by Miasha
I brushed it off for the time being and got back to putting food and dishes away with my daughter. But I had made a mental note to keep an eye on Miss Morgan.
Chapter 3
Never Fuck Nobody Without Tellin’ Me
Tori & Kevin
It had been a little over a month since Kevin and I had our first swinging experience. And it had taken that long for us to get completely over the ordeal. Although we’d concluded that we were both all right with what we had done, neither of us was really able to shake the awkward feelings. Kevin still carried insecurities about not being able to make me orgasm. And me, well, I felt guilty.
I tried convincing myself that because it was something we both did together, it was okay. But I knew better. I knew what I was doing. I acted like it was a surprise for Kevin’s birthday. But the truth was, Ferrari and I had planned it that way.
You see, I met Ferrari online right after Kevin and I got married. It started out innocently enough. Just a couple comments on each other’s statuses and photos—nothing more, nothing less. Then one night he had confided in me via an inbox message about being in an abusive relationship. How his wife controlled him, manipulated him, and degraded him. I felt sorry for him and tried to console him. He began to grow feelings for me. Then I for him. In time, we were creating fake Facebook pages just so we could message each other every day without being caught by our spouses.
Seven months into it, I had become one of those people I used to doubt: the ones who claim to have fallen in love with a person they’ve never seen or met.
One day Ferrari proposed we finally meet up. He chose a day, time, and meeting place. I was a no-show. I had gotten cold feet. I was worried about hurting Kevin. Two months and deep sexual feelings later, I agreed to Ferrari’s master plan. He had told me that he and his wife went to a swingers club on occasion. It was his wife’s way of tormenting him, making him watch her have sex with other guys. She told him he didn’t do it for her. She needed to find a man who did. In exchange, she would let him have sex with other women. And she would taunt him for not being able to make any of the women cum. It was his flaw, she told him. And she would ask, “How could such a good looking man be so bad at making love?”
Ferrari wanted to get even with her. As for me, I wanted to have guilt-free sex with Ferrari. And since Kevin and I had jokingly talked about trying a threesome or engaging in group sex, I figured taking him to a swingers club for his birthday was the perfect gift—for both of us.
Turns out it made things even more complicated. But then, just when I felt like our complicated feelings were fading and we were getting back to normalcy, Ferrari inboxed me about an annual Christmas party being hosted by a Puss & Boots member. He wanted me to come. And I wanted to see him again. But I knew it was wrong so I tried to ignore it. I deleted the message, figuring if it were out of sight it would be out of mind. But that didn’t work because a few days later I went into the trash and retrieved it. I told myself that it would be just one more time. That as long as I stuck to Kevin and my principles and only did it together, there would be no harm.
I waited about a week after seeing the message and contemplating whether or not we should attend before I brought it up with Kevin. We were at P.F. Chang’s having dinner.
“So I got an e-mail about a Christmas party at a Puss & Boots member’s mansion,” I came right out after sipping my wonton soup.
Kevin looked up from his plate of dynamite shrimp. “Oh yeah?” he asked plainly. “Which member?” He took a bite out of one of the crispy appetizers.
“A couple named Mr. and Mrs. Oxford. Apparently they’re a big deal.”
“When is it?”
“The Saturday after Christmas.”
“You wanna go?”
“It sounds like it’s goin’ be bananas. Live shows and everything.”
He nodded his head. “We can check it out,” he said, surprising me by not needing any convincing. “But if we see that couple we go the other way, deal?”
“Definitely,” I agreed easily with my mouth, but there was anxiety in my gut.
* * *
The night of the party, Kevin and I hit Cheetah’s. It was not as entertaining as the other strip clubs in Atlanta, but it served its purpose. We got drunk and horny.
We took a cab to the address in the Christmas party e-mail. We were too inebriated to drive ourselves—and getting home, forget about it.
When we arrived at the Oxford home it was like we had pulled up in front of the Disney castle. The place was huge and lit up to holiday perfection.
