he sat opposite Sandra in a dimly lit lounge. They had been drinking and listening to cool jazz.
"I'm still a little worried about your wife," she said. "One thing I've made it a point never to do is get involved with married men."
"I told you, it's just as if I were single. Celia and I live our own lives."
She still regarded him a bit skeptically.
To convince her (and also to brag a little), he went on, "The other night we had a swap date with a married couple we know. I made it with the guy's wife, and Celia made it with him-all in the same room."
"Really?" Sandra's eyes widened.
"Sure. So there's no problem. Celia and I both feel the way you do-sex is for fun, whenever you happen to be in the mood, and with anyone you like."
"You're not just putting me on about that swapping business, are you?"
"No. It happened. And we're gonna do it again. The couple we swapped with knows others who swap. Celia and I are gonna meet them, too."
"I've always wanted to go to an orgy," she said, "but I never had the chance. It must be fun to screw while another couple's watching."
"It is." Joe grinned. "But right now I just want to screw you, alone. What do you say?" He enclosed her hand in his.
"All right. Know a good motel?"
"I've already rented a room."
"Man, you're really confident!"
"Why not? I believe in the power of thinking positively."
He helped her up, and she preceded him out of the lounge while he studied the twisting sway of her ass. He imagined his prick in the middle of that action, and he got a warm little throb where he lived.
In the car, on the way to the motel, Sandra sat close to him. He placed his hand on her stockinged .knees. The tips of his fingers sought to wedge themselves between her knees, and, in a few moments, she relaxed and let her knees part a little. His hand slid up her near thigh, pushing her skirt before it.
His cock hardened in his shorts as he kneaded her thigh through her stocking. Then he slid his hand onto bare, warm flesh. His fingers worked it sensuously.
"That feels good," she admitted, and her hand came to rest in his lap.
"Oh!" she said, when she felt how big he was.
Her fingers deftly massaged the head of his penis, through his pants and briefs.
His hand slid higher on her thigh. Her skin was marvelously smooth. Her thigh was full, yet firm-fuller than Celia's and firmer than Marge's.
Joe was beginning to regard himself as something of a connoisseur of women and all their various features. He wondered how Sandra's tits would compare with Marge's. Both women were large-breasted, but there would be differences undoubtedly.
His hand was warmly wedged between the tops of Sandra's thighs, and he extended his little finger to touch her panty crotch. At the contact, he felt her give a little jerk. She gripped his cock harder.
She let her legs loll more, and Joe placed all his fingers on her panties. He rubbed the warm, close-fitting nylon up and down, enjoying her plushy softness on the other side of the thin cloth.
Suddenly he realized they were nearing the motel, and he took his hand away. He glanced down at her thighs and marveled at the creamy beauty of the flesh above her stocking tops.
"We're just about there," he said, and she took her hand from him. She shoved her skirt down.
He drove into the motel and parked in front of the room. His cock was still pretty hard, but it had relaxed sufficiently so that he could stand up without embarrassing himself too much.
He walked around the front of the car and opened Sandra's door. He admired her sleek legs as she swung them around and stood up.
They walked to the room, he unlocked it, and they went inside.
He drew her into his arms. She kissed him. Their tongues rubbed, and their saliva mingled.
Her warm belly, pressing against his cock, brought a new surge of blood rushing into it. He enjoyed the firm thrust of her titties against his chest.
She drew back. "Let me go into the bathroom and get undressed."
"I want to undress you," he said.
"Do you think you can find all the snaps and zippers?"
He said, "I'll enjoy looking for them."
She was willing, and he immediately set about the happy task. He searched her dress for its fasteners, opened them, and slid the dress away. She wore a black bra, lacy and low-cut, and a slip to match. Her milky tits bulged above the cups of the brassiere. Joe gazed down into the soft narrow defile between them and thought about placing his cock there, something he always had had an urge to do. (Celia's tits weren't large enough to allow a man to make love to her in that fashion.)
Sandra looked up at him and watched his reaction as he reached around her to open the brassiere. He had to struggle with the hooks a little, but managed to open them, and he drew the clingy garment away.
Her titties bounced free of the cups and stood quivering, nude, in front of him.
They were gorgeously shaped, more elongated than Marge's, and they stood very erect. The thick beige nipples at their crests jutted proudly forward.
Joe wrapped his hands around the beautiful tits. He marveled at their fullness and how little give they had when he squeezed them. But he could manipulate them up and down, back and forth, and around. He rubbed the satiny mounds against each other.
"You must be a tit man," Sandra observed, not unkindly, as he played with them.
"I enjoy tits and everything," he said.
"Mmmmm. That sounds good. Hurry up and take the rest of my clothes off."
He relinquished her tits reluctantly, for the moment, and dropped to his knees in front of her. He drew her half-slip away from her belly and down her thighs, exposing a imagine black panty-girdle, light-weight and brief, which clung to her hips and bottom like a second skin. Garters extended down from it to grip her hose.
She stepped from the slip, and he petted her legs up and down, enjoying the marvelous texture of thigh-flesh against his fingers. He caught her garters, in turn, and opened them. He shoved her stockings down, caressing every inch of her lovely legs.
She raised her right foot so that he could remove her shoe and stocking, then her left. She wore only one garment of clothing now-the brief panty-girdle.
He took hold of the top of that and lowered it, partially folding it over and peeling it away. Her belly was just rounded enough. Now he saw the hair on her pubic mound, which was dark in contrast to her honey-colored coiffure.
He pulled the panty girdle down her thighs, past her knees, and along her calves. As she stepped out of it, he studied her crotch, which became a bit more visible to him, though the large lips of her pussy were closed.
She had applied perfume to her inner thighs and it wafted to his nostrils, delighting him and urging him to approach the shrine of her sex.
She remained standing in front of him, after he had removed her girdle, and he remained on his knees. She gazed down at him.
His hands slid up her thighs. His thumbs touched her coarse, curly pubic hair and the soft lips beneath it.
"Do you want me to lie down?" she murmured. "Yes."
She turned to the bed, and he gazed at her lovely bottom. He got to his feet, his rod poking painfully against the interior of his shorts.
He decided he would have to strip completely before he touched her again.
She bent to draw the bedspread off the bed, and he glimpsed her pussy from the rear-just a wisp of its hair and the merest portion of the lips.
He tore quickly at his clothes, stripping off his tie and unbuttoning his shirt.
She lowered the covers on the bed, turned, and lay down. As she swung her legs around, he saw more of her. She relaxed, with her legs gracefully arranged, partially open. He could see most of her box now, but its large lips remained closed.
She watched him as he disrobed. She was evidently one of those girls who derived special enjoyment from the effect she had on men when she was nakedly exposed in front of them.
When Joe lowered his trousers, she had no trouble perceiving her effect upon him. His hardened cock had his Jockey briefs all out of shape. There was even a wet spot on the fabric where the tip of his pecker pressed.
He kicked his trousers away and hopped clumsily from one foot to the other as he tore off his socks. His cock bobbed in his knit underwear.
He was a little embarrassed to have her watching him so blatantly. But he enjoyed it, too. Now he gripped his briefs at the top and stripped them down, letting his large prick leap free and lock into straight, up-thrust erection.
"You're big," she said appreciatively.
"Think you can take it?" he grinned.
"I'll manage. My husband had one at least that large."
That dampened his ego a little, but not enough to do it any damage. He knew he was hung better than most males.
He got down onto the bed beside her, and she wrapped her hand around his pecker right away. He basketed her lush tits between his hands and smeared his mouth back and forth across their jutting nipples. He poked at them with his tongue, bent and twirled them, then clamped his mouth warmly down around one and sucked.
He kissed upward to her throat, around it to her ear, down her cheek and to her mouth, where he flicked his tongue between her lips. Her tongue flicked back.
She had skinned the head of his cock and was teasing it with her fingertips. He was becoming very tight with excitement.
He kissed downward between her titties. He used his hands to press the lush boobs against his cheeks. His mouth hopped to one nipple, then the other, drawing upward on the firm, rubbery stems.
He backed up and kissed down around her middle.
She became more excited, her body stirring beneath his kissing, sucking lips. He clamped his mouth around her navel and flicked his tongue into it.
Her hands touched the top of his head and pressed.
She wanted him to go down on her, of course.
Again Joe was gripped by indecision, as he had been with Marge. But the fact that he had mouthed her pussy and survived, even deriving a peculiar thrill from it, encouraged him to resolve his doubts in favor of doing it to Sandra.
