Today, what with the continuing rise in the divorce rate, many people seem more surprised when a marriage holds together than when it breaks up. Yet despite many dire predictions about the gradual death of matrimony, the trend seems to be toward changing the internal structure and workings of that institution, rather than abandoning it.
We see an increasing number of books on the market which dispense advice on how to keep a marriage "open." Sociologists have noted a tendency for many couples to form trial marriages in an attempt to gauge their compatibility before legalizing their relationship. And increasing numbers of married couples are trying everything from sensitivity sessions to mate-trading in an attempt to make their marriages more flexible and meaningful.
Outwardly, the couples in this book lead normal, everyday lives. Yet behind closed doors, they experiment with practically every conceivable means of sexual gratification. All with one goal in mind: to strengthen their individual marriages. And who is to say their methods are wrong?
MY SPOUSE FOR YOURS-a story that answers many important questions, but leaves many still unanswered. A novel about our rapidly changing times.
-The Publisher
CHAPTER ONE
I woke up from the dream with the sheets twisted around my sweaty body like clammy tendrils. The sound of my panting breath rasped against my ears like a file.
My right hand was firmly imbedded between my compressed thighs. My cunt was on fire.
Still not fully awake, I felt like I was a witness to my own agony, watching and listening to myself writhe and moan. Going to bed at night was no longer rest, it was more like putting myself through a wringer. By morning I would be exhausted.
These dreams I'd been having lately were unbelievable. There could be no peace in my life as long as they inhabited my unconscious almost from the instant my head hit the pillow.
Oh, I was having no trouble in dropping off to sleep. That was part of the problem. As a matter-of-fact, I seemed to crave sleep, as though I were trying to escape from reality.
To get to the bottom of it, of course, I'd have to confront that reality. Force myself to dispassionately examine just what was so unsatisfactory about my everyday life.
But I didn't want to do it. The prospect was too painful.
Especially when the alternative was the fantasy-life of my dreams, exhausting as they were.
And, in case you haven't guessed it, those dreams were wet. Wet, wet dreams.
Almost from the moment I was asleep I was mentally visited by one well-hung stud after another. Each hard-on was bigger than the last. No man need apply for a role in one of my dreams unless his cock was at least ten inches long.
In real-life I hardly ever experienced orgasm. When my husband and I infrequently made love it was usually over before I even got warmed up.
But in my dreams ... ah, in my dreams, I came and came and came. My body was like a perpetual-motion machine of pleasure.
In the prism of my unconscious I accepted cocks in ways that I would have never considered while I was awake. Two of them stuffed up my pussy was a regular occurrence, and another one reaming my tight asshole was normal. I'd push my tits together and take one between them, licking its thrusting head with my flicking tongue.
I willed ejaculations with a flip of my mental switch. Cum flowed like wine. When I awakened, I was always surprised to find that my body was actually drenched with sweat rather than sperm.
The dream I'd just had was typical. In this one, a gang of generously endowed men, faceless as usual, had set upon me and fucked hell out of me. One had sat on my face and split my face with his monstrous tool, while another had rubbed the insides of my tits raw with his chafing prong. Down below, I had taken at least two cocks in my cunt, and an especially long specimen to the hilt up my ass.
In this dream, as in all the others, no matter how large the pricks were, or how many of them were fucking me, my holes always widened far enough to accommodate them. If my unconscious willed it, I was easily capable of making it with an entire army as long as I was asleep.
Awake, however, as I have intimated, it was an entirely different story. The only cock available in my life belonged to Frank, my husband, and it had become increasingly useless to me over the years.
When we were first married, Frank had been a tiger between the sheets, never giving me any rest in his desire to make love. Frequently he'd come home from his office and fuck me during his lunch hour, as an example of his ardency.
However time has a way of letting fires burn out by themselves, and that's what happened between Frank and me. By now we had endured fifteen years of married life together, and the passionate flames we had once known in bed were cold cinders.
Once in a while when the pressure built up in his balls, Frank would hop on me, but it was more like an assault than an act of love. Before my cunt had even had a chance to moisten with arousal, he had come in me and rolled over to go to sleep. I would lie there, yearning for fulfillment, the drone of his snoring filling the air.
On occasion I had tried masturbating to achieve some satisfaction, but it was no use. Playing with myself made me feel so guilty that I could feel nothing but shame.
Only in my dreams was I capable any more of reaching the sensual peaks for which a woman is made. Then I experienced orgasm after orgasm, each climax paving the way for an even greater one.
In real life, I had gotten so that I dreaded it when my husband got the urge to fuck me. However, when I was asleep, there was no such thing as too much cock. I decorated my naked body with them like I was putting ornaments on a Christmas tree.
Speaking of reality, I had now been awake long enough so that Frank's snoring had pierced my unconsciousness. Looking over at him, I couldn't help but wonder where we had taken the wrong turn in our marriage.
I noticed that he had a smile on his face. Apparently, he was dreaming too. It had never occurred to me until now that he might have a nocturnal fantasy life the same as I did.
Motivated by a mixture of curiosity and jealousy, I removed my hand from my crotch and reached over and pulled back the covers. Perhaps by looking at his groin I could obtain a clue as to the nature of his night time mental excursions.
I certainly hadn't expected what I now saw. My breath was taken away by the size of the hard-on that loomed from the fly of his pajamas. It was pulsing like it would burst at any moment.
In wonder, I placed my fingers around his throbbing cock. The instant I touched it I realized that my hand was still soaking with my own pussy juice, which I was now transferring to his swollen member.
"Mmmmmmm," he moaned in his sleep, "your cunt is so wet. I love it when your cream gets all over my prick like this."
With his dick still in my hand, he rolled over on his back and began bucking his hips in the classic fucking motion. In the process, his rigid tool began automatically stroking up and down in the webbing of my fingers.
I felt funny masturbating him, but for some reason I couldn't let go. The more furiously he pumped, the harder I made my grip. The maddening friction I was applying was driving him wild with desire.
"Oh, Jesus," he rasped, "I love fucking you. My cock feels so good inside you. Tell me how hard it is ... how much you love it."
I had the feeling that if I didn't respond he might wake up. If that happened, I didn't know how I'd explain myself. Our life in bed had become so awkward that I was totally flustered by the prospect of a real-life sexual confrontation.
The only safe thing to do was keep his dream alive. As long as he was asleep we couldn't embarrass each other.
"Come on," he urged me, or whoever I was supposed to be, "tell me how much you love my cock. I want to hear it."
"You have a beautiful prick, Frank," I answered. "It's so stiff and so long. I can't wait until it comes."
Now that I had committed myself, I watched his pistoning boner with increasing fascination. As the crimson head shot up and down from the top of my fist, blue veins criss-crossed the shaft like miniature railroad tracks. Below, his hairy balls rolled around in his tight scrotum, churning with the manufacture of jism.
"How long before you're going to come, Frank?" I asked him, finding myself anxious to witness his flow.
"I'm almost there," he panted. "But there's still enough time for you to stick it in your mouth."
I shook my head in disbelief. Frank and I had never had oral sex. The idea of inserting his prick in my mouth had always seemed totally alien.
"I've got a big load brewing in my nuts," he informed me, "and I want to shoot it down your throat. I want you to swallow every drop."
In my dreams, of course, my mouth had fucked more cocks than I could count. However, in real life, I had always been sure I would be damned to hell if I ever engaged in such a perversion.
My background was very religious and conformist. So was Frank's for that matter. We had met, after all, at a church dance. The way we had both been brought up, sex was all right only between married couples, and then only if certain rules were obeyed.
The man on the top, doing all the work; the woman on the bottom, lying still-that was how we had always done it. There had always been an unspoken agreement between Frank and me that any other method, or act besides straight intercourse, was not for us.
Of course, in my dreams, I'd let myself go. I'd convinced myself that it really didn't count as wrongdoing just as long as I confined my defiant behavior to my fantasies. And, although I really hadn't thought about it until now, I supposed I'd allow Frank the same privilege.
How simple it would all be if what was happening now were taking place within the private confines of our respective unconsciousness. But, alas, it was not that simple.
Only one of us was dreaming, and that was Frank. His desire for oral sex was the excusable product of his sleep-induced fantasy.
I, however, was wide awake. The cock pumping in my hand was real. All too real.
And so was the tingling condition of my body. My cunt was foaming with desire, while my tongue licked hungrily over my lips.
As much as I hated to admit it to myself, I wanted to suck his cock. My lips trembled in anticipation of slipping over the stony head and sliding down the thick shaft all the way to his balls.
"Fuck me with your mouth," he insisted, "I'm almost ready to come."
I could not resist my desire any longer. Rationalizing to myself that as long as one of us was dreaming it was technically all right, I lowered my head and opened my mouth.
The crown of his prick slid smoothly against my lips as I began to swallow. My first taste of cock made my nostrils flare and my heart bump in my throat.
"Ahhhhhh, that's it," he gasped. "Your lips are so soft. Push them all the way down until I can feel them against my nuts."
Once it was in my mouth, Frank's cock seemed enormous to me. I didn't see how I could ever get it all inside.
But I would try. Every inch I gobbled made me want another one.
"What a sweet cock-sucker you are," he praised me when I was halfway down. It was the first compliment he had given me during love-making since we were first married.
The immensity of his thick joint was starting to make me gag now, but that didn't stop me. The hilt was in sight, and I was determined to achieve it.
I closed my eyes and bore down with one, long, continuous suck. When I opened them again his prick was gone.
The whole thing was inside my mouth. I could feel the knotty head lodged in my throat.
"Ooooooh, that's good," he sighed, "so damn good."
I knew it was wrong, but my heart swelled with pride anyway. I'd finally found something I could do in bed that would bring both of us satisfaction.
"Now really fuck me with your mouth," he said. "Work your lips back and forth on my cock like a cunt. Really make me come."
Even though I had never done anything like this in the flesh, the experience from my dreams enabled me to perform like an expert. Abruptly I was pistoning up and down on his stiff rod, stretching the foreskin up to the head and then back down toward his balls, fucking him with my mouth with eight-inch strokes.
All the while, my pussy was getting wetter and wetter ... hotter and hotter. It needed some outside stimulation, and I didn't care how brazen I had to be to obtain it.
Always before in our sex life, I had dutifully let Frank make all the advances. If I wanted something I just kept it to myself, feeing it was unlady-like to speak out during lovemaking.
Now, however, I was more than willing to abandon my propriety. My cunt was aching for a few fingers inside it, and I was determined to get them. If I was going to go so far as to suck Frank's cock, the least he could do was finger-fuck me.
Seizing his wrist, I slammed his big hand between my legs. The instant his fingers hit, my pussy lips seemed to grasp them, pulling them inside the hungry gorge at the center of my spread loins.
His index and middle fingers slid up my cunt instantaneously and began wiggling. And then, as if that sensation wasn't delicious enough, his fat thumb pressed against my clit like it was ringing a doorbell.
Now the only thing left for us to do was come. Come together.
If we both achieved orgasm, it would be the first time since I could remember. In my feverish anticipation, I was starting to feel like a whole woman again.
I sucked his cock as energetically as I'd ever done anything in my life. God, how I wanted that monster to erupt in my mouth. My belly ached for the hot cum that would soon fill it if nothing went wrong.
Below, his fingers were spreading as they probed deeply within my cunt. The walls of my pussy tingled uncontrollably as they were stretched to divine tautness.
Under his gouging thumb, my clit was throbbing like the rhythm of a jungle drum. When I finally came it was going to be like the Fourth of July.
As we approached the climatic apex, our grunts filled the room. The bed rocked like it was going to crumble beneath our writhing weight.
This was it, I told myself. I was sure nothing could stop us now.
But then, of course, I was so far gone that I'd forgotten the whole arrangement depended on Frank being asleep. If something woke him up, our bliss would collapse like a house of cards.
Something did.
A car backfired on the street in front of our house. In the still of the night, it sounded like a gunshot. Had there been a cemetery nearby even some of the dead might have been awakened.
In any case, Frank certainly was. He bolted up in a sitting position with his eyes suddenly as round as half dollars.
Needless to say, the first thing he saw was me sucking his cock.
Astonishment etched itself in his face as he realized that what he had been dreaming was prompted by reality. Obviously, it had never occurred to him that it might be his own wife fucking his prick with her mouth.
Like I said, Frank and I had never had oral sex at any time throughout our marriage. You can imagine his shock when he awoke from a deep sleep to find my lips compressed around his rigid shaft all the way down to his balls.
Gulping with the alarm that comes from confronting the totally unexpected, Frank instinctively pulled away from the scene which so troubled him. In the process, his cock jerked from my mouth and twanged stiffly in the air.
Then, with both of us watching, his prick suddenly exploded. I can't tell you how much it pained me to watch him come in mid-air after all the work I'd put into orally stroking him to the point of eruption.
The jizz that I had been sure was mine sailed through the air and landed with a succession of plops on the bedding. Wincing with disappointment, I thought how by rights it should be gushing down my throat and engorging my stomach.
Secretly, I was so desperate that I had the urge to bend over and lap it up off the sheets, but Frank's withering gaze stopped me. Now that we were both awake and bound once again by the time-honored rules of our relationship, I was prevented from lapping a single drop of the cum I so desperately craved.
Once again, sex, which was supposed to be so pleasurable, had thwarted me. All the physical side of love seemed to bring me was sheer frustration.
"I'm surprised at you, Dorothy," Frank huffed. "I never thought I would see this."
With that he turned himself over, buried his head beneath the pillow, and shamed me with his stony silence. By the time it had been replaced by the customary drone of his snoring, I was in tears.
By the time I recalled its existence, my cunt was bone-dry. Now I really cried as I realized that once again I had been cheated out of an orgasm.
Frank had been the one flaunting all the righteous indignation, but at least he had been able to come. On the other hand, I had reaped the harvest of shame, and my pussy was still as unsatisfied as ever.
It just wasn't fair. Something had to be done or I was going to explode.
CHAPTER TWO
In the days following the nocturnal blow-job incident, Frank and I prowled around each other like two tigers in a cage. Even the kids could detect something was wrong, and stayed out of our way.
Increasingly I realized that my vow that night that drastic measures had to be taken was a pledge that had to be kept if our marriage was going to be saved. Since Frank seemed to have a vested interest in sulking, I figured it was up to me to start the ball rolling.
I went to the library and checked out all the books available on marriage. However, the so-called answers contained in them were all so predictable and commonplace that they provided no inspiration at all. What I needed was something which would show me how to break the mold that was strangling my marriage, not solidify it.
Finally, out of desperation, I made a visit to the local adult book store. I realized I was taking a chance that someone I knew might see me going in or out of there, but I was so desperate it was a risk I was willing to take.
I had never been inside one of these places before, and, needless to say, I was shocked by the blatant display of raw sex. People on the covers of the magazines lining the walls were doing things with their bodies that I could hardly believe possible. It was shocking.
I was so flustered that I began to lose my nerve. Turning around to leave, I started toward the door. However, before I could make it, I was stopped by the attendant.
"Can I help you, ma'am?" he asked in a pleasant voice, completely disarming me with his unexpected politeness.
"I ... I...." I inconclusively stuttered. "I ... I don't know . ..."
"Perhaps if you told me what you were looking for I could help you find it," he said. "What we have on display is only part of our inventory. Chances are, if you tell me what you're looking for, we have it."
"Marriage," I blurted. "I'm looking for something about married people."
"I see," he smiled. "What specifically did you have in mind?"
He was so nice. The papers had been full of so much negative talk about the adult book stores in town that I guess I'd expected anyone working in one to come on like a rapist. However, this young man was just the same as somebody you might encounter in any respectable place of business. In fact, I'd dealt with a few service station attendants and hardware salesmen who were like cavemen compared to him.
"Actually," I rose above my fear in the face of his pleasant and helpful nature, "I was interested in some material about different things that married couples are doing to keep their relationships fresh."
"Oh, you mean like alternate life-styles," he said.
"I suppose you could put it that way," I stated.
"Then I think I have just the thing for you."
"Really?" I asked, my voice brimming with expectation.
"Yes," he assured me. "We have some publications that will not only give you the information you want in an explicit fashion, but also give you the opportunity to personally get in touch with some of the couples who are trying these new things. Would you like to see them?
"Of course," I said.
He went away and then returned with a whole stack of magazines. However, before I could look through them, the door opened and a customer came in. My fear immediately returned because I thought I recognized him as one of Frank's business associates.
"Is there anything wrong, ma'am?" the attendant asked as I tried to shield my face from the man.
"Uh, no ... no," I lied. "It's just that I remembered I have something cooking on the stove. I've got to go."
"What about the magazines?"
"Just give me any one of them," I said rapidly in a low voice so I couldn't be overheard. "I'm afraid I'm in a hurry."
Hurrying out the door with the magazine under my arm in a brown paper sack, I didn't even stop to look at what I'd paid five dollars for until I was in the safety of my home. In fact, I'd been so shaken by the possibility of being detected doing something improper after coming so close to being recognized in the adult book store, I locked all the doors in the house before I dared to extract the magazine from its concealment.
It was called "Swappers' Digest," and I had no idea what it meant. At first I thought I'd been gypped, and that oh-so-nice attendant had palmed off an antique collectors' magazine or something on me.
Then I took a better look at the picture on the cover under the title. The woman there dressed in a black garter belt and spike-heeled shoes, with her tits and pussy showing, wasn't like any antique collector I'd ever known.
The inside was even more outrageous. The photographic contents were just like the material I'd seen on the racks of the book store. In other words, people having sex in all ways possible. Now I knew what the attendant had meant when he'd used the word "explicit."
Then, when I was starting to think this was just another dirty book for secret masturbators, I came across the ads that filled the second half of the book. All of a sudden it occurred to me what type of swapping this publication was devoted to.
Wife swapping! The people advertising in this magazine were involved in the sexual trading of their mates.
This was the alternate Style-style the attendant was talking about.
Being a relatively informed person, I'd heard this sort of thing whispered about before. However, given my Christian belief in the basic decency of people, I'd never actually believed the practice truly existed on any widely spread basis. Now, as I scanned the ads, my eyes revealed to me how naive I'd been.
Couple after couple had sent in snapshots of one or both of them in the nude. The most popular pose seemed to be the wife with her legs spread so the reader could see everything her pussy had to offer, although there were plenty of husbands with hard-ons also. In some, where they apparently owned a remote-control camera, photos of the couple in a sex-act actually appeared.
However, as revealing as the pictures were, often the text of the ads was even more explicit. Perverse desires were peddled on the open market like toothpaste and freeze-dried coffee.
One ad really caught my eye. At the top was this picture of a woman with her legs spread. Because it was a tight close-up, you couldn't see anything of her but her cunt. And since someone had apparently just ejaculated inside it, it was literally oozing with fresh cum.
"What kind of woman would allow a picture like that to be taken of herself?" I wondered aloud. When I read the ad below, I started to find out.
"Horny married couple in late 20's," it said, "looking for adult fun and games with like-minded couple. If you like my pussy, wait till you see his hard-on. Ten inches!!!! Discretion assured. Tri-state area. Phone if possible."
The telephone number at the bottom jumped off the page at me. The area-code and exchange were from this city. These people were available just by going to the phone.
It was incredible to me to believe that such kinkiness was so easily accessible. Merely by dialing a few numbers and engaging in a short conversation, I could arrange to have these people in my home. The idea chilled and fascinated me at the same time.
I tried to put the magazine down, but it was a hopeless task. Repeatedly I picked it up again, always returning to the same ad.
Finally I decided I would never have any peace until I called the number and satisfied my curiosity for once and for all. After all, I rationalized, just talking to these people wouldn't involve any commitment. If nothing else, I could always look on it as research.
"Hello," I said, after I'd dialed the number and a woman had answered, "I saw your ad, and "
"You mean the one about the free puppies?" she said. "I'm afraid we gave the last one away this morning."
"No, no," I surprised myself by persevering, "the other one. The one in ... in ... 'Swappers' Digest,' I think it's called."
"Oh, yeah, right, the one with the picture of my pussy," she practically floored me with her easy-going candor. "I didn't know it was out on the stands yet."
"That's the one," I said, and then because I was embarrassed by the tremor rattling my voice, compulsively blurted: "Is it legitimate?"
"You bet your boobs," the lady laughed. "Both the ad and my pussy are the real thing. Tell me honestly, what did you think of it?"
"What?" I muttered in confusion, unable in my anxiety to isolate the focus of her last question.
"My cunt, of course," she boldly stated. "Isn't it a beauty?"
"Uh, yes ... of course ... of course," I murmured, stunned by her frankness.
"What's yours like, honey?" she stunned me even more.
With her question, I automatically squeezed my legs together. The instant I did so, I felt my thighs become instantly slick.
"Wet," I told her as if I were in a trance. "My pussy is soaking wet."
"So's mine," she cheerfully informed me. "I've been working out with my collection of dildoes since ten o'clock this morning. What have you been up to, sugar?"
"Nothing yet," I truthfully revealed.
"Well, you can't let a damp pussy go to waste, that's for sure," she firmly replied. "I'll tell you what. Why don't you finger-fuck yourself right now, and tell me about it over the phone. That way we'll both get a charge out of it, and get acquainted at the same time."
If I had any intention of saying no, it vanished when I looked down to my lap and saw that during the conversation I had pushed my skirt up around my waist. The throbbing crotch of my clinging panties was visible, and it was literally dripping. A puddle of juice had already stained the upholstery of the chair on which I was sitting.
