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From: tonytony3 <tonytony3@juno.com>
Subject: tonytony3's relocation 2/3 (voyeur, swinging, rom)
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tonytony3@juno.com   relocation 2/3

Once again she came back, sitting next to him.  

Again his hand turned her head so that they could kiss.  

I watched Walter as he kissed the woman I considered mine, how 
his other hand caressed  her cheek, then moved to her throat.  

She didn't object when that hand glided lower, to her breasts, 
touching them while his lips  were sealed against hers.  

She didn't object when that same hand went to her neck,  
fumbled, then found a button  and released it, and another and 
another, until her tan blouse was undone to her dark  skirt's 
waistband.  

Nor did she resist, but instead complied, as the arm behind her 
pushed, and she leaned  forward,  so he could pull her blouse free 
of the skirt.  

And her arms went from around his neck to her sides, as he slide 
the blouse back, and  down her arms, and off. She sat back, the 
kiss ended, wearing a slip over her bra, the  shadows and flickers 
of the fire creating patterns as sexy as any I'd even seen on her.  

She reached for his tie, got it loose, and off, and began on his 
shirt buttons, too. He kicked  off shoes, pulled off socks. She 
didn't get too far before he stood in front of her, and drew  her to 
a standing position, too, and enfolded her in his arms. But his 
arms went lower, until  they were on her hips. The kiss stopped, 
she stood still, in front of him, her hands on his  shoulders, 
looking into his eyes, as  both his hands worked at the clasp on 
her waist  band, and worked at lowering the zipper, and then, as I 
watched, by now with my own  slacks open, my own erection in 
hand,  her skirt fell away, sliding over her slip, to the  floor. She 
stepped out of the puddle of that material, and again faced him, 
now clad in  undergarments only.  I, and he, I was sure,  could 
see the dark shadow of bikini panties  and pantyhose the slip - it 
added to the erotic image.  

She stopped being passive: his shirt was unbuttoned now too, and 
she was pushing it  down his arms, He broke away from that, 
released the cuffs, and removed it, now before  her in a tee shirt.  

Barbara - I knew she'd do this, she did it with me - pulled some 
of the pillows from the sofa  to in front of the fireplace, and knelt, 
then lay there, her head resting on them, drawing  Walter down 
with her. He, on his side, looked at her, on her back, and began 
working on  the puzzle of her bra.   

 After a minute she laughed - she has a lovely laugh - and push 
him away. She, kneeling  up,  reached between her breasts, and 
released the clasp on her bra that frustrated and  defeated him. 
She extracted that garment in that mysterious way some women 
have, from  under  her slip. The nylon of that tan and shear  slip 
concealed her actual breasts, but it  outlined them, and showed 
curves, and the protrusions that were her erect nipples, and  was 
sheer enough so that their darker color was obvious. I loved the 
way the shoulder  straps hung in a catenary, supporting the 
material of her slip away from the upper portion  of her breasts, 
and showing  that wonderful swelling , that swoop, of them. The 
shadows  under her breast added to the visual pleasure, the 
mystery. As she knelt there, facing the  prone Walter, and the 
fireplace, and me, with   the flames from the fireplace radiating 
her with changing colors, and shadows, my own  cock swelled 
almost to bursting .  

Walter, on his side, his head supported by his hand, was 
obviously admiring this vision,  this smiling woman,  kneeling  
before him, above him.  

She knelt even more upright, so that the slips material pressed 
tightly against her breasts,  and shifted, side to side, pulling at it, 
to free the slip from under her legs. It flowed down  now, 
gracefully, to her knees - so erotic!  

Still smiling, her hands moved down along her sides, over her 
hips, and down the outside  of her legs, to her knees. My woman, 
my temptress, looked at the man in front of her, and  then 
straight ahead, to the window, to me, as those hands began 
sliding up her legs.  lifting her slip on her wrists, higher, until 
her hands were again waist high, the slip draping  to her knees in 
front, showing the side of her panty hose clad leg.   

She arched her back a little, kneeing very tall, now, and I knew 
her thumbs had hooked the  waistband of her hose and panties.  

