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

by Jacqueline Applebee

  “That’s very thoughtful of you. I have a feeling, however, that you shell-shocked him into losing any interest in me. Further, he now knows exactly who you are and where you work. What if he says something to someone?”

  Jackson scoffed. “What business is it of the company’s how I run my sex life? Furthermore, don’t underestimate the erotic allure of shell-shock, dear.” He looked down at me and winked again as we stopped at an intersection to wait for the walk signal. I giggled and rolled my eyes. Jackson leaned down to kiss me, pulling me closer as his gentle tongue found mine. I knew the signal had changed as I heard people pass by us while we pressed closer together. Jackson’s hands slid down my body, and I wondered if we would make it to dinner at all that night or turn around and go right back up to where we came from.

  * * *

  I felt Jackson’s heat the next morning before I even opened my eyes as he reached down to kiss me. I blinked awake to find him head to toe in his charcoal suit and reached for him automatically.

  “I can’t right now baby,” he whispered with a smile, grabbing my wrists gently as I pouted. “I have to go downstairs. Later,” he added, kissing me. “I’ll be back around seven. And I look forward to fucking your wet pussy when I get here.” I whimpered and moved closer to him, nuzzling his neck along the stiff white collar of his shirt. “You can spread your legs as much as you want today for Mr. Young Stud if he calls, but make sure you’re still ready for my hard cock when I get up here to pound you hard after a long day at work.”

  I caught my breath, feeling myself get wet. Humph. Now I was horny. Or hornier, I should say. He had been right about both things the night before—that I got hot and horny in the room all day by myself and that I loved fucking in hotels. I pouted again and nestled under the covers, wanting Jackson to come back and join me.

  Reading my thoughts, he grinned as he gathered his laminated name tag and key card from the top of the dresser.

  “Bye sweetheart,” he said as he slipped his name tag over his head. “I love you.”

  “I love you too,” I said sleepily, suspending my pouting for a small smile as he waved on his way to the door.

  I rolled out of bed and decided to go to the lobby restaurant for breakfast instead of ordering room service. Emerging from the shower, I studied the contents of the closet and decided on a simple purple blouse and jeans. Once dressed, I grabbed my room key and headed down the now familiar hallway. As I rounded the corner to the elevators, I saw Seth waiting in front of them.

  I smiled. He hadn’t seen me yet.

  “Well hi there,” I said as I walked up behind him.

  He turned, and his eyes jumped as he spotted me. I saw the eagerness in his expression even as he appeared unsure what to say.

  “Hi,” he answered finally, smiling. “It’s nice to see you. Your, um, husband gave me your number so quickly the other night I didn’t have time to write it down. And I forgot it in my . . . surprise.”

  I laughed. I could imagine. Despite his nervousness, I sensed sincerity as well, and I didn’t doubt the authenticity of his story.

  “Well fortunately for us these elevators seem to be all about our getting together.”

  Seth’s breathing changed a little. I held his eyes with mine, all but pulling him to me physically as we stood several feet apart.

  “Were you headed down to the conference now?” I asked. He was wearing a suit again—pinstripes this time. I wanted to rip it off.

  “I was actually just going down to check out some of the vendor booths. Which can certainly wait,” he added hastily, then blushed.

  I stepped closer to him and reached up to touch his cheek. “You don’t have to be nervous, doll. I just want you to take me to your room and fuck me while I wait for my husband to get off work tonight. Is that okay?”

  Seth swallowed. There was silence for several seconds as I held his gaze. “Yes,” he answered finally.

  I smiled and linked arms with him as I turned in the direction I knew his room was. He fell into step immediately beside me, marching us down the hall to room 742. His key card slipped in the door. He held it open for me, and I stepped inside. He followed and fastened the dead bolt behind us.

  “Wait a minute,” he said in a low voice as he turned back to face me. “I don’t have any condoms.”