"Are you wearing panties?" she asked, catching me in my awed gaze at said item.
"Yes."
"Are they sopping?"
"Yes!" I breathlessly admitted.
"Goooooood," she crooned in a long, low voice. "Now run your fingers over them and tell me exactly how it feels."
Feeling like her puppet, I did precisely as she instructed. Dropping my fingers to my open groin, I traced the tips over the rising bulge of my swollen pussy lips. The sensation through the moist fabric was so intense I might as well have not been wearing a stitch.
"What's it like?" she eagerly wanted to know. "Fantastic," I pantingly admitted. "My cunt is gushing. These panties are ruined."
"Save them," she giggled. "When we meet, I'm sure my husband would like to sniff them, and maybe jack-off in them."
While she was talking, I'd slipped a couple of fingers beneath the elastic of the leg-hole and was now searching through the forest of my pubic hair for my crack and clit. I wanted to come so bad I could taste it.
"What are you up to?" my moaning pause caused her to ask.
"To the last knuckle of my index finger right up my cunt," I eagerly informed her. "And my thumb is pressing against my clit ... grinding it into my pelvic bone."
"Mmmmmmmm," she murmuringly replied, "you're making me so damn horny. God, I wish I was there so I could suck your pussy."
"Pretend you're doing it over the phone," I impulsively suggested. "You supply the sounds, and I'll do the rest with my hand."
"Sounds groovy," she quickly agreed to my lewd plan. "How's this for openers?"
She suddenly slurped into the phone. The sloshing of her tongue between her gums seemed to bloat the receiver with its eroticism.
"Suck harder ... harder!" I implored her, already fully into the telephonic fantasy that my index finger was really the squirming snake of her talented tongue. "I love your tongue in my cunt!"
"And I love eating you," she rasped back in a husky whisper. "Your pussy is sweet so fucking sweet."
The receiver filled with a gnashing slurp again. The stimulus went right to my cunt. Sound waves were apparently transformed into material reality as I was sure I felt her hard oral prod sliding up my fuck-hole.
I shivered with delight. This was too much! "Oooooh, tongue-fuck me," I wailed into the phone. "Really do it to me. Make me come and come and come in your mouth."
"I'll swallow every drop," she promised. "I couldn't ever get enough of your sweet pussy juice."
Another telephonic slurp. Within a split-second there was a tidal wave of pleasure right at the core of my cunt. An orgasm right away!
She slurped again. I climaxed again.
More slurping, more coming.
Slurping and coming ... slurping and coming.
Sllluuurrrppp---Cooooommmmmme....
"Oh, God," I cried over the phone, "I've already come so many times I've lost count of orgasms."
"You getting tired?" she inquired.
"No," I reassured her, "I want you to keep sucking. The harder you suck, the more times I'll come."
The receiver smacked with the wetness of her tongue sliding from between her popping lips. Believe me, it went right to my cunt.
Of course, it was actually my finger stretched to the hilt up my twat, but in the obscene laboratory of my mind it was my phone mate's wriggling tongue. Her tongue fucking my cunt.
"Ooooh, I've got my legs spread so far the skin on my thighs is going to crack," I filled her in on the action at my end of the line.
"Close them around my head," she fired my imagination. "Bury my face in your cunt so I can't breathe."
Slowly, I brought my legs together. Eventually I actually had the sensation that I was wrapping the softness of my thighs around a bobbing head.
"I've got you ... got you tight," I gushed. "You'll never get away from my pussy if I don't want you to."
The noise from her end of the line was deafening. She was so horny she must have been deep-throating the mouthpiece.
My finger was aching as if its joints were arthritic from fingering myself. The interior of my pussy was a cauldron of bubbling molten passion.
At my clit, I had turned my thumb over and used the sharp edge of the nail to flick myself. In my mind, I imagined that every thrilling pinch was from my telephonic lover's teeth.
During the action, my panties just gave up and dissolved into sticky threads. With my eyes closed, I was positive that her hungry mouth had sucked them off my loins, and that she was now digesting them.
But nothing could satisfy me, my lust or orgasm was at such a peak. Every time I came, I thought it entitled me to come harder the next time.
And now next time was every thirty seconds or so. The spasms were so regular that I felt like I was having a baby.
Down below, my pussy juice had slopped over the edge of the chair and was dripping to the floor, as I discovered later when I noticed a huge stain on the carpet. Right now, however, I was mentally reinterpreting the events between my legs. What I saw was a face pressed against my cunt, and a pumping tongue inside.
The juice wasn't dripping to the floor, at all. No, it was gurgling down my lesbian lover's throat on its way to warming her stomach. Her belly would be round from the bloat of my female cum before she was finished eating my pussy.
"Oh, Jesus, your cunt is so sweet," she moaned into the phone, confirming the detail of my fantasy. "I don't know when I've ever drunk so much pussy juice."
Finally, when my finger was limp with muscle fatigue, the image started to break apart. As my probing and her slurping subsided, gradually I became aware of the fact that I was really alone.
All alone, sitting by the telephone, with my aching finger stashed up my wet cunt. A solitary masturbator.
But one with a smile on her sweaty face, and a new friend on the other end of the line.
"We've got to get in touch," she said after several minutes of mutual deep breathing had fuzzed the line.
"You mean a meeting ... in person?" I asked, anxiety abruptly creeping back into my voice now that reality had reasserted itself.
"Right on!" she enthused. "My husband, Bill, won't be able to wait to sample your body once I tell him about you. And that's not to mention what I want to do to you."
"Well...." I stalled.
"Your husband will like me, too," she continued setting up the potential scene. "I have a deep, tight cunt that he'll love fucking. I'll wring his cock dry. Then, if he still hasn't had enough, he can fuck me in the ass."
Despite my anxiety, the portrait she was painting was becoming increasingly irresistible. She had a way of describing sex that was as graphic as being there and watching.
"When the four of us get together, we can make a daisy chain," she gushed.
"What's that?" I actually found myself giggling. My resistance was melting like an ice-cream cone on a hot day.
"Say, you're new at this, aren't you? It means that all of us get in the same bed at once and form a human chain with cocks in holes as the links. If it works right, everybody comes at once."
I could already picture the arrangement in my head. Its ramifications were mind-boggling.
I'm afraid I was so turned-on that I never stopped to consider how inappropriate Frank's presence would be in such a carefree activity. He had turned so stuffily middle class since he'd made it big in the insurance business that he wouldn't ever try anything different.
I was convinced that I could never get him into swapping with a direct plea. If I wanted sex-in-the-flesh from the woman over the phone, not to mention her husband, I'd have to accept her invitation for a meeting now, and worry about tricking Frank into it later.
"We can get together at my place," she got to the bottom line. "Its 546 Rosedale Lane. We're the Millers . ... Bill and Tina."
"We're the Coopers," I automatically replied, trading identifying information with her as though we'd just run into each other at the supermarket and discovered we had sons on the same Little League team. "Frank and Dorothy."
"Groovy, Dorothy," she said. "We'll be expecting you for drinks and dinner at seven tomorrow night. If you have kids, tell your sitter you'll be home very late."
"We'll be there!" I promised with a bleat.
There was always tomorrow to work out the details.
CHAPTER THREE
"Darling," I called to Frank just as he was leaving for the office the next morning, "try to be home early."
"Why?" he called back impatiently.
"Because we have a dinner engagement."
"Oh, shit, who with?" he hissed, the irritation in his voice cutting all the way across the house.
""The Millers."
"Who're they??'
"Some new people I met. They're very nice."
"Oh, shit," he cursed again. "You know how I hate meeting new people."
"But it's your business-you do it all day long in the insurance business."
"That's for money," he snapped. "This is for dinner."
Same old Frank. Never-do-anything-new Frank. "Well, we're going," I stood my ground. "And I expect you to be on time."
"All right ... all right," he finally gave in, "I can't argue. I'm late for work already."
I'd planned it this way. I knew that Frank was incapable of neglecting his business the way he neglected his wife. Quarter-to-nine, and he was literally foaming at the mouth to reach the security of his office. To avoid the prospect of missing something at work, he'd agree to practically anything as the minutes ticked by and he was stalled at the front door.
When Frank was gone, I went to work trying to rundown a reliable babysitter for Tommy and Janie, our two kids.
I finally got a seventeen-year-old girl who came very highly recommended by some friends of ours. She said it was awfully short notice, but that she'd break a date and work tonight if I'd pay her double the normal rate. Anxious to get the petty details of my evening settled, I agreed without any resistance.
I spent the rest of the morning and part of the afternoon getting in shape. I went to the beauty parlor and had my hair done. Then I had a facial and a massage.
By the time I got home my body was tingling with expectation. Even a long soaking bath didn't quench the dance of my nerve endings.
In fact, it made it worse. By the time I was out of the tub I had masturbated at least three times. The top of the bathwater was shining with my slick pussy juice.
Around five-thirty I started getting dressed. Nothing fancy ... the clothes I selected were simple but flattering. Underneath them I wore nothing.
My cunt would probably leak down my leg all through dinner, but I could stand it. In fact, I think I was looking forward to the prospect.
I heard the front door open and knew it had to be Frank because the kids were already eating in the kitchen. I felt pleased that I had been able to scare him into coming home on time.
He remained sulky about having to go out to dinner with strange people, but the minute I talked to him I confirmed that he was still in line.
"Yes, dear"...."No dear," gradually became the essence of his dialogue with me as he sullenly changed clothes.
About that time, the doorbell rang and it was the babysitter. Her name was Marsha Cox and she was a beautiful blonde girl. I liked her right away.
So did the kids. When we left, the house was full of laughter, as we two feuding adults went out in search of a good time.
I might as well have been riding in the car with a boulder for all the conversation I got out of Frank on the way over to Rosedale Lane. I hoped Tina Miller was a good cook and an even better looker; because if she wasn't, Frank would drag me home before the fun ever began.
Their house was a perfect replica of ours, as is about every other fourth home in our suburb.
"Say," Frank picked up, "this Miller guy must be doing all right to afford a house like this."
"Frank," I reminded him, "it's just like ours."
"I know," he blew through his teeth, "that's what I mean. After all, I'm doing all right. Got one of the biggest independent insurance agencies around."
Frank had smelled money. From him, a whiff of it was like adrenalin.
Now he was happy, looking forward to talking about conditions in the business world with Bill Miller. Tina and I were supposed to go into the kitchen and trade recipes, I supposed.
When they greeted us at the door I was delighted by what an attractive couple Bill and Tina Miller were. Then, as we got to know them, they turned out to be just as personable as they could be. Even Frank was having a good time, and he wasn't even talking about business. In fact, the four of us stayed together laughing and talking before, during and after dinner.
I could see that Frank was particularly attracted to Tina, understandable with that long red hair and big, firm knockers of hers. Anyway, I couldn't afford to be jealous because I was busy sizing up Bill Miller. He was such a handsome, funny man, that I felt like a schoolgirl with a crush, as I dealt with my first infatuation in years.
What would it be like to fuck him, I kept endlessly wondering. Over and over again I mentally speculated on the size of his cock.
I wondered if he was thinking about me in the same fashion. Envisioning his first sight of my spread legs and my hairy pussy.
When we had dimmed the lights and were sipping after-dinner drinks in the living room, Tina asked, "Anybody want to dance? I've got some groovy old 50's R&B disks. You know, the Moonglows, the Platters, 'Pledging my Love,' by Johnny Ace. The sexy ones."
Through an unspoken communication between our eyes, we unanimously agreed that Tina's suggestion was a good idea. Then, when the phonograph started to wail a lament by Dion & the Belmonts, we automatically went to each other's spouses to seek our dance partners.
After a few minutes out there on the floor, it was just like being back in high school. My date, unable to control himself with the sensual throb of rhythm and blues enveloping us, was practically dry-humping me. Before I know it, he'll have his knee up in my crotch.
"Oh, baby, you're fine," Bill Miller whispered huskily in my ear, as he nibbled on the lobe. He was so big and strong and handsome, he could have easily been the captain of the football team.
"I know you like me, Bill," I said coyly, "but do you respect me?"
Wow, I must have thrown that line to dozens of guys back in the days when I was going to high school dances.
"You know I do, baby." It snagged Bill Miller, just like all the others.
"Yeahhh," I added a new wrinkle since my good-girl high school days, "I can feel your respect bulging from your crotch."
There, the cat was out of the bag. I wanted him to know that I was lusting for his hot, throbbing prick in no uncertain terms. Why beat around the bush when I wanted it so bad?
"How big is your cock?" I bit into his ear.
"When it's a blue-veiner ... maybe nine inches."
"And do you have a blue-veiner?"
"Absolutely."
"Yummy," I drooled. "I want every inch of it. We'll start with my mouth and then work our way down to the other holes."
"Uh, what about the others?" he said, " ... Tina and Frank?"
"They're both old enough to take care of themselves," I chuckled. "And besides ... somebody has to be the first to start an orgy."
"Right on!" he whooped, taken away by my spunk. "Let's get into the bedroom and get into each other's minds and bodies."
Without even bothering to make a last-second check of what Tina and Frank were up to, Bill Miller and I tripped hand in hand into the bedroom, making an elbow-locked flying leap onto the king-size bed. Within seconds we were both bare-assed naked, rubbing our bodies together.
"Oh, your cock is so hard," I stated the obvious. "It feels like a rolling pin against my thighs."
"Do you still want to suck me?" he asked anxiously.
"Does five come after four," I winked lasciviously, and then scooted around to get in position.
His cock stood up in my face like a tower. While not quite as long as Frank's, it was much thicker than my husband's.
In the balls there was no comparison. Frank's are like pigeons' eggs. This guy's were the size of lemons. And they beat like a matched set of miniature hearts.
Frank's balls are hairy. When he's aroused, they look like the seaweed covered eggs of some aquatic monster. Bill Miller's, though huge and throbbing, were pink and bald. They reminded me of a baby's bottom.
From Bill's uncontrollable gasping, it was obviously time to stop admiring his cock and start sucking it. Needless to say, it was a natural progression.
"Mmmmmmm," I murmured the instant my lips and tongue touched the tip of his prick. Already I could tell he had a sweet, sweet dick.
His gasping changed to sighing as I slowly sucked down on his standing member. Of course, later, the gasping would resume ... but, for now, we'd take it nice and easy.
Inch after inch of his tangy cock engorged itself in my mouth and throat. It was demanding, but it was delicious.
Below his root I began to rub his picturesque balls. They were so big they required both hands to do the job properly. It was nice feeling them churning from the furious manufacture of cum taking place within.
I'd already made the decision to let him come in my mouth. I was ready to swallow every drop. My belly ached for it.
By now the progress of his dick down my throat was sufficient to make me gag. It wasn't enough to make me stop eating cock.
I wanted the whole damn thing!
"Nnnnnnnn," I savagely munched downward, taking an added inch in my bite.
"Oh, baby, that's it," he groaned. "Take my big cock in your mouth all the way."
"Nnnnnn," again.
Another inch under my control.
"Nnnnnnn "
Only a single inch remained. To take it would practically put the head of his cock in my abdomen, but I couldn't resist.
Suddenly my lips were nuzzling balls. When I opened my eyes after the effort, there was no cock in sight. The visible extent of his genitals was his pink balls and frizzy pubic hair. His prick was nowhere to be seen.
I had the whole fucking thing inside my mouth!
And now I began to fuck it. Really fuck his prick with my mouth.
Although I had sucked dick only once before in real life, that disappointing night with Frank, I knew exactly what to do to Bill Miller's hard-on. like an expert cock-sucker, I got a hold of his foreskin and made sure it had a bumpy ride over as much of his pole as possible.
While I slid my lips up and down his throbbing boner, I suctioned my cheeks in and out, creating an enormous second cunt from my oral cavity. The spit was running like pussy juice, and my tongue was like an enormously inflated clitoris.
Now that I had proved I could eat his whole dick, it didn't bother me to let some of it go for sucking purposes. I knew it was only temporary. I could get back any part of his cock I wanted in a wink.
Sometimes he was out of my mouth all the way to the head of his prick. At those times I would roll the fleshy crown between my teeth and gums, teasing his slit with the tip of my tongue.
Then, without warning. I would plunge for his balls. His foreskin would tear down his shaft until he was moaning in exquisite male agony. I'd be mouth-fucking him to the hilt again.
Back and forth, I went, twisting and tearing his flange-meat. An iota of his cock's surface did not escape my oral stimulation.
Finally, when I had sucked him up and down a dozen times, I was ready for him to come. I could hardly wait for my first mouth load of sperm.
I'd been cheated of my due the night I sucked off Frank during his dream. But it wasn't going to happen again.
As for later, I didn't even give it a thought. The way we were attracted to each other, there was no way those massive balls of his could run dry. I was sure he'd be as wetly responsive in my cunt or asshole when the time came as he was about to be in my mouth.
Clamping down on the furthest penetration I could get, I sucked for all I was worth. At the same time, I twisted his balls, practically tying them in a knot.
Suddenly his prick jumped in my throat. It felt like an earthquake was happening in my head.
His balls knotted up and sprung from my hands. With the slack of his scrotum clinging in a taut semi-circle to the underside of his phallic root, each orb quickly assumed a bulging place on either side of his hard-on.
There was no more waiting. Jizz was now billowing from the exploding head of his cock. It was in my mouth ... my nose ... my throat ... everywhere! There was already about a pint gurgling in the pit of my stomach.
And he was gasping again!
Because of the eruption, I didn't have a chance to savor my first drop of male cum. One instant there was nothing, and the next I was caught up in a sticky tidal wave. I felt like a kid locked in a candy store, getting all I wanted of something for once.
Just like candy, Bill's jizz was smeared all over my mouth, and dribbling from my chin. I felt like a very messy eater.
He had stopped spurting now, and some laggardly globs of spunk were finding their way into my glowing stomach. I felt marvelous with my head filled with cum.
But then I spied something far more interesting than congealing jism. Something that promised a fresh, new batch within minutes.
Yes, his cock was still standing ... as hard as ever. A perfect match for my tight cunt!
"Okay, now, Bill, it's time to fuck me proper," I cooed, as I lay back and spread my legs so he could see my foaming twat. "I want you to shove your prick up my pussy and fuck me the way decent people do it."
"Are you decent?" he laughed.
"Not especially," I cracked, "but I had to think of something for you to do between fucking my mouth and getting into my ass."
"Then let's get to it," he enthused. "There's nothing like the feeling of a cock the first time it goes inside a woman's tight cunt."
With that, he gripped the stiff dick like a cutlass and rammed it between my open thighs. The sharp tip tore into the center of my groin, entering the wound of my vaginal slit like the horn of a bull.
Soon he was goring me, using his muscular body as leverage for grinding inch after inch of hard cock up my pussy. His thick dick felt much bigger than Frank's relatively slender specimen, even though it was technically an inch shorter.
My pleasure at landing such a monster between my legs was accompanied by sharp bursts of searing pain. It was a toss-up which side of the sensory coin I enjoyed most.
"Oh, you're hurting me," I told him, "your cock is so damn big."
"Want me to hurt some more?" he grinned.
"Yes," I begged. "Hurt me so good. Hurt me until I come."
Then, to assist in my own torture, I wrapped my legs around his waist, yanking him even closer to me. As our pelvises slammed together so violently they practically chipped bone, the remainder of Bill's hard-on abruptly disappeared from view.
Every inch of it was now in my snatch. It was a tight, tight fit, but my pussy had swallowed him whole just like my mouth had.
Having him inside me was like having a time bomb between my legs. At some point I knew it was going to go off, and I wondered how I would withstand the explosion.
Frank's was the only cum I had ever had inside my pussy. It had been a fight, but I'd been a virgin when I walked down the aisle, and I'd never made love with anyone but my husband after we took our vows. Now, on the brink of my first extramarital cuntful of adulterous man-juice, I wondered if the delicate tissues of my fuck-hole could take the alien fluid of someone other than Frank.
Obviously I wasn't going to get the chance to think about it too long. The balls, which my pussy lips were lapping against, were rumbling. Whether or not I liked it, this mountain stuffing the opening between my thighs was going to erupt like a volcano within seconds.
Panting like an asthmatic, Bill threw everything he had in his athletic body into bringing the situation to an orgasmic boil. His prick tore in and out of me like a piston-rod. His wiry pubic hair ground against my clit like erotic sandpaper. His huge balls battered my pussy lips like boulders from a landslide.
I felt consumed by his sexual fury, and reciprocated just as strongly as he had originally given. We were fucking each other like a couple of savages battling to the death.
His sharp spear jabbed repeatedly to the tender core of my pussy. My inner muscles grabbed his tool and twisted it around inside me. Back and forth we shared the dominance, fucking on a completely equal basis.
"Come in me!" I cried, all apprehension complete dissolved in the euphoria of fucking so hard." Fill my cunt with your hot junk!"
"Nnnnnyyyyaaaaahhhh!!!" he brayed like a goosed mule.
At the same time, just like the mule's kick, the head of his cock slammed like a stomping hoof into the tenderest depth of my fuck-hole.
Then it exploded!
If the cum I'd taken in the mouth was a tidal wave, this onslaught was an entire sea. And an angry sea of jaggedly lapping waves of liquid power.
His jizz rolled into me in foamy crests. Before long my cunt couldn't hold it all, and the excess was spurting from the sides and comers of my cock-locked labia. My crotch and thighs were soon as stickily messy as my face had been.
