Billionaire: Menage: Swinger: Let's Swing (MMF Bisexual Romance) (New Adult Contemporary Short Stories)

by Piquette Fontaine

  I turned back around to face my lover, and slowly allowed my body to sink down, down, down, crouching onto the floor of the shower, and allowing my face to become eye level with his crotch. Then I extended a hand for him, wrapping my fingers around him, and proceeding to work the skin of his shaft. I pulled it gingerly up, up, up along him, yanking it up to his engorged tip, and then gradually pushed it back down, down, down, holding the skin taut at his base, and allowing the sensations to mount.

  He sighed, then, as I released him, letting the skin settle into place once again, and I began to stroke him more rhythmically. I pushed and pumped and worked my wrist along his erection, wanking him steadily beneath the trickling spray of the shower, and all the while savoring the fact of him growing larger and stiffer in the shifting confines of my grip.

  When at last he seemed adequately hot and bothered for it, I peered up at him with innocent eyes, licking my lips seductively, and parting my jaws. Then I slowly, slowly, slowly pushed my face forward, allowing my lips to melt around the immensity of his cock, downing him whole, inch by inch by inch of his sheer immensity hooking deep into my windpipe, his tip at last touching down against the very back of my throat.

  And when at last my skull was pressed up against his pelvis, I felt a shiver run through his body from head to toe, and the effect was one that turned me on like you wouldn't believe. I began, very slowly, to suck him off, peeling my lips back along him, pulling, pulling, pulling up to his tip, and building up an immense, dreadful suction. Then I snapped my lips off of him, the suction dissipating in a cool blast, and pushed back down, slurping him up yet again, and slowly nodding my head into a steady, agonizing rhythm of torment.

  I put my hands on his ass for support as I continued to suck and to bob up against his body, and I loved feeling his buttocks clench with pleasure as I progressed in my efforts, savoring how greatly I was tormenting him with my love, and wondering all the while how I might go about escalating the degree of my sweet cruelty.

  Then, after so long of nodding in this way, I decided to do something I'd never really attempted before. I ceased the bobbing of my head, the continually jousting against the back of my throat, and instead I consumed him wholly, deep-throating him in the most genuine of senses, pushing my lips all the way up to his pubes and then holding myself there.

  Adam moaned with sheer contentment at this point, and I felt closer, more intimate than ever as I remained for some time with my face buried in his flesh in this manner, my eyes closed and my tongue rolling along his shaft as I struggled not to gag on his sheer size and immensity.

  “Ohhhhhhh, Godddddd,” he moaned, as I continued to lick him and to choke on his hugeness, and after so long of this, a good five or ten minutes of me just swallowing him, in essence, I pulled back away, regurgitating his fact cock, and loving the fact of it being so thoroughly coated in my fluids.

  From here, I turned around, smiling up at him as I spun my face in the opposite direction, and bent my body over, splaying myself out for him, my body trembling but ready to be taken and pounded like there was no damn tomorrow.

  Accordingly, then, my gorgeous husband mounted and fucked me good, sliding his huge wang up my pussy and drilling into my body like a machine. I would never, ever, ever get tired of this, I knew, as he smashed me forward toward the faucet of the tub, practically knocking me over with each devastating thrust, and at last heaving inside with a final, deadly blow, and ejaculating into my body.

  At last, when I thought I could handle no more, my beautiful husband pulled out of me, picking me up, and wrapping me up in his arms.

  God almighty, what a beautiful start to the day, and the pleasures I would experience were only beginning to unfold...

  Chapter 2

  At this point in the day, and in the vacation itself, for that matter, I was so sexed up and filled with happy chemicals, both the dopamine of being screwed so often and the less natural traces of alcohol in my system, that I more or less went about at my husband's side in a daze. I really felt as though I had no earthly notion as to the itinerary, remembering what it was we were doing only just before arriving at our destination each time.

  We had one of the best lunches of the entire stay later on that morning, everything cooked to perfection, leaving no doubt in my mind whatsoever, if, somehow, there had still been any possible doubt to clear away, that the two of us were vacationing in the warm, inviting lap of luxury.

