SWING! Adventures in Swinging by Today's Top Erotica Writers

by Jacqueline Applebee

  We were all moving in unison: I was licking Brenda’s cunt; you were driving your cock in and out of Brenda’s mouth, sometimes rubbing it over her eyes, her nose and her mouth, letting the precum drip onto her face; Raven’s cock was plunging in and out of my ass. It felt like we were all one with each other, with the universe. My asshole tingled with the fullness of Raven’s cock, so hard and full of come inside me. I moved my hips to pull his cock deep inside my ass. It felt so good, so tight. The pressure built. I ground my body into the sand, humping against it and moaning against Brenda’s cunt. She screamed as she came, and then I joined her. Soon after I felt splashes of your cum on my neck. Raven kept pumping and pumping into me until he came hard inside my ass. The waves rolled in and soaked us, making us all break apart and sputter with laughter.

  We had such a variety of lovers, didn’t we? I wonder what happened to Raven and Brenda. I wonder if they stayed together like you and I did. Most of our friends got divorced long ago, but for you and me, it was till death do us part and even then . . . Being with others made it that much better, I think. It made us honest with one another, and it made us co-conspirators in a way, sharing our stories, our lovers.

  It’s not like we were looking for love with any of these people. We just wanted to have fun, to enjoy the moment of bodies merging together.

  There’s Betty and Bruce now, back from their adventuring. They’re on cloud nine. I guess they had fun at the swingers’ club. You remember these two don’t you, Mattie? She worked summers at my office to earn money for college. We never saw him all that much. There was that one time we all ended up at the same play though, and it was cancelled.

  Remember that dinner we had? Lots of wine. Us old folks telling them about the goings on back when we were their age. “Flower children” we were called. We told them about our arrival in Tofino, how we ran to the edge of the cliff and gathered up flowers: Indian Paintbrush, Yellow Monkey flowers, ferns and rolled in them together, feeling so young and free and lucky to be alive in that beautiful paradise.

  They snickered at that. All sleek and slim they were, wearing black, both of them. Trying to look sophisticated, I guess. They seemed happy though, smiling like the cat that ate the canary. And you seemed quite taken with Betty, if I recall. Of course they didn’t admit to us anything about their own adventures; although I sense they wanted to tell us something, just were a bit shy, I guess. Now we know their secret. About once a month, they get a babysitter for their young toddler, go off and get themselves good and screwed at that swingers’ club.

  I’m such a voyeur. I couldn’t help peaking in on one of their visits to the club, just in time to see Betty kneeling in front of some silver-haired old gent, his cock down her throat. What a heartening thing to see. And that girl knew a trick or two. I got real close. At one point the old fellow asked her if she felt a draught, well that was me, lying on the floor, getting a close up view of the action. You’d have loved seeing how tenderly and languidly she licked at his balls. You always complained to me how bad some women were at giving head. Never spent enough time on your balls, you said. Betty has some definite possibilities, my dear.

  Anyway, Betty gave that old codger a fine blow job. She licked the rim over and over, then slipped the head just a little into her mouth and let the wetness from her mouth run down his cock. When it was all nice and slick, she encircled the shaft and slid his cock in and out of her mouth, giving the old git a combination of hand and mouth. The guy had amazing stamina too and a cock very much like yours, very wide. I’m sure her mouth was tired but she was a real trooper, kept licking, sucking, stroking until he grunted out that he was about to come. Then the master stroke, she lifted her lithe young body and pressed her tits against his cock, rubbing and rubbing until he exploded all over her chest and cheeks. You could tell she was really turned on. I left at that point, but I wonder if the old guy is as good at tongue fucking as you are, my love. I doubt it. I wish Betty could experience your talented tongue on her clit.

  Bruce was nowhere to be seen. Maybe Betty went home and told him all about her adventures while he jacked off for her. Remember how it was for us, Mattie? How we’d fuck like banshees after we were with other lovers? You only had to see me on my hands and knees, taking another man’s cock from behind and you went wild with lust. Said it was the most intimate thing to be able to watch me with another lover.