Throbbing in the form of an engorged canal that split the crux of my being, my pussy felt like a winner. It had more than given Bill's cum a friendly welcome.
His cum and my pussy-dew mixed into an emulsion that rolled his cock around inside my cunt like it was on ball-bearings. The constant collision of our groins caused a thick sloshing. It sounded either like waves splashing against a rock, or a 78 rpm record played by some prankster on 33 1/3, take your pick.
The best part about it was, despite the juicy looseness of our fuck at this stage, that I could still feel the hardness of his cock. Coming for a second time within mere minutes hadn't fazed it. It was as monstrous as ever.
And wringing wet with sperm and pussy juice-the perfect lubricant for what I had in mind.
Tipping my pelvis backward, I slanted the angle of my crotch toward the floor and vaginally expelled every inch of cock in my slit with a powerful cunt-fart.
Then, reaching into the viper's nest of our loins, I seized his rigid snake of a prick. Holding it between ten squeezing fingers, I lowered it to the tenderly virgin orifice just a notch below my cunt.
My asshole!
Yes, indeed, I was dying to lose my anal cherry and get fucked for the first time in the ass. My tight, tight ass!
"Do it to me in the butt," I saucily encouraged him. "Let me feel your big, strong cock all the way up in my hot shit."
Just then, probably by accident, the spongy meat that comprised the head of his dong scraped over my puckering anal ridges. Immediately I felt a sharp twinge all the way up to my colon.
"Fuck me!" I ordered. "Fuck me in the ass!"
He obeyed with a vengeance.
"Yeeeeeoooowwww!" I wailed as his cock suddenly turned into a high-speed drill, sending its bit twisting up the tender confines of my virgin shit-pit.
My ass felt like it was bleeding and giving off sparks at the same time, as I got cornholed more and more deeply. The buggering I had started had turned into anal rape.
And I loved it!
Loved his rude cock bullying its way into my most personal depths.
Loved the way the insane friction made me come in my ass as hard as I had just finished coming in my cunt. I'd never imagined in my sheltered life how much excruciating enchantment a woman could get out of nine inches of stiff cock up her tight asshole.
Just this one time was better than anything I'd ever had from Frank in the cunt.
"Oh, kill me!" I shrieked. "Kill me with your cock in my ass!"
"Ooooomph!" he grunted, and he had made it all the way to the hilt, penetrating with the last centimeter or two. Now it wasn't just conjecture, I had the whole nine inches.
Right up my ass!
I moaned deliriously as I wiggled my can, whipping that huge cock around inside my spasming rectum. The tight lining leading from my intestines to the outside world was gradually becoming more pliant, more rubbery and flexible.
Yes, right now Bill's cock was doing anything it wanted up my ass. It was shimmying like a hula dancer and I didn't flinch.
"Oh, come in me!" I pleaded with him. "Come in my ass!"
I almost exclaimed "Thar' she blows," when I felt the rumble in my colon.
In a split-second he had ejaculated as though he had a functioning geyser between his legs rather than a mere cock. The volume of goo easily equalled the combined totals of his first two orgasms.
My bowels were suddenly more full of scalding semen than they had ever been of shit. I felt like I had a massive case of erotic diarrhea.
Finally my sphincter muscles could no longer hold the rectal dike. The silvery cum came flooding out. There was so much of it, it splashed.
"Oh, what a fuck," I moaned. "The ass was actually the best. Oh, Bill, what your cock was like up my ass, fucking away . ..."
He interrupted me with a deep soul-kiss. By the time we broke it, we were both so out of breath we were ready to lie back and relax for a time.
After we shared a cigarette, and a half-finished highball one of us had brought into the room, Bill turned to me and asked: "Are you and your husband happily married?"
"We are on paper-until he met your wife," I kittenishly replied. "Let's go see if old Frank has finally toppled off his moral high-horse."
Bill was all for it. "Say," he said, as we got up and started together toward the hall, "whatever else happens tonight, I want you to know that you and Frank are one fun couple."
CHAPTER FOUR
We found Frank and Tina where we had presumably left them-in the living room. However, obviously a few significant changes had taken place since our departure for the bedroom.
I suppose if I just give you the most striking alteration, you can fill in the rest in descending order. They were totally naked.
Not only were they fucking, but from my vantage point I had a perfect view of my husband's turgid cock pumping in and out of another woman's hairy pussy. Instead of making me jealous, it made my cunt cream with delight.
I was starting to get horny all over again. The fact that I'd just fucked Bill's dong in the mouth, pussy and ass, seemed like the distant past. Watching my husband fuck another woman was the perfect aphrodisiac.
"Let's help them," I gigglingly suggested to Bill.
"Yeah," he laughed, "maybe they don't know how to do it right."
We both dropped to our knees and surrounded the fucking couple. Almost by instinct, Bill's re-hardened cock located his wife's gasping mouth and bullied its way inside. In the meantime, I had settled down between her thighs and was looking for her clitoris to chew.
When I found a juicy seam where one of her pussy lips was enfolding his cock, I followed it all the way to the top. There I immediately discovered her succulent joy-button, and gave it a tonguing buzz.
"Ooooooh," Tina gasped in a kind of burp, "who's doing that to me? I know no cock ever got to all the places I'm feeling at once."
"It's me, Dorothy," I greeted her from her groin. "My tongue is at your disposal."
She just murmured, her mouth having been re-filled by her husband's thick cock. By this time my tongue had bolted, and was licking away at her clit. I wouldn't have stopped no matter what she might have said without Bill's prick in her mouth.
Let's face it. I was hooked on her sweet meat!
Especially when it was stuffed with my husband's steadily pumping cock. It was a gorgeous buffet of raw carnality.
As I sucked Tina's stiff clit, Frank's coursing dick rubbed back and forth in its travels against my chin. The dew of her flying pussy juice splattered in a Fine mist against my face.
Soon Frank would be coming. What would it be like? Watching my husband's jizz flooding another woman's cunt.
"Nnnnnngggg," I gritted my teeth and shook my head in indecision, so painfully twisting Tina's clit in the process that she shrieked with bloodcurdling delight. Oh, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't having trouble with my emotions.
Could I go through with this? Was I mature enough to accept the sight of my husband's swamping somebody else's twat?
Then, it was put-up or shut-up time.
Frank, who had been mute until now, suddenly let out a long, low baying sound like he was a hound dog howling at the moon. Where he had previously rocked back and forth on top of Tina like a hard-working robot, now he abruptly began writhing like a marionette with a spastic pulling the strings.
Wracked with convulsions, Frank shot his hard-on into Tina's cunt like a machine gun. I was astounded by the tumult above me-I'd never seen my husband come so hard.
I could hear the thick juice gurgling inside Tina's fuck-hole. Frank was obviously flooding her with gooey jism.
The onslaught could not be contained forever, and Frank's cum came spilling from Tina's cunt.
Soon his dick was white with its own funky slime.
Surprisingly, it didn't bother me at all. This moment I'd dreaded had turned out to be a massive turn-on.
It was delayed a few nights, but at last I was going to drink my husband's sperm, and from the chalice of another woman's cunt.
My tongue dropped from the interplay with her clit, pressing to the sides of her cunt to blot up the leaking cum. It tasted fantastically alive. I almost couldn't believe something so vibrant could come out of boring, old Frank.
Except that right now, he was anything but his usual boring self. He was alive, electric, his body twitching like he had live-wires under the skin rather than nerves.
Although he was through coming, Frank's cock was harder than ever. I'd never seen such an erection on my husband.
Having pulled out of Tina's gushing cunt, he was looking around with wild eyes for new fields to conquer with his phallic sword. Then, more specifically, he was looking straight at me.
There was an immediate unspoken communication between us that was more vibrant than any messages ever conveyed in the millions of words Frank and I had traded during our many years of marriage. And, incredibly, this new language we were speaking with our eyes had nothing to do with being husband and wife.
No, we were lovers. Impulsive lovers infatuated with each other at first sight.
Mad about each other's bodies!
"Oh, plug your cock in my cunt," I bawdily invited him towards my hastily spread loins.
"Over on all fours, then," he smirked. "I want to fuck you like a damn dog."
I thought I could detect some hostility in Frank's last statement, but I decided, so what? Everything that went wrong in our marriage wasn't his fault, after all. He had a right to let off some steam.
Particularly when his cock was so scrumptious-looking. I'd never been so turned-on by one of my husband's hard-ons.
Not only did I roll over on all fours, as instructed, but I even yowled a little bit like a bitch in heat. It was a role in which just being myself was the sole requirement.
In the back, I gouged my fingers into my buns and spread my ass so Frank could have a closer inspection of my goodies before he took the plunge. The funky reek of my pussy singed the atmosphere. Even my own usually immunized nostrils flared from the randy crotch-blast.
"Another man's already come in you tonight," Frank observed.
My heart stopped. This might be the thread that would unravel the fantasy we were sharing. Frank was so neurotic, who knew how much stress he could take.
"I can see jism congealing into lumps inside the mouth of your pussy," he continued his inventory. "It's very sloppy. Very sloppy, indeed, my little sewer."
This was the Frank I knew and loathed. Piling on the sarcasm until you started to imagine you were being fucked by a Nazi. In the last few years he had increasingly had a bad mouth in bed.
"Just shut up and fuck me, Frank," I pulled rank. "Don't ask me why, but I'm just dying for you to fuck me right now. Stop talking and start screwing before we lose our chance to come together for once and for all."
At the point where our loins were spread, I had never stood up to him like this before. Stood on my rights as a horny woman. I was pleased that I'd made my point, but distressed that his hard-on might lose some of its potency. Men always seem to take it so hard when women get the best of them.
"Don't sweat it," I said in the adolescent vernacular that had worked so well with Bill Miller. "Forget who we are. Just think of it as your cock in the juiciest damn cunt you've ever fucked."
To my glee, that got him snorting like an enraged bull. The slobber was dripping down onto my back as he hunched over me like a caveman rapist.
I was no longer Dorothy, his wife. In his eyes I was just a widely spread pussy to be fucked from the rear.
I had no other identity to him beyond being a chunk of fresh meat. He was like a wolf at carrion.
And, brother, that's the way I wanted it!
I wanted him to blast away at my cunt without an inhibition in his way. I wanted his lust to be pure, raw, and unadulterated.
"Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!" I screamed, and by the time I finished saying it, he was doing it. it.
He was sexily brutal in his whammings, as he pile-drove inch after inch of cock in my pussy like he was burying a stake. His prick was a marvel I hardly recognized from before.
"Oh, Jesus," I wailed, "I can feel you up inside my womb! You're going to split me in two!"
The old Frank would have snarlingly replied, "If it's possible," but he just kept right on mutely fucking. A lover, rather than a husband, knew when all a woman wanted was more, no matter what she said.
Even though we were essentially lust-disfigured strangers to each other, I had never felt so close to Frank. The further he got away from being my husband, the more I dug him.
Take, for instance, his cock. Before I had compared it unsatisfactorily with Bill Miller's. Now, however, Frank's lack of thickness seemed a blessing because his slim prick could jab and wound like a knife inside my cunt.
And with the spring he had in his loins, I could really feel that extra inch he had over Bill. Really, fucking, feel it!
As we fucked and fucked I felt we had never worked so well as a team. All of our movements were perfectly synchronized. We were each receiving equal doses of agony and ecstasy.
We seemed all alone in the universe. Swirling on some solitary orbit as we made passionate love. Who'd have ever thought swapping would bring me back to my own husband this way?
However, it was a little more complicated than that. No happy-ending and ride-off-into-the-sunset yet.
For, now, I had just discovered that we had been just discovered. We'd forgotten all about Bill and Tina, but they certainly hadn't forgotten about us.
Tina made her presence known by kneeling down so we were face-to-face. Opening her lips for a kiss, she droolingly informed me, "Bill came in my mouth after you left. My mouth is still full of his jizz. You'll taste it when we kiss."
As if I couldn't have guessed without an explanation. After all, there were globs of cum leaking out of her mouth.
However, that slobber to me was like a marshmallow to a kid. I couldn't wait to taste it.
Quickly I went for her. We closed the distance between us and we were kissing. Deep soul kissing. Her tongue down my throat. Mine down hers.
With the taste of Bill's cum everywhere. God, how did she manage to retain so much of it the way she'd been drooling? Pretty soon, there was probably as much of it in my belly as in hers.
In the meantime, Bill himself was working his way into the action. If Frank wanted to fuck me, he was going to have to finish up sharing my naked body with another man and another woman.
I didn't have to be too knowledgeable about sex orgies to know what part of me Bill had his eye on. After all, not only was it the last hole left, it was right up there on top of things.
Then I felt the head of his cock finding its way between my spread cheeks, and cried, "Oh, my ass! Fuck me in the ass!"
I didn't know how Frank felt about it, but I just loved being shared. He'd take me with my friends, or not at all.
In front, I drank the last of Bill's stale cum from Tina's mouth, and then broke the kiss so I could catch my breath. Filling my lungs with oxygen, I concentrated on the action at rear.
Bill was making steady progress, carefully inching his cock down my shit-pit so he wouldn't pop the other tool out of my cunt. However, the owner of that second phallus had suddenly frozen in his hip joints. Frank was as immobile as an obscene statue of a guy with a hard-on.
Something had invaded his psyche and was trying to entice the real Frank to come out in the open. If that happened there would be a hell of an embarrassing scene.
He was obviously struggling with himself. His only movement was a fine tremor that made his cock vibrate in my cunt like a tuning-fork.
"Frank, whatever it is, forget it," I called encouragement back to him. "I'm enjoying myself, so there's no reason why you shouldn't do the same. I've got-enough body tonight for ail of us. Relax and enjoy ... and come. Stop feeling bruised, Frank, and come in my pussy."
Tina and Bill were polite enough not to say anything, so the moment passed beautifully. Oddly enough, I could really only be myself when I was having sex with other people. I hoped Frank would arrive at the same conclusion.
"Just think how much better making love is without all the hang-ups," I made another attempt to shatter his childish guilt-feelings. "Who cares if there are other people along for the ride if it leads to the end of the rainbow?"
Just then, one of the other people, namely Bill, achieved a hilted penetration of his thick nine-inch cock in my ass. When he started moving in the classic fucking motion, Frank had to either go along for the undulating ride or get out of my pussy.
"Put up or shut up, Frank!" I changed my sympathetic encouragement into an ultimatum. "If you can't come in my cunt, I don't want your cock inside there."
That rattled him, for sure. I could almost hear him dripping as he thawed out.
"Well, which will it be," I cracked, "shove-in or pull-out?"
Oooommmpphh!
It was shove-in. Frank was like a madman as he began fucking the daylights out of my pussy.
Over and over again the two cocks in my adjacent holes collided through meaningless membrane in mid-body. The scraping of their flinty heads seemed to set off leaping sparks.
Now that everything was going smoothly at my flanks, I turned my attention back to the succulent Tina. She was ready for me, having swiveled around so that her pussy was where her face used to be.
Her cunt was, of course, as full of cum as her mouth had been. The only difference was that it was Frank's cum.
I began lapping away, immediately locating that ticklish clit I'd previously sampled with the tip of my tongue. Her pussy was even sweeter than it had been the first time I'd sucked it. And now, with no cock inside it, I could go into its damp crevice if I wanted to."
And I did. Transferring my tongue from her clit, I shot it up her gash and began orally fucking her. So her clit wouldn't feel neglected, I started nibbling at it with my top row of teeth.
She responded with impassioned writhing and moaning. It got even worse when I reached out and started rubbing her tits.
With an erect nipple clutched in each hand, I slid her cushiony breasts all around her chest. I wanted her to come above the waist, as well as below.
In the meantime, the cocks in my ass and cunt were pumping harder and harder. When this was over I wouldn't be able to sit down for a week.
With a hard-on up my butt, another stuffing my twat, my face grazing in pussy, and my fingers full of spongy tit-flesh, I was ready to explode with sex. Already coming harder than I ever had, I was afraid I'd splatter in chunks when I reached my final orgasmic peak.
Tina was going crazy too, even though she wasn't carrying nearly the tonnage I was. Her cunt climaxed faithfully against my mouth every thirty seconds.
Sometimes it seemed terribly unfair that no matter what a woman's condition, fucking was only considered a success when the man came. The woman might be left high and dry after his seed had spilled, but by then he wouldn't care. On the other hand, she might have been orgasming all along, and anything he put out would be an anti-climax.
There was no reason I couldn't get maximum thrills from the fruits of my holes and the cocks fucking them. I'd take my orgasms and their splattering wads with equal delight.
In other words, it was time for these two bastards to come.
Just to remind them that this was the logical progression of events, I twitched my can as well as I could with two hard-ons stuffed up me. The way both their pricks swelled beyond even their normal enormity encouraged me a great deal.
"I think the boys are about ready to come," I informed Tina through the pipeline of her cunt. It was amazing how accurately the vibrations of my words were transmitted to her brain. She understood me completely.
"Groovy," she answered. "I'll go lick their balls to help them along."
"And then lick up the overflow," I giggled.
"You better believe it, kiddo," she huffed as she jumped to her knees and waddled back to join the action at my backside.
I could hear the slurping as Tina orally attacked their nuts. Their pricks stiffened a little extra something. It wouldn't be long now.
"Come, you bastards, come!" I took advantage of the fact that my mouth was free. "Come in my ass and cunt before I twist your fucking cocks off!"
I was really too hard on the two dears, they were doing the best they could. But I was so impatient!
"Tina and I have already had fifty orgasms, and you clowns are still working on your second," I chided. "Who says men are the superior sex?"
That, as I had intended, got them right where it hurt. Apparently, the quickest way to get men to do damage to you with their cocks is to tweak their precious masculinity.
Like two schoolboys in a playground jacking-off contest, Frank and Bill began competing to see who could shoot off inside me first. Under the circumstances, it was the kind of immaturity I heartily approved of.
Not only did they have to show us women who was boss, they felt the need to prove to each other who was the biggest, toughest stud. It was like having a couple of grade-schoolers fighting over me, but it was okay as long as it produced cum.
That occurred with the force of a door slamming between my legs. Too bad for their pride that both Bill and Frank erupted at the same time, and it was impossible to declare a definitive winner in the jizz-sweepstakes.
Of course, I don't think they cared by now. Once that cream starts spurting out of his loins, a man seems to become a mellow soul, indeed.
Our two heroes were no exception to the rule. Once their spunk was on the loose they were double-fucking buddies again.
You don't have to be told that my pussy and anus could not begin to hold all the cum spurted within them. It was inevitable that severe leakage would occur.
This was, of course, what Tina had been waiting for all along. The minute the first glob of excess jism bubbled from the perimeter of my cock-stuffed asshole, her tongue was there, lapping it up. After that, for several minutes, there wasn't a drop from my ass or pussy she missed swallowing.
With the fucking over, the four of us fell to the floor and scrambled around like crabs. The wonder of all four naked bodies in one place at one time was intoxicating. Even though cum had just spilled, hominess was as rampant as ever. Both men's dicks were solid as rocks.
A free-form orgy developed. We were insatiable.
The organism of limbs and holes and flesh we created seemed to function as a single sprawling monster. It was a beast with eight arms, eight legs, two cocks, two pussies, and four breasts. This was not to mention the eight eyes which witnessed everything, eight ears that heard all the sloshing and sucking, and four mouths that were practically always full.
Something was always in eruption-as in a region of volcanoes. Something was always being gobbled by some orifice or other.
Tina had been right. The babysitter would be staying up late.
We were bound to keep fucking and sucking until we dropped from utter exhaustion.
CHAPTER FIVE
With our first foray into the world of swapping such a smashing success, it was only natural that Frank and I would keep right on swinging. It was the first thing we'd wholeheartedly agreed upon in years.
We were practically supporting Marsha Cox, the blonde babysitter, we were going out so often.
There was no end of couples we could contact either through personals right in the classified section of the newspaper, or through the grapevine of which we were now a tendril.
"Look at the size of this guy's dick," I would show Frank a photo from an ad in a swappers' magazine. "I wonder what that would feel like all the way up my tight ass."
"Why don't you give him a call and find out," Frank might suggest. "His area-code is for this region. His prick is probably within driving distance."
"Hey," I'd say to the guy who answered the phone, "I just saw your dick in a magazine and I'm dying to suck it. When can you come out and play?"
"I'd better check with my wife, but I'm sure it'll be okay," he answers. "Her pussy's been wet all day. I know she's just aching for something kinky tonight."
Then there were whispers coming over the receiver, as I heard the muffled fringes of a hurried marital conference taking place in the background. Then, steps returning to the phone.
"Well?" I asked expectantly when I heard his breathing.
"Here's the address," he gives me a number and a place. "How soon can you be here?"
"As soon as I drop this line," I coo, and then hang up.
Frank is by my side as we dash around getting ready to go. We tell the kids. Both of us talk into the phone at once, persuading Marsha to give up her homework and come over and sit for us.
Then, there's the long, suffering wait for the babysitter to show up and liberate us. You can almost hear our loins creak, they're aching so badly for some action.
The doorbell rings. It's Marsha.
"Hello, Marsha," we both say at once.
"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Cooper."
"Goodbye, Marsha," we call over our shoulders in continued unison.
We're gone, speeding in our Oldsmobile toward the promise of hot, carefree sex. Raw, ripping sex with people whom we've never seen before.