  Then, that afternoon, our destination was a couple's massage, an act which I anticipated as seeming sensual and intimate, but whose true extent I would not genuinely discern until the massage itself had begun to get underway.

  The scene, even initially, had the same sort of taboo eroticism about it that being in the steam room together had possessed. You know, my husband and I, both ass naked in a public place, a scant little towel wrapped around his wang and my pussy while strangers poked and prodded at every other visible inch of our bodies. I pictured him, getting a hard-on as his masseuse kneaded up the flesh of his back, the grinding of his penis uncomfortably against the table beneath his weight with him having no means of releasing himself all throughout the course of events, until afterward he was so pent up with sexual frustration that he would have to give me the pounding of a lifetime to relieve himself.

  And then it occurred to me that I should be prepared for this eventuality in the event that things did go south (wink, wink) in this manner, and I began to perform Kegel exercises as I laid there on the massage table, readying my pussy, getting it nice and tight and strong in order to best please him once he slid inside me.

  And that was when I saw the two masseuses walk through the door, and my eyes went wide as sin with equal parts terror and sheer, splendid delight.

  Who should it be, of all the people on this damn island, but the man I mentioned earlier on having an almost devastating crush on, the man I'd been eyeballing nearly every time I came across him, his dark brown skin and his penetrating eyes, all wrapped up in a white masseuse uniform that stood out with blazing contrast against his smooth, deep flesh. At his side, then, was a female beauty of a similar skin tone, her face like that of a model's and her petite body clearly exquisite beneath her own cotton uniform. They were, quite clearly, physical counterparts to my husband and I in so many ways, with the contrast in our skin tones creating such beautiful and lurid fantasies in my mind that I could barely even stand it.

  I could feel myself, as the man I had secret and very sexual feelings for sauntered up to my table, getting very, very wet down below, so much so that it was becoming uncomfortable, and I decided right then and there that I was either the luckiest woman alive, or that I would not possibly survive this massage intact.

  I held my breath, bracing myself in anticipation, and before I knew it the man's hands were upon me, pressing into me, and touching me in ways that would have been considered almost perversely intimate in any other circumstances. I was, quite honestly, swooning for this beautiful bastard, my eyelids fluttering dreadfully as his fingers crept along my quivering spine, and his touch affecting me on so many different levels that I could hardly stand it.

  I looked over, then, and saw my husband being kneaded up by his own kinky vixen, her slight body heaving with effort as she swept along his body, pushing into him, so that I began to imagine his theoretical boner from before, and almost felt sorry for him as his cock was forced deeper, harder into the massage table.

  But, for the time being, I knew I had more immediate issues to concern me, as just now my own sexpot of a masseuse was pouring massage oil all over my back, drenching me with the slick, greasy stuff, and working my skin up so thoroughly that I thought I might die with desire for him. He swept over every soft inch of wet terrain, his touch precise and clearly expert, dissolving me repeatedly in his grip and then building me back up again, devastating me as he worked through my flesh, and all the while causing me to crave more, more, more from this man.

  Then, God help me, I felt his palm press
firmly up against the small of my back, shooting pangs of ecstasy flowing through my body, and an embarrassingly loud moan of pleasure pouring from my trembling lips.

  I was a goner, an absolute, complete goner, and at this point, I simply didn't care anymore. I surrendered to his every last brutally delicate touch, closing my eyes, and allowing myself to be swept away. I fantasized about turning over, and kissing the beautiful man on the lips right there on the spot, my body so hot, so aroused for him that I would have done any damn thing in the world on his behalf, and the fact that I was trapped by social propriety into laying still and motionless beneath him like this a form of bizarrely erotic torture in its own right.

  He was just so good, so damn good, and at some point I must have fallen asleep beneath his touch, passing out in my pleasure and my suppressed inability to get what I really wanted from him, and the pleasure I felt as I was swept through that daze of a very perverse breed.