She pushed down, and I. and Walter, could see, under the slip, 
the dark upper boundary  of  panty and hose shadow arc 
downwards at her hips, and then, also, move downward  over her 
belly, too.   

Her pushing continued, and the dark band continued to descend,  
finally leaving behind a  shadow that had to be a pubic mound.   

Soon enough the tangle of hose and panties, a dark mass, was at  
her knees. She sat back  now, with her legs folded under her, 
then free of her, to the side.   

She brought her legs, still bound together at the knees with hose 
and panties, in a graceful  movement, to the front, and sitting, 
raised them.  

Walter now sat up, and his hands went to her knees, and he slid 
those garments down,  over her calves, and ankles, and feet, until 
they were free of her.  

She brought her feet back beside her, and again was kneeling 
beside him, now covered  only by the slip - wearing the slip, but 
not really covered - a vision!  

She reached for him, got him to sit up, and pulled at his tee shirt, 
until with his help it was  off.   

She pushed him until he was on his back in front of her, his head 
toward the fire, and me.  She reached for, and released his belt. 
He undid the pants waistband button, and she, the  zipper.   

I saw her pull, and he bridged, supporting himself on shoulders 
and heels, lifting his hips,  so that this woman, who I wanted to 
be my woman, could slip his pants down his legs. He  lifted his 
feet, and they were off, leaving him in boxer shorts - lumpy boxer 
shorts.  

Her hands again went to his waist, and he bridged again, and she 
pulled again, much more  slowly, teasingly, and I watched his 
penis spring free, erect. When he lifted his feet so she  could pull 
his shorts over them, he was exposed, his erection lit by the fire, 
caused by her  fire.  

I watched as Barbara lay beside him, still in her slip, and kissed 
him, and then rolled so  that she was on him.  

She sat straddling  his stomach, her crotch bending his penis 
foreword, and visible. She  was facing me, and him, her  knees 
up, almost to her chin, looking down at this man who  was 
content to lay there, his hands behind her head.  

I watched as she moved, and was no longer sitting, but had her 
feet at his hips, and was  squatting on him, over him. She pulled 
her slip to her hips, and I watched as she leaned  forward, putting 
her hands on his shoulders, lifting her pelvis, so that his cock 
was  upright, under her, and how his hands now were between 
them, aiming himself at her  vulva, and how she moved, settling 
onto him, penetrated! She moved  upright again,   pausing, 
reaching behind her, over her head, pulling that slip up, exposing 
her back, then  it was over her head, and off so now, as she began 
to ride him, as she moved, her breasts  swayed, too.  

Walter by now had her by the hips and was meeting her 
movements with his own urgent  ones.  

The man had no control! Maybe no man could, when exposed to 
what he had experienced.  He could not have been in her for five 
minutes before she rode him to climax.  

Of course, my own penis was out, my hand busy,  too - the sight 
was too erotic for me.  

I watched as the coupled pair uncoupled. . . her, pulling on the 
slip, him, pulling on  clothing, perhaps embarrassed by his poor 
performance.  It was interesting, seeing this  post sex ritual, the 
parting, almost cold, after sharing bodies in the most intimate 
way. Oh,  I realized, this wasn't love making, it was a kind of 
mutual masturbation, a satisfying of an  itch: nothing more.  

I watched as he, partly clothed,  finished his wine. I watched, as 
she left, returning in a  robe, and finished hers. The mood in the 
room had changed, there was little hint of erotica,  now. Walter 
was dressed and gone within 15 minutes of having been as 
intimate as he  could be with this woman.  

No sooner did the front door close than the side door opened, and 
I was in the arms of my  woman, smelling her lusty smells, 
feeling under the robe the heat he left with her.  

In a moment I too was in front of the fire - no words were spoken 
- but clothing was  scattered, and I, partly erect now, was where 
Walter had been only moments earlier.  

Barbara's mutterings were revealing. . ."two wonderful men, both 
loving me. . ." as we rode  with and played with each other, 
finally falling asleep still in front of the fire. We woke in  an 
hour, and went to her bedroom, and fucked again before falling 
asleep again, in each  other's arms.  