He kissed lower on her body. His head became a little light. He breathed in the sweetness of her perfume, then caught a whiff of her musky arousal.
He pushed himself farther back, gripped her near leg and lifted it over his body. This spread her wide. Her inner cunt was exposed to him. The rosy flesh was beginning to dribble with moisture.
He hesitated, gazing at it.
"Nnnnnnnnn," she whined impatiently, and she twisted her hips against the mattress.
The folds of her pussy wiggled, inviting him to get his tongue into it.
He gripped both her thighs from underneath and elevated them slightly more. He bent closer. Her female fragrance touched him strongly now. It was stronger than Marge's.
He ruffled her pussy fur with his hand and stroked downward, over her moist, open cunt.
"Kiss it," she whimpered. Her hips bobbed a little.
She was more flooded. God, how she wanted his tongue in there!
He used the tip of his middle finger to stroke up and down in her gash.
"Hurry!" she demanded.
He got his face very close to it, and she gave another bump. This ended his indecision by socking the wet snatch against his mouth. He groaned and fastened onto it with his lips. His head reeled lightly as he ran his tongue into her crevice.
"Ooooooooh!" he heard her wail, then he couldn't hear anything else, because she pressed her thighs against the sides of his head and knotted her legs around the back of his neck.
She ground her moist, fragrant cunt against his open mouth, as his tongue pistoned in and out of it and his lips sucked up her honey.
The cunnilingus not only thrilled Sandra a great deal, but it pumped more congestion into Joe's immense, swollen pecker, making it feel as if it were about to burst. His balls were tight.
He clawed her legs away from his neck and lifted his head, gasping for breath.
"Screw me!" she demanded, her eyes burning like live coals.
He scrambled forward atop her, and she directed his rod into her very moist, elastic hole. It entered and slid all the way in a single stroke. Joe throbbed with delight as he held his prick deeply inside her.
"Don't hold back," she insisted breathlessly. "I can take it." And as if to prove her point, she lifted her knees high along his sides.
"Damn, you feel good!" he exclaimed, and he began to hunch.
He started with long, slow strokes, but her cunt felt so very good around him ... and her legs felt so good lifted against his ribs ... that he couldn't hold down the tempo. He stroked faster and faster, deeply into her. He gazed down at her passion-charged face, and this stimulated him all the more.
Finally he lowered his chest against her, pillowing himself on her springy tits, and he let his hips go as fast as they could, ramming his delirious dick in and out of her. His eyes rolled back. He gasped. He groaned. His cock jerked mightily, and his hot cream gushed into Sandra.
She shook, catching her orgasm at the tail end of his. She moaned in completion.
He settled down, still supporting most of his weight on his elbows, and his hands wrapped themselves around her gloriously up-thrust boobs. He squeezed and wiggled the firm pliant flesh.
Her hand idly ruffled his hair.
He kissed her mouth, using his tongue more than his lips. He slowly lapped in and out of the warm cup of honey, then licked all along its soft rim.
She protruded her pink tongue, and he sucked the end of it.
"Was it good?" he asked her.
"Very good," she purred in obvious satisfaction.
"Would you like to get up and take a shower before we go again?"
"I'm too lazy," she said, and she didn't suggest that he might take a shower if he wanted to.
Joe took this as tacit agreement to suck his prick the way it was, coated with his come and hers. Marge had sucked it that way the first time.
He didn't consider that Sandra wasn't a cock-sucker. She was a swinging chick who'd had quite a bit of experience; she took a free and easy attitude toward sex; and she had expected him to eat her cunt, which he had done. So she would surely take his pecker in her mouth.
He wasn't going to rush about it, though. In fact, he wanted to rest a little while before receiving any intense stimulation.
He decided this was a perfect time to enjoy her titties more fully than he'd been able to do before. He swung off her, settled down at her side, and bent to the bountiful boobs, holding and stroking them with his hands as he chased their dancing nipples. He eventually trapped each of these between his lips.
She let him enjoy himself.
As he petted, tongued and sucked at her boobs, she talked about swapping.
"I wish I knew a guy who would take me to a swap party," she said.
Joe raised his mouth and replied, "You'd have to have a husband to get into our group." (He already considered himself a member of the Westcotts' swap circle.)
"But if you and your wife are as broad-minded as you said, couldn't you take me to one of your parties?"
He kept tonguing her nipple.
"Well, couldn't you?" she insisted, pulling his head off the tit.
"It's possible," he said. "It would depend on how the others felt about it."
"Find out, will you?"
"Okay."
He bent to her titty again.
Slowly but surely, his balls were beginning to build up a new charge. He rolled and rubbed her breasts, kissed them up and down, and took quick sucks at their upstanding tips.
Finally, when he felt sufficiently rejuvenated, he threw a leg over her and sat on her middle, again protecting her from most of his weight, this time with his knees.
"What's the idea?" She gazed up at him, somewhat amused.
He gathered her tits in his hands and rubbed them together.
"I'd like to get in between these beauties," he said.
"How do you mean?"
"With my cock."
"What would I get out of that?"
"I don't know. Why don't we try it and see?"
"All right. If you want to."
He moved closer to her breasts.
"Hasn't any guy ever done this with you before?" he inquired. "One fellow wanted to. But I wouldn't let him."
"Why not?"
"Oh, it seemed sort of silly."
He lifted his half-hard dick and lay it in the valley of her tits. He gripped those big, full tits again and pressed them against his shaft. His rod immediately took on added hardness.
"You like it?" she asked, looking up at him.
He was wiggling the boobs back and forth against his cock.
"Sure do," he said. "See how stiff I'm getting?"
"You have a nice, big prick," she said, looking at it.
This encouraged him and he decided the time had come to feed it to her face.
He pushed forward on his knees until the head of his cock was well above her titties projecting from between them. His nuts lay against them.
She was looking down her face at the end of his pecker, but she didn't lift her head, which would be necessary if she were to take it in her mouth.
He kept squeezing and rubbing her boobs against his shaft and balls.
"Come on, baby ... kiss it," he said.
"Whaaat?" She looked up at his face.
"Kiss my prick," he told her, grinning.
"Ooh, no!"
"Why not?"
"I don't do that!"
He was surprised by the vehemence of her statement.
"I kissed your cunt," he reminded her, still grinning a little.
"You wanted to."
"I wanted to please you. Don't you want to please me?"
"I don't suck cocks," she said firmly. "Now get off."
He was hurt and angry. Some men might have tried to force the dick on her, but he didn't.
He realized, however, as he got off, that he had been looking forward to the fellatio more strongly than he had admitted to himself. That was the thing which had happened at the swap party that had pleased him the most.
He felt as if he had been taken advantage of tonight. He had sucked Sandra's pussy but she hadn't given him the same kind of treatment in return. Oral lovemaking was a two-way street, wasn't it?
She looked up at him, studying his expression, then rolled onto her stomach.
He gazed at her beautiful ass.
"You can take me that way if you want to," she said, "but be careful you get the right hole."
He lay his hand across her firm, quivery buttocks. He shimmied them and enjoyed the taut wobble of her flesh.
He moved around and got in between her legs. She elevated her ass for him.
It would serve her right if he did ram his prick up her ass-hole, he thought. But he didn't want to get that rough.
Anyway, he didn't think it would be much fun. He wasn't anus-inclined.
He lifted his hand underneath her fur-trimmed pussy and rubbed it.
"That's nice," she said, and ground herself gently against his hand.
He slid his middle finger into her cunt.
"I don't want that," she told him, looking back over her shoulder, with her cheek on the pillow. "Give me your big prick."
"The prick you wouldn't suck?"
"I screw. I don't suck."
"That's your motto, hmm?"
"Oh, shut up and ram your cock in. Please!"
He took hold of his big, full-to-bursting rod and placed the brad of it against her split. She wiggled and pushed backward, attempting to sheath the cock inside her. But he moved backward, also, barely maintaining contact.
"Goddamnit!" she exclaimed in frustration. "Stick it in meee!"
He couldn't continue the tease because he needed to establish the linkage as badly as she did. So he threw his hips forward and drove the rigid pecker all the way up her channel, filling her with his hot, hard strength.
"Oooooh, man!" she exclaimed. "Now, work it! Work it hard as hell!"
He began to pump his prick in and out of her, slamming his firm belly against her bouncy buttocks. He rotated his cock a little as he stroked it in and out. She rotated her hips, and the combination of twisting, pumping motion on both sides gave both of them a great deal of pleasure.
