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From: tonytony3 <tonytony3@juno.com>
Subject: tonytony3's relocation 3/3 (voyeur, swing, rom)
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tonytony3@juno.com    relocation 3/3


I watched as her hands went in front of her, and in a moment saw 
her strapless bra  unwrap, and she dropped it on the floor.  

Still facing away, her hands went to her hips, pushing down her 
panties, bending over, so  that I had a glimpses of her breasts, 
past her knees, and she stepped out of them, too.  

And again her hands were on her hips, sliding down, under her 
hose, showing us ass, and  legs, and a hint of pubic hair - I didn't 
know that would be visible between her legs from  the back. She 
lifted one leg, then the other, and now, reached to the side, and 
her hose fell,  too.  

"Joe, I'm scared, and embarrassed" she said.  

I went to her, erect, horny.  

I moved so that I was in front of  her, she still had her back to the 
room.  

She looked into my eyes - did I see excitement - or was it a tear?  

I put my hands on her shoulders.  

She looked at me, standing nude in front of her, erect in front of 
her.  

"Ready?"  

She nodded.  

I looked over her shoulder to Frank, on the bed, to the three in 
the doorway.  

I pushed on one shoulder, pulled on the other, and Barbara, not 
unwillingly, turned.  

I loved watching Frank as he looked at her body, and Martha, at 
the two men, as their  eyes took in breasts and pelvis.  

"Stunning!" he said.  

"You look wonderful" Martha muttered from the doorway.  

Barbara stood erect.  

"Take her to the bed, Joe," Martha suggested. "Frank is 
wonderful with new women."  

Barbara looked over her shoulder at me. I took her hand, and led 
her to the bed.  

I had her move to its center, on hands and knees.  

"Lay down, honey."  

She did.  

"On your back, honey."  

She rolled over.  

I looked at the group in the door, and at Frank, sitting on the bed, 
waiting.  

"Barbara, I want to watch."  

She nodded her head.  

"They want to watch, too. Is that OK?"  

She nodded again.  

I motioned the others to come into the room, until they were 
beside the bed.  

"I'd like to see Frank fuck you, Barbara. Is that OK?'  

Her eyes were closed, but she nodded yes again, and opened her 
eyes as she felt Frank  move.  

In a moment he was kneeling over her, at her knees.  

That ritual we all acted out before started, as he leaned to one 
side, and Barbara moved  that leg from under him to outside his, 
and drew that knee up.  

He leaned again, the other way, and her other leg was extracted, 
too, and bent, matching  the first one.  

We, the other four of us, moved toward the head of the bed, as 
Frank leaned foreword,  until his hands were at her shoulders. 
And he moved again, his cock coming closer to its  target.  

Barbara's hands reached for me: "If you kiss me, I'll let him . . 
.fuck me."  

I bent over her from the side, her head tilting, my lips found hers, 
her mouth opened under  mine, and her free hand drew the back 
of my head even closer, driving our mouths  together.  

As I kissed her, I opened my eyes, saw that hers were closed, and 
since I was to the side, I  could look down along her body, seeing 
her legs widen, seeing  Frank's cock closer,  seeing her hips rise, 
and his lower, until its head was brushing hair. He looked into 
my  eyes.    

It was a defiant look.  

He paused.  

And moved, a last time.  

Barbara's mouth opened under mine, with a gasp!  

Her hips rose to meet him.  

His erection went into her, and an "Uhhhh" escaped from her 
mouth, and from his.  

The two guys watching had their own towels off, Martha was 
kneeling, accepting a penis  in her mouth, pumping the other, 
and Frank was intently pumping into Barbara, moving  his hips, 
slamming hard enough so that her body and head was rocking 
with the impact.  

Barbara wouldn't release my head, she kept me locked to her lips 
- there was to be no  release for me that instant.   

I had to pull away. Her eyes opened, focusing on Frank, 
pounding into her.   

As I watched, one of the men, the one who was being 
masturbated by Martha, reached  over, ant touched Barbara's 
breast.  