  “I do!” I said with a grin, stepping over to the bed. I pulled one from my purse and held it up in one hand as I dropped the other to the buttons of my blouse, slowly undoing the top one. Seth’s eyes dropped, and he inhaled deeply as he watched me work my way down, my fingers twisting each purple button until my blouse slipped off my shoulders and dropped to the floor. I was naked underneath.

  Seth stared at my breasts, then crossed to me in one stride and grasped them with both hands, squeezing firmly as he dropped his mouth to mine. I was surprised by the heat of the kiss as I pushed against him, feeling his erection pressing against the pinstriped fabric that covered it. I reached up and pushed the jacket away from his shoulders, and he pulled it off without breaking the kiss, dropping it carelessly to the floor. I felt him step out of his shoes as his hands found my waist, hovering there delicately until I slipped my hand between us and ran my fingers up the hardness beneath his zipper. His hands grasped my waist harder, taking my breath away as I started to undo his pants. The pressure of his fingers on my flesh made me wet—an urgent grasp coupled with a nervous hesitation to move them anywhere else. And right then, I didn’t want him to move them anywhere else. That desperate, pleading squeeze at my waist took my breath away.

  Without thinking I pushed him down onto the desk chair just like the one in our room, ignoring the bed I stood up against. I wanted full leverage. I slipped the condom on and straddled him, wasting no time taking his cock deep inside me. His eyes closed, his head went back, and his breathless grasp went to my hips. My body slapped against his as I rode him wildly, my thigh muscles already burning with the urgency coursing through me to fuck him harder, faster, more. Seth’s jaw clenched. I knew he was trying not to come, but I couldn’t stop myself from bouncing up and down on his cock, pushing him deeper into me. He finally held me in place on top of him, his breath coming in short gasps.

  “Stop,” he whispered, and I slowed down enough to force myself to do so, my legs shaking like I was about to come. Which was prophetic of them, it turned out, because Seth stood me up and laid me back on the bed, climbing on top of me but not entering me. Instead he knelt above me and rested his fingers on my clit. I was so close to coming I cried out, and he moved them in a tiny circle, looking down to watch my pussy as it responded to his touch. I knew it wouldn’t take much more, and I got louder as his pressure got harder until I came with a long yell, arching my back and grabbing the bedspread surrounding me.

  Seth shoved his cock back into me and pumped hard, grunting as he came almost immediately. I smiled at his consideration, still out of breath and feeling the burn in my thighs. Seth stood back up and smiled at me almost shyly. I sent him a grin and hoisted myself off the bed, reaching up to kiss him before locating and re-donning my panties and jeans.

  He watched me. “You’re very beautiful,” he said after a silence. I turned to him with a smile. He seemed to want to say more but stopped.

  “Thank you.”

  He smiled and looked down. “Do you guys do this kind of thing a lot?”

  I didn’t have to ask what he was talking about. “Depends on what you mean by a lot,” I laughed. “It comes up from time to time—no pun intended.”

  “Wow.” Seth said it quietly, almost under his breath.

  I slid my arms into the sleeves of my blouse and began buttoning. Seth glanced quickly at my flesh disappearing beneath the deep purple fabric. When I was done, I looked up at him. I felt a sudden flash of affection, and at the same time I felt a twinge as I observed his obvious uncertainty and hoped he hadn’t felt belittled or pressured in any way. I stepped forward to hug him, and his arms opened immediately and found their way around
me. I kissed him again and stepped back, deciding to offer some information I didn’t always offer in these encounters.

  “It’s the way our relationship works. We don’t always do the hitting on for each other like Jackson did for me this time,” I said with a quick grin, “but it’s just a part of what we do.” I paused. “Thanks for doing this. I really enjoyed it.” The words were simple, but they were sincere. I held his gaze as I said it. It was hard to know how Seth was reading the situation, but I really did feel appreciative that he had availed himself of something that to him obviously seemed strange and unfamiliar.

  He blushed and said, “Yeah, me too. It was really nice meeting you.”