We were a couple hours late—on purpose. And from the amount of cars parked on the street and in the driveway, it appeared that the place was packed. Kevin paid and tipped the cab driver and we got out. We walked up the lighted pathway to the front door. As soon as I thumbed the bell, the eight-foot doors opened up.
A security guard patted us each down and a butler type replaced our coats with plush robes. A third and fourth person checked our cell phones in and gave us a confidentiality agreement to sign. All this just to get past the grand foyer, and when we did, we entered something even the imagination would have trouble drawing up.
It was like Winter Wonderland meets Cirque du Soleil with a touch of Medieval Times. Two naked female acrobats did flips and tricks on a trampoline in the center of the two-story great room. Meanwhile, off in a corner, two buff guys were acting out a duel. Fake snow and bubbles shot out of machines strategically placed throughout the house. Music pumped through the in-wall speakers. The Weeknd’s album Trilogy, to be specific.
In the formal dining room there was a woman laid out on the table. Sushi decorated her nude body in such a way that it looked sophisticated, artistic. Between her thighs stood a fountain of spiked sweet tea. We didn’t need any more to drink, but Kevin and I helped ourselves to a cup anyway.
In the kitchen, three chefs were preparing endless trays of exotic finger foods. A couple steps down in a theater area, a live sex show was taking place. An Asian dominatrix was whipping her male counterpart with a leather strap while shoving an oversized dildo into his anal cavity.
Kevin and I peeked in and backed out of the theater. That wasn’t our thing. Around the corner, in the library, a sex therapist was selling and demonstrating sex toys and gadgets.
A woman participant was lying on her back on the floor. There were two additional women holding her thighs open. The sex therapist was sitting Indian style between the woman’s legs, passing a vibrating device over her vagina. The woman’s eyes were rolled in the back of her head. Her mouth was parted, allowing harmonious sounds to pour out. There were times she tried to get up to resist the pleasure, but another pair of women who were caressing and licking her breasts would gently hold her down. Meanwhile the audience of mostly women were watching intensely, some moaning and fingering themselves or the person next to them. It was definitely a turn-on.
Just when we thought we had seen it all, we noticed a huge white tent beyond the sliding-glass doors. We followed the rose petal–covered walkway down to the entrance of the tent. Thankfully we were given the robes. The December air was unfriendly to us warm-blooded beings.
The inside of the tent resembled a Michelangelo fresco. Dozens upon dozens of bare bodies were piled upon each other in the biggest orgy I’d ever seen. Kevin looked at me, his eyes wide, mouth open. He couldn’t believe it. Neither could I, but I was at least able to play it off.
Instantly, the walls of my vagina started to pulsate. I felt an intense need to be touched. My eyes became lasers, zeroing in on some of the lewd acts that were happening around us. I imagined myself in some of the women’s positions. I licked my lips as I watched a woman deep throat a man. Her mouth was opened real wide as she made his entire penis disappear and reappear with each suck. The man’s lips were pursed as he took short, quick breaths. Veins were popping out of pretty much every body part. His knees were slightly bent and his hands were securely planted on the woman’s head.
Kevin joined me. He came behind me, slipping his hands under my robe and up to my nipples. I could feel his erection poking me in my lower back. I was so wet by then and I wanted him inside of me. I bent over, right there in that tight space by the tent’s entrance, as he guided his dick into my hole.
“Ahhhh.” The sexual tension I had built up since the strip club was easing.
We made our way down to our knees, doing it doggy style. This way, we were closer to the action. I could reach out just a little and my hand would be resting upon a woman’s breast or a man’s dick. It was that packed in there.
A loud sigh soared over the melodious groans that provided the soundtrack for the moment. It came from a woman whose pussy was being chomped by an older woman. I want that feeling, I thought as I stared at the oral showdown.
Kevin was quick, about four minutes or so. I expected it though. So the next round would last, hopefully long enough for me to tremble. That’s when I thought about Ferrari, and it hit me that without our cell phones we wouldn’t be able to text each other our whereabouts. Maybe Kevin would get his wish after all.