One of her hands went to that breast, and supported it, for his 
hand.  

That was all he needed to see. He moved away from Martha, 
knelt beside Barbara, and  bent over, until his mouth was on that 
breast. Her hand, which had been on the breast,  was now on the 
back of his head, holding him to her.   

Martha, watching, asked "Does she taste good, Barry?"  

"Mmmm" was his response.  

"Does Barry feel good, Barbara?"  

Her rapid breathing answered every question.  

"Barbara!" it was Frank.  

She met his stare.  

"How many men shared your body like this?"  

I NEVER asked her that!  

"You're the  thirtyfirst"  

He didn't change pace at all.  

"Did you ever have two men before?"  

Her face was flushed, her breathing heavy. "Not at the same 
time."  

"Have you ever taken it in the ass?"  

Another pause: "Only with Joe. . ."  

He looked at Martha, his wife. "Get the KY, honey."  

To Barbara, he said: "Put your legs around me, I'm going to roll 
you on top."  

Her legs grasped him. He lay on top of her, so her arms could 
hold him, too, and he rolled  to the side.  

Barbara was on him, now, but the motions each of them were 
making was not interrupted.  

Martha returned, and handed Barry the tube of jelly. He 
immediately put some on his palm,  and then on his penis.  

"We're going to make a sandwich, Barbara," Frank, under her, 
said.  

I knew instantly what was happening.  

So did she. She looked at Frank, at me. I nodded yes. She said, in 
a small voice,  "OK".  

.Barry was on the bed, behind her, now. I saw him squirt jelly 
between her buttocks. Rub it  over her ass.  

Barbara, who had been supporting herself on her knees, moved 
flat on Frank, her hips still  moving.  

I was off the bed now, Martha was standing behind me, both 
hands on my own erection,  watching, as I watched. We moved 
more to the foot of the bed, and could see Frank's  shaft, in 
Barbara, moving there, and her anus, shiny with wetness and 
jelly, a few inches  from Barry's cock. Barry moved up, between 
Frank's legs, and between Barbara's.  

The rest of us watched as he rubbed his cock up and down her 
buttocks. She flinched  each time its head crossed her anus.  

"Are you ready, Barbara?" Frank wanted to know.  

Her head was on his shoulder. We all saw it nod.  

I watched with almost clinical interest as Barry moved the last 
inch, and the head of his  somewhat slender penis stopped 
moving along her buttocks, but stopped, pressing  against her 
rosebud anus.  

She stopped moving, back arched, but Frank didn't. "Barry and I 
have done this lots of  times" he said, as Barry pushed. I watched 
with amazement as his cock first bent a little,  then, in the 
shortest time, it straightened, its head no longer visible!  

"I feel you, Barry!" Frank grunted. Barry moved the final inches, 
and the three of them  started that magical dance, Barbara 
descending on Frank, and Barry, even more, into her.  From the 
very foot of the bed I could see two shafts penetrating my woman 
- and neither  of them were mine!  

Barry had his hands on her shoulders, holding her still while he 
penetrated her with his  slender penis: Frank, thicker, moved 
with Barry: "I can feel you fucking her!"  

It was a classic two on one sandwich, one I had only seen in 
porno films before. Erotic? I  guess. But that was my Barbara 
between them. . .  

Finally, we heard Frank saying "I can't hold off", didn't hold off. 
His motions changed, to  deeper, and longer, until he was still. 
Barbara collapsed on him, exhausted, spent.  

At last Barry stopped, too, pulling out, trailing ejaculatant, 
pulling away, leaving a white  ribbon, evidence he was not 
pretending.  

Somehow we got disengaged, dressed, and out of there.  

I was depressed. I'm not as liberated as I wanted to be.  

Barbara, however, was happy. "Wow! Maybe, some day, we can 
do that again! You never  got to have sex with anyone."  

"That's all right," I said. "I got what I wanted."  

The next afternoon Barbara flew home.  

She called to tell me what a wonderful time she had, and that she 
got home safely.  

