She reached down, and took him in her hand. Held his shaft so that it stood upright, clear of his body. Raised herself over him so that the head nestled between her labia, making short sliding movements across her clit before sliding deeper, pressing against her opening, slipping inside so that she bore down on it, taking him deep.
As she pushed down, he rocked back and then the tension in his thighs pushed him back up against her, a novel kind of double-thrust. Within a couple of movements they found the rhythm of that double-thrust and she started to ride him hard.
Just then she heard a voice and she looked around.
For a time then she’d forgotten about their audience, but they were still gathered around. That first woman – Sandy – stood with Jorge’s arms wrapped round her from behind. One of his hands was on a breast, the other down inside her skirt, moving steadily. Others... there were hands and mouths everywhere. Exposed flesh. The lace of lingerie. All moving with a slow, writhing grind.
A hand on her ass brought her focus back. Another. Parting her cheeks. A tongue sliding down the crack... Held still while she thrust up and down on Sylvester’s dick, that tongue slid between her cheeks, pressed briefly against her dark opening, slid down to her perineum, and then slid up again.
She looked back and saw a riot of copper hair.
Julie.
Shy, prim and proper Julie, down there with her tongue working Selena’s ass!
And Martin...
He leaned in from one side, took Selena’s face in his hands and kissed her deep.
His mouth tasted of Julie and that was such a turn-on!
She pulled away, turned to Sylvester and kissed him.
The position was so hard to take for long! The muscles in her thighs and calves were stabbing with pain.
She placed a hand on Sylvester’s chest, and pushed him back. He unfolded his legs so he could lie back on the rug. Somehow Selena managed to keep him deep inside her, twisting and grinding against him, working the hardness of his pubic bone against her clit, a pressure that took her right to the edge almost immediately.
Behind her, Julie’s tongue found Selena’s ass again, flicked at the opening and then pressed.
As it slid inside, Selena suddenly felt herself being filled up and that was the sensation that took her over that edge. Everything tightened as orgasm took her. Julie’s tongue slipped out and started to flick at the opening again as wave after wave of tightenings stole through Selena’s body.
Exhausted, she slumped against Sylvester, suddenly incredibly sensitive to the pulsing of his dick inside her. She pushed down, squeezed, held still, and there was another throb deep inside her, then a blossoming of wet heat.
He thrust up hard against her, lifting her off the ground as more wetness filled her.
Again, and then he was spent, and they came to lie in a wet heap, his long arms around her, holding her tight.
Some time later, Selena turned her head and looked back to see Martin on his knees, still watching while Julie worked him with her hand.
“Fuck him,” Selena groaned to her friend. “Fuck him like he’s never been fucked before. But just let us watch, okay?”
§
Much later, there were only a few people left.
Selena lay sandwiched between Martin and Julie. So much skin-to-skin contact – that, in itself, was a novel, unexpected sensation. She must have drifted, because now she had a sense of suddenly becoming aware, hearing voices and realizing there were still other people here.
She recognized one of the voices from earlier, and that startled her awake more than anything.
Peering across, she recognized the guy who had come to the door complaining. Costas something or other. How had he got in?
But at least he didn’t seem to have anything to complain about now: he sat with his back against the wall, Sandy wrapped in one of his arms, the two of them naked and clearly spent.
When she caught his eye he nodded, then smiled and it was a look that transformed his face. Maybe he’d been nervous, too, when he’d called earlier. Had he known what was going on, and been looking for a way in? Or had things just progressed from that initial confrontation?
Selena smiled back at him.
§
Later still, they sat around the bar. Selena, Martin, Julie, Costas, Sandy and Jorge.
“I meant what I said,” Costas told Selena. “You can’t be opening up this place again. Place used to be a bit of a dive, you know? Picked up a bad reputation. People round here have long memories. You want to keep doing this you got to be discreet.”
Keep doing this...