  Did I ever tell you how moved I was when you sat down beside me as I was straddling that guy, James? You reached up to my face and brushed the hair out of my eyes, touched my back and smiled and then headed over to your own little party at the other end of the beach. All the time James was fucking me, I felt that hand of yours, beautiful, warming my back. Maybe it’s like that for Betty and Bruce.

  I see you’ve got a bulge there, Mattie. Must be getting horny, listening to all these reminiscences. Or maybe it’s the thought of Betty and Marjorie lying together at that club. Wonder if Betty and Bruce play games like we did? Maybe they like the sandwich game where the girls are standing up with their tits touching while the men fuck them from behind. Remember how we all tried to walk and ended up falling down? It’s a wonder we didn’t injure ourselves, isn’t it, Mattie? Ah, but we had such fun.

  You were so damn fine in your twenties, Mattie. I still remember all the Canadian girls going wild over those sky blue eyes and long blond hair of yours when we got off the bus from Seattle.

  I guess it was brave of us to plan to set up our lives together in a different country, but we’d heard good things about British Columbia. I remember our long discussions together about Vancouver, where we initially thought we’d go. Lots of guys avoiding the draft ended up in Vancouver. You had contacts there. But remember how we got to talking to that young couple on the bus? They described this place, far out west on the coast in Clayquot Sound. Even the name Clayquot was exotic to us.

  I still remember how happy we were to hear that people lived near the beach rent free. They were squatters. We were so broke. Tofino sounded like the perfect place for us. Gosh, how your dad yelled at you when you told him you wouldn’t go to war. My parents weren’t any better. They wanted me to stop seeing you. I don’t know if I ever told you that my father called you a Benedict Arnold; said you were betraying your country.

  Of course, we didn’t see it that way. And you still don’t. I’ve seen you getting all upset over this Afghanistan thing, rattling the newspaper. Not much changes in this world, eh Mattie? There will always be people fighting but luckily there will also always be people loving, and that’s us. By the looks of things, that’s Bruce and Betty too.

  I wanted to tell you about these two for a reason, Mattie. I think it’s time for you to make friends now. I’ve been gone such a long time, honey. And they’re wild like we were, Mattie. I think you’d enjoy their company. And you could tell them about us, about all our escapades, about our lovers and all the different ways we fucked. All the different places. I’m sure they’d love it. I don’t want you to be alone. It’s time to stop coming here, Mattie. Time you took up your life again.

  * * *

  Once a month Matthew MacGregor visited his wife Alexa’s grave, overlooking Radar Hill near Tofino. This time on a crisp autumn late afternoon he brought his friends, Bruce and Betty with him. They drank shots of Jack Daniels beneath the cypress and cedars and watched the sun set while he regaled them with stories about his adventures with Alexa. They helped him gather ferns and flowers to spread over her grave.

  Betty and Bruce confessed to Matthew that his stories were turning them on. Betty unbuttoned her blouse. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Matthew’s dick stiffened at the sight of her upturned pink nipples.

  Betty kneeled down on the ground and undid Matthew’s zipper. He watched her pretty golden head lean forward. As she took his cock in her mouth, Bruce unzipped his pants and stroked his hard cock over the grave. Matthew played with Betty’s firm young tits as she pressed her cunt into the soft hallowed ground. Matthew couldn’t bel
ieve what a good cock sucker she was.

  Somehow he wasn't really surprised. For the first time in years a woman had her hands on him. It felt so damn good. He reached down to touch his cock, glorying to find it so erect and hard. Bruce took his turn in her mouth while Matthew jacked himself off and watched the couple. Their passion for each other turned him on even more. Matthew’s fingers entered her cunt while she sucked Bruce. She licked Bruce’s cock for a while and then brought her lips back to Matthew’s cock. She alternated between the two men. They both screamed out as her lips, tongue and hands brought them to orgasm. Their come spilled out onto Alexa’s grave and mingled with Betty’s come. The air was full of the scent of sex. Matthew hoped Alexa could smell it and hear their moans. He hoped wherever she was, that she was watching somewhere, pleasuring right along with them all.