And then we're there. The introductions are hardly over before the clothes are all off. Stripped naked, we race for the bedroom and begin fucking and sucking.
By the time we're through, the bed is a river of semen and pussy juice, and Frank and I have made some new friends.
That's how it was for weeks. Then gradually, however, we noticed our circle of willing partners was dwindling. People were starting to give the excuses that they were busy, or tired, or something.
Finally, one night I sat Frank down in the living room and was brutally frank, if you'll pardon the expression, with him.
"Something's gone wrong with the swinging," I laid it on the line. "We've got to think of what it is or we may wind up being blacklisted in swapping."
"So?" he whined defensively.
"You know very well, Frank Cooper," I lit into him, "that this swapping thing has brought us closer together in our marriage than we'd ever dreamed possible. Do you want to blow it now because of some silly masculine pride?"
He agreed that he didn't. So then, together, we set to work trying to determine what we were doing wrong.
We both came up with it at the same time.
"Of course," I said after the twin outburst. "It couldn't be anything else."
"And you know, I'm kind of embarrassed by it."
"To think," I gasped in wonder at my rudeness, "that we've gone all this time of ignoring the simple courtesy of inviting any of these people to our home. They must think we're ashamed of them, or something."
"There's no two ways about it," Frank said seriously. "We've got to correct this impression immediately."
"What should we do?"
"Throw a party!" he gushed, throwing his arms out expansively.
"Invite everyone we've had sex with?" I queried, imagining the size of the hall that would have to be rented.
"As many as we can," he babbled excitedly.
"You're kidding?"
"Or, listen, I've got it," he surged with words. "We'll invite only the best. The best cock-suckers, ass-fuckers, cunt-lickers, finger-fuckers, and all of 'em. We'll even give awards."
"Wow," I reeled from the magnitude of his idea. "The Frank and Dorothy Cooper Academy Awards for Sex! I wonder if Warren Beatty will agree to present the award to the best all-around satyr?"
So a party was hastily arranged. I'll tell you, I was on that phone night and day.
Finally I got through to all the ones Frank and I had agreed were the best. Amazingly, there wasn't one turn-down among them.
Our theory had been right. They had been miffed because we hadn't invited them into our home. Just like bridge players.
Now that we'd found the cause of our trouble, we could relax and enjoy the party that was going to cure it.
The evening of the party we sent the kids over to my parents to spend the night, and braced ourselves. Then the doorbell rang for the first time, and the flow of guests filled the house before an hour was over.
Everybody showed up. In addition, a pair of couples brought welcome guests.
One was a Doberman pinscher, and the other was a Great Dane. Even for such big dogs, they were both extraordinarily well-hung. Although I hadn't yet been exposed to bestiality, swinging had made me so liberal that I took everything for granted as natural that had to do with sex.
In other words, nobody had to tell me those dogs were there for fucking. Before the evening was over at least a couple of broads would have dog-cum dripping from their human pussies.
There were too many of us to all be contained in one room, so couples sprawled all over the house. Every nook and cranny was filled with attractive, sexy people.
Then Frank got up, rapped for attention, and started explaining the awards we were giving out. While everybody munched on hors d'oeuvres, he told them about how we wanted to show our appreciation for all the pleasure we had been given by those present. Under the circumstances, he said, it seemed only natural to honor the very best at what they did so well.
We'd bought gag-trophies for the winners. Dildoes for the gals, and rubber cunt facsimiles for the guys. The idea was that, after they'd won, they could go fuck themselves.
Frank made only one stipulation for the acceptance of one of our awards. The winner had to demonstrate his or her specialty before the rest of us.
First up, as Frank brayed dramatically, was, "Ann Simonds! Winner of the greatest achievement in cock-sucking!"
The group roared with laughter and applause.
"Come on up here, Ann, and get your award," Frank urged while unzipping his fly. "And while you're at it, you can show the folks your mouth in another award-winning performance."
With that, he reached in his pants and pulled out a throbbing boner. By the time the usually composed Ann Simonds reached the little dais on which Frank had set himself up, she was openly drooling for his rigid cock.
When Frank had first told me she was the best cock-sucker, I'd really wondered if he was right. She had always seemed so reserved to me. But he'd insisted he knew what he was talking about, and I'd finally given in. Jesus, was I glad of that now!
I had moved around the miniature stage Frank had erected for the presentation of the awards so I had a perfect view of what was happening. By now, the customarily demure Ann had dropped to her knees and was sucking away at my husband's cock like crazy. The fact there was so many people watching seemed to spur her on.
Watching her whale away, I couldn't help but wish that I had a temporary cock attached to my body that she could suck tonight. Oh well, I decided, if I really wanted the unusual badly enough, I'd work something out.
Then, Frank came in Ann's mouth, and the blow-job was over. With his dripping cock hanging out of his fly, my husband went on to the next award.
"Cunt-licking!" he bellowed to be heard over the noisy crowd. Even the dogs were barking. "In the category of cunt-licking, the award for the best achievement goes to Jim Phillips!"
The place rocked with approval. This was a popular choice.
Half the women there were turning to their neighbors and confirming the logic of the selection.
"Now, as Jim comes on up here to get his award, and show us his specialty," Frank shouted, "we're gonna have to have a volunteer cunt for him to suck. Who wants to raise her dress, and drop her panties, and get on up here and have her pussy eaten by the gobbling-est mouth around?"
Closest to the dais, it was easy for me to beat out all the others. I was nude from the waist down before anyone could make a significant move, and my twat was waiting there between spread thighs by the time Jim Phillips reached us.
"Suck my pussy," I moaned. "Suck my pussy." He went down on me in a blur. In a single fluid motion after I had lasciviously greeted him, he was eating my muff in front of a houseful of people.
I quickly observed that being an exhibitionist could be a lot of fun.
Fortunately, I had already experienced a burst of miniature orgasms by the time Frank, as M.C., got impatient with Jim's stage-hogging cunt-sucking, and pried us apart.
"There'll be time to get re-acquainted later," he cracked, and then went on to the next award.
The next one was for best straight fucker-female division.
"And the winner is...." Frank brayed, "Sheila Hopkins!"
Frank had vouched for her unstintingly. I could see why, with her pliant body and robust personality. Sheila was definitely a live-wire.
Then, once she was on-stage to accept her award, Frank pulled a fast one.
"You're probably all wondering which lucky man will be the recipient of a demonstration of the best lady fucker's specialty," he held the rapt crowd in the palm of his hand.
These people took their sex lives seriously. They really did care who Frank and I thought were the best.
"Who better to test her out than our next award winner," Frank continued. "He's the best straight fucker in the male category-in a big coincidence, none other than Sheila's own husband, Pete Hopkins!"
You should have seen how Sheila blushed. Obviously her husband's designation as best male fucker had thrown her for a loop. Apparently he was the last guy she expected to win.
But, of course, I reasoned, that would be the only thing that made sense. If they had both been so fantastic in bed in the first place, they'd have never had to go into swapping to get their kicks. It was only after they started swinging that they each developed their fucking capabilities along strictly separate lines.
They'd never tested their new abilities out on each other. In fact, until now, each had probably thought the other was still a lousy lay.
What we were potentially seeing here was the beautiful ceremony of a man and his wife finding each other again. Falling in love all over again.
Anybody who says swinging doesn't have the capacity to save a marriage, just doesn't know what he or she is talking about. No results of any pointy-headed therapy or counseling could have ever yielded the dramatic honesty of this spontaneous emotional event.
Everybody in the house held their breath as we watched Pete and Sheila waver in each other's gaze.
What would they do?
One moment they were eyeing each other like predatory jungle cats. And in the next, looking at each other like star-crossed lovers.
Jesus, if only they could go that last little way to find each other again. This was so fucking romantic!
The suspense was unbearable. You could have heard a pin drop.
And then the waiting was over with the simple unzipping of a fly. Those of us watching broke into a standing ovation when Pete's hard cock burst out of his pants and pointed directly at Sheila.
Catching the good vibes that filled the house, Sheila let the last of her inhibitions dissolve. In an instant her dress and slip had fallen to the floor. Rolling her panties down her legs, she plopped herself right on the floor and spread her hairy cunt wide open.
"Oh, Pete, fuck me with that thing!" she moaned. "Fuck me with your big, strong cock like it was the first time for each of us!"
Soon he was. Before our eyes, his stiff prick was pumping in and out of her wet pussy like a derrick. Below him, she wiggled her ass and leaked out spoonful after spoonful of cunt-juice.
The way they were carrying on, it made those of us in the audience conclude that it was probably the first time Pete and Sheila had fucked like this since they had started swapping. Only a mummy could fail to be moved by such romantic irony.
And only a zombie could fail to be turned-on by it. The mummy would have already broken his tape with a hard-on.
A sensual wave rolled over everybody in the house. All of a sudden we all wanted to fuck each other. Stage a sexual festival in honor of the reconciliation between Pete and Sheila, now gruntingly humping before us.
The place instantaneously hummed with the whine of zippers, as so much clothing fell it looked like gravity was sucking it from our bodies. In various stages of nudity, we started falling all over each other, the crotch being most people's favorite target.
Pretty soon, people were fucking and sucking all over the place. The wet sounds of their pumping organs made my living room sound like the seashore.
As for myself, I was about the only one present who was disentangled. Strolling around the body-littered room and taking in everything, I was biding my time, looking for the absolutely perfect reason to jump into this incredible orgy.
I was burning with the desire to really do something special. To show I could top even the award-winners when it came to sex.
Anybody could fall over the floor and fuck and suck. I wanted to do something unusual that the carnival would stop and all eyes would be on me.
This was my party. I wanted to be one hostess nobody would ever forget.
Then, whining over in a neglected comer, I found the answer.
Yes, they were actually whining, those big, brutish dogs. I don't know which was more pitiful, the Doberman or the Great Dane.
Poor things, their masters had plunged into the fray, and had forgotten them. Now the beasts were getting impatient on the sidelines, seeing their probable specialty performed by everyone but them.
"Doggies wanna pway?" I baby-talked them out of their comer. "Little Dorothy has something nice for you."
Their whining had become panting. The stubs of their former tails were wagging. The damn things almost seemed to read my mind.
No matter, they could be a couple of Hindu swamis reincarnated in another life for all I cared. I'd promised myself that I was going to offer them my body, and I wasn't about to welsh on the bargain.
I quickly tugged the rest of my clothing off, and stood, stripped, before the now drooling dogs. A quick glance down between their flanks verified that their huge pricks were vibrant.
Suddenly something wet and rough scraped across the front of my pussy. I almost jumped out of my skin. It was the Great Dane's massive tongue.
And he didn't stop licking. I wouldn't let him.
So the Doberman wouldn't feel neglected, I tried commanding him to roll over for a little arrangement I had in mind. Highly trained animal that he was, he was obediently on his back in a split-second.
Meaning that his throbbing cock and balls were just inches from my face. Already my mouth was watering. All the other women sucking cocks in the gathering were restricted to men's-I was the only woman about to give a blow-job to a spread-eagled Doberman pinscher.
With a muffled slurp, I covered the knotty top third of his prick and started sucking. At the same time I rattled his balls in my shaking grip, really charging them full of cum.
Between my thighs, the Great Dane had gotten impatient with lapping my cunt after the tip of his tongue had explored every possibility with my clitoris. When I looked down, the thrusting sword from his crotch told me that he was anxious for something besides his tongue in my dripping pussy.
"Does the nice doggie wanna fuck the widdle girl," I baby-talked again. This bigger dog really seemed to like that. I guess he was trained to like 'em young. Maybe one of the owners' daughters had been playing with him.
"Okay, big-boy," I promised him, "you've got your fuck. Just let me get another grip on your friend's peter, and I'll swing over on my knees so you can perform your specialty from the rear."
The position was achieved without delay. Whatever protests the Doberman might have had about being neglected were promptly stifled when I resumed sucking his cock, harder than before. In the meantime, I was balancing on my knees, and my ass was waving out in back of me.
His wet nose was in there immediately, expertly sniffing my steaming pussy between my cheeks.
"Stop horsing around and get on top of me," I snapped impatiently. Christ, he was about as big as a horse.
The first gouge of those claws into my back was sheer delight. How else could the poor animal balance himself if he was going to fuck me?
But if the lacerating pain scarring my back was a good sign, there was even a more conclusive one at the crux of my widely spread loins. Although I couldn't see it, I knew that it was long and hard and round, and that its bullet head was rubbing against my pussy lips.
The meandering end of his cock drove me crazy as it searched for the right approach into my foaming gash. My labia and clit were tickled and bruised until they ached.
Then, finally, just as I was getting desperate, he found the elusive slot of my cunt and made a giant leap. Six inches of greasy dog-pole slid up my fuck-hole on the first thrust. The rest followed on the next.
His cock wasn't quite as thick as a man's, but it was much more flexible. It could do a lot of delicate work inside a woman's pussy of which the human variety was rarely capable.
With the Great Dane screwing me to the hilt from the rear, I now focused the greater part of my attention on the cock I was sucking. Obviously it was time to get down to the balls on this whopper, and see what it was really made of.
I soon found out. Swallowing the Doberman's cock was like trying to eat a piece of bone. The thing was so solid it was scary.
Now that I had gobbled him past the halfway mark, and he was really getting into me, I seriously wondered whether I was going to be able to go down on him all the way. I had really underestimated the power of his hard-on.
Then, when I was on the verge of compromising my initial objective of hilted sucking, I became aware for the first time of people watching. The award-winners were watching little old me.
Not to mention, my two friends, the dogs. "Thor," and "Adolf," people around us established their napes. I assumed the Great Dane I was fucking was the former, and the Doberman I was sucking the latter.
"Come on, Adolf," somebody confirmed my association of the names as correct, "you can get that cock all the way in her mouth. You're just not trying, old boy."
Thank God they still thought it was his deficiency, not mine. If I want immediately back to work, no one would ever know I'd almost given up on deep-throating his cock all the way to his furry balls.
With the encouragement people were starting to give me, I knew I could have that whole prick in my mouth if I wanted to work for it.
I sucked away, harder than ever before, tenaciously fighting for each new increment. His cock seemed to get thicker closer to the root. It was tough going.
The audience that had gradually formed knew I was doing all the work, and gave me all their support. The poor dog was whining below, whimpering either because of pain from my teeth, or from hurt feelings at seeing me steal all the attention.
I wasn't worried. I knew the dog could hold up. Anybody with a prick that strong has got to be immortal.
Finally there was just a half an inch between my lips and his no matter what I did, I couldn't seem to close it. I realized the fact that no amount of pride could hide the fact that I needed help to finish the job.
I got it.
Two big guys picked up the Doberman and thrust him yelping into the air. If his path had not been blocked, the animal might have soared through the room.
But, of course, there was an obstacle present. My face.
The way his cock was already imbedded in my throat, any upward movement would have worked it in that last little bit. However, given the actual force of the dog's man-powered ascent, the final penetration was like having a hand grenade go off in my head.
Suddenly he was filling breathing passages with spurting cum. Since a dog's body temperature is much warmer than a man's, Adolf's flooding jism seemed scalding by comparison.
Everybody had stopped their own little games now and was watching me and Adolf and Thor. With the former's massive ejaculation in my mouth, they all cheered.
There was so much cum, that I was still choking on it even after Adolf's wilting cock had been withdrawn. I felt like I was dying of a mucous attack.
Maybe I could have used a break, but it was impossible. No sooner was Adolf through with my mouth than Thor began knocking in earnest on my backdoor.
Homing in on my act, a naked woman dropped to her knees and began licking Thor's balls. I didn't care-I was willing to share the spotlight if it would fill my cunt with hot sperm any sooner.
At my end, a man offered me his cock in place of the now depleted Adolf's. I accepted.
Then, as the pumping fury of Thor's phallic hammer kept growing more insistent in my snatch, guys touched my hanging tits with their hard-ons and began battling over rights to my stiff nipples. Cocks were rolling all over me after some began squirming along my ribs and thighs.
Then, at my fingertips, pussies joined them. A wet, wet pussy for each hand, each of them already swamped with somebody's cum.
The whole party seemed to swell into one pulsing knot of humanity. The crush of cocks and pussies and tits and asses around me was severe.
But, through it all, I kept right on humping that dog. I was going to finish what I'd started before I jumped without care into the warm sea of flesh surrounding me. I had to put my final signature on my declaration of individuality.
With my body writhing in a moist nest of pricks and cunts, I somehow managed to concentrate on the cock in my pussy. It was the only sex organ that counted until Thor shot his wad.
He'd been threatening eruption for several seconds now. Finally, his time was up.
A meteor of cum bolted up the channel of my pussy as he happened to blow his nuts during a withdrawal stroke. It was fun getting it like that for a change, almost all of his jizz filling my fuck-hole without a big, fat cock taking up all the room.
Because my cunt was mostly unplugged by Thor's prick, it took longer than usual for the inner cavity to become bloated with spunk. However, when the inevitable overflow did start to leak out, its rich thickness made the wait worth it.
Maybe a dozen tongues instantaneously dipped into my oozing honey-pot and began lapping the nectar. Mmmmmm, they were so rough and tangy when they ran out of cum to lick and went right on lapping against my clit and pussy lips.
What an evening! Too bad all that I can recall of the rest of it was a delirious parade of naked bodies. Every prick and pussy, pair of tits, and ass must have come my way by the time the party was over. It was just a kaleidoscope of raw sex.
Just thinking about it gives me an orgasm. But, you know, to this day I can't specifically recognize the face of any man or woman fucking or sucking me during that melee after the dog-fucking. My memory of it is more in my gut and crotch than in my head.
I guess that's what makes swapping so great.
CHAPTER SIX
After the party we'd given, we sort of got to be the king and queen of our local swinging circuit. Couples just couldn't seem to get enough of us at their homes.
And, of course, for every invitation we accepted, etiquette required we return the favor. It seemed we were always coming and going, but we thrived on the activity. Swapping had made us feel so young.
Being out so much, we naturally had to do something about the children. To insure our availability, it was necessary to secure reliable child-care services.
Marsha Cox was fine when we were gone, but what about when we entertained at home? Since we'd used my parents once, I went to them and offered a proposition.
"Frank and I have gotten into something pretty good," I frankly told them all they needed to know without offering any specifics. "As a matter-of-fact, it may be saving our marriage."
Both of them looked at me skeptically, but neither said anything until my mother, a tall, attractive woman who looks more like my sister, cooed, "If you say so, dear." My father tried to stifle a chuckle, but was unsuccessful.
Even though I was a grown woman, they never took anything I did seriously. Dorothy was still their little girl. And to enhance the illusion, they still looked about as young as they had when I was a child.
"Then will you take care of my kids or not?" I stamped the floor like a kid myself.
"Certainly, dear...." my mother soothed like she was about to give me a cookie. "Just drop the little dears off ... when did you say it was?"
"Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays," I reminded her.
"Fine, dear," she dead-panned. "Now would you like a cookie?"
It was tough doing business with my parents, but at least in exchange for a little bit of humiliation they were reliable. Since Marsha Cox, the other babysitter was so stable, we had no worries. With the kids in tow, Frank and I were free to swing as we pleased.
It was a fantastic time. With every different person each of us made love to, Frank and I came closer and closer together.
Then, without warning, there was trouble in paradise. Looking back, it all started so innocently enough.
We were partying at Phil and Madge Hanford's, and they like to drink. Sex with them is always boozy and loose. It's a nice change of pace.
By the time we were ready to leave, Frank really had a load on and was too drunk to drive. I wasn't much better off, but at least I could stand.
The trip home was like a roller coaster ride in a nightmare. I was much less able to handle the wheel than I'd thought I would be. After mentally tabulating the fourth near accident, I stopped counting.
By the time I'd miraculously guided the car into the garage without reducing the building to a pile of sticks, I was out of my mind. Totally exhausted, I closed my eyes to give a prayer of thanks and promptly passed out.
When I awoke, Frank was gone. I was rather surprised that he'd moved, as he had seemed even more stiff than I. Getting out of my car, I went looking for him. My assumption was that he was puking in the bushes somewhere around the house.
When I couldn't find him, I started to get worried. He was so drunk he could have wandered off anywhere. He could get arrested for being a peeping-tom or hit by a car.
In my confusion I was starting to notice that it was cold outside. In addition, the alcohol was starting to rush again to my brain. If I didn't get inside, I might conk out in a bush.
If worse came to worse, I could always call the cops to find Frank. When they brought him in stinking drunk, it might be a trifle embarrassing, but at least I'd know where he was.
Inside the house, I didn't even bother to look for Marsha the babysitter, as I dove for the phone. I was too drunk to concentrate on more than one thing at a time, and right now that thing was cops.
However, when the special police-emergency number turned out to be busy, my attention turned elsewhere. For some reason, I noticed the television set. It was on, as usual, but there was no blonde head sitting in front of it.
"Marsha," I called out, "are you all right?"
Her familiar voice did not reply. However, that is not to say that there were no sounds in the night.
From the kitchen there was a rattling, a bumpity-bumpity of something striking repeatedly against the linoleum floor. Then, it was accompanied by some low moans. If there was an animal in there it could have been a growl.
"Marsha," I called out again, but my voice was much shakier.
More rattles and bumps from the kitchen. More moans, and this time a muffled shriek.
It definitely seemed as though something was doing something to something in there. Like a cat beheading a flailing bird on the kitchen table.
Only a very big cat, and a very big bird.