When he exited me, we embraced and kissed. We were ready for more, but first we needed to wipe ourselves clean. We left the tent and headed back inside the house to the nearest bathroom.
“You can go first,” Kevin said. Gesturing at the bar, he added, “I’ll be right over there.”
The bathroom was around a tight corner. Just as I escaped Kevin’s view, I almost had a head-on collision with . . . him. We had found each other. Shit, we had found each other.
“Finally,” he said, his eyes adjusting to the fact that it was me he had almost plowed into. “I’ve been looking everywhere for—”
Before he could say another word I placed my finger over his mouth. I didn’t want Kevin or anybody else to hear chatter coming from the hallway.
We entered the bathroom letting our eyes do the talking. That awkward, powerless feeling a girl gets in front of the guy who she lost her virginity to overcame me. I had thought I’d outgrown those types of juvenile emotions, but that was the thing: Ferrari made me feel young all over again.
Inside the bathroom there was a toilet, a shower stall, and a sink. Everything was dainty, modern, slender. The color scheme was metallic silver and crystals. I watched silently as Ferrari locked the door, then I backed against the shower door, my legs parted slightly. The Weeknd’s rendition of “Dirty Diana” played in the background. I was in a dangerous position. Powerless.
Ferrari led with a kiss. Just a peck on my lips at first. He waited for me to resist. I respected that. But when I didn’t, he went for it, pushing his tongue into my mouth. I welcomed it, and in a matter of seconds we were clasped to one another, one of his hands on the back of my head, the other squeezing my butt cheek.
We had a short window of time and a lot of unfinished business. There was no sense in beating around the bush. This was our moment to get what we had been longing for. And we took it.
Ferrari picked me up and I wrapped my legs around his waist. My back was supported against the shower stall door. He wasted no time entering me. Looking me in my eyes as he thrust his lower half upward, he was mesmerizing.
I felt the tip of his penis hitting a dead end inside me. It could go no further, but with each of Ferrari’s hard thrusts, it tried. Meanwhile, I clawed away at his back, I gripped his butt, and I swung my arms around his neck—all reactions to the painful yet sensual gratification he was lending me.
I held in my yelps as best I could. He mumbled three words over and over, both of us aware enough of our surroundings that we knew to control our volume. I felt his knees buckle a little beneath my body weight and I knew it was that time.
“Don’t stop,” I whispered. “I’m almost there.” I pressed down on his butt, making sure he stayed inside me. He tried to resist; I felt him backing away. I used all the strength I had to keep him thrusting. I was so close to reaching my peak. Then, unable to take it anymore, he exploded inside me. And a second later I trembled. I wasn’t wearing a watch but I could tell that it had happened more quickly than before. Either he was getting better or our chemistry stronger.
Either way, we made use of the hundred-square-foot marble-tiled space the only way two shameful adulterers could.
Knock knock.
And it hit me, it hit us: we were in the wrong place at the wrong time. We snapped out of our golden trance and disengaged as quietly as we could. We peered at each other with the same question in mind, I figured: What do we do?
Knock knock.
“Who is it?” Ferrari asked.
I shook my head. I just knew it was Kevin checking on me. And what would he think, hearing a male voice come from the bathroom he’d just watched his wife go into? I was in deep shit. The kind that couldn’t be flushed.
“It’s Danielle,” a woman’s voice sounded through the door. “Take your time.”
I was relieved, but still on alert. It was time to go. But before I turned the lock on the door I had to know something.
“How did we let it get this far?” I whispered to him.
“We didn’t,” he answered. “It’s our destiny. Just like us bumping into each other tonight. It’s what God has planned for us. The only question we should be asking ourselves is how come we’re fighting it?”
“Goodnight, Ferrari,” I whispered, then walked out the door.