  The Swing Set

  By Rowan Elizabeth

  “What did you say when she ended it?”

  “I asked her if she really thought she could live her life without a woman in it. She said she could. Broke my heart,” I tell my lover of less than half a year. Don looks over from his place behind the steering wheel.

  “Which begs the question: can you live your life without a woman?” he asks.

  I’ve always known this moment would come, so I know what I want to say. “When I divorced, I decided I would be monogamous with the man I’m with.”

  “Mona, that doesn’t answer the question.”

  I sigh and do the quickest soul-search on record. “I don’t know. I really thought I could, but I don’t know.”

  We drive along the scenic highway in silence for not even a mile before he says, “How would that work?”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  He keeps his eyes on the road. “What if you did have a girlfriend again?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, until we know, why don’t you tell me more about your bisexual experiences?"

  I shift in my seat to face him, adjust my seatbelt, and tell him everything I can think of.

  * * *

  We are barely in the side door when his lips are on mine. We open our mouths and our tongues meet to skim over each other. I give in completely, as I always do. With his body pressing against mine, his hands on me, I melt to him. It’s so easy.

  He pulls back, looks at me and says, “We need to find you a girl. How do we do that?”

  “Internet,” I laugh.

  He spins me around and starts me off with a little shove. “I’ll meet you in the office.”

  “Don —”

  “Mona. Scoot.”

  Once in our makeshift office, I turn on a low lamp and the computer. I don’t know what on Earth I’m doing. I could be ruining the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

  Don comes in wearing a T-shirt and boxers. He pulls a chair up behind my office chair and sits. He pulls my long hair into a ponytail and gets it out of his way to kiss my neck. I shiver.

  “Okay,” he says. “Where do we start?”

  I spin around in my chair and face Don. He’s so handsome. His deeply lined face tells of experiences, but not of this type.

  “Honey, how do you really feel about me having sex with another woman?”

  He smiles. “Turned on.” He moves my hand to his lap. He is indeed. He has me distracted.

  I straighten up and shake my head. “No, really. I need you to know I couldn’t stand to have you be with another person.”

  “Ok.”

  “I mean it! I’m a hypocrite. Completely. I want to be with you and with a woman, but I couldn’t handle you messing with her.”

  “So, I won’t. This is your thing, honey. I’m just along for the ride. You teach me.”

  I look at him long and hard. He means what he’s saying. I just hope it holds up in action.

  I turn back to the computer and type in a popular adult connection site. It’s expensive. We check out a free adult site.

  “I think this will work. We just need to make a profile,” I say.

  Don reaches around my chair and pulls my shirt over my head.

  “This needs to go too.” He unhooks my bra, slips it down my arms and drops it to the floor. “Go ahead.”

  “We need a tag line. Something catchy.”

  “Two looking for three,” Don suggests as he caresses my breasts.

  “Or four?”

  “Four?”

  I hesitate to bring up a possibility, but then run with it. “Four. Another couple. It’s called a soft swing. The other woman and I have sex and then we each go be with our own partners. Then we all have sex in the same room.”

  He pinches my nipples, something I love. “Sounds entertaining. Two looking for three or four it is then.”

  I try to concentrate on a decent profile as Don happily plays with my breasts. I come up with a few good lines and set it loose. “Now we need a picture.”

  I turn around to Don and ask, “Are you sure you —?”

  His hands are on my face and his lips on mine, quieting me. He leans back and smiles. “Let’s get that camera of yours.”

  The bedroom is to be the setting. I slip off my pants, revealing black, lacy boy shorts and lie on the bed. Right off the bat we get a good shot with lots of cleavage and a big smile. But Don keeps going.

  “These are for us.”