  I smiled again, satisfied, and wished him a safe trip home as he followed me to the door. There was a warmth between us, and as I gave Seth a final kiss there, he seemed more at ease than I seen him thus far. I headed down the hallway back to our room.

  * * *

  “Christ I’m tired,” Jackson greeted me that evening as he strode through the door. “It’s a good thing these things only happen once a year.”

  Wrapped loosely in one of the hotel’s plush robes, I smiled and stood to give him a hug. “Why don’t you take off your clothes and let me give you a back rub?”

  “Why, how nice of you.” Jackson smiled at me. “Hey, you’re glowing a bit. Did you get banged by some young guy down the hall while I was gone today?”

  I laughed out loud at his wording. “As a matter of fact, I did.”

  “Really? I can’t wait to hear all about it.” Jackson pulled off his tie. He advanced toward me, looping the untied tie around my neck to pull me to him for a kiss. “And are you still ready for my hard cock like I told you to be this morning?” he murmured against my skin.

  “Always.”

  “Good.” Jackson’s mouth found mine, and the fire that only happened with him began to course through me. Wanting nothing but to be as close to him as I possibly could, I pressed hard against him. He responded by wrapping his arms around me, an embrace that was so much more than just the physical closeness of our bodies. I broke the kiss and moved my lips to his ear.

  “I love you,” I whispered. Jackson nudged me toward the bed, the words echoing against my own ear as he eased me out of the robe and gently laid me down, his fingers running over my skin with a fire that I knew only happened with me.

  The Twenty-Minute Rule

  By Ashley Lister

  Lisa placed a hand on the guy’s chest. Her fingers lingered there for a moment and she savored the tactile pleasure of caressing a stranger as she worked herself up and down. Unlike her husband, Larry, this man’s chest was smooth and hairless. The skin was bereft of the tight clutch of scouring-pad curls with which she was more familiar. The flesh was waxed to a gleaming, frictionless finish—as muscular as Larry’s chest—but different through a thousand subtle nuances. As her fingertips trailed across to his right nipple, she teased the hard, fat bead of flesh and smiled when he shivered. It was a moment she planned to recount in graphic and exaggerated detail when she and Larry were taking the slow drive home.

  “Twenty minutes are up,” she muttered.

  With a conciliatory smile, and only a little regret, she pulled herself from him. The thick length she had been riding slid slowly from her wetness. A delicious tremor rippled through the muscles of her pussy as their bodies started to separate. She was aware of the condom’s slippery egress from her sex and glanced down at her groin just in time to watch his sheathed cock flop, unsated, from her wetness.

  His eyes were suddenly wide. There was an expression of dismay slapped across his features. “Twenty minutes?” he repeated numbly. “What the—”

  “Twenty minutes,” Lisa said again, still smiling. “I told you before we began.” She was already standing and glancing around the dimly lit playroom for her purse and thong. The purse was easy to find. The thong was nowhere to be seen, and she dismissed it without another thought. Leaning over him, placing a leisurely kiss against his startled lips, she casually silenced his protests. “Thanks for that. It was fun.” Her fingers trailed once more over the smooth muscles of his chest, seeking out the hard nub of his erect nipple.

  And then she snatched her hand away.

  With two swift steps Lisa was out of the playroom leaving the intermingled scents of sweat and sex, and the unspent stranger, as a memory behind her. Her heart continued to pound from the rush of arousal and adrenaline.

  * * *

  Outside, the night already had a tight hold on the gardens of The Fun Palace. It was the swingers’ bar Lisa and Larry visited every first Saturday of each month and this party was as good as any other they had attended. A disco and TV room occupied the two main downstairs rooms with the TV room showing a constant stream of glamorous soft-core porn. Downstairs, in the cellars, were a dungeon and a wet-play room. Upstairs were two communal play rooms and three private rooms. On a good Saturday—and this was proving to be a very good Saturday—The Fun Palace could play host to more than two dozen couples and assorted singles.

  Lisa thought there was no better way to celebrate the weekend.