Selena glanced at Martin. She hadn’t really thought beyond this night. Hadn’t given any thought to whether they would do this again.
“We don’t have any plans,” Martin said.
“You start having too many wild parties and people are going to complain,” said Costas. “You need to be a bit more organized, is what I’m saying. Maybe start a club.”
“What, you mean like a business?” asked Selena.
Costas shook his head. “No, no,” he said. “A leisure club. Hell, you got the premises and you’ve got a pretty damned good clientele already. A private members’ club. Get someone to check out the legal situation. Get yourself protected. Do it right.”
Again, Selena glanced at Martin. This was moving so quickly... She raised an eyebrow and he smiled, nodded. He was doing that thing again, reading her like a book. Sometimes he understood her even before she did.
“So tell me,” said Selena, “how, exactly, would we go about setting up a club for swingers? What would you recommend we do?”
It was an innocent question. It didn’t mean they were committed to anything.
No really, it didn’t.
The Swingers’ Club
The room is beautiful, every element carefully selected to recreate a certain historical elegance. The walls are paneled in dark wood, the furniture is opulently upholstered – the Queen Anne seat at the dresser, the Rococo chaise longue by the window, the Ottoman covered in plush blood-red velvet at the foot of the bed.
The bed... an Elizabethan four poster, the frame made from thick, dark wood, intricately fluted and carved with arabesques. The tied-back canopy is of a light Egyptian cotton, with a tasseled red velvet pelmet. A heavy iron loop – the sort to which you might tie a boat or a horse – is bolted to each post.
From each loop a short chain runs, terminating in a smaller loop.
The chains are stretched taut.
Silk scarves are tied to each of these smaller loops, and also tied to the ankles and wrists of the naked man.
He lies there on his back, limbs spread like a starfish. His body is slender, wiry even. His belly is flat, covered with a sparse layer of body hair which spreads up to his chest and across his pecs. His dick lies limp, shriveled like a dried fruit, and nestling in a thickening of that hair. His features are well defined: a square jaw, an aquiline nose; sharp blue eyes. His hair is black, turning to silver at the temples.
“Tell me,” he says now. “Tell me all about it. I need to know.”
Sun slants in through the leaded windows. It’s a beautiful day.
§
She sits on the chaise, one leg tucked up beneath her, the sunlight glancing off her slender body. She has full breasts, strong shoulders, honey blonde hair and vividly green eyes. She is easily twenty years his junior.
“You really want to know?”
He nods. The expertly-tied silk scarves hold him secure, but there is an extra tension in his body now.
“You want to know where I went, and who I was with?”
He nods again.
She stands, and walks slowly across the room, enjoying the way his eyes explore her nakedness. She takes her time, gives her walk that extra wiggle he likes. Finally, she comes to stand beside the bed, legs slightly apart so that now when his eyes roam down her body to that narrow strip of hair, and down, he can see the slit of her sex, the parting of her labia.
/>
“I’m still wet from them,” she says. “Are you sure you want to know?”
As she speaks, that dried fruit begins to fill. What had been a small, withered shaft is now filling out, loose skin becoming tight. As his dick grows longer, pushing down across his ball sac, the foreskin eases back to reveal the glans, deep pink becoming purple.
Longer, it flops sideways now in a succession of animal twitches.
“Isn’t it enough just to know that I had a good time, without knowing the details?” she asks, coming to kneel on the bed beside him, and watching closely as he continues to grow. “Do you need to know how many dicks filled me? What it felt like to be fucked in every hole?”
“Tell me.”
With another twitch, his dick springs up so that it lies sideways across his hip.
She reaches down and runs a red fingernail across his belly, and he arches his back in response.
Another twitch and his dick stands upright against his belly.
“I love your cock,” she tells him. “I love its size and its proportions. I love the smoothness of the skin and the way it feels.”
The flat of her hand, pressing down on the hardness of his shaft.
“I love the way it responds.”