Whatever it was, it gave' me the creeps, and I wanted it out of there. Oh, where was that Marsha, anyway? She could help me with this.
Tip-toeing to the door, I prepared to thrust my hand through the swinging entrance to the kitchen and switch on the light. However, before I could poise myself, I overheard something that made me reconsider.
These sounds weren't bumping furniture or guttural moans, they were words. A girl's voice was distinctly saying, "Oh, my cunt can't take all of your huge cock. You're fucking me too deep already."
I bristled. So this was what had come of my trust in Marsha Cox.
She was fucking her boyfriend on my kitchen table. Tomorrow we'd be eating breakfast off that table. Somebody might wind up with a glob of pussy juice on their Fruit-Loops.
I no longer felt the need to turn on the light with any stealth. My outrage at having my respectable home turned into a teenage massage parlor had sobered me up, and I was going to march right into that kitchen like a trooper and tell the little bastards to get the hell out.
When I switched on the light, the couple I had been anticipating fucking on the table were there. However, they were not the love-birds I had in mind.
Oh, one of them filled the bill. That was Marsha with her legs spread on the bottom.
However, the other half on the team was so wrong for the scene I had envisioned, I was repelled by the grotesque imagery of reality. Well, at least Frank's not puking around the house. He hardly could be, the bastard, if he was screwing the babysitter.
My problem now was to figure out if little Marsha liked it or loathed it. Her previous statement about Frank's cock being too big inside her cunt could have meant anything. For all I knew, he was forcibly raping her.
The girl's eyes must have been closed all this time. When she opened them and realized the light was on, she looked around and recognized me.
"Mrs. Cooper," she screamed, "you've got to stop your husband!"
My speculation ended. The worst had materialized. Frank was raping the hell out of her little pussy all right.
"If he doesn't stop assaulting me," Marsha wailed on, "he's going to pop my cherry. Then I won't be a virgin any more!"
I couldn't believe that this was the genuine lament of a teenager of today. From what I read and heard, I'd always assumed they screwed around like crazy. Finding a seventeen-year-old girl virgin spread-eagled on your kitchen table was about like having a flying saucer land on your doorstep the way I understood contemporary trends.
And it didn't make it any easier to accept the fact that her legs were forcibly spread so my drunken husband could rape her. If she was telling the truth about her virtue, the blood from her ruptured hymen would be leaking out of her pussy before Frank even had a chance to come.
"Arrgghhhh!" she cried like she had just been stabbed in the heart.
As it turned out, in the heart of her pussy.
Like an aorta had been severed, the thick rich blood came bubbling from Marsha's cunt. On its next withdrawal, I saw that Frank's hard-on was bright red.
"God, my cherry ... you've popped my cherry, Mr. Cooper," Marsha gasped breathlessly. "And Mrs. Cooper-you didn't do anything to stop him!"
Good Lord, she was right, I hadn't!
My husband was raping a virginal teenager on our kitchen table, and so far I had stood by and done nothing. Nothing except watch hypnotically, that is.
"Why, Mrs. Cooper?" the distraught girl moaningly questioned, the blood still trickling from between her legs as Frank humped away. "Why did you let this happen to me?"
"I ... I thought you were in here with a boyfriend," I started my explanation with the truth. "I was going to turn on the light and surprise you."
"You filthy woman," Marsha contemptuously sneered. The kid had a way of making you feel like a turd.
Apparently it was time to distort the truth with a few lies. "Then, when I got into the kitchen and switched on the light, I couldn't believe what I saw," I resumed the latest draft of my hastily reconstructed story.
"And?" she challenged me.
"I was transfixed," I blurted with conviction. "Hypnotized!"
"I couldn't move," I continued. "The shock was paralyzing. By the time I was free of its grip, it was too late. Your cunt was a bloody mess-your virtue had already been irreparably punctured by Frank's big cock."
"But you're still just standing there," she observed. "Why don't you do anything now, Mrs. Cooper?"
"Why should I?" I surprised myself with a sauciness that seemed born out of an ingrained marital reflex to defend my spouse. "The damage has already been done. Why don't you just relax and enjoy the rest of it?"
"I'd sooner die," the bloody-crotched girl sneered.
"Are you telling me that you don't like hard cock, little girl?" I snapped back.
"That's right," she primly replied.
"Then you must love pussy," I topped her.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Here," I said, going over to her with spread legs under a raised skirt. "Try this one on for size."
My panties had been mislaid back at the Hanford's, so when my crotch came down on Marsha's face it was bare. And not only bare, but reeking with the juices of a full night's worth of swapping.
She damply murmured as my thick pussy lips squirmed like night-crawlers over her mouth. Then she sneezed as one of my pubic hairs scratched inside her nose.
The snort of her wind was an unexpected but thorough turn-on. It was like taking the blast of an air-conditioner up my cunt on a hot, muggy day.
A fresh wave of juice oozed from the walls of my twat, dropping down into the canal and forcing a big wad of the old stuff out. I smiled, knowing that a big glob of decaying sperm and rancid pussy goo had just chunked into Marsha's mouth.
I ground my pelvis into her face, force-feeding her the genital nourishment. "Glub," I heard her swallow, and smiled with satisfaction.
Now that my pussy was securely locked in place over Marsha's mouth, I took the time to look up and survey my surroundings. And there was Frank looking me straight in the eye.
"What are you doing here?" we asked each other simultaneously.
I'd gotten so involved in sitting on Marsha's face that, in my half-drunken state, I'd forgotten all about Frank sawing away between her long legs.
He was so much drunker than I that he'd only taken note of my presence when my nose was an inch away from his.
When we realized what was happening, we both cracked up laughing. It was a good sound. I'm telling you, it had been so long since there was laughter in that kitchen.
Then, like a bumptious child resentful of being left out, the little girl beneath us made her presence known by violently squirming her hard, young body.
"Mmmmmwwwwwfff!" she bit like a savage into my cunt.
"The little bitch!" I shrieked, twisting in pain on top of her. "We ought to teach her a lesson!"
"I'm right with you, doll," Frank said boozily. "We'll make this a night li'l Miss Goody Two-Shoes'll never forget."
"That's right," I called down to the struggling girl, "it's going to take more than Nancy Drew to get you out of this pickle."
"Okay, now," Frank brought the conversation back to the details of the conspiracy, "whatta we gonna do nex'?" He slurred in a drunken growl that resembled a drawling bear.
"You get out of her pussy and into her asshole," I efficiently stated. "I'm dying to get started on that bloody little cunt."
"Gonna fuck it?" he lurched in wonder.
"Later, if the plumber's-helper is handy," I cracked, "but right now I just want to get my tongue inside that tight, wet teenage box."
He was out of her with a loud slurping pop. With his cock free, he stopped for an inspection. Seeing it was still as stiff as a board, Frank smiled broadly.
"Go on," I chuckled, "stop admiring your dick and fuck her in the ass."
Lowering the notch of his sights, he moved to do just that. Just in the nick of time, I got to Marsha's thighs and pulled them apart as far as they would go, opening her pink anus for his hurtling cock-head. It went inside like a shot.
Marsha was screaming, but fortunately for the neighbors, my muff was still covering her mouth. I felt rather than heard it.
I waited her out. Eventually she got used enough to the idea of being fucked in the ass to whimper instead of yell.
At that point, feeling it was safe to do so, I slid my juicy cunt off her face. It left a sticky trail like a slug crossing a stone.
As I'd anticipated there was no screaming once her mouth was temporarily free. Just one, long, continuous moan. The poor girl was delirious. The poor, lucky girl.
Quickly I re-positioned myself for what I wanted to do. Just in case there was any misunderstanding, my cunt went back in Marsha's face, only this time it was Coming from the rear. In front, I dipped my head between her sinewy thighs and stuck my tongue into her honey-pot.
Even thick with blood, and rough with abuse from Frank's ramming prick, Marsha's pussy was as sweet as a candy apple. Every drop of goo I lapped from it just made me thirstier. It made me feel good to taste it before any cock had actually come inside.
Just below me, Frank was going to town up Marsha's swollen asshole. He now had about half of his hard-on inside the girl's shit-pit, and was eagerly going for the rest. For a little encouragement, I borrowed my tongue from Marsha's twat and lovingly licked his prick.
Then, in a flash, I was back to the teenage box. My tongue shot in several inches, drilling away into the tenderest confines. No cock could have filled her young snatch as well.
Frank was working hard, but he wasn't doing anything more than I was. The force of his hard-on in her ass was matched at every turn by my pumping tongue in her pussy.
Yes, we were quite a team, Frank and I. What a modem way to pay off the babysitter.
Marsha was moaning in my cunt, as usual, but this was a new kind of moan. It was soft and warm instead of guttural and desperate.
A taste of fresh dew from her pussy made me put two and two together. Such delicious moaning and a gushing twat could only add up to one thing.
The little girl was turned-on. Then, when I saw her wiggle her hips, I decided horny was the better word.
"Oh, Frank," I gave him the news, "she really wants it now. She really want us to fuck her."
Yes, yes, Marsha nodded her head between my thighs.
"She wants us to make her come," I crooned on. "Now that she's gone this far, she probably wants to know what it feels like."
"Then let's do 'er!" Frank whooped with drunken bravado. Then while I was still laughing at his boyish enthusiasm, he abruptly fixed me with a cold stare and added: "But just how are you gonna keep up your end of the bargain, Dickless Tracy?"
I felt hurt for a second, but then abandoned it as a waste of time. After all, Frank wouldn't be Frank if he didn't have at least a touch of bastard in him.
Anyway, he hadn't used his manly prerogative to cut me out of the action completely. He'd just rigged the rules his way.
I'd show him. A piece of meat growing between your legs wasn't the only thing you could fuck a tight, young pussy with.
Rejecting the previously referred to plumber's-helper as too scummy, I turned my gaze toward the refrigerator. We were so close to it, I could lean over and open it.
When I did, I spied just what I was looking for on the shelf-a great, big, fat cucumber I'd bought at the market yesterday.
I had to contort a little to get ahold of the phallic vegetable, but I made it. Once I was cradling the cuke in my hands I had revised my earlier estimate of its length upward to a full foot. They raised the biggest ones in the state around here.
"Okay, Frank, move back enough so I can get down in there, and I'll show you what I can do," I eased my way back into the picture.
He was skeptical, but did as I asked. Then his eyes bugged out as I produced my shiny green dildo and jammed it in Marsha's gaping cunt.
He was so stunned he actually allowed his cock to slip an inch or so out of her spasming ass. Of course, when he realized what was happening, he recovered it and a lot more, burying his tool to two-thirds length. There was no point in her struggling, had she a mind to-her anus was hopelessly impaled. Frank could play all the games he wanted.
The game he wanted to play now was that no woman could ever claim she was a better fucker than he. The pumping force of my hard cuke inside Marsha's pussy drove him into a frenzy of competitiveness. Soon he was machine-gunning her ass with constant thrusts. Thrusts which were now hilted.
Calling on all my energy, I matched Frank stroke for stroke. Since my cuke was longer than his prick, mine went in even longer and deeper.
The real winner in this fucking contest, namely Marsha, was responding to the stimulation by eating my cunt like it was her dinner. Flashing a little trick she had learned from me only moments before, she shot her rigid tongue up my fuck-hole and began reaming. I couldn't have done it better.
On the table, her spine bounced up and down. Her body was rattled with our fucking. It must have felt to her like we were going to tear her apart.
If so, it might not have been such a bad thing in her book. "Oooooh, it hurts," she revealed her true feelings, "hurts soooo goooooood! Hurt me moooore!"
We aimed to please. Wielding that cuke like a scalpel, I incised to the furthest depths of Marsha's inexperienced pussy. Simultaneously, Frank rammed the head of his dick into her colon. The tips of our prods collided through thin tissue.
"Mmmmmmmm, that's the way I like it," Marsha sighed into my crotch. "The way I've always imagined it would be."
"Then you've come?" I bleated.
"Of course," she said smugly, "several times in the last few minutes."
"Izzat right?" Frank slurred defensively.
"Now I'm just waiting for you guys," she lit the match to the fuel in Frank's loins.
"I'll show you what coming is?" he blustered drunkenly. "Nobody's really got their rocks off till the man shoots his wad."
"Jizz is the name of the game," he babbled on. "Okay, okay, we believe you," I strung him along. "Just stop bragging and start coming. After all, you've been sawing away on her all night and still haven't produced a drop."
Anxious to prove himself a man, the little boy in Frank drove him into an acrobatic frenzy in his effort to ejaculate. His cock could have been rigidified with ice instead of blood and it still would have had to erupt under the friction he was creating.
He was twisting his body around all over the place to make the agony complete. His cock was working inside her asshole like a high-speed drill.
However, the only gusher was going to come from the pump itself.
"Come, you bastard, come!" both Marsha and I cried in unison.
Then I added: "I'll bet the drunken bozo is too smashed to feel anything."
That did it. Steam was practically coming out of his ears he was so pissed off at our feminine skepticism.
I could see his muscles tense as they fought the alcohol. "Unnnnh-unnnnhhh-uuunnnhhh," he grunted and turned bright red. I'd been his wife too long not to know what was coming next.
"Pull out," I anticipated his ejaculation by a split-second, "come in her mouth."
The idea appealed to him. In a big blur his turgid cock was out of her ass. Then, as I moved off Marsha's body, it cast a long shadow across her belly and blossoming young breasts, exposed through her torn blouse.
THE END of Frank's prick hardly made it to Marsha's tits before it exploded. Suddenly she was drenched above the waist.
In the meantime, I was checking out the goodies down below. With a loud slurp, my cuke was out of her cunt. A long skid testified to its subsequent journey up her tight shit-pit.
I loved plumbing her narrow ass with the curved head of my cuke. A smile came to my face as I heard her agitated shit gurgle from all the way inside her.
Then, as Frank continued to spray his seed all over her, I pulled out of her asshole and re-entered her cunt. A few seconds later, I switched.
Ass and pussy ... ass and pussy ... I fucked her. The squeezing of her passion was so intense that I could feel the muscular tremors through the cuke as though it were my own flesh and blood. By now, I guessed the only thing I couldn't do with this cuke was spray cum.
However, Frank was doing enough of that for the both of us. By the time he was finished, the top half of Marsha looked like it was made of wax and located too near a flame. The beautiful teenage girl was a dripping mess.
Finally having shot his load, Frank remembered how drunk he was, and was overcome with exertion. He staggered over to a corner and deposited himself in the sink. In the meantime, though, Marsha and I were still going strong, with or without his dick.
The cuke happened to be lodged in her twat, so I decided to reciprocate with mine. Pulling about half of the tube from her snatch, I eased down on the vegetable's free end. My pussy lips parted for the entrance, there was a wet thrust, and abruptly I was getting fucked right along with the babysitter.
While we were screwing, and being screwed by, each other, we each sat up and embraced. My tongue was all over her upper body, licking away Frank's cum. Then when it was all gone, I ripped off the remains of her blouse and orally attacked her young tits.
Though small, her nipples were erect and hard. Flicking one, and then the other, was like tonguing two clits at once.
Down below, the thick cuke was sliding back and forth with a play of about five inches in our cunts. The back-and-forth sucking of our pussy lips filled the room, especially when they momentarily kissed.
All the miniature orgasms we had been having added up and whacked us like a two-by-four. Suddenly we were both reeling, sharing the instability of our reeling senses.
Together, Marsha and I shared an enormous orgasm. It was fantastic coming along with a vibrant teenage girl. I felt so young as I shuddered in her arms like I was her schoolgirl lover.
She was so youthful, and I was so strong, we probably could have kept it up all night. A night, however, that was growing short because it was now past two in the morning.
And tomorrow was a school day. It should have occurred to me that Marsha's parents would have to be worried.
Especially her father. When he hissed her name, I assumed it was he in the doorway watching us.
"H ... how long have you been s ... standing there?" I stuttered.
"Long enough," he said grimly.
I started to sputter that things were not necessarily what they seemed. However, I quickly abandoned the effort as too hypocritical to be effective.
Mr. Cox was dead right when he gravely intoned, "You two raped Marsha. That's the story."
There was no way to argue with his charge. She may have liked it later, but Marsha had struggled like hell at first. Yes, we'd raped the babysitter.
For the first time since it had saved our marriage by entering our lives, uninhibited sex had gotten Frank and me in trouble because we had gone too far. As I gradually lost the staring contest with Mr. Cox, I despondently wondered if our swinging days were over.
In my shock at seeing Mr. Cox, I'd forgotten all about the other two people in the kitchen. Of course, it didn't make any difference with Frank because he'd passed out in the sink, however Marsha was a key individual.
Especially when she saw the interloper and blurted out, "Chester!"
I knew there were children who addressed their parents by their first names, but this was the first one I had encountered.
"Chester," she called him by name again, "you lousy pervert, I thought you were just a flasher, not a peeping-tom too."
"Is ... is this man your father?" I got the courage to ask.
"No, of course not," Marsha said as though I were her dumb little sister. She pulled away from the cucumber and left the kitchen table to walk toward the intruder.
"Then who is he and how does he know your name?" I frantically questioned.
"He's Chester the Flasher. Bothers all the girls on their way home from school by flashing his weenie," she explained. "He knows all our names so he can call out to us special before he exposes himself."
"I don't believe this is happening," I uttered in a hush.
"Look for yourself," she said, leaping at the man in the doorway and pulling open his raincoat. Sure enough, there was nothing underneath but a hairy chest, pot belly, and a flaccid cock and balls.
"Chester likes to show himself off, as you can see, though God knows why," Marsha said without blushing. "He can't get it up for anything."
This was pretty strong talk for a girl who'd been a virgin until less than an hour before. Marsha's cherry may have been technically intact when Frank ploughed into her, but she'd obviously been around more than she'd previously pretended.
"One of my girlfriends even tried to have oral sex with him in the bushes once, and nothing happened," she continued with a grin, confirming my suspicion.
"So what do we do now?" I asked, completely giving over the initiative to Marsha.
"Simple," she said with her hands on her slender hips. "You get rid of Chester by giving him a dollar to go buy some wine, and then we finish what we were doing. Then you take me home as usual, and I wait for you to call me again."
"Then you'll sit for us again, in spite of everything that happened?" I anxiously queried.
"Well, uh, whatever...." she chuckled, reaching over for the loose end of the cucumber.
CHAPTER SEVEN
It seemed that little Marsha, even before we'd gone crazy and raped her, had pretty well figured out we were into swinging. She may have stayed a virgin until she was the ripe, old age of seventeen, but the kid was definitely hip.
"Whatever" turned out to mean Marsha wanted to go along to our swap-meets, now that we had broken her in.
"You did this to me. You made me what I am," she laid it on the line to us. "It's you two who made me want it so bad. You do what I say, or the whole story will come out and you'll be ruined. There are strict laws against the sexual abuse of minors in this state, if you know what I mean."
Things were starting to ripen. The smell of blackmail was in the air.
Unfortunately, the scent of blackmail is irresistible to those of us in the advanced stages of paranoia, as were Frank and I. Marsha's teenage toughness scared us shitless, no matter how much we tried to hide it.
She knew it. There was nothing you could keep from a little tart-on-the-make like this one had turned out to be.
"Either you let me go with you when you go out," she pried her crowbar into our weak resistance, "or I'm spilling my guts to my parents ... the cops ... everyone!"
There was nothing to do but cave in like a couple of cream-puffs. She had us by the short hairs. We either had to feed the carnal addiction we had forced into her system, or take the fall as pushers of sex.
Besides, cold-hearted schemer or not, Marsha was a cute little piece of tail. Having her along would make us doubly popular along the swinging circuit.
And the more popular we got, the better bodies we could select from when we lined up our sessions. Frank and I started to look at her as a delectable piece of bait.
Of course, all this meant that we were stuck without a babysitter when we went out. Since she was responsible for the situation, I pleaded with Marsha to refer some girlfriend to us. She absolutely refused, expressing fear they might figure out what was going on and tell her parents. Now that she was one of us, she was just as blackmailed by the truth as we were.
Anyway, without a babysitter, there was only one thing to do-call my mom and dad. I didn't like being so dependent on them, always a big problem with me to begin with, but there didn't seem any other way to turn.
My parents went along, as they always did, with their usual condescending attitude. The more they did for me, the worse I felt. Someday I would have to come to grips with those two.
But not now. I felt like I was still struggling to come to grips with my marriage. I was sure that if something went wrong with our mate-swapping the bottom would fall out of. it.
The inclusion of Marsha in our group was a guarantee against that. The ironic price of our blackmail was a growing cult of admirers around us, sex-hungry people ready to do anything to get at our bodies, now that we had increased their volume by one. Swinging had already bestowed popularity on Frank and me-now we became celebrities, with the addition of a seventeen-year-old cute girl to our act.
The class of our inquiries started to pick up. Before long, swingers in the richest brackets of local society were starting to come out of the closet and beg for a swap-fest. To our surprise, some of the ritziest people in town went in for group sex.
However, the call from Rex Stewart, the Mayor, was the one that really blew our minds. He said that he'd heard we were 100% reliable, and so he was opening up. He wanted action, at his place, tonight.
How could we turn down the Mayor? Frank called to break the engagement we already had, and we prepared to meet His Honor.
"Is this Mayor young or old?" Marsha asked on the way.
"In between," I answered. "Middle-fortyish."
"Oh, old, huh," she snapped a wad of chewing gum. "What's he look like?"