  I have no idea how long I was out, blackness overpowering me indefinitely (in more ways than one, really,) but when I at last came to, it was at the sound of his voice, low, deep, and thunderous in my ear, and the words taking a moment for me to comprehend.

  “Alright, that's the end of the massage I'm afraid. I hope you two are enjoying your stay here.”

  “Oh, uh... Yes, yes we are, very much so,” said my husband, smiling, and I almost begrudged his presence for preventing me from flirting with my absolute sexpot of a masseuse.

  But then silence ensued for a moment, and what was spoken next went a very long way in turning the situation around in a manner that was quite unexpected.

  “You know...” said my masseuse, clearly choosing his words very carefully, seeming to think himself on thin ice, and hoping to entice rather than offend. “Maybe I shouldn't be asking you two this... Or, hell, I know I shouldn't be, for that matter. But my partner and I, we've seen you around the island for a few days now... You seem like a pretty cool couple, and like you might be the sort of people who like to have a little fun now and then. I really, really hope you don't get offended by me asking this, and I'll completely shut up about it if you do... But, uh... Have you guys ever thought about... Mixing things up a little bit? You know... Swinging?...”

  My jaw, at this point, just about hit the damn ground.

  My mind was spinning, and I thought for certain that I must be dreaming up all of this, fantasizing what I wanted to hear, and my confusion so great that I had to pinch myself in order to ensure that it was all really happening. But then I felt the pain, and realized that this was, in fact, real life, and I was now left panicking, not knowing what the hell I should say or do, and realizing that what I'd been so desperately yearning for now lay at my feet, but that I had no idea whether or not I would be able to claim it. I felt as though I should say something, should voice some opinion on the matter either way, whether a voice of dissent or a willingness to participate, but the words felt utterly trapped in my throat, and I knew, much to my anxiety, that the ultimate vote would end up falling upon my husband to decide.

  Then I looked over at Adam, still stunned, and not sure what the hell I could possibly hope to find written across his face.

  And then, something very, very warm descended across me, causing me to shiver from tit to toe, as I spied the perverse, seductive smile spread wide across my husband's kissable lips.

  Holy hell...

  It was, quite apparently, as easy as that, and the next thing I knew, Adam and I were being whisked back to their room, in the center of which sat two king-sized beds, simply waiting for the four of us to defile them- apparently, the couple engaged in this sort of activity on a fairly routine basis...

  My mind was seriously dizzy with the fact of this all happening so very quickly, and I wasn't sure I wholly believed the apparent reality of it as Adam and I were brought over to our respective beds, and with our respectively swapped partners.

  I was brought back to reality to some extent, however, by the sudden placing of the man's lips on my own- Michael was his name, by the way, and Ashley was the name of his girlfriend. His lips tasted absolutely sumptuous from the very first nibble, waves of delectable sensation filling me up, and almost forcing me to accept the absurdity of this beautiful transition. His breath, his saliva, were warm and comforting, slowly working down the levels of my inhibitions as his lips slid all over me, his tongue poking into my cheeks, sloshing around and around, and causing me to fight back playfully with my own, the two of us French kissing like young lovers as he laid me down across the bed, and blanketed his warm weight down on top of me.

  There were so many damn things I should have been worried about right now, so many things to consider and so many issues to be concerned with. I mean, Adam and I had had no means of discussing this arrangement at all at the point of being asked to join these two in their bedroom, and although we'd both seemed to agree to the idea with a considerable level of enthusiasm, I wondered if this was something he was really okay with, or if it had simply been a matter of the two of us consenting in a hurry on the spot. And, for that matter, I didn't know myself how I felt about the idea of him fucking another woman, much less right beside me, and although I savored the prospect of being plowed mercilessly by Michael, I couldn't help but fear a sense of jealousy beginning to crop up between the two of us by the time all was said and done.