  Stepping into the chilly blackness, Lisa fumbled through her purse to find her cigarettes. She pulled out a Marlboro and then rummaged through the bag looking for a lighter that she knew would be lurking behind the condoms, lube, a mini pocket-rocket, two packs of tissues and . . .

  “Light?”

  As the question was asked a Zippo sparked in front of her eyes. A broad blue and yellow flame illuminated the darkness. Lisa took a moment to acknowledge that the voice was distinctly masculine, deep and powerful. Then she was sucking on the end of the cigarette and inhaling the noxious taste of the much-needed tobacco.

  “Thanks.”

  “Not a problem.”

  The Zippo was snapped shut. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she was treated to the first sight of him. Tall, broad and conventionally good-looking, he held the remains of a cigarette in one hand. And it looked like he was wearing women’s clothes.

  She frowned.

  He laughed.

  “My wife’s sarong,” he explained, tugging sheepishly at the fabric.

  He didn’t need to say any more. Lisa understood perfectly. The UK’s smoking laws had made it illegal for anyone to smoke inside a public building. Most smokers were complaining about the effect this had on their time in pubs and bars, and the quality of their experience in restaurants, but Lisa knew it was also having an impact on those smokers who attended swingers’ parties. The nuisance of having to go outside for a smoke—regardless of the weather or the inconvenience—had meant she occasionally borrowed Larry’s jacket to brave the cool night’s chill. The man beside her was not the first one she had seen wearing something overtly— and unflatteringly—feminine. But she thought this was the only occasion on which she had seen a man wearing a sarong. Not for the first time in her life she thought: This could only happen in The Fun Palace.

  “It suits you,” she lied.

  “Your outfit looks better,” he murmured.

  She glanced down at her naked body. She hadn’t been able to find her thong in the playroom, and had written the underwear off as a sacrifice to an otherwise wonderful night. Reflecting on that detail, Lisa realized that her used thongs were a regular offering that she made to the Gods of the swinger parties. The fact that she was naked didn’t trouble Lisa. She was justifiably proud of her figure and could see no practical reason to keep it covered up in the sanctuary of a party at The Fun Palace. Or even outside in The Fun Palace’s gardens.

  Not that they were fully outside, she allowed. The Fun Palace provided a sheltered porch for the convenience of smokers. The porch offered some covering from occasional spats of rain and was close enough to the main building so they could still hear the disco shrieks of ABBA trailing from the dance floor. If she had bothered to turn around, Lisa knew she could have stared into The Fun Palace and watched couples and singles cavorting to the music while she sto
od outside and smoked her cigarette. But, it appeared that this evening there were more interesting things to consider outside the main building rather than on the dance floor.

  The smoker’s gaze lingered over the slender strip of dark curls that rested above her mons pubis. The appreciation in his expression made her loins molten. His smile of approval glistened brightly in the darkness.

  “Your outfit looks a lot better than mine,” he murmured.

  “Why, sir!” Lisa exclaimed with mock theatricality. “I do believe you’re flirting with me.”

  “Only to try and get into your pants,” he conceded.

  She shook her head and drew on her cigarette. Holding her hands apart, exposing herself openly to him, she said, “But I’m not wearing any pants.”

  “Of course you’re not,” he agreed smoothly. He flicked his cigarette into the darkness and grinned. “How remiss of me to overlook that detail.”

  They laughed again.

  Although the night was cool, Lisa wasn’t troubled by the chill. Her bare flesh was dimpled by goosebumps but, after the sweltering heat of the playroom, it was a relief to be able to drink in the night’s sweet air and allow her body’s temperature to slowly descend.

  She savored her cigarette for a moment longer and, from the corner of her eye, she cast a sly glance at the smoker flirting with her. The sarong looked ridiculously small on his large frame. It was a pretty outfit, designed for someone delicate and petite, she guessed. And it was wrapped so tight around him she could easily discern the shape of his slowly thickening erection.

  A thrill of anticipation tickled down her spine.