I had tunnel vision when I got out of the bathroom and at the end of it was Kevin. I needed to get to him before he came looking for me. I didn’t even notice the woman who had knocked on the door standing right outside. She didn’t let me slip past, though.
“Wow, you have a deep voice to be so beautiful.”
I snickered.
“I’m Danielle, by the way, the hostess.” She extended her delicate hand. “Welcome to my home.”
“Nice to meet you,” I replied, placing my sweaty palm in hers. “Tori.” I immediately regretted telling her my name.
Then Ferrari emerged from the bathroom with a baffled look on his face. He had to be wondering why I was still out there. I wondered that myself. I should have kept it moving.
Danielle’s lips spread wide. “Oh, that’s where that powerful voice came from.”
Ferrari shook his head.
I took the opportunity to get out of that hallway and take Kevin somewhere as far away from Danielle, Ferrari, and that section of the house as possible.
Danielle & Stewart
“Toast to a very Merry Christmas!” I clinked my champagne glass against everyone’s glasses.
“Cheers!” some said.
“Merry Christmas!” said others.
I drank the rest of my rosé gleefully. “Tonight was a good night,” I smiled. “I finally got my pussy cat eaten by the boss of all bosses.” I chuckled, glancing over at Lyssa.
She gave me the finger, which was so appropriate.
“Next time,” I told her. “Baby steps.”
Everybody let out a drunken laugh. The party was over, but a few of our close friends stayed behind to have one last drink with us. We were gathered in the rec room on the terrace level of my home. Partial nudity, disheveled hair, and smeared lipstick was all evidence of the fun we’d had that night.
“Where’s your third wheel?” I asked Lyssa.
JuJu, one of the more experienced of our group, mumbled, “I knew somebody was missing.”
“Shockingly, she went to visit some distant relatives for Christmas,” Lyssa replied, shooting a strange look at her husband. “She won’t be back until after the New Year.”
Jacob seemed a bit uncomfortable, but I was under the influence so I might have been imagining things. I decided to make a joke of it.
“Well, I’m
happy for her,” I slurred. “I’m sure she could use a break. You work the hell outta that little girl. Aren’t there some child labor laws you two should be adhering to?”
The group laughed, including Lyssa and Jacob.
“Aye, JuJu, I see you and Ferrari got yourselves ahold of the new couple . . .”
JuJu gave a confused expression, then Ferrari turned to her and mumbled, “Yeah, remember last month, at the club.” He hurriedly sought refuge in his champagne glass.
JuJu nodded, “Yeah, but how did you know about that, Danielle? We didn’t see you that night until we were getting dressed.”
“I saw Ferrari and what’s her name, Tori, come out of the bathroom together tonight.” I smiled and winked at Ferrari.
“You saw what?” JuJu asked.
Shit, I thought. I didn’t say anything. Instead, I took my glass to my lips. And even though it was empty, I threw my head back.
Ferrari stepped in. “She was coming in as I was walking out. We spoke to each other and that was that.”
JuJu didn’t believe him—it was written all over her Botoxed face. Don’t be mistaken, JuJu was beautiful. She was a retired supermodel for Christ’s sake. But like most of us, she worried about aging, and so from time to time she’d get Botox injections to keep everything pulled and tight.
“Okay, so which one was it, you two came out of the bathroom together or you came out and she went in?”
“I came out and she went in.”
JuJu looked at me. “But you said you saw them both come out together.”
I laughed. I was too unstable to be serious. But I did know how to diffuse the situation. “I don’t know what I saw. I’ve been drunk all night.”
“Anyway,” Lyssa jumped in, “why would there ever be a trust issue with a couple who swings? You’re getting everything you could possibly want without having to sneak around, so . . .”
Jacob glanced at his wife with that same uneasiness as before. But I dared not speak on it. Hell, I hadn’t yet put out the first fire I started. I just clinked my empty glass with my husband’s. Meanwhile JuJu and Ferrari sat tight-lipped. It was awkward as hell for the remainder of the night. A prelude to an ending none of us saw coming.