"Walter's just a nice guy" Barbara explained the next morning, as 
we lay in bed, "and I  thought we could use him like I did. He 
had a good time, and honey, it was so exciting  knowing you 
were watching. Was I good?"  

I just wasn't sure, anymore, about this woman. But, I agreed, 
"You were better than good:  you get four stars and three x's for 
that show!"  

"I never" she claimed, "did anything like that before. It was 
great, but Walter isn't a good  lover. He doesn't hold a candle to 
you."  

"I'm glad to hear that. And,  being on the porch wasn't the best 
thing. I wish I could have  been closer. . . " I said, only to have 
her say "well, I'll bet we could do that, too, if it's really  what you 
want."  

Opps! What I thought and wanted to be loving relationship was 
changing.  

"What do you mean?"  

"Face it. You were  all hung up about sex, since your ex wife 
screwed around. I'm trying to  change that. Sex can be loving, or 
it can be just for fun.  I'm willing to try nearly anything  with 
you, OK? What'll turn you on the most?"  

"Hell, Barbara, I masturbated myself silly last night watching 
you. Everything turns me  on!"  

"Don't masturbate yourself! That's my job!"   

Her touch was electric.  

"Has anyone else touched you like this lately?" she wanted to 
know.  

"No."  

"Joe, we don't have an exclusive relationship. You can date until 
July."  

By now I was erect, again.  

Barbara stopped for a moment, and reached into her sidetable 
drawer, extracting a bottle of  baby oil.  

Now she touched me again, her hands oily. She NEVER needs 
lubrication!  

"Do me, honey, please," she said, rolling away, getting on her 
knees and elbows, "be  gentle."  

I moved behind her, my cock between her legs, searching for its 
home, its sheath.  

She reached behind her with one hand, taking my cock,  moving 
it - UP.  

"There, honey, but be gentle!" she muttered, moving back against 
my cock, its head  between her buttocks, against her anus.  

"I've never done this" I had to mutter, gripping her hips, feeling 
the blunt pressure as her  hands and her body positioned me.  

"Now's when I want you to - gently, gently, push. . ."  

I pushed, slippery with oil, felt her sphincter part, and the tight 
band of it around my cock,  as it entered where it had never been 
before, to Barbara's "Ohhh".  

She pushed back against me, pushing me deeper into her, letting 
me feel that tight donut  of sphincter move along my shaft, until 
we were rocking, moving, in this new intimacy.  

It's erotic, but not satisfying for me. "I want you the other way" I 
pleaded after a while.  

She pulled ahead, extracting me. "OK, me too, but  I think it's 
dangerous to go from anus  to vagina. Could you wash that, 
first?"  

I did,  and we as we coupled again, my fingers found themselves 
stoking her ass, then  entering her ass, where I could feel my 
cock moving in her! THAT did it!   

How many times can a man my age ejaculate in a weekend?   We 
spent most of Saturday, and Sunday morning, in bed. If we 
weren't engaged in  fucking, we were cuddling with each other, 
in foreplay, getting ready for the next  encounter. We interrupted 
our activities for food, and once, for a phone call from Walter,  
asking for a date.  

"Walter," Barbara said, naked in bed with me, "you're a nice guy, 
but I'm getting pretty  serious about somebody else. I better not 
see you anymore."  

He gracefully accepted, and I realized he probably thought of her 
as a sexy woman, but  not one for a long term relationship. 
Hmmm.  

Sunday afternoon found me driving to Long Island again.  

Barbara, talking with me on the phone about the weekend, 
complained just a little. "You're  so big, honey, that I've had a bit 
of a hemorrhoid problem. I don't think we'll be doing that  very 
often."   

I arranged tickets for her, and a flight schedule. She'd be visiting 
me in two weeks, for a  weekend.  

That evening, I had a response from one of my letters to a 
personal ad. Harriet sounded  interesting: a practicing 
psychologist, divorced for a few years.  . .we arranged a date.  