"Very handsome," I informed her. "Actually, I'd say he was elected on his looks, because the rumor around town is that he doesn't have a brain in his head."
"Oh, groovy," she responded perkily, "a good lookin' older dude."
"The city's teetering on bankruptcy, but we have a cute Mayor," I sarcastically sighed.
"I hope he has a big dick," she completely ignored me. "As long as he has a big dick I don't care if he's the Mayor or a ditch digger."
"Oh, the idealism of youth," I commented to Frank. He stayed quiet and just kept driving.
Of course, the Mayor lived in the classiest part of town. Gossip was that, despite his trim figure, he was fat from graft. When we got to his place, we had to go through a series of security checks just to reach the grounds.
Even though the Mayor's large estate was undoubtedly funded by money filched from our pockets, all three of us were impressed by being there. It promised to be quite an evening.
The Mayor himself was there to greet us, the butler standing uselessly by his side. "Come on in and call me Rex," the sandy-haired Chief Executive waved us inside.
Within, the place was even more impressive. We got to see it all, because the proud Mayor took us on a guided tour of the premises.
"Uh, Your Honor?" I asked at some point about halfway through.
"Call me Rex, D ... D ... Doris ... no, Dolores. Daphne?"
"Dorothy," I repaid him the courtesy of first names, amused to confront a politician who couldn't remember anybody's but his own.
Then we both looked like dummies at each other on the stairway, as I tried to figure out why I'd started this conversation in the first place.
"You apparently wanted to ask me a question, Dottie," he prompted me by presuming a nickname on me I had always hated. His dimension as a politician was assuming clarity.
"Oh, Rexy, that's right," I retaliated.
"Then come out with it?" he betrayed his exasperation. Whether he was irritated at me for dawdling on his tour, or calling him a loathsome nickname, was not apparent, he was frowning so.
"Are you all alone here?" I plunged into the ice-water of his glare.
My answer was that he turned away and didn't talk to me for the rest of the tour. When I tried asking him a few questions about the architecture he just refused to answer them. I felt like I wasn't there.
By the time we reached the closed door of the final room, I wondered if I had blown the evening for all of us through my rudeness.
"In answer to your earlier question, Mrs. Cooper," His Honor chilled me with my surname, "here is who is here with me."
"Meet my family!" he beamed.
He was right. I'd seen all of them on his campaign literature.
However, at that time, his wife, two sons and a daughter, were stiffly posed and fully dressed. At the moment they were lounging on an enormous waterbed, stark naked.
"Do you still think I'm a phony, Mrs. Cooper?" the Mayor whirled and hissed at me.
"I don't know," I tried to ease some much needed levity into the situation, "I'll have to see what size your cock is before I make up my mind." With that, I stepped forward, kneeled down, and unzipped him. Before he could decide which way to move, his prick was out of his pants and starting to grow inside my mouth.
"Oooooooh, look at Daddy getting head," the Mayoral daughter called from the bed. "Toby, Brad, Momma-you should get over here and see what this lady is doing to Daddy's dick."
There was a scramble from the bed, as they all bent over to look at me. Frank, Marsha, and the Mayor himself, were equally attentive. With an audience of six, I sucked His Honor's hardening cock down to the root.
The Mayor's mood was definitely improving. Although he had not restored my first name, he was calling me some things that were awfully nice.
"Unnnnhhh, you mean little cocksucker," he moaned. "Can't get enough of me, can you, star-fucker? You groupies are ravenous."
He was right in his accusations, as far as I was concerned. There was something special about sucking a well known cock. If Rex was really elected Mayor on his sex appeal, half the women in town must have wondered what it was like. It was groovy to be the one who found out.
"Oh, look, Dad's cock is completely hard," one of the boys correctly pointed out from the bed. His father was rolling his hips, jack-hammering the blunted crown down my throat.
"Mmmmm, my pussy's wet just from watching Daddy get head like this," the daughter said. "How about you, Momma?"
"You better believe it, Sally," a mature woman's voice answered. "My cunt is positively dripping. I'd give anything for a cock of my own to play with."
"What about that guy over by the door with all his clothes on," the daughter pointed out. "He looks like he's got a whopper in the crotch of those tight pants."
"I'll race you to him," Mrs. Stewart whooped, and mother and daughter were off on a wild chase across the enormous bedroom. Frank didn't even have a chance to react to them before they flattened him and began ripping away his clothing.
With a slurping gobble, the Mayor's wife got to Frank's exposed cock first. Her daughter had to be content with licking his nuts as they tore at the remainder of his clothes.
There were two dicks being sucked in the room now. That meant that pretty soon all the unoccupied members of our party were busily circling each other, looking for crotches to attack.
lip until now, Marsha had been unusually reserved. She was usually such a live-wire at these things. Apparently, being in such proximity to an elected official had stirred some sort of hidden patriotism in her.
When everybody started looking over bodies, she was the last to get in on the action. I was hoping she wouldn't blow the evening by being dull for the first time in her sexual life. Frank and I couldn't afford a bad reputation with the Mayor. Any criticism he made would be sure to filter down to the rest of swapdom. I suspected that His Honor was equally atop the local pyramids of government and swinging.
Then something happened that made her snap out of it. Eight or nine inches of slender, pink teenage cock came into view. Immediately, it was joined by another just as succulent.
"So you're the infamous Stewarts," Marsha drawled knowingly.
"Where you from?" one of the leering boys asked.
"Edge Knoll," she named our suburb.
"Man, you mean we got a rep all the way out there?" the other boy enthused, shaking his mop of blonde hair in awe of himself and his brother. "Whatta ya think of that, Toby? Edge Knoll."
"Far out, that's far out, Brad," Toby said to his grinning younger brother, never taking his eyes off Marsha.
"Uh, just what have you heard about us, Miss Edge Knoll?" Toby, apparently the more experienced of the brothers, purred suavely to Marsha.
"Just that you'll fuck and suck anything that moves," she replied without batting an eye, "and that your old man always bails you out of it when you get in trouble. If you want specifics, I know about that botched abortion of that Central High cheerleader, the hooker one of you beat up, and that poor Chinese girl who committed suicide in Edge Knoll."
"I was the dirty dog on that one," Brad grinned from ear to ear. I was beginning to wonder if he was really as boyish as he seemed. "That little slope-slit couldn't speak much English, but she sure could fuck. It was like my prick was going into her sideways. I really miss that little yellow cunt."
"Did she really kill herself?" Marsha asked with a glow in her voice, "or was it just an accident you got credit for?"
"It was murder, baby, murder," Brad winked, and then he and Marsha exploded with wicked laughter.
While Marsha had been conversing with Brad, down below the light-fingered Toby had been expertly undressing her. I suppose she knew it was happening, and it was certain she couldn't possibly mind.
While Brad was still bragging about loving and leaving them, his quieter brother had dipped his hand between Marsha's parted thighs and was finger-fucking her bare pussy. While she pretended to listen to the exploits of the boorish Brad, she licked her lips from the digital action on which she was really concentrating.
I was beginning to see that sexual prowess is not necessarily a function of maturity. This smooth operator, Toby, couldn't have been more than seventeen. His amiably barbaric brother no more than fifteen.
Over on the floor, the face of the thirteen or fourteen-year-old daughter was between the backs of her mother's thighs. She was eating pussy.
Mrs. Stewart was hunched over blowing Frank, so her daughter's assault was a rear-entry job all the way. The position where the cunt is most open. Mrs. Stewart's slurping sighs around Frank's prick and the dripping of her pussy juice made it sound like there was a radiator on the blink.
Right now, His Honor was proudly surveying his brood over the hump of my kneeling body. In case you've forgotten, my mouth was still attached to his cock. I hadn't stop blowing him while I was watching everybody else.
"Why don't you suck one of the boys' cocks, young lady," he called to Marsha. "Their mother swears they're both so sweet she can't tell them apart."
Brad took the initiative, whamming his tool into her face. Since Toby had not even gone for Marsha's mouth, I presumed he had designs on an even more succulent portion of her anatomy.
Continuing to pay lip-service to Rex's stiff cock, I kept my eyes peeled on the teenagers. The two boys handled themselves so well on the same girl that it was obvious they'd seen a lot of action as a team. Before she got loose of them, Marsha was certain to get fucked more ways than one.
While Brad forcibly buried his boner deeper and deeper down her throat, Toby dropped on his back between her legs so she was straddling him. Then, grabbing one of her pussy lips like a handle, he yanked down her crotch. Waiting for it, of course, was his curving adolescent hard-on.
When Toby took her snatch literally, Marsha's first inclination had probably been to scream in pain. She couldn't get it out because Brad's cock was in her way. However, after Toby's prick had penetrated her tight cunt, what she couldn't get out was undoubtedly a moan of pleasure.
Since Marsha was the one on top, the pressure of her body immediately forced her twat all the way down on Toby's cock once the head had made initial entry. He was fucking her to the hilt, while she was simultaneously sucking his brother's tool.
Although she was just a kid herself, of course, this was the first time I'd ever seen Marsha make it with anybody so young. Since she'd traveled with us, her sex was all with adults. How splendid she looked with her own kind, their lean bodies practically glowing with suppleness.
In adolescent glory, the trio of teenage anatomies was almost physical perfection. The boys' cocks might grow another inch or two in the next few years, but they would never again be so slim and graceful as they were now. As for Marsha, I'd long admired her naked body as a dream, in spite of her calculating personality.
It was like watching a classic work of art come to life. Fucking and sucking in pure symmetry, the two boys and a girl made love so that it transcended biology and anatomy. To my mind, a blurry snapshot of Marsha, Brad and Toby would be worth more than the most famous Rembrandt.
Toby's cock pumped like a hydraulic valve in conjunction with Marsha's bristling cunt. The action had stood her pubic hair on end.
Above, Brad was goring Marsha's oral cavity with his phallic horn. Her mouth and throat were wounds.
In between it all, Marsha's tits throbbed splendidly. They were perfect mounds of firm flesh, and the slim nipples were at least an inch long. When she put her own fingers to them and started squeezing, they probably extended even further.
From the youthful sexual perfection, I looked over to the middle-aged gropings of Frank and Mrs. Stewart. They may not have been as thin and taut as the teenage triplets, but they were pretty damn funky.
The pantingly horny Mrs. Stewart was starting to get all over Frank. No longer content with merely sucking his cock, she had started to move her wet pussy over his body like a sponge on a greasy counter.
She was a ravenous woman. Obviously, no amount of sex was ever too much for her. She apparently was ready to make it with anyone without discrimination-including, of course, her children.
Speaking of the children, it suddenly occurred to me that I had lost track of one of them. Sally Stewart, the thirteen-year-old daughter. A few minutes ago she had been sucking her mother's cunt from the rear, but now she was nowhere to be seen.
I should have looked right in front of my nose. That way I might have seen the arm and body that propelled the mysterious fingers through the Mayor's thighs which abruptly began tickling my jaw and neck. When I finally did confront the unexpected hand, I almost jumped up in the air off my knees from the surprise.
On the other side of her daddy, Sally Stewart was reaching under his balls toward us. Even between the Mayor's legs, I could see how gorgeous her body already was in its first teenage year.
She was a knockout. And she seemed to want me as much as I wanted her. The fact that we had a man's body between us just made the situation that much more interesting.
Within seconds, Sally had scooted her head through her dad's legs and was going down on my pussy. She didn't even bother to remove my panties, tonguing right through their thin crotch like the fabric was cotton candy.
I stopped sucking cock long enough to call down, "Strip me, Sally. I want to feel your hot tongue all over my naked body."
She immediately peeled my clothes off me like I was a banana. The sensation of nudity made my cunt gush anew. Fortunately, Sally's mouth was on the spot to suck it up.
Then after she had swallowed every drop, she branched her licking out to my inner thighs. They quivered from her touch.
Oddly enough, by going away from my twat, she made me come!
Now she's up to my belly. It's heaving in and out from violent expansions and contractions. My orgasmic attack is like an asthmatic attack.
Mmmm, she's orally tickling the hanging bottoms of my boobs. After she works her way up to the hemispheres, she will be getting to my throbbing nipples. God, I can hardly wait!
Here she comes, up my tits. I'm trembling with anticipation.
"Ahhhhhh," I moaned after several breathless moments. She has finally reached my nipples and is licking them.
Then, she is chewing them. I'm so horny I bite back, right on the root of the Mayor's cock.
"Yeeeeoooowww!" he screamed. "Whatta you tryin' to do to me, bitch?"
I was mortified, of course, the object of such rage from such an important man. His thirteen-year-old daughter, however, saw right through him.
"Oh, shut up and keep fucking her mouth, Daddy," she said impatiently. "She only bit your prick because it's so big she got excited."
What a little charmer she was!
Shamed by his teenage flesh and blood, His Honor dutifully turned his attention toward getting off in my mouth. To show him that even though I had his daughter's nubile young body I still cared about his hard-on, I gave him a quick series of deep, searing sucks. That really brought him to life.
His hips began moving with the power and stamina of a much younger man. If I closed my eyes I could almost imagine I was being fucked in the mouth by a third teenage boy in the room.
"Daddy can really do it when he wants to," Sally informed me from my breasts, "but you've really got to push him."
Then Sally's face left my tits, and rubbed itself toward mine. As our cheeks touched, she expertly moved in on the side of my oral connection and began helping me suck her father's cock.
Actually, she worked mostly on the root and the balls. I was consistently deep-throating him now, and didn't have much to share in the way of shaft.
Sally could really suck for a kid, or anybody. Getting both of her father's balls inside her mouth, she would gobble him up to his stem. When she did that I could feel the rest of his cock shuddering down my gullet.
Naturally, while all this was going on, our hands found their way to each other's cunts. By reaching down between one another's spread thighs, we could each rub the other's pussy lips and flick her clit. It didn't take long for our probing fingers to drip with goo.
Suddenly he broke the rhythmic glide of his hips and bucked forward like he had been shot in the back. His balls slammed together with such fury that they pulled themselves out of Sally's mouth. In my throat, his big cock actually grew another inch.
He came like a ruptured fire hydrant. All the waiting and distracted nibbling on his prick had built up enough jizz in his nuts to fill a pail.
There was no need not to share it. One girl could never drink it all.
Releasing his spurting cock from my mouth, I watched it bob directly between us. Now we could both feast.
With semen spraying in our faces, Sally and I laughed with cum-dripping glee. There was so much jism it was like drowning in tapioca.
Then he finally stopped spewing. Twin tongues snaked out and began lapping away. The formerly erupting head was now a creamy glob of liquid velvet.
As if we were in a contest to see who could swallow the most of her father's cum, Sally and I gobbled noisily away. Only when we were finished did we notice that the gobbling still filled the room. In fact, it surrounded us.
I looked over to my left and saw Mrs. Stewart foaming at the mouth with Frank's sperm. She appeared rabid.
Sally looked right and saw her brothers sticking it to Marsha's cunt and mouth. Needless to say, they had just come, too.
Then, when all the people we were watching finished coming and cooled down a little bit, they looked right back at us. All of a sudden, the prominent organs in the room were not sexual but visual. Eight pairs of eyes checking each other out to see what happened next.
Then, abruptly, the visual stalemate was over. The gazes shattered as we all dove for each other. A daisy-chain was about to be constructed that none of us would ever forget.
Mrs. Stewart was the first to spread-eagle herself. We were going to start the chain right between her legs.
The cock of her fifteen-year-old son, Brad, was standing up at a forty-five degree angle in the air. Then, moments later, it was burying itself in her juicy cunt.
Then it was Sally's turn to come front and center. Running over to the bed and snatching a loose dildo, she strapped it to her loins and joined the chain in a most unexpected way.
Defying all expectations, she incredibly began fucking her brother in the ass. Even more incredibly, he seemed to love it.
With Sally whamming inch after inch of dildo up her brother's willing ass, it was time for old Frank to get involved. The little thirteen-year-old pussy peeking through the backs of Sally's thighs had made his dick as hard as a rock.
Frank moved in behind her slim flanks. Prying open the cheeks of her narrow ass, he forced her young pussy to bulge out in plain view. It looked like the hungry mouth of a sucking monster.
Then, like a stake used to kill a vampire, Frank's hard-on tore into the. heart of Sally's cunt. I could hear her breath escaping with a whoosh as the impact of Frank's cock up her twat knocked the air from her lungs.
Now it was Marsha's turn to join the fray. She squatted under Frank's bouncing flanks and began rubbing his balls. Then, burying her nose between his hairy buns, licking his asshole.
Because she was squatting, her stretched cunt was dripping like a hairy sponge onto the floor. It was a perfect target for the Mayor's cock. He was dying to sample some teenage pussy other than his daughter's.
Like a much younger man, His Honor athletically swept his aging body across the floor. Sliding like a runner going into third-base, he came up winners with his cock in Marsha's cunt. She wiggled her ass with pleasure.
So, according to the girl-boy-girl-boy-girl-boy pattern it was my turn to take the plunge. I was itching to get in.
Crawling on my back like a horny crab, I worked my way inside the gate of the Mayor's outstretched legs. In this way I could not only lick his sweaty balls, but widely open my legs for a deep, straight fuck from the remaining link of our erotic chain-Toby, the suave seventeen-year-old with the stiletto-shaped prick.
As I Filled my mouth with the Mayor's churning balls, I watched my new teenage lover approach me with twitching cock. Framed between the V of my spread-eagled legs, with the image of his advancing hard-on playing peek-a-boo with the dancing hairs of my muff, this muscular kid seemed like the best thing I'd ever seen out of pants.
"Fuck me!" I let go of the Mayor's balls to beg. "Oh, God, fuck me you fine, young stud!"
He was a sassy kid, taking his time to taunt the older woman. The chips were all on his side of the table and he knew it. A grown ..woman's pussy couldn't resist the strike-forcing promise of a sleek teenage boner. I just had to take his tease and like it.
"So you want me to fuck you?" he said quizzically, the knotty end of his prick only an inch from my hole.
"Yes, yes!" I desperately gasped.
"Well...." he drawled, "what makes you think a young piece like mine wants to go into an old cunt like yours?"
"Because I'll bet you that my pussy's tighter than even your thirteen-year-old sister's," I impulsively blurted.
"You're on," he slapped my palm. With bugged eyes I watched the head of his cock close ranks with my wide-open cunt.
All of a sudden, my dream had come true. We were fucking. After all the dues I'd paid in swapping, I was screwing my first teenager.
And loving it!
For the reader's sake, I've done plenty of narration up until now about what a teenage boner feels like inside a cunt. But now, for the first time, I was actually experiencing it myself.
And you know what? It was indescribable.
That good!
I can't remember coming out of the clouds until the erupting started. All of a sudden I was back in the terrain of eight writhing bodies. However, at the moment, each of them was more like a volcano.
Yes, while I'd been orgasmically aloft, everybody had started coming. Jizz and pussy juice were belching and cascading to the floor. Abruptly, four female holes were gushing with steaming goo.
When I looked around me I saw that the chain had been completed while my attention had drifted. Continuing to fuck me, Toby had worked us around until he reached his mother's unoccupied face.
When he sat on it, the daisy-chain was completed. Undoubtedly that had prompted the synchronized climax of eight people.
In the shape of an O, we writhed and moaned, sloshing in our own discharge. Then, after the men had stopped coming, to keep it sloppy we began urinating. The golden shower was warm and delicious.
We fell to the floor, rubbing the pee and sperm and pussy juice into each other's naked bodies. Then, finally, we collapsed with exhaustion.
But before the night was over, we'd do it all again. After all, we still had to find out if the waterbed could hold seven.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Throughout our association with Marsha, Frank and I managed to find some time for ourselves. One of the things we did was correspond with swingers from out-of-state, swapping letters and photos of lewd acts. We got to feel like we actually knew some of these people, even though we'd never met them in the flesh.
One couple in particular had caught our fancy. They were known as the Masked Marvels.
No, I'm not joking. Their last name was Marvel, they were from El Paso, Texas, and they wore masks in the otherwise revealing photographs they sent us.
They seemed somewhat older than us. However, what they had on us in age, and lacked in facial identity, were more than made up by their dynamite bodies.
Ruth Marvel had big tits that didn't seem to have a sagging muscle in them. In the color photos, her erect nipples glistened like cinnamon candy. Below her firm belly, the jungle of her cunt blossomed, the dark hair wisping up to her navel. Two big fat pussy lips dangled between her legs in the close-ups.
Her husband, George, had a prick that was so big it frequently seemed on the verge of exceeding the range of their remote-control Polaroid. You felt that the next picture in the sequence would surely be the solid pink of cock-meat.
Frank and I got so that we anxiously awaited the packet of revealing goodies the Marvels faithfully sent us every week. Even if one of us was asleep, the other one could always masturbate with a smile after being turned-on by the Marvels' incredibly filthy stuff.
One week the packet didn't come. In its place was a simple postcard from the Marvels. It stated: "We're dying to meet you. Can't wait any longer. Will be in your area at the Sunkist Motor Lodge this week. Come see us at 9:00 this Tuesday night."
This Tuesday was today. After Frank came home and I showed him the card, we both agreed that the only thing to do was call my parents to babysit and start getting ready. This was a night we'd both fantasized about for a long time.
Then, abruptly, we both stopped in mid-buzz. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" I said to Frank in a hush after a long pause.
We both read each other's mind and nodded our heads. "What about Marsha?" we asked ourselves in unison.