He reached forward underneath her, gripped her large titties, and squeezed them as he humped her, dog-fashion.
He enjoyed himself so much that he almost forgot his disappointment over her failure to cocksuck him. Almost, but not quite.
He strove to a frenzied finish, humping her for all he was worth, and she got her jollies exactly when he got his. They heaved and shook together, then finally relaxed forward against the bed. He remained for a while, spread-eagled atop her.
Celia was awake when he got home at around one o'clock. She was in bed, and could very easily have pretended she was asleep, as she did once before. But she wanted to confront him.
At first, she had pretty well accepted Marge's assurance that he wasn't cheating with his secretary. But when the hour grew late, her suspicions were re-born. Business get-togethers didn't usually last until midnight and past.
"Hello, darling," she said from the darkness of the bedroom as he entered.
"Oh. You still awake?"
"Mm-hmm."
"God, I'm beat."
"Tough meeting, hmm?"
"It wasn't that. It's just that the day was so damned long."
"Where did you go."
"What?"
"Where did you go tonight?"
He was undressing in the dark. "A restaurant. They had a banquet room there that we used. We had dinner, then talked business."
"That was quite a talk."
"Yeah, it lasted longer than I expected."
He got into his pajamas, and she remained silent for awhile. He walked to the bed, lay the covers back, and climbed in beside her.
She turned to him immediately, pressing her titties against his arm and her warm loins against his hip.
"Make love to me, darling," she murmured.
"Ooh, God, Celia I'm bushed!"
"Not too bushed I'll bet," she said softly. "Especially if I do this..." Her hand fluttered to the crotch of his pajamas.
"Don't!" he said sharply, and lifted her hand away.
He had never rejected her so brusquely before, whether he was tired or not. This added fuel to the fire of her suspicion.
She grew tense. She was at the point of blurting out an accusation, but she managed to hold her tongue. She didn't want a scene. That would be apt to make things worse, even if he was guilty of playing around.
So she tried a little different tack. She moved over to her side of the bed again and remarked, "I was talking with Marge today."
"Oh, were you?"
"Mm-hmm. She wondered if we'd like to have another swap party this weekend."
"Sounds good," he said immediately. "They're thinking of inviting another couple."
"Great!"
She hit him with a quick, pointed question. "Joe, why do you feel the need to swap?" He tensed. "It isn't a need, exactly," he said, choosing his words with care. "It's just fun. You admitted that you had a good time last Friday too."
"What if I changed my mind and said no more swaps? Would you be angry?"
He hesitated. What was she leading up to?
"You're not gonna do that," he said. "You enjoy swapping as much as I do."
"But what if I said no more? Would you start going out with other women, then?"
He turned on the pillow to gaze her way, but he couldn't make out her features. "What makes you ask a question like that?"
"I just wondered. Would you?"
"No," he said simply.
"So you don't feel you need to have more sex than I give you?"
He lost his patience with these prying questions. "I don't need to have anything," he said a bit sharply. "Now let's get to sleep."
He had been screwing around, all right, she decided. He wouldn't have spoken to her so harshly otherwise. And he wasn't being honest about his attitude toward sex. He had gone after Marge like a starving man at a banquet.
Well, they would go to the swap party on Friday. And she would enjoy herself just as much as he did. If she couldn't have him exclusively any more, she would do the next best thing and spread herself around. She hoped both Lew and the strange man at the party would screw her. She wanted both of them to screw her in front of Joe.
This thought, hatched by anger, was nurtured by sensual desire.
She lay awake for quite a while imagining Lew and another man, who was faceless, taking turns atop her body while Joe watched. She grew very hot, thinking about it, and her hand stole down along her belly.
She cupped her hot little cunt and caressed it through her nightgown.
Soon even that very thin garment was a matter of frustration and she got her hand underneath it. She rubbed her moist pussy-lips directly.
Joe was asleep. She could hear his even breathing.
She parted her legs more widely and drew her knees up. Her middle finger slipped into the crevice of her cunt and rubbed up and down across her tingling clitty.
After awhile, one finger wasn't enough to stimulate her properly, and she added a second to the job. She imagined that those two ringers were Lew's rigid prick. She jiggled them rapidly in her quim.
She visualized Joe's face as she frigged herself. He was gazing her way as Lew balled her, and she was looking him right in the eyes.
Now Lew was gone, and another man-a man she didn't know-was running his hot cock in and out of her cunt. Pumping. Driving. Digging deeply inside her.
Joe continued to watch, and she continued to gaze at him.
She came, bumping and quivering against her hand. Her fingers were very wet.
When she had steadied herself sufficiently, she got out of bed and walked to the bathroom.
Her eyes met her reflected gaze in the mirror, and for a moment it seemed that she was gazing at a stranger. A wan, troubled stranger.
She went back to bed and immediately fell asleep.
IX
TWO THINGS TROUBLED JOE THE NEXT day.
In the forefront of his mind there was disquietude about the state of his marriage. He knew Celia suspected him of tomcatting. That was bad. Swapping was one thing, but stepping out on her was a different matter. It was apt to put their marriage in jeopardy, and he didn't want that. He appreciated Celia as a wife, and he honestly wanted to keep her.
Deeper in his mind, he was troubled by Sandra's refusal to go down on him. He considered this in the light of the fact that Celia had gone down on Lew at the party. His own wife had gone down on Lew, but never on him. Then Sandra had refused to go down on him, also. That didn't set well.
The two considerations combined to cause him to approach Celia that night for sex ... and with a certain special objective in mind.
He began to act lovey in the living room, after dinner. At first, she resented this, because she assumed he was suffering from guilt over what he had done the night before and merely wanted to ease his own psychological burden. But as his hands began to move over her, and their mouths merged, she couldn't help responding physically.
So it was with mixed feelings that she walked into the bedroom with him.
She stood and let him strip her, the way he usually liked to do. He pulled up the loose-fitting blouse she wore, then unfastened and drew down her snug pants. Underneath, she wore a white bra and matching plain nylon briefs.
He removed the brassiere and rubbed his hand across her pert little titties. They were so different from Sandra's and Marge's, but they were very appealing in their way. Celia's nipples were delightfully pink, and the boobs on which they stood were firm as could be.
He dropped to his knees and lowered her panties. He nuzzled her belly, then surprised her by kissing right into the fluff. He had never gone down on her. It excited her to think he might do so tonight. Still, in the back of her mind, she continued to harbor a grudge.
Joe lowered her panties all the way, and she stepped out of them. He slid his hands up and down her legs, re-discovering the fact that her thighs were slimmer, straighter and firmer than either Marge's or Sandra's. He ruffled her pussy hair and found it very silken to the touch. Sandra pretended to be a blonde, but her pubic hair was dark. Celia was a real blonde, all over.
He stood.
"Why don't you take off my clothes tonight," he suggested.
He had never asked her to do that before, and she was surprised. But there was no reason why she shouldn't, so she proceeded to do so.
He stood still, his cock forming a hump at the front of his trousers, while she unbuttoned his shirt and helped him off with it. Her delicate fingers opened his belt, then the fastener at the top of his slacks. She dug for his zipper tab, gripped it, and lowered the zipper on his fly. His trousers slumped.
She bent and tried to slide them along his legs.
"You'll have to take off my shoes first," he pointed out. "These pants are too slim to get over them."
She got down on her knees in front of him.
This was a very good position for a woman to be in, he thought. It excited him. And he was especially excited by the fact that she was Celia, his wife.
He wanted very much for her to cocksuck him tonight.
He lifted a foot to let her slide off one of his loafers. Then she removed the other one. His slack trousers hung about his knees, and his Jockey briefs bowed forward, very close to her face as she bent to tend to his feet. But she seemed not to notice his hard-on.
She decided she might as well remove his socks while she was in that position, and she did so. Her deft fingers stimulated the nerve endings in his feet without really tickling.
She moved to get up, saying, "You can kick off your pants."
"You take them off," he told her, holding his hands on her shoulders.
She proceeded to work one pant leg down, then the other. She took the trousers off his feet and tossed them aside.
Again she tried to rise.
Again he held her where she was.
She stared at his out-of-shape shorts.
Now, for the first time, she came face to face with the proposition of sucking his prick. Would he want her to? He had watched her suck Lew's at the party.
She didn't feel like it, she decided. Maybe if he hadn't gone out with someone else last night, as she believed he surely must have done, she would have felt differently. But as it was ... no.