Harriet was a couple of years older than me, a beautiful woman, 
cautious, sensitive,  conservative.  

We dated about eight times in the next two weeks, and she was 
awaking some conflicting  feelings in me. We were becoming 
friends, not lovers.  

"I'm invited to a wedding, Joe, in a couple of weeks. Will you 
join me?"   

I accepted.  

I declined a weekend date she suggested.  Barbara was coming. I 
found myself resenting  that a little! Maybe Barbara was right - 
she might be a rebound relationship.  

Barbara arrived Friday evening: we had dinner on the way to my 
apartment. "Honey, I'm  so excited about being here with you - 
we have a whole weekend!"  

I responded with faked enthusiasm.  

"Honey, have you been seeing anyone else?"  

"I've had some dates with a woman named Harriet" I confessed.  

"How many?"  

"Maybe eight."  

"Oh: so you've been sleeping with her."  

"As a matter of fact, no. It'll probably happen, but not yet. What 
about you?"  

"No one new for me, either. One guy, Harry, got pissed off 
because I was going to be 'with  a boyfriend' this week. He had 
some idea that wasn't a good idea. I guess I won't be seeing  him 
again. Anyhow, what's the plan for the weekend?"  

"Some shows, some quiet times, some fooling around - what ever 
you'd like."  

"Maybe we can do some shopping?"  

"For what" I wondered.  

"Well, at least looking at engagement rings, in case 
Independence Day comes earlier than  July."  

"Yeah, we can do that" I allowed, thinking we'd look only.  

Saturday we went to the city, meandering through The Village, 
poking in this shop, and  that one. By 7 PM we were having 
dinner, and considering plans for the evening.  

We picked up a free newspaper, took it apart, and were looking at 
activities. I was  concentrating on Off Broadway shows when 
Barbara poked me. "Look at this."  

She passed me her section of the paper, pointing to an ad.  

"For Liberated  Couples and Singles. Party at Our House. Single 
Men, $100. Single  Women, Free. Couples, $75."  

"What do you think that is?"  

"Come on, Barbara, you know what it is. It's a party for swingers 
- unanimous sex. Are you  interested in that?"  

"I don't know. Maybe. What about you?"  

"I'm not sure. . ."  

Barbara, thinking, said "You know, no one can force you to do 
anything you don't want to  do. Let's see what it's like - it's a $75 
experiment, and if we don't like it we can do something  else."  

I pulled out my cell phone, and called the number.  

"How many people will be there" I asked, and learned they 
expected about 20. Usually, the  woman explained, there'll be 
about eight couples, three single guys, and a single woman.  
That's what the reservations were for tonight, she explained. 
Barbara, listening in, asked  "Is there room for another couple?"  

"Yes, one more." the woman's voice said. "We'd like to come," 
Barbara decided for us.  "Not so fast," was the response. First we 
had do tell about ourselves -ages, weights,  status as a couple, and 
so on. Finally, we heard "Yes, you can come." We were directed 
to  an address on the upper east side.  

A cab dropped us off at a brownstone on 48th street. It was an 
elegant private house on a  street of private houses in New York 
City - there was money here!   

I rang the buzzer, and was admitted by a woman who looked 
about 40  with all of the  positive features a woman that age can 
have. Her robe was expensive, covering a body  that was 
obviously cared for.  

"I'm Martha. My husband and I own this house. Welcome."  

I paid the money, and we walked into the living room. There was 
a tray of condoms,  glasses, and wine.   

"Make yourselves at home. You may go anywhere in the house 
except our living quarters  on the fourth floor. You're the last 
people to arrive. The only rule we have is that  everything anyone 
does has to be consenting, OK? Oh, and that you don't wear 
shoes,  and you can leave you coats here."  

We took off our coats and sensible walking shoes, and stood 
nervously in the room.  

"Let's look around" Barbara suggested.  

We walked into a den, lit by a fireplace, and saw three couples 
there. Well, there were six  people. Two, a man and a woman, 
were nude, laying merged to one another. Another  vignette had 
two men kneeling beside a woman, all were partially undressed. 
In the third  case, a man was prone, and nude. Two women were 
beside him. One was kissing him, the  other going down on him!  