  But then, as Michael slid his mouth to my throat and hungrily sank his teeth into my neck, I looked over beneath his weight and caught a brief glance of Adam and Ashley over on the adjacent bed. The two of them were seriously going at one another, moaning and grunting and their shirts already off, Adam bare chested and the straps of Ashley's black bra beginning to slide down along her dark shoulders. She was on top of him, dry humping him as they made out wildly, her ass beginning to peek out from the white fabric of her pants in the skimpy black g-string of a thong, and his hands sliding all over that beautiful vixen, groping her from tit to toe with the greatest of enthusiasm.

  And as real as my initial inhibitions may have been about the matter, I found suddenly that I couldn't help but be turned on by this sexual swap, the two of us indulging in a taboo bout of sheer, splendid passion, and I turned accordingly back to Michael on top of me, in order to enjoy this sweet sexual experience for all that it was worth.

  For my part, there was something almost magical about kissing someone for the first time again, as Adam and I had been married for several years at this point, and I hadn't really anticipating ever again having this sort of opportunity. It was, suffice it to say, a beautiful thing, and I craved being consumed by this man as his lips dissolved over every inch of me, and his hands began to creep over every warm, soft swath of flesh.

  My eyes went wide as I watched him lean up off of me, arching his spine back and peeling out of his sweat-soaked shirt, his broad black chest an incredible sight to behold as I gawked up at him on top of me, and the desire to be utterly taken by this man causing my loins to burn hotter and wetter than I could recall them having done in some considerable amount of time.

  And now, God help me, he was peeling me out of my clothes, sweeping off every damn scrap of fabric from my anatomy, piece by piece of the stuff dissolving from my form, and being cast from the bed until I was down to nothing but my underwear. I savored with awe the feeling of my bra being swept down along my arms, the cups slid from my tits and my nipples at last exposed, erect and sensitized in preparation for him, every ounce of my flesh prepared to be positively devastated by his touch.

  He reached up, seizing my breasts in his large dark hands and squeezing them tightly, clamping on for dear life, pinching on the nipples and causing me to cry out with passion. He began to knead the two warm mammaries up beneath his grip, and as he did so he leaned in, planting his lips on the side of my neck, kissing me softly and sweetly, so that my eyes fluttered shut, and a warm chill came running down along my spine.

  Then, if that degree of sweet, beautiful torture hadn't been enough, now he was letting h
is lips slide down onto me, pressing them up against each of my tits, and his teeth sinking into me, his tongue rolling hotly around the perimeter of each nipple, and causing me to swell like a damn balloon with sensation. I moaned, and squirmed, and reeled with sheer pleasure beneath him, and all the while savored the feeling of his hot, stiff cock pressing up against me through the fabric of his cotton pants, a cock which seemed absolutely tremendous as it swept across my flesh, and which I simply couldn't wait to have inside me...

  And then, God help me, I could feel his fingers creeping up along my thighs, slipping beneath the fabric of my panties, and proceeding to tug them down, down, down along my body. The cool air blasted against my overheated loins in such a manner that I didn't know what the hell I should do to contain myself, but at any rate he was now pressing up against my thighs, pushing them apart, and spreading me so severely that I couldn't stand it. I braced myself, holding my breath, counting down the seconds as I felt his face lower into me, sinking, sinking, sinking down, and at last causing my eyes to spring wide.

  Sensations coursed through my trembling anatomy, as his mouth conformed with my cunt and his lips aligned with those of my twat, his tongue slipping through me, and rolling around down there with such grace that it was almost dizzying. As tremendous as were my own husband's oral skills, they nearly paled in comparison with what this glorious sexpot of a man could offer me, as he poked and pushed and slurped through my vagina with the greatest of enthusiasm, each nod and bob of his neck seeming more skilled than the last, and my body beginning to react accordingly to his efforts.

  My legs began to close around his working head as he ate me, locking him up against my body like a vice, and pulling him in, in, into myself, my flesh quivering as I buried him in my muff, and lights seeming to flash before my eyes as I positively collapsed with pleasure. Moaning vehemently, now, it occurred to me suddenly that the bed beside me was absent of any sort of feminine cries of pleasure, and, curious, I looked over to see what the two of them were up to.