Monday I called Harriet, suggesting a dinner might be nice. She 
agreed: "But let's eat here  - I DO know how to cook!"  

Wine lead to dinner which lead to cocktails in front of the 
fireplace in her den. She  arranged pillows so we could sit closer 
to the fire, and alarms went off in my mind. I looked  around, all 
windows were tightly covered. No one was watching. That, I 
realized, was a  sick thing for me to have done.  

I lay beside her, talking, looking at the fire.  

"Harriet, do you date a lot?"  

"Uh-uh. Only one guy at a time. Uh, that doesn't mean anything 
Joe, just that's the way I  like it. What about you?"  

"Oh, I've met a couple of women from Long Island, and I date in 
Massachusetts, too."  

"I could have guessed that."  

We talked a while longer, just holding hands, when she rolled to 
her side, facing me.  

"You're a nice man."  

"Thank you."  

She leaned forward, and kissed me.  

"Joe?"  

"Um?"  

She kissed me again. "I'm not trying to make problems for you, 
but I'd like to make love  with you."  

"That's not a problem. I'd love it" I responded.  

Her hands were already at my belt, and in a few moments were 
both nude, touching, and  loving. We made love. It wasn't 
fireworks or gymnastics. It was  just a man and a woman  who 
liked one another loving one another. There came a moment 
when she whispered  "Would it be OK if I got on top?", and 
another  when she said "I'm glad you can maintain  an erection a 
long time."  

But, it wasn't too long a time!  

We spent the next hours just holding each other.   

"Joe, I didn't mean for that to happen, but I'm glad it did."  

"I'm glad, too, Harriet."  

"No, no, this is what I mean. I like you a lot. I don't just sleep 
around. I'd like to make love  with you often, Joe, but I won't, I 
can't, if you're having sex with other woman. It's too  important 
to me. It's OK if it doesn't happen again, if you don't like that 
idea: I'm sorry.. . ."  There was a tear in her eye.  

"Harriet, you know, I've done some things I'm not proud of. I 
have to make some things  right. I'd like to be your lover, on your 
terms, but I have a problem or two to solve, first.  No, don't cry." 
The tear flowed down her cheek. "Will you be able to see me 
tomorrow  night at my apartment? And spend the  night? I 
should have my problems solved by then.  . ."  

"I don't want to pressure you . . ." she said.  

"Shhh".  

I left her the next morning. There were five messages from 
Barbara on my machine, the last  time stamped at 1AM. "Where 
the hell are you!" was the last message.  

I called her from work.  

"Were you out fucking?" she wanted to know.  

"Not exactly. I did make love last night, though."  

"With who - that Harriet?"  

"Yes"  

"I don't think I like that."  

"Uh, Barbara. . ."  

"Maybe exclusive relationships are better" she continued.  

"Uh, Barbara. . ."  

"Joe, is it too late?"  

"I think so, Barbara."  

"Your rebounding is over?'  

"I think so, Barbara."  

"Good. I thought we had a small chance. Maybe we did, but we 
played it wrong, huh?"  

"Yeah, Barbara, we played it wrong."  

"So if I told you I wanted to spend next weekend with Walter that 
would be all right?"  

"Yeah, Barbara."  

I heard a sob. There were actually two of them, hers, and mine. 
"Good luck with her, Joe.  She's a lucky woman."  

"Good luck with Walter, Barbara."  

"I'll remember you, Joe, until the day I die. And I'll bet you'll 
remember me, too. That's all  we can hope for. Good-bye."  

When Harriet came to my apartment that evening, we talked. 
And talked. I told her about  my life, my marriage, Barbara.  

At the end, she smiled. "So, that's how you became the man you 
are."  

She stood, and took my hand, and lead me to the bedroom.  

"And now," she concluded, "that man will be my man."  

Harriet and I were married Independence Day weekend. I decided 
to stay on Long Island.  Barbara married Walter the very same 
weekend.  

I'll remember her, too. Fondly, and without regret.  

And, that's the end of a love story.


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