Martha stepped beside us. "The woman kissing him is his wife. 
The other one is married  to that guy over there" she pointed to 
the couple wrapped up with each other. "The wife  wanted to give 
her husband something he'd remember for a long time - they had 
never  been here before either - and I think she's succeeding." We 
watched for a moment while  the man and his wife watched the 
woman going down on him stop, and move over his  erection, 
and lower herself on it.  

"Betty's the woman doing that. She loves sex with married men 
when their wives are  watching."  

My own cock was as hard as it could be. "Look around some 
more" Martha suggested.  "There are bedrooms upstairs.  

One bedroom was empty. As we passed it, a tall man left what 
had to be a bathroom,  wrapped in a towel.  

"I haven't seen you here before. I'm Martha's husband, my name's  
Frank. Welcome."  

I actually shook hands with him, introducing ourselves.  

"Have you ever been to a place like this?" he wanted to know.  

We both shook our heads no. "Are you married?"   

"Not yet," Barbara said.  

"Oh. Barbara, you're a lovely looking woman. Joe, you don't 
mind me saying that, do  you?"   

"No, I agree with you," I somehow said.  

"Come in here with me" he commanded/suggested, and we went 
into the empty bedroom  with him.  

"Joe, most times a woman is concerned if she sees her lover with 
another woman, even  here. Sometimes, men are turned on if 
they see their woman with another man - or with  themselves and 
another man, like we are, now. Could that describe you? Did you 
ever see  Barbara make love to someone else?"  

I nodded yes - my voice failed me.  

"Barbara, did you like being watched?"  

"I did!" Her voice didn't fail her.  

"Joe do you  mind. . ." Frank asked, taking Barbara's hand. I was 
speechless, shook my  head no.  

"Let me take your vest" he said, and Barbara's vest was off, 
leaving her in her dress.  

"Let's get Joe's sweater off, too" he said, and in a moment it was 
done.  

"Barbara, darling," he said, "you have a wonderful body under 
that dress. Will you show  it to me and your husband?"  

She looked at me, almost helplessly.  

"Honey, you wanted to come here. This is part of it."  

"OK."  

Her dress opened down the front. Her fingers found button after 
button after button, and  the dress turned into a robe, hanging 
from her shoulders, open, showing us her slip.  

"Oh, that's lovely" Frank said. "Barbara, I find looking at you 
very exciting. I'll bet Joe  does, too. I'll show her how excited I 
am if you'll show her, too, Joe."  

With that he released his towel. He WAS excited!   

"Show her, Joe, that it's all right to be aroused in this house, and 
if you show her, she may  feel more free, too."  

It didn't take me long to shed shirt and slacks and underwear, 
until I was sitting on the  bed, nude, next to Frank, nude, looking 
at Barbara.  

Barbara stood there, unmoving.  

Frank stood. "I think she needs some help. Let's help her, Joe. Is 
it OK if we help you,  Barbara?"  

She nodded, and in a moment we were beside her. I looked at the 
open door, and saw two  men and Martha standing there, all 
wrapped in towels.   

Martha said "We love seeing someone the first time - we won't 
interfere. Please don't  stop."  

I stood behind Barbara, and moved her dress to her shoulders, 
and she extended her arms  behind her, so I could move it down 
her arms, and off.   

My hands, and Franks,  went to her hips, and drew up her slip, 
higher, past her hips, and  as we did she raised her arms, making 
it easy for us to continue lifting it, over her head,  until it was
off.  

Bra, panties, pantyhose - all that stood between her and nudity.  

I wanted her to say "No! Stop!" At least one part of me did. The 
other part won.  

Frank, seductively, muttered "Beautiful!" and moved back to the 
bed.  

"Barbara, you're beautiful, and you'll never have a better 
audience. You do it!"  

She looked at the three people in the doorway. "You won't come 
in, will you?"  

"No, not unless you ask us to."  

She looked at me.  

Turned her back.


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