She wraps her fingers around him, and pulls, so that the skin slides smoothly against the hard inner core. Drawing him upright, a clear bead of pre-come slips out.
“But you need more than just me, don’t you?” he says. “Tell me. Tell me about all those dicks.”
§
Christina Winters had it all. Not even 25 until later this year, she had a flourishing career as an interior designer with a number of glossy magazine spreads to her name; she had the sweetest, most caring husband, who also just happened to be exceedingly wealthy and liked little better than indulging her in whatever way she liked; she was well-traveled, ate in the finest restaurants, had wonderful friends. She really shouldn’t want for anything.
But one thing drew her... one thing she had admitted late one night in bed with her husband Adam. “It’s hard to explain,” she said, in answer to his probing about her unsettled state of mind. “I’ve seen and done so much. I’ve traveled to countries I didn’t even know existed. I have a wonderful life with you, Adam, I really do. But there’s still... still things I haven’t done.”
He got it immediately. “You’ve seen the world,” he said, running a finger along the line of her jaw. “But you don’t feel like a woman of the world.”
She looked up to meet those blue eyes and gave a little nod.
“I’ve had a life,” he said, and it sounded like he was ninety, not the forty-eight that he was. “I’ve had two wives, and God knows how many lovers. I’ve partied and explored.”
He let it lie there, not adding the obvious conclusion: And you haven’t.
“You should do it,” he said, after a time. “What are the things you’d like to do? You should go out there and explore.”
For a moment she hesitated, suddenly unsure that they were talking about the same thing. “I’m not talking about flower-arranging,” she said.
He smiled, and ran that finger along her jaw again. “Neither am I,” he said. The finger ran down her neck, across her collarbone and down to the swell of her breasts. Further on down until it reached the hard stub of a nipple.
She pushed the sheets away, knowing how much he liked to look at her naked body. And when she glanced down, he was growing hard again.
“Really? You think I should?”
He nodded. “As long as you tell me all about it.”
§
And so, last night she had gone to a place she had heard about.
“It’s in a quiet suburb,” her friend Julie had told her. “Very discreet. They don’t want to upset the neighbors.”
It was a town-house, set back from a wide street. The grass was neatly trimmed and a pine tree cast shade over the front porch.
As Christina raised a hand to press the buzzer she was convinced she had come to the wrong place.
The door was opened by a guy in his mid-thirties, with tousled dark hair, black silk shirt and jeans, bare feet.
“I...”
“First time?” said the guy. “You called, right? Spoke to Selena. Come in, come in. Can I get you a drink?”
He stepped back and she entered, and suddenly it felt like a huge thing. Making that call had been nothing; coming here was no commitment. Even ringing the doorbell. Up until then, there had been nothing to prevent her turning around and walking away. But stepping inside...
The guy – “I’m Martin. Here, through this way” – showed her into a front room that had been converted into a bar, and that was when Christina got all the confirmation she needed that she had come to the right place.
There were people here. A guy in jeans and a t-shirt. A girl in a little black skirt and camisole top. A thirty-something woman with cropped auburn hair and a stunning hour-glass figure stuffed into a black corset, thong and hold-ups combination.
Christina did a double-take, and when her eyes just wouldn’t move on, the woman smiled and stood up from her bar stool. “Hi,” she said. “I’m Selena.” She tucked a hand into Martin’s arm and leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. “It’s okay: like I said on the phone, we don’t use names here if you don’t want to.”
Then she stepped forward and kissed Christina on the mouth.
Christina had never kissed a woman before, not like this. Not with that softness of the lips, the way they parted just a little and a the tip of a tongue slipped out and danced across her own lips. Not the way their bodies just naturally came to press against each other so that Christina could feel Selena’s breasts squashed against her. Not the way she didn’t know what to do with her hands and so they just naturally came to rest on Selena’s hips, just where the corset ended so that her hands were on bare skin, and just had to slide down across that silky smoothness, slide around to the back to cup Selena’s tight ass...