  I lay back, stretch, cover and uncover for the clicks of the camera and Don’s devouring eyes.

  “You look so hot, babe,” he says. “So hot.”

  I get to my knees on the bed and crawl toward him. I look at his face and then at the significant bulge in his boxers. “Gimme that.”

  Don sets the camera on the floor and steps toward me. I run my hands up his strong legs, grasp the edge of his shorts and pull them down. I hum to myself and lean in to take him in my mouth.

  The tip of his cock is wet with pre cum and is slick against my tongue. I use my mouth to stroke his dick, my hands digging into his ass cheeks. Don sweeps my hair back so he can watch me suck him.

  “God, woman. You’re going to make me blow. Between this and the pictures . . .”

  I sit back on my heels and pull him to me. “Then fuck me.”

  I lie down and continue to pull on him until he’s between my legs. His cock presses against my wet pussy and pushes into me. He brings his mouth down to mine and we kiss furiously.

  Don works my pussy; works up into my G-spot. He sends me reeling. He keeps on like this until I think I may hyperventilate.

  “Come for me, baby,” I tell him. “Come with me.”

  “Yes!” He groans and his breath hitches through the sounds that take me over the edge.

  He kisses my eyelids, my cheeks, lips and forehead. He brushes my sweaty hair from my face. “I’m so crazy about you.”

  I kiss him back. “I know.”

  * * *

  “Anyone good?” Don asks.

  “I’ve put out some feelers and have been looking around. We’ve had some folks contact us for full swings, and you can just tell they didn’t read our profile at all.”

  We sit down and look through our responses and inquiries.

  We do this every night for a week.

  Monday, Don is taking a shower while I use the instant messenger to get in touch with some potential candidates. Nothing is tripping my trigger.

  An instant message request pops up on my screen. Couple4You wants to talk to me.

  Hi. This is Janet. Care to chat?

  I go with it. We make our introductions and, as we talk, I look up Couple4You’s profile.

  The legs in the picture are beautiful and strong. Another photo reveals a divine female form. I read on and it seems like Janet and her spouse may just be on our track.

  How about we pop into Yahoo? I ask.

  By the time Don walks into the office after his shower, I’m giggling along with Janet’s humor and seeming honesty.

  All right, I tell her. We’ll try to talk again tomorrow night.

  Bi b
i, she types.

  “Who was that?” Don asks.

  “That was Janet, with her husband, Al, on the side.” I answer. “Look at these pictures!”

  I show him long, strong legs stretched out on a bed. A smiling face framed in honey hair. A cute little girl skirt with knee highs and heels, standing on the shore. A tanned body with pale, full breasts.

  “Wow!”

  “I know!” I say. “But I’m worried I’m a bit too full-figured for her. She says she loves my pictures, but I’m worried.”

  “Honey, you’re beautiful!”

  “And bigger!” I cry. “She’s tiny and petite and I’m so . . .”

  “Curvy?”

  “I guess.”

  “I love your curves and she’s seen your picture. No surprises there.”

  I run my hand through my hair and sigh. “I think we need more pictures.”

  Don grins.

  * * *

  Janet and I instant message the next two nights. It’s light and easy and we’re looking for the same thing.

  I don’t want to have sex with another man, just Al, she says. But I would love to play around with you.

  I want a full-on girlfriend. Kissing, touching, going down on each other. Are you up for that? I ask.

  Oh, yeah!

  We start a photo share, and she sends pictures of her fabulous little body. I get my courage up and send the latest shots—me in a corset and fishnets. My ample breasts are pushed up and my full thighs are separated to balance on the bed.

  Wow! You are gorgeous, Janet says.

  Awww . . .

  Really. You’ve got a great body. Aren’t I going to be too small for you to enjoy?

  Are you crazy? Your body is perfect! Aren’t I going to be too big for you?

  Then it clicks. Just like every woman, we’re both insecure about our bodies. I start laughing and type: This is silly. We’re both attracted to each other. Let’s enjoy it.