Well, now, that was an interesting question we'd raised, indeed. Should we keep Marsha in the dark about this one, or invite her along?
After all, she didn't know anything at all about the Marvels. They were strictly our contacts. If we never told her about them, she'd never know they existed. Or anything about whatever we might do with them behind closed doors.
"I don't want to take her along!" Frank blurted out. "Let's leave the kid at home for once."
"Yes, I agree," I honestly replied. "I like Marsha, but she's so pushy sometimes. It would be nice to meet another couple just by ourselves and take it easy,"
"Well, I'm with you 100%," Frank closed the book. "We just won't tell Marsha a thing about the Marvels. What the kid doesn't know won't hurt her."
It seemed like we had the perfect plan of a night of unparalleled fun. Then the complications started to arise. A plan is only as good as its luck.
"You won't believe this, Frank," I said, as I slammed down the phone. "My parents won't babysit. They have an engagement which they refuse to consider breaking."
"What are we going to do?" Frank wailed in exasperation. "The Marvels are waiting with open arms for us. If we don't show up, they'll probably think we're rude. That might be the end of it before we even had a chance to take their masks off and fuck them."
"Do you agree this is an emergency?" I sought his sanction to express a desperate idea.
"Of course."
"Then we'll have to call Marsha," I said.
"But I thought we agreed she was out?"
"As a sex partner, yes, but as a babysitter, no," I pointed out. "After all, it was in the latter capacity that we first came to know her."
"The little bitch'd never agree to go back to minding the kids."
"She's just greedy enough to have a price within the range of our pocketbook," I replied affirmatively. "On top of that, we'll tell her my parents were in an automobile accident. That we don't know if it's serious, but we have to go to the hospital to find out."
"And the hospital doesn't allow kids to visit," Frank got on-board and finished it up for me. "I've got to hand it to you, Dorothy, it just might work."
Naturally I had to use all the skill of an Armenian rug-trader to get Marsha to agree over the phone, but the lure of money finally wore her down.
"If I'm going away to the State University next year," she explained her acceptance of my generous financial offer, "I guess I'd better start thinking about tuition."
Our kids, Tommy and Janie, were thrilled that their old pal Marsha was going to take care of them. They'd both complained that their grandparents were a little strict for them, and occasionally I noticed marks where they had been physically punished.
So, with Marsha clutching a wad of our cash, Frank and I left the three of them to watch television and eat popcorn. As we walked out the door, the whole scene was so wholesome it was hard to remember what a terror Marsha was without her clothes on.
In the car, we roared over the freeway to the Sunkist Motor Lodge. As he drove, I could see Frank's cock and balls throbbing in anticipation in his crotch. My own excitement, as you might have guessed, was registered by a sopping pussy. Every time I moved, I squished.
At the motel, we asked the man at the desk about a couple named Marvel. He asked if we were the Coopers. We said we were. "The Marvels are expecting you," he concluded the interchange with a smile, apparently having been heavily tipped for greeting us in this way. "Go right on up to room 436. It's in the East wing of the fourth floor."
The elevator whooshed us up there and we started prowling down the appropriate corridor looking for 436. "Here, it is," Frank finally said. "Do you think I should knock?"
"No, why don't you just kick the door down and surprise them with their masks down," I cracked drily.
He was kind of burned up at me, and went ahead and knocked without saying anything.
There was a long wait, with no answer. He knocked again, breaking his silence by asking me if I was sure we had the right place. By extracting the postcard from my purse, I verified that we did.
"If this is the right place," Frank gritted through his teeth, his hiss knifing through the din of his third knock, "why aren't they answering?"
"Gosh, do you think they were phonies?" I uttered the secret fear that was plaguing both of us. "They seemed so sincere and genuine in their letters. I felt I knew them both."
"No two ways about it," Frank said dejectedly, turning away from the futilely battered door. "Looks like we've been had."
Then something occurred to me. "What about that message they left at the desk?" I reopened the door of hope. "I can't believe anyone would go to the trouble of arranging that by long distance from El Paso, unless they were really compulsive practical jokers. Maybe the Marvels are, uh, indisposed, and can't hear us knocking.
"You mean like knocking off a quick piece in the shower or something?" a ray of optimism entered Frank's voice.
"Precisely," I said. "And I'll bet it would tickle George and Ruth pink if we snuck in and actually caught them in the act."
"You mean just go right on in?"
"Sure, why not? We know they're expecting us. Besides, their letters show they have a good sense of humor."
Frank agreed to go along with my idea because there was none better available. Then, the idea seemed even better when the door turned out to be unlocked and it was so easy just to walk inside.
The motel room was your standard traveler's rest. Except for the bathroom, it consisted of one big room dominated at the poles by a huge bed on one side, and a mammoth color television bolted to the wall on the other end. If he was alone on the road and couldn't rustle up a one-night stand, a tired salesman could always lie in front of the tube and jack off over Angie Dickinson.
"Look, the door to the john is closed," Frank pointed out. "Maybe they're in there. Could be we were right about the shower."
"Think we should go in?" I giggled mischievously.
He nodded his head, then added, "I just hope there's nobody in there taking a shit."
Holding my breath, I turned the knob, and swung open the door. The gleaming porcelain maw of the motel bathroom made me wince from the bright reflection of the fluorescent lights. Then I sagged from disappointment.
"They're not here," I proclaimed the obvious with a hollow voice.
"Maybe they've gone out." I desperately improvised.
Just then the front door clicked shut. It was a clean sharp sound neither of us could miss.
"And maybe they've just come back," Frank gulped.
"Let's just hope we're in the right suite," I jumped headlong into pessimism.
"Or we're under arrest," Frank logically concluded.
"Merely house-arrest, my good man," a third voice froze us in our tracks. "Don't worry, you're not going anywhere."
A masked man, totally nude except for the shield covering his face had abruptly filled the doorway. From the center of his hairy loins a long and deadly looking hard-on protruded. However, what was dangling from his left hand was even longer and deadlier-a blacksnake whip.
Obviously he was George Marvel. We had expected to be delighted to meet him. But, now, seeing him for the first time, we were terrified.
Our paranoia was completely justified when, without warning, the whip came alive in his suddenly jerking hand and crackled like a bolt of lightning at us. I'd never seen anything so frightening as the uncoiling strike of that venomous blacksnake whip.
Frank was its target, and was quickly bound with his arms at his sides by the coils of the lash. Then he was reeled in by his attacker like a large-mouth bass.
Before my eyes, Frank disappeared into the doorway, as George Marvel stepped aside to let him whoosh. The next sound I heard was Frank screaming, followed by the unmistakable creaking of bed springs. Apparently George had used the whip like an external spring to propel Frank across the room and deposit him on the bed.
Of course, there was no real point in figuring it all out in advance, because it was going to happen to me now, too. Marvel's free whip menacingly bisected the space between us. Against the white porcelain background, the descending lash momentarily resembled a graph.
Then, in a split-second all it suggested was pain. Stark, searing pain as the biting leather thing wound and wound its way around my arms and torso.
Then I was skidding, being irresistibly pulled toward the door. It was like being on a roller coaster.
I arrived at the hair-pin turn of the doorway leading to the other room and looked for a second into the unusually blue eyes that were smoldering like molten turquoise through slits in the mask. Then the left hand jerked and I went flying.
I thought of Frank and then cried out in pain at the top of my lungs. Now I knew why he had screamed. When the lash let you go you suddenly realized how deeply it had bitten through your flesh, how much it stung, and how badly you were bleeding.
With my clothing in bloody tatters, I finally joined Frank in a thumping heap on the bed. We just looked at each other and moaned.
However, our attention was immediately distracted from one another. The nude masked woman binding our feet with rope did that.
"Ruth Marvel!" I blurted. She just chuckled and went about her work.
Then, before Frank and I could telepathically agree what to do, we felt our wrists being grabbed. George Marvel was binding them from the rear.
I opened my mouth to protest that this was too much. All it got me was a well-placed gag. On the other hand, Frank had to be force-fed his.
Now we were helpless. Bound and gagged. Totally vulnerable to the Masked Marvels.
Right on cue, they appeared together before us. It was hard to tell which one was more aroused. George's dick looked like a twitching battering-ram. His wife's cunt was wild with bristly pubic hair, dripping like a leaky faucet. Her heavy tits were the blush of a rose, her nipples as erect as miniature hard-ons.
George was standing in front of me. Ruth in front of Frank. Like swimmers in a race at the starting-gun, they dove between our legs.
George just did it straight ahead. Prying open my thighs due to a purposeful slack in the rope binding my ankles, he fell on top of me and rammed his stiff prick into my gaping crotch. The thin crotch of my panties was no barrier. Soon the fabric was split and he was fucking me.
Ruth used a more unorthodox method of descent. Her dive was more of an ass-flop as she plopped her buns on top of Frank's crotch. Then, reaching between her spreading thighs, she tore open his pants. When his cock was out, she sat on it.
Frank moaned as the masked woman rubbed her wet pussy over his prick. Glancing over to their junction, I saw his prick definitely hardening to fuck-size proportions.
"How do you like me inside you?" George Marvel brought my attention to my cunt. His tool was in to the hilt now, and pumping like crazy.
It was a question, of course, that I couldn't verbally answer, my mouth being gagged. However, I did wordlessly respond with my hips, undulating them slowly. I'm not sure whether it was an intentional reply or not.
However, George had made up his mind. "I knew you'd love my cock," he said smugly from behind the mask. "Now, keep shaking your ass so I can really feel how tight you are."
Suddenly I felt as though I were his puppet. Instead of strings, he controlled me with his words. Obediently, I continued wriggling my butt.
He'd been right about this being the best way to test the tightness of my pussy. The muscles responded like the components of a vice as I shook and shook. Pretty soon my cunt was twisting his cock into knots.
The blue eyes blazed like tiny gas flames behind the mask as my suctioning twat practically ripped George's cock from his groin. Although I was the one who was tied up, at the moment, he was the one who was helpless.
And then my bondage was even less total. In a furious burst of strength, I broke the cord connecting my ankles and brought my legs in a scissor around George's waist. He oofed with both surprise and abrupt loss of air from his lungs.
Pulling him toward me so the bones in our pelvises practically shattered, I felt his cock wham in me to the hilt. His heavy balls lolled hotly against my pussy lips.
The transfer of power had now been completed. I was doing the fucking.
Gradually, George got over his shock at my sexual fury, and began moving again. Eventually he was grooving a steady rhythm with his hips, poking me with his dick almost as much as I was thrusting back with my inflamed pelvis.
On my right, Frank had undergone a metamorphosis similar to mine. Ruth Marvel had apparently challenged the capacity of his cock, and he had met the dare and then some. She was moaning with tears in her eyes as he bucked away to the hilt inside her.
Then something occurred to me. If these people were such pushovers for our genitalia, why had they bothered to brutally abduct us in the first place? After all, anybody in their right mind would have willingly sat still for this kind of action.
The more I thought about it, the more I wished the mystery could be solved. God, if only my hands were free, I could rip that mask off Marvel's face, look him in the eye, and say, "Fuck me harder, you son of a bitch!"
Then, almost as if God had put it in my hand, I felt the knot securing my bondage scraping against my fingers. As I began to fumble it loose, it quickly became apparent that George had never won any merit badges for knot-tying in his Boy Scout career.
Completely surprising him, I slid my arms from under my back and clasped the sides of his mask. His eyes were bugging bluely out of their sockets from the unexpected turn of events.
"No, no, please," he begged, "let me do it my way."
"Our way!" his wife snapped from atop Frank. "You're so self-centered."
There was something very familiar about their waspish interchange. Even though the topic might have been different, I felt I'd heard it many times before.
Impatient with this unwanted fragment of a recollection, I impulsively resumed my tugging on the mask. This time, instead of trying to use words, George stopped me with his powerful left hand.
I'd seen the whip flash twice out of this hand, of course. But now was the first time I'd really realized he was left-handed. There was something hauntingly familiar about that, too.
Automatically, I looked to the eyes. At last I realized they were not so arresting merely because they were blue. I had not only seen them before, I knew them.
Arrogance, left-handedness, and sparkling blue eyes were traits that I had grown up with in a man. They belonged to my father.
"Oh, Dorothy," my dad apologized as I ripped off his mask. "I'm sorry we couldn't break it to you more gently."
You know, it was the first time my father had ever said he was sorry to me in his life. Any dunce could figure out it had something to do with the fact that he was fucking me. Apparently his aloofness toward me over the years had been a defense mechanism against the incestuous lust he truly felt for me. Now that his secret desire had been achieved, he had let his guard down at last.
I ripped the gag from my mouth so I could speak.
"You've always wanted to fuck me, haven't you, Daddy?" I ignored hemming and hawing and got to the point. "Ever since I grew hair between my legs you've been dying to stick your big hard cock in my pussy."
"You're right, dear," my mother interjected, as she voluntarily removed her mask. "It was because of his constantly talking about screwing you that I took up seriously lusting after Frank. It was a sheer case of self-defense."
Then the whole story tumbled out. After I was married and out of the house, Mom and Dad had discovered they were strangers to each other. Like a growing number of people in this predicament, such as Frank and I, they had turned to swapping. It had released a lot of their inhibitions that had made growing up under their rule such a trial, and brought them closer together than ever before.
Beginning the correspondence with us was merely a coincidence of swinging. They'd seen an ad of ours in a magazine, answered it, and then, boom, figured out who we were from some candid photos we'd sent and my signature at the end of a letter.
After a long talk, they'd decided to continue the correspondence. Dad admitted that he'd always lusted after me in his heart, and Mother acknowledged that she'd found Frank an attractive hunk of meat since I first brought him home.
To conceal their identities, they had donned masks to reveal themselves in the lewd snapshots they sent us. Needless to say, the name Marvel was a whimsical alias. The El Paso address was explained by a forwarding service.
"Originally we had planned to just keep it at letters and photo-swapping," Mother said, "but then our lust just got unbearable."
"Especially when we realized," my father interjected, "that you were using us as babysitting so you could go out swinging night after night while we sat home cooling our heels."
"Finally we just couldn't stand it anymore," my mother picked it up. "We had to fuck you!"
I didn't know whether to be appalled or thrilled. My whole childhood seemed to flash before me, as I recalled the humiliation and hurt I took from my sarcastic and aloof parents. Then, returned from my kaleidoscope of memory to the present, I felt Dad's thick cock engorging my pussy.
There was no doubt about it. This way was better, better.
"Oh, stop explaining and fuck me, Daddy," I wedged my desire in their apologies. "Just fuck me like we both want you to."
"Same for me," Frank joined in, his hands free and gag gone. "The idea of fucking my mother-in-law after all these years is positively kinky."
So there was no more reason for talk except for the urgent exhortations of sexual greed.
"Fuck me harder ... harder, Daddy!" I pleaded as his cock swiveled like a corkscrew to my furthest depths.
"Wiggle your ass, Dorothy," he replied. "I like to feel my prick jumping inside your tight snatch."
"Oh, Jesus, Frank, split me in two!" my mother cried.
"Finger my asshole," Frank put in his request. "I like a finger pulled out of my keister just before I come. Your daughter always does it for me."
Needless to say, compliance was complete. The fucking was really getting frenzied now that we had all agreed how damn much we wanted it.
As my father's prick split my fuck-hole, I wondered if I had wanted this all along, too. In the wet dreams of my girlhood the man with the hard-on had always been faceless. Now, however, as I recalled his voice, he was my father. How appropriate my father's later use of a mask had been.
Yes, I was sure I wanted him. Had always wanted him. In my dreams I had told him to "Kill me with that big cock! Make it so I can't sit down for a week!" Now I was screaming exactly the same thing at him.
"Oh, I love this," I heard my mother moan from the side. She was as horny over Frank as I was over Dad. It made me mad to think about all the years together like this we'd missed.
My father and mother, as I have said, kept their bodies fit. They were far younger than their years. If they were turned-on they could out-perform teenagers.
Of course, Frank and I weren't teenagers any longer, but we were in splendid fucking condition from months of steady action on the swapping circuit. We could go all night long.
All of this added up to some splendid fucking.
As I screamed for Dad's cock to come in my cunt, it exploded right on cue. Suddenly his cum was squirting in and gushing out. It was so hot it brought tears to my eyes.
Then he was out of me and rubbing his dribbling cock between my compressed tits, after having tom away my blouse. His prick was as hard as ever.
The fucking had continued. Only now he was screwing the tight slot between my pumped-up breasts. Just to make sure the pressure of the crevice was sufficient, I personally took over squeezing my jugs.
As he pumped away, the head of Dad's cock jabbed toward my face. I lost no time in meeting its thrust with my tongue. Then, with a crane of my neck, I added my lips and teeth as well. Pretty soon, he was fucking me in the tits and mouth simultaneously.
Just then a pop like the exploding cork of a champagne bottle reverberated. Looking toward its source, Dad and I saw Mother's finger pulling free of Frank's asshole. Following the scenario, it was time for my dear, sweet husband to come.
While she was waving her brown index finger around in triumph, Mom suddenly bucked into the air from the force of Frank's humping loins. Looking to her spread crotch just in the nick of time, I saw the lippy sides of her cock-engorged pussy swell up like sausages. Then, oozingly, the sausages were marinated with oozing banks of whipped cream.
It was an ordinarily icky combination, sausages and whipped cream. Except, of course, when the simmering sausages were turgidly spread pussy lips, and the whipped cream was hot, fresh cum.
Mesmerized, I watched my husband's jism flow endlessly from my mother's cunt, while he continued to fuck her. It seemed so natural their getting together like this after all these years.
"Oh, Frank," Mom wailed, "I don't think your cock is ever going to stop coming."
"Neither do I," he rasped, and drove up into her once again.
"Oooooohhhh," she moaned, as he rode her on his still-spurting cock. "Your cum feels like hot lead."
By this time, the excess jizz was literally spraying from the distended sides of her pussy. It looked too delicious for a hungry little girl like me to pass up.
After all, it isn't everyday you get a chance to suck your mother's cunt.
Squirming away from under Dad, I twisted my head over onto Frank's stomach and began licking away at the object of my desire. Christ, I felt so fucking freaky going down on my mom like this. But it really turned me on!
I -rimmed her cock-engorged pussy lips with my tongue, stopping at the front for a shrill buzz of her hard, little clit. By the time I finished that little adventure, I was sure that there was fresh cunt juice leaking out of her snatch along with the overflowing sperm.
I got so involved with Mom's pussy, that gradually I inadvertently worked Dad's cock out of my own twat. Then, when she started rising in periodic bursts upon my oral ministrations, Frank's prick fell by the wayside.
Suddenly there was just me and Mom, and I was eating her pussy. It seemed only logical she should also be feasting on mine.
Quickly we were in the classic sixty-nine position, side-by-side sucking each other's cunt. Mother and daughter down to their noses in respective muff.
"Oh, eat my pussy, we both moaned at each other through the mouthpieces of our vaginal connections.
"Oh, Dorothy, eat my pussy!" Mother says.
"Oh, Mom, eat my pussy!" I reply in kind.
Our cunt-sucking is simply wonderful. The most natural thing in the world. If we had only known, years ago.
But this is now, and life teaches us you gotta get it while you can. Maybe my parents' beautiful bodies weren't available to me in the past, but they sure as hell were now. There was no time like the present to get acquainted after a lifetime of being strangers.
"Daddy," I cried up from the pit of Mom's cunt, "fuck me in the ass like I know you can!"
"I've already greased my cock with some of the pussy juice you left behind," he summed up his readiness. "Just let me crawl around behind you there, and we're good as joined."
"Mmmmmmmm," I blubbered with insane joy, as his vaginally lubricated hard-on surged like a rocket up my astonished asshole. My own pussy oil singed the delicate tissues of my anal fuck-hole.
Only Frank was out of the picture now. He made up for that in a hurry by making haste to do the same thing to Mom that Dad had done to me. Before too many moments of maneuver and preparation had paused, he was noisily fucking her in the ass.
In my mouth, Mom's spasming pussy is gushing like a hydrant. At the same time, Frank's thick cornholing cock is pumping like a piston against the bottom of my labia nibbling lower lip. Meanwhile, in the rear I'm getting it from Dad's prick like I'd sat on a nest of hornets.
What more can I say? It was fucking and sucking beyond compare.
When the men came, we girls raised our orgasmic capacities to their limits, and prepared to fly into pieces.
And, you know what? We almost made it. Later that evening, Mom and I agreed that never had either of us come so hard. Only the fact that we were put together with sinews and flesh rather than nuts and bolts saved us from becoming the debris of fucking.
The cum and pussy juice were everywhere. And God only knows the origin of the goo leaking out Mom's and my cock-drilled assholes.
"I love you," we all said to each other. I couldn't remember my parents having said that to me for years. Nor I to them. Frank hadn't said it to anyone since our honeymoon.
I thanked God for bringing my family together at last. And thank God for swapping, which made it all possible.
CHAPTER NINE
It was hard to pull ourselves away from Mom and Dad, but we had to do it. If we came home too late, the rapacious Marsha would probably demand an arm and leg in addition to her regular salary.
Crossing her was a bad idea when she had so much on us. We were pushing our luck just asking her to babysit tonight in the first place.
Saying goodbye to my parents, and promising to get together again real soon, Frank and I got in our car sometime in the morning and started toward home. After the radio had placed the time after 4:00 A.M., anxiety about the undoubtedly irate Marsha stilled our conversation.