She took a firm hold of the waistband of his briefs, pulled it forward, and drew the garment down. His cock stood, bare and proud.
She leaned back, trying not to look at it and drew his underwear along his legs. He took out one leg then the other. She tossed the garment aside.
As soon as she started to rise, she felt his hands on her shoulders again. She gazed at his cock, then up at his face.
"Do it, honey," he said. "Please."
She looked at his cock again.
"No!" she said firmly. "I don't want to."
She tried again to rise. He held her where she was.
"You did it for Lew," he reminded her.
"That was a party. We were all wild, and we'd been drinking. Joe, let me up!"
He continued to hold her on the floor. "What's the matter? You think my cock is dirty but Lew's isn't?"
"That isn't it. I told you, it was a party. Anyway, he made me. Now, let me up!"
"Goddamnit!" he snapped, and he allowed her to get to her feet.
They glared at each other.
"Well, you've never gone down on me!" she said.
"If I will, will you?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"I just don't feel like it."
Again a sexual interlude between them had turned into disaster. They hadn't had any good sex together since the swap party.
Joe took what had happened tonight as vindication for his conduct of the night before. Celia was doubly resentful now. It seemed to her that Joe no longer had any regard for her.
She fled into the bathroom.
Muttering a curse, Joe climbed into bed.
Celia had a small cry. She stared at herself in the mirror for awhile and soothed herself by rubbing her naked breasts. Gradually, desire began to burn in her loins again.
She realized, also, that she would have to make up with Joe. They couldn't have an open break like this.
She walked back into the bedroom and around to her side of the bed. He had turned out the light and was lying on his side, facing the other way.
She lowered the covers and slid into bed.
"Don't be angry with me," she said softly.
"I'm not angry. It's just interesting to know you prefer Lew to me."
"I don't."
"like hell," he said bitterly. "All right! If you think that, there'll be no more swapping. I'll call Marge and..."
"Don't you dare."
"Oh? Now who prefers who to whom?" She knew, as soon as she said it, that it sounded ridiculous.
"Shut up," he told her.
She lay in the near-darkness, seething.
All right for him! It would be a cool day in hell before he touched her again. And she would screw like a rabbit at the party next Friday night. Not only that, she would go down on Lew and the other man, also-even if he was old and fat and ugly!
Just then, Joe turned toward her. He surprised her by saying quite contritely, "I'm sorry."
"Are you ... really?"
"Yes. I had no right to ask you to suck me. Sometime in the future, if you feel like it. . . " She rolled into his arms.
They both were naked, and his hands began immediately to roam over her sleek, warm flesh, while her hand dropped to his loins-to prove to him, he suspected, that she still placed some value on his prick though she didn't like it well enough to mouth it.
What did he care whether she went down on him or not, he tried to tell himself. He would get plenty of that kind of action at the swap party. Marge loved to give head, and probably the other broad who would be there would be a real hot cocksucker, too.
As he caressed Celia's silken twat and nibbled at the tips of her titties, his cock fattened in her hand. It became a thrusting rod of iron, covered by velvety foreskin.
She slid the foreskin back and palmed the knob of the penis.
His finger wiggled into her slit, found her more moist than he had expected after such a brief feel-up, and he stroked his finger in and out.
Moments later, she rolled onto her back, and he mounted her.
"Screw me hard," she told him hoping that her use of the stimulating word might make up for her refusal to perform a dirty act.
He didn't care. He just wiggled the end of his dick into the velvety socket of her cunt, then pushed, sinking the head deep inside her. They humped. Both of them put their backs in it, motivated by latent resentment as well as by a patent need to restore conjugal relations ... and, of course, by mutual lust.
It was a vicious but effective copulation.
Celia tossed her cunt against him, wiggling and moaning. He gave her a steady tattoo of long, strong, teeth-jarring strokes.
She kept talking dirty. "Oh, what a wonderful prick! Screw me! Hump me! Harder! Ooh, Jesus! Harder! Drive me through the mattress with your big, fat cock!"
"I'm giving you every inch!" he rasped.
She kicked her legs in the air and knotted them high over his back. She pulled herself against him with an audible slap each time he drove his hot dick deeply into her.
Her ass hung in the air above the mattress, and she twisted it as she bobbed her pussy on his pumping prick.
She kept saying, "Screw me ... ball me ... hump me! Oh, I feel your balls bouncing!"
"How does my cock feel, huh?" he demanded, between clenched teeth.
"Wonderful! Hard! Stiff! Oh, baby, what a beautiful big, stiff pecker!"
In a sense, they were more with it than they had ever been in their lives. It was ironic that it had taken a fight and a buildup of anger to make them that way.
They came exactly together, and the explosion was a sexual H-bomb in their guts.
X
"HOW ARE WE GONNA PAIR OFF?" RED-haired Linda Milton asked as she gazed at big, handsome Joe.
"Who says we have to pair off at all?" Marge retorted. "Let's just do what comes naturally ... with anybody we want."
"What if more than one of us wants the same person, dear?" Linda said with a bite.
"Then we fight for him, of course. . . darling."
Lew came up behind his wife and gave her a slap on the ass. "Behave yourself," he said, "or I'll make you stand on the sidelines and watch."
Everyone laughed.
Joe and Celia were drinking a little heavier than they usually did at parties. Both of them were determined to have the time of their lives tonight, and liquor seemed to be needed to bolster that determination.
Chuck Milton was gazing covetously at Celia. If things were allowed to take their natural course, it was clear that he would make a dash for her, and his wife would go for Joe ... but Marge obviously hoped to cut the redhead off at the pass.
"I think what we ought to do," Lew said, "is to have a little contest among the men. The winner takes his pick of partners, the second man picks next, and the third is stuck with the broad who's left ... even if she's his wife."
"Oh, shit, that's no good!" Chuck exclaimed.
Linda glared at him, and the others laughed.
"What sort of contest did you have in mind?" Joe asked Lew.
"A resistance contest," the latter said. "The men will compete to see who has the greatest resistance to women."
"How the hell are you gonna do that?" Marge wanted to know.
"Simple. We men will strip, then line up along the wall."
"I dig that!" Linda exclaimed, gazing at Joe.
Her remark evoked more laughter.
"Wait a minute," Lew said. "You haven't heard the main part yet. After the men are all in the buff and standing there, you gals will get up and do a strip tease in front of us. The last man to get a hard-on is the winner."
There were murmurs of interest in the idea. But Linda dissented.
"That's pretty negative, don't you think? At a party like this, the more and quicker the hard-ons, the better."
"Shit any of us can get a hard-on fast when he watches pretty women take their clothes off," Lew said. "The trick is to hold off for a while. Don't worry, Linda-we'll all be up and ready when you gals want us."
Lew looked at the other men for support.
"Sounds all right to me," Chuck said.
"I'll go along" Joe said. He figured he could keep from being the very first to get hard and that way he would get either Marge or Linda. Celia was a cinch to be picked by the winner, since she was new.
"Okay, it's settled, then," Lew announced. "Just one thing though-there's gonna be no cheating. The three of us will have to keep our eyes open all the time and keep looking at the babes."
"Don't worry," Chuck said. "You couldn't pry my eyes off them." By "them" he meant only Celia. He had hardly looked at anyone else, so far.
"Come on, girls, let's get a front row seat," Marge said as she scampered to the sofa and sat down in the center of it. "Okay guys-take it off!"
Giggling, Linda and Celia joined her on the sofa.
The men gathered in the center of the room. Chuck and Joe hesitated but, when Lew began to take off his clothes, they followed his lead.
"Do we have to strip right down to our balls?" Chuck wanted to know as he unbuttoned his shirt.
The girls giggled again.
"To our balls!" Lew retorted loudly.
Joe took his clothes off without looking at the women. He stacked his things on a chair. When he was nude, he glanced around and noted that Lew was getting out of his briefs, while Chuck was already naked.
Joe looked toward the sofa. Linda was eyeing him covetously, and so was Marge. Celia's eyes seemed to be flickering over all three men. Her cheeks were a little flushed.
"Okay, guys," Lew said, "let's get our butts against the wall."
As they complied, he added "Now girls, it's your turn. And you'd better strip more gracefully than we did."
"Don't we get some music?" Marge asked, as she stood up.
"Sure, if you want. Turn it on."
Some time was lost as she searched for the right LPs and stacked them on the hi-fi turntable. Joe felt ill at ease, standing there in his birthday suit, especially since the women were still fully clothed.