She pulled away, heart racing, breathing gone mad.
“I...”
Selena stepped away, laughing. “It’s okay,” she said. “We can take it as slow as you like. Fancy a guided tour?”
And so Christina found herself following Selena through that bar-room, her fingers hooked in her host’s, and her eyes flitting from Selena’s buttocks as she walked to glancing around at the people here. The couple in the corner: a young blonde wearing only a white thong, sitting in the lap of an older guy, kissing him hungrily as one of his hands cupped her ass and the other massaged a breast, working her hard nipple between finger and thumb. The red-headed woman lying back in a heap of cushions on a plush sofa, a skinny black guy kneeling before her, his head buried between her legs. It was like a painting: the harsh contrast of dark skin and pale, that splash of fiery red hair...
“Come on: through here.”
She allowed Selena to tug her through a set of double doors and into another room where the light was low and every surface appeared to be cushioned, even the floor they stood on. And all around: naked, tangled flesh.
Still holding onto Christina’s fingers, Selena turned so that the two stood face to face. “So tell me,” she said, “What is it that you want? What would you really like?”
§
Christina stepped forward, put her hand to Selena’s face and kissed her. There was a pressing of soft lips, and then she slipped her tongue into Selena’s mouth and suddenly they were kissing hungrily. Her fingers slipped round to the back of her hostess’s head, through that close-cropped hair, holding her in place. Her other hand moved to Selena’s back and pulled her in close, so that they stood with thighs pressing between thighs, hard muscle against mounds, grinding against clits.
Christina rolled her hips, working that sensation, and Selena pulled her head back and gasped.
Christina had dressed conservatively in a simple white skirt and a silk blouse. Now, Selena pulled at Christina’s clothes, finding buttons and zips, peeling that t
hin fabric away until Christina stood in only a lace push-up bra and a tiny white thong.
And all the time Selena was stripping her, Christina’s eyes explored this darkened room.
A blindfolded woman lay back, her wrists secured to loops in the floor, a guy over her, thrusting himself into her mouth. He was so long! How did she do that? How did she take him whole like that without choking? Lower down, her legs were over another guy’s shoulder as he thrust into her with long, slow movements as if he was savoring every sensation.
She was so wet already. That visual, the thought of two dicks filling her... and Selena’s hands pulling at her clothes, her fingers brushing against Christina’s skin. Such a turn-on!
She drew Selena into another kiss, her blouse hanging loose so she could savor the feel of this gorgeous, exotic woman against her: that mix of bare flesh, the silk and lace of her lingerie and the hard ribbing of that corset.
Across the room, another random visual: a woman hard up against the wall, her face squashed against the plaster. A guy holding her wrists up high, his pants around his ankles. His butt was so tight! You could tell by the strength of those thrusts that he was some kind of athlete. Christina craned to see, curious and incredibly aroused at the sight and the thought of what he was doing, where he was fucking her.
“You like it in the ass?” asked Selena, and Christina felt like a young virgin, a whole world of untried sex right here for her.
The sudden release of her bra, and Selena pulled it clear, then lowered her head, hands cupping breasts, squashing them against her face. When Selena moved her head across so she could take a nipple between her teeth and flick it with the tip of her tongue, Christina feared her legs were going to give way beneath her. She staggered back until she felt the hardness of the wall against her back, and then she was able to keep balance and hold Selena’s head there with nothing to distract her from the sensations of hard teeth, firm tongue, wet heat...
And now, that guy who had been thrusting himself into the woman’s face had pulled back, holding himself over her, his weight on one hand and his dick in the other. Working that long shaft with fast, jerky movements through a tight fist, it was clear he wouldn’t last long and it was as if everyone in the room paused to watch. Even Selena pulled away, and turned her head to watch.
The Swingers' Club Boxed Set: All eight cuckoldry and swinging stories in one volume Page 5