When we got to the house it was dark. Apparently they'd all gone to sleep. As we opened the door and walked inside, something made me wonder which bed Marsha had chosen.
"Where do you suppose Marsha is?" Frank seemed to read my mind.
"I have a feeling we're not going to like it," I instinctively answered.
We looked into each other's eyes, and then dashed together upstairs toward the bedroom. We were smart enough to know that Marsha in a vengefully horny mood wouldn't go to bed alone.
Janie's room was on one side of the hall, Tommy's on the other. Frank and I split off and covered each at once.
"Nothing in here," I yelled from Janie's.
"Tommy's is empty, too," he told me when we rejoined in the hall.
"They must be in ours!" we both concluded at once.
Scrambling down the corridor, we hurled ourselves at our bedroom door. Frank swung it open to a dark room. Now it was my turn to switch on the light and illuminate our worse suspicions.
The three of them were under the covers in blissful slumber. It was all very innocent except for the unusual positions of their bodies. Most particularly, I speak of my daughter, Janie's cunt spread open in Marsha's face.
When I pulled the covers back, I got an even bigger eyeful.
The little minx had been plenty busy with Tommy, too, before they'd all conked out. His prick stuck to her muff with congealed boy-cum proved that. There was no doubt they'd been fucking.
"You know what we should do?" Frank said after he'd recovered his breath, and my heart had stopped booming enough for me to hear. "We should really teach them a lesson they won't forget."
"But how?" I wailed as much as you can in a whisper, not wanting to wake them while Frank and I were still at sea.
"I know it sounds wild," he prepared for something off-the-wall with a lop-sided grin, "but what if we give them a taste of their own medicine? Fight fire with fire."
"You mean get in that bed and have sex with my own children?" I wheezed incredulously.
"Why not," he slammed the piano shut on my fingers, "you didn't see anything wrong with your parents doing it to you all night long."
"Oh, Frank, you bastard," I hissed in irritation at his waspish tongue. But, inside, I knew the son of a bitch was right.
Only a hypocrite would pass up a golden opportunity to make love to her children after what I'd been through with Mom and Dad this evening. It suddenly seemed so natural that this should come up so quickly.
Despite the fact that we had just come from being worn ragged by incestuous group sex, Frank and I stripped off our clothing in record time in anticipation of a fresh crack at a different variation of it. Speaking just for myself, I couldn't wait to start sucking my son's prick. How long could he get it, anyway?
Curling nakedly around my son's flanks, I put my face to his musty crotch and ran my rough tongue along his slumbering prick. Immediately, it started to swell.
I was intoxicated by how sweet his young cock tasted. It was even sweeter than the fifteen-year-old Brad Stewart's. Apparently, the younger a boy was, the cleaner tasting his prick was. My Tommy had a tool whose flavor was an aphrodisiac in itself. If a woman kept sucking a dick like this for long enough she'd come from the exquisite taste alone, never actually needing the physical sensation of the organ itself inside her cunt.
Yes, with just my son's half-hard prick in my mouth, and doing nothing else, I was already experiencing a fluttering of miniature orgasms. Tommy's cock tasted better than anything I had ever had in my life. It was like sucking a root of eternal life.
Of course, above the waist, the rest of Tommy was still snoozing. His prick may have been stirring from the doldrums, but the rest of him was zonko. I just looked on the weird situation as an excuse to do anything I wanted to him when his hard-on was completely hot and throbbing.
Shit, I coarsely thought, I'll give the little motherfucker a wet dream that'll turn his balls inside out.
Unexpectedly, a word from this thought turned my emotions topsy-turvy, leaping from the sentence and smacking me right between the eyes with reality.
"Motherfucker," I repeated the key word aloud in awe.
That's what my little boy was going to be if I didn't stop these shenanigans right now-a motherfucker! All of a sudden I felt a terrible burden on my bare shoulders.
I looked to Frank for help. I'd have had more success peeking at a "Hustler" magazine centerfold when it came to controlling my hominess., The bastard was lapping away at his own daughter's pussy. To make it even lewder, Marsha had stirred to life and was vigorously sucking his hard cock. The son of a bitch, even his own daughter's practically hairless snatch wasn't enough for his gross desires.
Part of me wanted to tell Frank what a fiend he was, but another envied his lack of inhibition. He saw Janie's cunt, desired it, and took it. One-two-three, just like that. You had to admire guiltless assertiveness.
In the meantime, I'd seen something I craved, too. Not only seen it, but tasted it. But then in the midst of sucking my son to a hard-on, I'd had an attack of conscience.
What was I going to do? Should I turn my son into a motherfucker?
While I was wrenched by thought, Tommy stirred in his continuing sleep. When the head of his cock rubbed against my glottis, I realized that during my pondering I had never stopped blowing him.
This fact was quite a revelation to me. It told me that even though I'd questioned the morality of having sex with my son, I'd never been able to find his young dick anything but irresistible.
Especially when it was growing by the second in my mouth ... as it was now. I realized that my mouth was crammed full of cock. Seconds later it was rock-hard.
"Mmmmmmm," Tommy murmured in his sleep.
I held my breath.
"Oh, Jesus Christ," he became audibly coherent, "suck my prick. Whoever you are, keep sucking my prick. It feels soooo goooood."
That wet dream I'd predicted was happening. I couldn't help feeling like an artist who was on the verge of creating a masterpiece.
"My prick 'feels so hard in your mouth," Tommy informed me from dreamland. "It feels like it's grown a couple of inches."
That clinched it. There was no way I was going to get out of this bed. I had to go all the way with my son.
Tossing my anxiety out of my consciousness like a load of old newspapers, I got firmly down to the meaty issue of fucking Tommy with my mouth. I wouldn't stop until my belly was full of boy-cum.
Then I'd give the little dear a couple of seconds to rest before he fucked me in the pussy. What better way to test out what I'd heard about the sexual endurance of young boys than on my own son?
Maybe it's best, after all, to keep these things in the family, I devilishly thought.
"Mmmmmm, that's it," Tommy interrupted my reverie with a husky moan. "Don't stop sucking."
Not only did I not stop sucking, I added the erotic agitation of the squeezing fingers of one hand around his churning balls. As an extra added attraction, my other hand snaked under his crotch and wiggled its index finger up his sweaty crack. Already I was massaging the firm ridges of his asshole.
"That feels good," Tommy complimented my efforts. "Go ahead and stick your finger in my ass. It'll feel good when I come."
I never stopped to consider where he might have picked up such sophisticated knowledge. Most mothers would have blamed the streets, I praised his instincts.
Driving it like a nail, I quickly inserted my straightened finger into his tight, young anus. His request honored, Tommy began wiggling his hips to maximize the penetration.
"Tommy likes a finger in his ass," an all-too-familiar voice shocked me into realizing that my son and I weren't all alone in the universe.
I looked up from Tommy's crotch straight into the face of my leering daughter. Fully awake now, she was on her back talking to me while her father ate her nearly hairless pussy.
"You almost can't get him to come unless you wiggle something up his butt," Janie continued to inform me of her brother's sexual preferences. "The first time we ever did it, if I hadn't accidentally found the button in his ass, he might never have shot off his rocks."
"You mean tonight isn't the first time?" I blurted, letting Tommy's cock fall out of my mouth.
"Are you kidding?" she scoffed. "What do you think Tommy and I were doing when you were running out with Daddy every night? Leaving us alone by ourselves. After all, kids have rights, too."
"Alone?" I picked up on something she'd said. "Where was Marsha? And Grandmother and Grandfather?"
"Shit," she sneered derisively, "don't make me laugh."
I blanched for what was to come.
"Marsha spent most of her time downstairs with her boyfriends."
"Doing what?" I queried, recalling that she had been a virgin until the night Frank and I had raped her.
"Giving them blow-jobs so she could say she still had her cherry," Janie Filled in the gaps. "That bitch would do anything to a guy but fuck him. She was so different tonight than from when she used to sit for us."
"What about Grandmother and Grandfather?" I prompted her.
"They're even worse than Marsha was before she stopped being such a cock-teaser," Janie informed me.
"They're so stiff and proper most of the time," she said, "but at night, lots of times, they give these wild sex parties. Of course Tommy and I weren't supposed to know about it because they always sent us to bed early on those nights, but we got up and watched anyway from the hall. We saw so much good stuff, we decided to try it out. After all, nobody was paying any attention to us, so what else do you expect a couple of kids to do when they're too young to date and drive?"
After this confession, it was only fitting that I ask the ultimate question. There was no avoiding it.
"Have you known about your father and me?" I took a deep breath and reached the bottom line.
"Sure," she replied without blinking. "Tommy and I've known you were into swinging ever since we found those letters and all the pictures of you screwing in Grandma's bureau."
"Did you know Marsha was in on it?"
"She told us tonight. She got a little smashed on some grass she had in her purse, and the next thing you know she was talking her head off. Marsha's really a lot of fun when she's not all stuck up on boys."
"How did you all wind up in bed with no clothes on?" I wanted to know.
"The more Marsha talked about her sex life, the more she couldn't stop. Then, once when she got up to go get a soda, Tommy and I noticed a fresh stain on the crotch of her jeans."
"Her pussy was that wet, huh?"
"Dripping!" Janie made a cute little face. "By the time she was back from the kitchen Tommy and I were stripped naked and waiting to pounce on her. After we'd knocked her down and ripped off her clothes, a race to the biggest bed in the house was the first thing on everyone's mind. We must have fucked and sucked for hours until we all got tired and fell asleep."
The openness of her expression made me feel closer to my little girl than I ever had before. Even when she had come out of my contracting womb I hadn't cherished her this much. Our relationship was such that I loved her as a person even more than I'd loved her as a baby. It made me feel I'd done a good job as a mother.
Squirming forward, I reached out to hold her, anxious to kiss her sweet lips. Run my hard tongue down her throat.
"No, no ... wait," she unexpectedly stopped me. "Before you kiss me, make Tommy come in your mouth. Then when we kiss I can taste it, too."
It was an idea too splendid to resist. Returning my son's stiff peter to my mouth, I began suctioning up a storm. Once again I simultaneously aggravated the condition of his balls and asshole.
Still asleep, Tommy resumed crying out from his dream. From his remarks it was clear that his cum was ready for the taking.
"Oh, God," was a typical wail, "you're going to suck the cream right out of my nuts. I won't be able to piss without it hurting for a week."
Anxious for the explosion, I goosed his balls, and hooked my finger into a claw inside his rectum. Then I yanked the latter out with a tearing pop like I was pulling the plug on a tank of compressed air.
His cock rumbled in my mouth, and then expanded an inch beyond the length to which it had previously hardened. Suddenly, the head, so unyielding for so long, seemed to come apart in a thousand directions. The orgasmic time-bomb had exploded.
As I felt Tommy's jizz rolling down my throat, I heard Janie say, "Don't take too long, Mom. Get over here and soul-kiss me before you get piggy and drink all the cum."
The minute Tommy had stopped spurting, I followed her orders. Pulling away from the now dribbling cock, I raised myself into Janie's arms and pressed my foamy mouth to her waiting lips. The cum gurgled as it passed in globs between us. I fed her so much of it that pretty soon it was smeared all over her face.
The harder we kissed, the more I wanted the rest of my daughter's nubile, young body. Only a sixty-nine would do.
That meant shagging Frank out of Janie's crotch, where he was still nibbling away at her pussy. "Go fuck Marsha," I impatiently told him. "Janie and I have a little mother-daughter business to take care of."
Fortunately for my plans, Marsha was horny enough by now to give me a physical assist. Grabbing the pussy-sucking Frank by the scruff of his neck, she yanked his attention from Janie's crotch and directed it toward her own charms. As it turned out, Frank was perfectly agreeable. He was so aroused he didn't care who he had sex with.
Now it was just me and Janie, and we made the most of it. "Sixty-nine," we both murmured the magic number to each other, and then coiled into position. My first taste of my little girl's cunt was like sampling the nectar of the gods.
And the first feel of her hot, little tongue in my own pussy was just as good.
To make it all even more erotic, to the side of our sixty-nine, right in view over Janie's hip, was the juicy spectacle of Frank fucking Marsha. The way they were positioned I couldn't miss the constant slide of his stiff dick in and out of her creaming twat.
Only Tommy was left out of the action, and even he was doing okay, indirectly. Coming in my mouth had neither ended his sleep nor softened his cock. Immersed in the continuing saga of his wet dream, he now slowly writhed on his back and caressingly beat his meat. His slim cock had to be at least seven inches long. I was sure I'd get back to it later.
Right now, it was time to frolic in Janie's sparse muff. It was hard to believe a girl with so little hair on her pussy could know so much about sex.
Our tongues perfectly matched each other's thrusts as we sucked cunt. Janie may not have had a lot of pubic hair, but she could sure put out the pussy juice like a grown woman. I must have deposited at least a pint in her mouth, and I'm sure she surpassed that down my throat.
While we were eating, I ran my arms down between us and fumbled for the beginnings of her breasts. The pre-pubescent mounds weren't much, but her nipples were at least an inch long. And they were as tactile as overgrown clits. When I rubbed or squeezed them, I knew it made her come.
Then her hands found my much lusher tits. When she titillated my raspberry sized nipples, I came, too.
Over the undulating horizon of Janie's hip, I couldn't help but see Frank draw his spurting cock from Marsha's pussy and ejaculate all over her titties. She rubbed it in to her spongy skin with a grinning thank-you.
Then, when Frank had stopped shooting, the little sex maniac clambered over to where Janie and I were sixty-nining and brashly homed-in. All of a sudden I felt my asshole being reamed out by a slim feminine tongue that could only be Marsha's.
Since his dick was still hard after coming, Frank declined to remain on the sidelines for long. Like a pouncing wolf he was upon us, zeroing in on his daughter's rear flanks.
"I wonder what her ass is like?" he mused aloud, after coming to rest. He had settled with his face at her trim butt.
Then the light began to show through the parting columns of Janie's tender thighs. They were being forcibly spread as a result of the prying open of her smooth buns by her anally-crazed father. His twitching dick showed that he was determined to cornhole her. As her mother, I feared her father's thick cock might be too much for her girlish rectum.
I reluctantly pulled my mouth from her cunt, and lifted my head to warn Janie of her father's intentions. However, before I could get a word out, she had inadvertently mocked my concern by explicitly moaning to Frank, "Oh, Daddy, peel my ass open like a piece of fruit so you can get your cock inside and start cornholing me!"
So much for worrying about little Janie.
Distracted from me by her father's lustful attention to her backside, Janie rolled away from me, athletically bobbing up perched on her knees. When she leaned down on her elbows and her rear loins gooily parted, she looked just like a prize-winning bitch in heat.
The rear view of this glistening pussy was, of course, divine. However, the portion of her anatomy that held my attention longest was her shimmeringly pink asshole. It looked more like the rosebud off a Mother's Day cake than a part of the body.
Frank had scrambled up to follow her, and was now tracing a straight line with his rigid dick toward the revised posture of Janie's succulent tush. Her beautiful asshole seemed to tremble in anticipation.
Then, wham, he was in her. He'd stuffed the whole head of his prick into her anal breach with a single grunting thrust.
"Oh, God, that hurts!" she screechingly reminded me of my earlier concern. Then she instantly cured me of my mental sketching by adding: "It hurts so goooood! Hurt me some more by cramming your huge cock up my tight, tight ass!"
During all this, Marsha had been languidly sucking my own asshole. Now, with the sounds of father and daughter noisily ass-fucking filling her ears, she became more excited, and started working her tongue in my keister like a steam-drill.
Her oral expertise made me come some, but apparently it was far from satisfactory to her. "You've got a sweet ass, Mrs. C.," she told me on the way out of my crack, "but right now an unoccupied young pussy is calling. When you're my age you don't often get the chance for nookie even younger than your own."
Marsha was off me and grappling across the lumpy bed toward my kneeling, ass-fucking daughter. Laying flat on her back, she slid her head and upper torso between Janie's thin arms until her face was parallel with my little girl's hovering crotch. She was in perfect position to suck Janie's cunt while the child was being simultaneously buggered by her father.
"Loooooooove that pussy!" she exclaimed like she was leading a cheer at a high school basketball game. Then the verbal exuberance abruptly ended as she slammed her mouth up into Janie's hanging twat. Marsha's only sounds now were the smacks of her lips and tongue against the outside and inside of my daughter's sticky honey-pot.
Once Marsha was sucking the pussy she craved, she greedily went after even more stimulation. She began working her own crotch upwards in Janie's lolling face. Then Janie's pink tongue closed whatever gap was between them, and she was suddenly eating the babysitter's blonde gash.
The three of them got along just great. Frank, my husband. Janie, my daughter. Marsha, the babysitter. With every thrust of his hard-on up Janie's asshole, he started a whole new round of impassioned cunt-sucking by the two girls.
Christ, as I watched them I felt so left out. I wished I could jump in, but the fact was there were no further feasible holes or protuberances easily available. If I craved action, I'd have to look elsewhere.
Elsewhere, of course, turned out to be right on the reclining body of my still slumbering son. The little rascal had just jerked his dick to creamy orgasm, however, to my delight, it was still as hard as a rock. It had F-U-C-K written all over. Or should I say, M-O-T-H-E-R-F-U-C-K!
"Oh, God, Tommy," I babbled uncontrollably. "I'm dying to fuck you at last."
Crawling on top of his sleeping body, I lost no time in fitting my spread loins over the scepter of his standing hard-on. Feeling the juice run down my thighs, I lowered my dripping cunt to his cock-head. It was sheer heaven when his crowning knot first pressed against my labia. Even more so, when his flange tweaked my clit.
"Tell me about your dream," I urged him as I settled down on his prick, quickly burying all of it inside my descending twat. "What's happening now, Tommy?"
"I'm fucking somebody," he took the bait. "Somebody with a deep, deep cunt. Like she's a lady, instead of just a kid like Janie."
"Do you have any idea who she is?" I egged him on, as I grooved on his surging cock.
"No," he answered. "Her face is a blur like all the others. All I can make out is her body."
"Her whole body?"
"Yes. She has big full tits like a woman, like my mom. Her cunt is like a bramble bush, there's so much hair in comparison to Janie's," he continued. "And the pussy lips are thick and strong. They feel like they're sucking the blood out of my cock."
"Is this woman's cunt like you'd imagine your mother's to be also," I planted a little bee in his bonnet, "to go along with the tits?"
"Yes!" he exclaimed. "I feel like I'm fucking my mother, only I can't see her ... see her face."
"Then open your eyes, my dear," I calmly suggested, "because your dream has turned into reality."
The lids struggled and then pulled open, revealing glassy eyes the blue of his grandfather's. When I stared back at them I could see the tiny reflections of my own obscene image in their glazed irises.
"Mom!" he finally gathered the wits to blurt. "What are you doing on top of me? Am I still asleep?"
"No, pumpkin, you're wide awake," I assured him.
As if to check, he wriggled his body beneath me. My story was verified when he felt his cock tug in my tight cunt.
"Is what's happening what I think is what's happening?" he gleeped boyishly.
I patiently nodded my head. "Yes, dear, you're fucking your mother. Your dreams have come true, you little motherfucker."
At that, we both broke into hysterical laughter. In fact, we were both still breaking up when Tommy came. Suddenly my twat was full of boy-cum and we were both still laughing like hyenas.
Shaking in our mirth, Tommy and I toppled over on the others. In an instant the trio had modified their restrictive bond to include the added dimension my son and I offered.
Our five naked bodies tumbled, tits and cocks and asses and pussies flying everywhere. The loose cunt juice and cum was splashing. We were getting as sticky as melted candy.
Marsha's cunt ... Frank's cock ... Janie's pussy ... Tommy's still twitching hard-on-they were all in my mouth at one time or other. And my wet twat passed among every one of theirs. And that was just the beginning of the round-robin that ensued. By the time we'd finished, every one of us had been fucked and sucked by the others. The bed was so sexually trammeled that the sheets would have to be destroyed-no detergent could get out their tell-tale reek of raw sex.
With my mouth always filled with cunt or cock or tit, and my pussy and asshole almost invariably stuffed with something, I couldn't help but think what a beautiful family we were. Even Marsha seemed like my own flesh and blood.
How sad it was that we had gone our separate ways and ignored each other's needs for so long. But how wonderful that we were finally doing something about it.
It was like a miracle. With so many delicious mouths and cocks and twats and tits engulfing me, I'd never felt so loved. In some ways, I never wanted to leave this bed, the sensation was so special.
As I writhed under the weight of my four lovers, experiencing orgasm after orgasm, I felt as though I had arrived at the end of a long, hard journey. An odyssey had started' when Frank and I discovered our marriage had gone stale and entered the world of swapping.
Now the circle had finally been completed. Not only had swinging restored the love Frank and I had for each other, it had brought me closer to my parents than I had ever been before. Then, finally, there was this-a total exchange of pure love between parents and children. It was the peak experience of my life.
None of this would have ever happened without swapping. Had not Frank and I turned in desperation to swinging those many months ago, we would still be in the doldrums. By breaking down our silly hang-ups with its honesty, it had inevitably led us to this moment of total awareness.
As a typical neurotic parent, I had long dreaded the supposedly difficult teenage years of my children. Now, however, I could relax and enjoy being a wife and mother.
Everything was going to be okay from here on in. It was a cinch there would never be a generation gap in our family.