Finally music blared forth from the hi-fi speakers. Marge had chosen a Tijuana Brass album, to start things off.
Laughing among themselves, the women formed a line in front of the men.
"Okay, this is it," Marge announced, as she reached for the fasteners on her dress. "Let's make like Candy Barr shall we?"
"You do and we'll eat you," Chuck threatened.
"Goody!" Marge squealed, and pulled her zipper down fast.
The strip was on.
Celia went into it tensely, in spite of the liquor she'd consumed. She'd never put on a show for anybody before. It was only because there were a couple of women beside her, doing the same thing, that she felt she could go through with it, at all.
Marge and Linda pranced around, making quite a display of themselves as they slowly removed their dresses. Celia stood in place, merely unzipped herself and drew her dress up. Still, she claimed the major share of the men's attention. Even Joe was looking at her, she noted. That she especially liked.
Marge wore a black bra, matching lacy panties, and long dark hose, attached to a garter belt underneath her pants.
Linda was decked out in blue briefs and beige hose. Her bra was transparent exhibiting her red nipples. She wore no garter belt, since her stockings had built-in elastics at their tops.
Celia wore a pink bra and short, pink slip.
Joe was concentrating intensely on the problem of keeping his cock down. So far he had succeeded very well. It hadn't fattened at all.
Chuck's cock had changed a little, but it hadn't risen.
Lew's showed no discernible increase in size or tension.
"Okay, girls..." Marge called. "Time to show our titties."
Linda laughed, and immediately reached for her bra hooks, opening them. She whipped her bra away with such vigor, that her large tits bounced.
Joe gazed at them and became afraid, for the first time, that he might lose the contest. But he quickly switched his gaze to Celia, who was slow in removing her bra. Anyway, she was his wife, and he'd seen her tits a thousand times.
Marge removed her brassiere and pranced back and forth, letting her large, out-thrust boobs bob up and down.
"Shit, baby, that's no fair!" Chuck yelled.
The other men glanced at his privates and noted that his cock was lengthening. Its head was beginning to lift a little.
"Hey men, look at that," Lew said. "Another inch of elevation there and Chuck's the grand loser."
Chuck reddened, shut his eyes, then remembered the rule and snapped them open. He gazed at his own wife, thinking this would help keep him calm.
But Linda's tits were as pretty as Marge's. Maybe even prettier, because of their brilliant red tips. She was watching Joe as she walked back and forth, letting her titties bounce. Then she faced him and gripped her knockers in her hands, squeezing and lifting the heavy globes.
He was tightening, all right. But a quick glance downward convinced him that he was still pretty safe.
Linda didn't work on him to any great extent, because she didn't want him to lose. She hoped, if he was the winner, that he would choose her.
Celia stood blushing and smiling faintly, as she exhibited her small, cute breasts with their baby-pink nipples sticking out.
"Off with your pants, girls!" Lew demanded. His cock was still just as cool as could be.
The other two men should have known at the outset that any guy who would propose a contest like this had to have pretty good control over himself. But their pride would have forced them to compete, anyway.
Celia slid her slip away, while Linda pulled her blue panties down as she faced the male audience. Marge teasingly turned her back, exposing her white, dimpled bottom.
Joe glanced surreptitiously at Chuck's pecker. It was lifting, slowly but surely, and stretching out.
"We have a loser!" Linda cried at her own husband, as his cock stood big and full and hard.
"Sure enough, buddy, you're out," Lew said and tapped Chuck on the arm.
"Shit!" he exclaimed and collapsed into a chair.
As he sat there with his big pecker sticking upward from his lap, he gazed regretfully at Celia, certain that he had lost her, at least for the first round.
Marge faced the remaining audience and stepped out of her panties. Linda was bending forward, her titties shaking as she rolled a stocking down.
Lew gazed at Celia as she slid her pink panties away from her blonde-haired cunt.
Joe was looking at her, also. But this didn't keep him from getting the second boner of the night. He could see Marge and Linda out of the corner of his eye ... and, anyway, Celia was very attractive to him, wife or not.
Lew laughed at Joe when the latter's large pecker stood up. And that pretty well ended the contest. Lew had his pick of the broads.
His gaze swept over them.
Linda was naked now. Celia was ungartering a nylon. Marge just stood there with her black hose and garter belt still on. She was a knockout in that outfit, because of the way the dark stockings and garters dramatized the equally black tuft of hair at her loins.
Linda was no dog, however. And the hair on her pussy was a genuine red.
Celia was probably the pick of the group, because of her freshness. And she was a genuine blonde.
The choice would have been difficult for most any man.
But for Lew it was ridiculously easy. And when he made it, it surprised everyone.
"Come on, baby," he said, as he walked over and touched his own wife.
Marge had wanted Joe but she couldn't help but be pleased that her husband had picked her over the other women. Joe and Chuck assumed he was just trying to build up points at home. But this wasn't true.
Lew was engaged in a blocking operation. He was jealous of Marge's long-time infatuation with Joe, and he wanted to do everything he could do discourage it. That's why he had insisted on inviting the Miltons to this party. He would have opposed the idea of swapping with the Harpers in the first place, except that he had wanted Celia. Well, he'd had her ... once. And once was enough for him, no matter who the woman was ... except Marge. She was his wife, he loved her, and he wanted to hold onto her.
Now Joe had his pick. He was damned if he would follow Lew's "gallant" example and pick Celia-not when he had a luscious redhead like Linda standing butt-naked in front of him. He chose her.
Chuck happily rushed to Celia. He had been the loser in the contest, but he'd wound up with his first choice after all.
At Lew's suggestion, everyone had another round of booze before the party advanced to the orgy stage. Celia gulped hers quickly. Her head became very light.
Chuck drew her down with him to the carpet.
The other couples watched for a while, as he began to make it with her, then Linda went to work on Joe, and they settled on the couch.
Lew and Marge sank to the floor beside Chuck and Celia.
Chuck's hands seemed to want to touch Celia everywhere at once ... on her trembling little tits, down her sleek belly and through her blonde crotch, along the satiny surfaces of her inner thighs. He kept bobbing his head, planting moist kisses here and there ... sucking at her nipples, licking into her belly button, finally rooting at her loins while she kicked her legs in the air.
Linda made a bee-line to Joe's big prick.
If he'd thought Marge came on-strong at the last party, that was nothing compared to the way Linda went to work on his pecker tonight.
She gripped it and slid the foreskin up and down on the head. Then she skinned that huge red knob completely and bent close to it, murmuring, "Oh, Christ, what a beauty! I've seen cocks in my time but this is a world-beater."
He thought she was just trying to make him feel good and he told her so.
But she said, "You make me feel good when you aim that big pole at me. Can I go down on it? Please, Joe-can I suck it right now?"
"Shit, go ahead!" he exclaimed, happy to adopt the manner of speech which seemed to prevail at the party.
And he was more than happy to let beautiful Linda take his tallywhacker in her mouth.
He stretched out on his back, and she bent over his middle. Her fiery hair cascaded down, tickling his flesh delightfully. Her hand gripped his cock at its base.
First she just rubbed the head of the huge dong back and forth against her lips. Then she stuck out her tongue and licked the pecker. She lapped at the head of it and slid her tongue down the shaft. She licked his hairy balls.
Joe glanced at Celia to see if she was watching.
She was, as Linda's husband ate her cunt. Her eyes were hot, and she writhed, with her legs on Chuck's shoulders. But she kept her eyes on Joe and Linda all the time.
Linda slid her hot mouth down over the knob of Joe's prick, and she licked it voraciously as she sucked and bobbed her head. Her red hair whipped and bounced.
Nearby, Lew and Marge glanced at the other couples as he screwed her, grinding his cock slowly in her cunt and sliding it in and out. , As soon as Chuck lifted his face from Celia's cunt to gulp air, she exclaimed, "I want to go down on you!"
"Hot shit, baby, that sounds just great!" he exclaimed and he flopped onto his back.
She lost no time in kneeling beside him and bending to his rigid up-thrust rod. Her blonde, straight hair tickled his belly and thighs as she mouthed his pecker. Her technique wasn't as good as Linda's, but it thrilled Chuck tremendously because this was his first time with her.
He bucked upward at her mouth as she sucked and tongued his pecker.
Joe watched this. He had no reason to kick, because he was getting the same kind of treatment from Chuck's wife. But since when was a husband's attitude toward his own wife very logical?
Joe did resent Celia's blowing Chuck, because she had refused, the other night, to give him a blow job when he'd asked for it.
She lifted her mouth from Chuck's wet cock and looked right at Joe. Satisfied that he was watching her, she fitted her pink lips around Chuck's Vermillion pecker again, and she resumed sucking.
From that point on, it was a question of Joe and Celia each trying to outdo the other in wanton behavior.
Joe pulled Linda around atop him and tongued her wet cunt wildly.
Celia dug her head down into Chuck's crotch and kissed him all over the balls. Thrilled by this, he spread his legs wide and draped them over her back. She dug even deeper, driven on by an irresistible urge to do everything Joe did ... and more.
She licked the bottoms of Chuck's buttocks, then clamped her mouth to the crack and flickered her tongue at his ass-hole, as Lew had done with hers at the first party.
"Oooh, baby!" he howled. "I can't take much more of this! Come on ... get on top of me. Quick!"
She raised her head and leaped astride him in wild frenzy.
She impaled herself on his rigid dong, and began immediately to bob up and down on it with everything she had.
"Oh, shit!" he yelled. "Christ on a crutch!"
He jerked, fountaining upward into her. His hot spurts in her cunt triggered her first climax of the evening. Her muscles clutched his cock rhythmically as sbe shook all over. Her honey poured down his dick and dribbled over his balls.
Lew and Marge continued to screw each other slowly and deliberately. They wanted to make the act last as long as possible, while they feasted their eyes on the rest of the action in the room.
Joe and Linda were avidly 69ing. They clutched each other's asses and mouthed each other's organs-sucking, licking and gobbling great quantities of joy juice.
When his tongue on her clitoris finally made her come, she bit his cock, just behind its head, and this caused him to geyser his warm cream into her throat. Spurt after spurt of the thick, gooey fluid struck her gullet and slid down into her stomach. His balls felt utterly drained when he was through.
But those balls proceeded right away to manufacture more of the precious elixir, and the pressure began to build once more.
Everyone rolled together on the floor now. The men grabbed tits, pussies and female butts at random, while the girls latched onto any cock that was handy.
Celia went down on Lew.
Again Joe watched, and she saw him watching.
His response was to dig his face into Marge's twat, while Linda wrapped her red-hot pussy around his resurrected rod. She bounced up and down on it as he avidly ate cunt.
For a while, Chuck just watched his wife screw
Joe, then he moved up to Marge and gave her his cock to suck while Joe continued tonguing her twat.
Lew leaped atop Celia and skewered her snatch with his whang.
After everyone had come for the second time, they rolled into a huge heap of flesh once more ... kissing, sucking and caressing whomever happened to be handy.
Finally Marge and Linda centered their attentions on each other. The rest of the merrymakers sat up and watched the Lesbian display.
This was the first time Lew or Chuck had an inkling that their wives could be lovers, but they weren't greatly shocked by the discovery. The truth was that they were hardly capable of being shocked by anything, any more.
Joe and Celia glanced at each other, as if to read a reaction in the other's eyes to what was going on. But their eyes were too tired and blank to reveal much.
Linda and Marge writhed together, clutching each other's buttocks as they kissed and rubbed titties. They pressed their pussies together-clit to clit-and ground their hips anxiously. They got much less stimulation from this expenditure of effort than they would have gotten if they'd had pricks in their holes. But at the moment, it was exciting. Anyway, they just couldn't keep doing the same old things with men, all the time.
After a little while, they switched around on each other's bodies. They dipped their heads into the vale of each other's spread thighs, and gobbled cunt with abandon.
Joe stared at the display, feeling not much of anything now.
Celia was in a comparable state. She wanted to go home.
In a little while, they put on their clothes and left.
They didn't discuss the party as they drove home. Each was deep in thought. Also, they both were bone tired.
The next morning Joe awakened first. He slipped into the bathroom without waking Celia, then went down to the garage to tinker with the car. He didn't want to talk with his wife.
He kept seeing her bending over those other men, mouthing their dicks as if she really relished them. (He couldn't see himself digging into Marge's and Linda's pussies.)
His resentment burned higher and hotter than ever.
like a forest fire, it had a few more acres to eat up before it burned itself out.
Celia, when she awakened, felt dull and depressed about the whole thing. The swap game was beginning to turn sour in her mind.
What was the point of it all, really?
At first, she thought she was doing what would please Joe. Then she found herself trying desperately to compete with him.
Oh, yes. She got her kicks as she went along. But how many Roman candles had to go off before a person ceased to "ooo" and "aah" at the display? Not many.
And Marge, who had led her into this with such glowing promises of how it would improve and make her a happier, better-adjusted person-she turned out to have a fondness, for girls, which seemed to co-exist with her desire for men.
Celia had never suspected this when she and Marge had roomed together at the university. But probably Marge wasn't that way then. Swapping had driven her to this depraved extreme of sensual expression.
Celia wondered whether she would end up that way if she continued swapping. She didn't want to. Joe, why do we have to go on with it? But Joe, of course, wasn't listening ... yet.
XI
THAT AFTERNOON MARGE CALLED.
"Was that a blast or wasn't it?" she asked exuberantly. "How are you and Joe-did you both come through okay?"
"We survived," Celia said, as if she counted herself lucky for that.
"Say, the reason I'm calling..." She hesitated, searching for the right words. "It's customary, you know, for members of a swap group to recruit new couples. like Lew and I recruited you kids. Dig?"
"Yes" Celia said, and waited.
"Chuck and Linda know some other swappers. Lew and I have been playing with them lately, too. I suggested to Linda that she invite you kids to go with us next weekend, when we have a party with her group. But she said she thought you and Joe should prove yourselves first."
"How do you mean?"
"By recruiting another couple. Joe must know some guys at his office who would be interested to join with their wives. Just one new couple at a time is all we ask."
Joe had overheard the conversation, and he walked up to Celia. "What is it?" he asked.
She shushed him with a motion of her hand.
"I don't believe we'd be interested, Marge," Celia said. "I'm afraid we're in too deep already."
"What?" Joe spoke up. "Hey, give me that." He took the telephone away from her.
"Margie?" he said. "What's this you were asking Celia?"
"Oh, hi, Joe." Her voice didn't reflect quite the degree of warmth that she used to feel for him. "I was suggesting that you and Celia ought to find another couple to bring to the next party-maybe some fellow who works at your office, and his wife."
"I suppose we could, do that," he said thoughtfully.
"Work on it, will you? You've got several days."
"Okay, Marge. I'll see what I can do."
"Great! Take care, now."
"You, too. Goodbye." He hung up.
"What the hell's the idea, letting Marge rope you in on something like that?" Celia demanded.
"Relax. I can swing it, I believe."
"Well, I don't like the idea. As a matter-of-fact ... "
"Yes?"
She gazed at him. She had been at the point of saying that she wanted to quit swapping altogether, but there was something about tbe look in his eyes that kept it from coming out. He still seemed to be challenging her, and she didn't want to holler uncle. She had the feeling this would put her at his mercy completely.
"Go ahead, if that's what you want," she snapped, and turned away.
You bet your life, that's what I want! he retorted silently. He couldn't forget how she had behaved last night. He had to get back at her and he believed that he knew just how to do it.
Perhaps he could even kill two pretty birds with one stone.
Sandra was excited when he told her she could come to the next swap party.
"There's just one catch," he added. "You'll have to pretend you're married."
"How can I do that?"
"Get a guy to go with you."
"But I'll be going with you, won't I?"
"You forget, baby, that I'm married."
"You said that didn't matter."
"It matters at the party, because I'm taking my own wife."
"Well..."
She seemed to be searching her mind for someone she could draft as a husband for a night.
Just then Hank Peters walked in.
He ogled Sandra and gave her a warm hello. She sniffed. He had been on the make for her for quite a while, and she didn't take to men who were too pushy. This was something like the sportsman's attitude toward shooting fish in a barrel. There was no challenge about it.
Joe saw in the pair the perfect "mating" for the party. Hank was single; so was Sandra. They were both swingers. Or at least, in Hank's case, he wanted to be.
"Here's your husband," Joe announced, grinning.
"Hank? Oh you've gotta be kidding."
"No, I'm not."
Hank was dumbfounded. "What's this all about?" he demanded.
"You and Sandra playing like husband and wife," Joe said, "so you can go to a swap party this weekend."
"You mean, an orgy?" The other man's eyes bulged like saucers.
"Right. But keep it quiet, will you? If this gets around the office, we're liable to be dead."
"Sure thing. You can count on me, Joe. And I'm gonna take Sandra, hmm?" He leered at her.
She was thinking it over. It was better to pair off with Hank than to be left out, she supposed.
"Okay?" Joe asked her.
She nodded.
Hank looked like a man who had just had his number drawn for the Irish sweepstakes.
Joe told them he would let them know later where the party was to be held and when.
That night he phoned Lew and let him know he had a couple lined up. Lew wanted to know about the girl.
"She's blonde, with big tits, and about twenty," Joe said. "How does that sound?"
"Just right, buddy! Just right! How about her husband? Marge is standing here with her tongue hanging out."
"He's good-looking and about my age."
"That should please her. She used to have quite a crush on you so I guess the more he resembles you, the better."
Lew told him where the party would be and said everyone should show up at about nine.
As soon as Lew hung up the phone, he said to Marge, "The new guy is about Joe's age and handsome. You dig that?"
"You're still a little worried that I've got the hots for Joe, aren't you? Even in spite of what you just said to him-that 'used to' remark."
"You tell me. Have you worked him out of your system?"
"Yes. I like him. But, you know what you said about Celia, that she's just another cunt."
"Yeah."
"I could say the same about Joe. Just another cock ... though a big one." She meant it, too.
If the swap parties with the Harpers had accomplished nothing else of a positive nature, they had gotten Marge over a long-standing infatuation. She felt she could watch Joe screw around with the other women now, and not even go after him herself.
Lew was pleased. He didn't care what Marge did or who she did it with, as long as he got equal licks, and provided she always returned to him with her heart intact.
He intended to raise a family with her some day. When that started, there would be no more swaps. They both would have it out of their systems by that time.
Joe didn't tell Celia who he'd invited to the party. Just a couple from the office, he had said.
When they all got together on Friday night, he would casually mention that Sandra was his secretary. That would chop her good, especially when he was the first to screw Sandra. Let Celia watch that and turn green!
The need to emerge on top-to prove to Celia that he could go her one better-was all that drove Joe on. Otherwise, he would have kicked over the swapping in a minute. It had been a great kick at first, but the novelty had soon vanished. There lingered mainly his resentment of Celia dragging him into the thing the way she did, without taking him into her confidence ... and her willingness to do with other men at the parties what she wouldn't do with him.
He believed it was still possible to save their marriage, and make it meaningful once more. But this could happen only if Celia would come to him contritely and admit she'd been wrong. Until then, he would out-swing her if it killed him.
The bash was at a swank home in Redondo Beach, and it was by far the largest party the Harpers had attended.
In addition to the Westcotts, the Miltons, Sandra and Hank, there were three other couples. They were introduced to Joe and Celia, of course, but he made no effort to remember their names. Two of the women-a brunette and an obviously-phony blonde-were in their thirties, but they kept themselves in good shape. The other, a cute little brunette, was about Linda Milton's age, which made her a few years older than Celia and Marge.
A game of spin the bottle was proposed to pair the couples off. But Joe entered an objection.
"Whatever happened to free-play?" he wanted to know.
"That's my choice too," Marge spoke up.
"Well, if nobody has an objection, that's all right with us," the host said. He was a distinguished-looking man with gray hair at his temples. His first name was Russ.
Free-play was agreed upon. Or "grope and grab" as somebody called it.
This time there was no ritual stripping. Everybody just took off everyone else's clothes or their own, as they went along.
Joe had to admit it was an exciting spectacle to watch dresses, bras and panties being shed right and left. Bare tits bobbed into view all over the place ... and bare, hairy snatches, of all hues. Sandra threw herself into the game with real spirit.
Hank was like a kid on Christmas morning, not knowing what toy to reach for first.
Russ and another man were trying to monopolize Celia, but Joe got close enough to her to say, "You know, Sandra's my secretary." He dropped the remark casually, as if it didn't mean anything.
Celia stared at the other girl. At first she had been just another pretty blonde, but then she recognized her. Jealousy burned in her eyes.
From that moment on, she lost: practically all interest in the men at the party. Laughing and fawning over her, they helped her out of her clothes ... but she kept watching Joe as he cut through the admirers, including Hank, who were at Sandra's side. He pulled Sandra into his arms and kissed her as he pawed at her big, hobbling breasts.
When she landed on her back on a sofa, it was Joe who was on top of her.
Celia wanted to rush out of the place and go home. This was the crowning mockery which proved how stupid the whole swapping concept was. It had all started with the affair between Joe and that blonde, and it was ending the same way. Nothing had been accomplished, except the satiation of her senses and Joe's. In the back of his mind, he still wanted Sandra. That was why he'd invited her to the party.
Celia let the other men screw her. What could she do to stop it now? They were like so many jackrabbits, hopping on and off her body. She refused to go down on any of them, though.
Burning in her mind was the vision of Joe atop Sandra, driving his big hot cock in and out of her dribbling cunt with its black-haired fringe. Yes, black. She wasn't even a real blonde!
The room had turned into a veritable sea of tossing and turning flesh.
Marge was on her hands and knees, in the middle of it all, taking one man's pecker in her mouth while another pumped his rigid cock in and out of her pussy from the rear. Linda was making it with one of the older women, while that woman's husband snuggled up behind her. He drove his cock at her buttocks, and it was evident that it went into her ass-hole rather than her pussy, and hard, for she raised her face from her female lover's loins and shrieked.
Nobody interfered. At an orgy like this, everyone was expected to take whatever came along and enjoy it.
The man who was bumping against Linda's ass drove his dick deeper and deeper into her rectum. Gradually she adjusted to it, and went back to mouthing his wife's wet, warm twat. In fact, she tilted her ass higher and twisted it as she pressed against the man's pumping prick.
Joe finished with Sandra and got off her, to be replaced by someone else. Now he moved around to her head, standing next to the couch.
Celia realized with a shock that he was trying to get her to take his depleted pecker into her mouth, so that it could become big and firm again.
But she was fighting him. She didn't want to make love that way.
Just then, another stud rolled atop Celia, and her view of Joe and Sandra was cut off for the moment. She hardly felt a thing as her new lover's penis bobbed up and down in her flooded quim.
Joe had glanced a few moments before and noted that Celia was watching hirn. For this reason, it became especially important for Sandra to give in to him and let him screw her in the mouth. But she still wouldn't.
He slapped her face and demanded, "Take it, you bitch!"
The guy who was humping away on top of her said, "Easy, man-if she don't want to, she don't want to."
"Mind your own Goddamned business!" Joe snapped, and he gripped Sandra's jaws, to try to force them open.
She bit his hand, and he yelped.
He thought, what if that had been his cock?
He turned around to see if Celia was still watching and noted that she was so well-manned, her line of vision was obscured.
A sense of weariness came over him.
The hell with it, he thought.
When Celia next glanced that way, Joe was nowhere to be seen. But Sandra was still on the couch, and a couple of men were hovering over her.
Celia got to her feet. She made her way to the bar, avoiding a pair of grappling hands which reached out of a flesh-tangle on the floor.
She poured herself a very stiff drink.
She thought about Joe and Sandra. There was something strange about the whole business-very strange. Why had he waited until the last minute to identify her as his secretary, and why had he made such a point of doing so? He had done this just before he walked over and screwed her, as if he wanted to make sure Celia would be watching.
But she hadn't given him head. He had tried to make her, and she had refused.
What did it all mean?
Celia didn't know. But it was evident that there was more to the incident than what had met her eyes.
Where was Joe now?
She gazed around the room, but she couldn't spot him.
Suddenly she didn't want to be at the party, and she decided to put on her clothes. She could go out and wait in the car until Joe appeared.
She finished her drink quickly.
Finding her clothing was not the easiest thing in the world, considering that the room was a jumble of bodies, connected or entwined with one another, and that everyone's clothes were just scattered about-some on chairs, some hanging from lamps and bric-a-brac, and others beneath the linked and twisting bodies.
She found her dress and shoes, then her bra. She couldn't find her panties, though she had placed them with the brassiere. As for stockings, how could she be certain which were hers of the many scattered about?
She gave up. She didn't need pants or hose to get home.
She put on the clothes she had and made for the door.
A man yelled, "Hey, baby ... you're not leavin' yet, are you?"
"Yes it's late," she replied.
"Late hell! Look at the clock. It's early!"
"It's late for me." she told him and proceeded to the door.
It was a blessing to step into the cool, quiet darkness. The fresh smell of the ocean, only a block away, bolstered her spirits.
She made her way to the car.
It wasn't until she was right beside it that she noticed there was someone inside.
Joe! He was there, waiting for her.
She opened the door quickly and got in.
"So you finally had enough, hmm?" he said, not looking her way.
"Yes. You, too?"
"It got to be a drag."
"Tell me about you and Sandra."
"What?" He looked at her now.
"You and Sandra. I want to know the truth-do you love her or don't you?"
"Love her?"
"Yes."
He tilted back his head and laughed bitterly.
"Well ... you were going out with her, and you brought her to this party."
"I brought you to this party," he corrected.
"But you invited her. And you did go out with her before, didn't you?"
"Once."
Well, at least he had admitted that much. "If you dated her, you must have liked her very much."
"She's just a girl."
"Is that the way you feel about her, really."
"Of course."
"But she must have offered you something that I didn't."
"Will you get off that kick? I've never cared about anybody but you. Never!"
They gazed at each other in the gloom. His eyes were intense, and there was hurt in them.
"But, you dated Sandra, and you came to these parties..."
"I came to these parties because you roped me, into swapping in the first place. Otherwise I would never have done it. And as for Sandra, I dated her to get back at you or to prove something. I don't know."
"You mean, you dated her after we started swapping? Never before?"
"I dated her once, I told you. It was the night I got in real late, and you wanted to have sex."
"You screwed her that night?"
"Of course. But if I were you, I wouldn't kick about that. Look at the way you've carried on at these parties-giving head and all."
"I didn't tonight."
"Didn't you? I didn't notice."
She gazed at him. When she spoke, her voice was softer, "Joe, we've got to decide what all this means to us, and what we want to do."
"You tell me. What do you want to do?"
She hesitated then blurted out, "I want you! I want to save our marriage."
He stared at her. "Really? Is that what you want more than anything?"
"Yes! Don't you know I love you, you big lug?"
She was at the point of tears.
"But. . . the parties ... the way you acted..."
"How about the way you acted?"
"Okay," he admitted. "I guess we're even there."
"Shall we quit while we're even?" she asked hopefully. "And while we still have a home to go to?"
"All right," he said softly.
She threw herself into his arms, and she let the welled-up tears come out.
He caressed her and kissed her face and throat.
She backed away. "There's one more thing I have to know. How about you and Sandra tonight? What was all that about?"
"I suppose I was trying to prove something again," he said slowly.
"To me."
"Of course, to you."
"What was it?"
"That I could swing as good as you could; that there was an attractive girl at my office who wanted me, as well as these cheap broads at the parties ... and that includes your old friend, Marge."
Celia smiled. "Can you forget Marge? I'm going to try to."
"Baby, she's forgotten."
"And that goes for the rest of them? Sandra, too?"
"All of them."
XII
AS SOON AS THEY ARRIVED AT THE APARTMENT, they hurried into the bathroom, stripped their clothes off and got under the shower.
They laughed and splashed, scrubbing each other vigorously to get off every trace of the party and the wanton people who had attended it.
Joe caressed his wife's sweet little tits, rubbing soap over them with his hands, tweaking the nipples, then rinsing them off.
She lathered his cock and balls, taking great care with the foreskin, to make certain it didn't contain the slightest trace of another woman's bodily juices.
She dropped to her knees and scrubbed his legs, then asked him to turn so that she could wash his rump, running her fingers in between his firm butt-cheeks and underneath them.
When he was rinsed clean, he asked to do the same for her. She stood while he knelt in front of her, the spray pelting down on both of them.
He lathered her adorable pussy, running his soapy fingers in and out of all the folds and up her channel, as far as he could reach. He lathered through her crotch, turned her around, and washed her sweet bottom.
He took great care rinsing her off.
This mutual washing was more than a physical act. It had an important psychological significance, which they both appreciated. They were, in effect, absolving each other from everything that had happened. As well as cleansing each other's bodies, they were cleansing each other's souls.
They turned off the shower, got out, and toweled each other until the skin glowed.
Then they scampered into the bedroom.
It was as if the party had never happened that night, and as if the other swap orgies hadn't happened, either-except in one respect: They each retained a bit of the knowledge they had learned, about sex and how to enjoy it to the full.
Now they both wanted to achieve the maximum enjoyment with one another, and it was wholly proper for them to embark upon a kissing tour of each other's body with no region marked Off Limits.
Joe began by kissing his wife's lovely face, holding it between his hands and pressing his moist, warm lips to her eyelids, nose, mouth, cheeks, chin and throat.
He kissed her shoulders and on the rises of her delicate breasts. He sucked at the dainty pink pinnacles of her taut nipples. He pushed himself backward and kissed lower on her body, browsing about her navel, licking at it, then going lower yet.
He adjusted her legs so that he could climb between them.
Celia knew what was going to happen next. Her thudding heart told her. And it was going to mean more than all the kissing she had received at the parties-more than all she could ever possibly receive from other men.
Joe's face dug down into her lovely, fresh-scented crotch, and his tongue stroked at the tingling lips of her pussy.
"Darling!" she moaned. "Ooh, angel! Love me! Really love me!"
He didn't have to be urged. He wanted to love her this way now.
He adjusted her legs on his shoulders and twisted his head so that he could achieve the greatest possible contact between his mouth and her cunt. He sucked the tender lips, and his ardent tongue plunged into her small crevice.
Celia trembled all over. She could hardly contain herself as Joe's tongue stroked her tingling clitty. Now he sucked it up between his lips, and the sensation was even more wonderful.
To think that he had passed up this pleasure during all the months of their marriage!
He reached under her ass, gripped the firm little cheeks, and elevated them. He parted them with his thumbs. He gazed at her pink, tiny anus.
His mouth moved down to it, and he flicked his tongue against the sensitive puckered flesh.
If it weren't for the fact that he stopped just when he did, she would have climaxed while he was doing that.
He had no sooner straightened up before she urged him onto his back, and she bent over him to return the favors he had paid her. But it wasn't a matter of that. What she did, she wanted to do. She would have done it tonight whether he had gone down on her first or not.
Her mouth browsed over his chest, twirling his nipples and foraging through this curly, coarse hairs. She sucked and licked and nibbled her way to his belly. Her hands preceded her mouth, moving to his privates without hesitation-fondling his balls, stroking his stiff prick, tickling the tip of his peckerhead.
Now her mouth leaped there, and she slipped her warm, wet lips down over that throbbing crown of passion, taking the whole cockhead into her mouth and laving the swollen, throbbing flesh with her tongue.
Joe tightened and bowed his body upward. He jammed his eyes tightly closed and clenched his fists.
This fellatio was so much more wonderful than any he had received from Marge or Linda that he couldn't let Celia continue it for long.
He groped blindly for her shoulders, gripped them, and forced her up off him.
Gleaming, his big prick swayed away from her face.
Celia made a move to get on him, but he stopped her again.
"No," he said. "I want to get on top, I want to take you tonight the way a husband should."
She eagerly positioned herself with her knees drawn up, and her thighs open wide. He dropped between them. Her hand encircled his cock, and she pointed it to the mouth of her wetly tingling cunt.
He shoved his hips forward, and the cock sank seven inches into her belly.
"Ooh, darling!" she panted. "Screw me like you've never screwed me before! Give me everything, and make it last all night!"
He began stroking his cock in her pussy with long, slow thrusts, bumping his pelvis into her soft crotch, bouncing his balls against her Asshole.
She moved with him perfectly.
She said, "Oooh, baby! lover! Mmmmmm, that's good! Do it ... do it ... yes ... yes ... yeesss!"
He picked up the tempo of the humping.
His prick was a racing piston gone wild. She twisted and slid her slippery, warm cunt around it. They moved faster and faster together.
She felt herself approaching the climax, and she screamed, "Ball me ... screw me ... ooooooooh!"
She was there, throbbing and shaking, clutching his still-bobbing cock with her cunt muscles, finally trapping it and holding it deeply within her as it jerked and spewed forth its thick, warm cream.
Joe's satisfaction was as complete as it could possibly be.
"I love you!" he told her passionately.
"And I love you, darling."
They clung to each other.
This was the beginning of a new life for them'-a life which was going to be richer and better than the old. They would profit from what they had learned and never, they hoped, repeat their mistakes.
In the years to come, when they looked back on their brief career as swappers, they would have to admit that the experience hadn't been a total loss.
But would they want to repeat it? Never.
In their own bed-in the warmly passionate union of cock and cunt-they had all the love and excitement that either of them would ever need.
