She sucked on her olive.
“Fuck!” Dawson said, softening the expletive with laughter. He was a gracious loser, even a jolly one.
Livia reached across the board and touched his hand. “Don’t despair. I haven’t finished you off yet.”
“Ha—yet is right. I think we both know where this game is headed. Anyway, I’m not despairing. I’m admiring.”
“Thank you,” said Livia.
Daw took a swig of his drink. “You’re a top-notch player. Too pro for these ’burbs.”
“Thank you again, Dawson.”
“And, in a little while, I’m going to lick your pussy till you scream.”
“Thank you, um . . . in advance?”
“I love having friends over,” Clement said to Gail.
She petted his chest, tentatively but purposefully. “You’re a good host.”
He had a clean, minty kiss. Gail remembered hearing him brush his teeth after they’d eaten.
“You’re a good guest,” Clement answered, mouth to mouth.
A luscious giggle from the vicinity of the chess game distracted them. Beneath the intellectual contest on the coffee table, Dawson and Livia were evidently playing a parallel game of footsie.
“Checkmate,” said the giggly voice.
“Um-hmm,” Dawson growled agreeably.
Clement’s deft fingers were caressing Gail’s right breast now, through the delicate interface of her silk top. She fumbled with her own buttons to clear the way for him.
“Do you wanna play chess with me?” he asked.
“Not if it means losing that hand from inside my blouse.”
He kissed her again, more passionately this time, burning through the toothpaste. Out of the corner of one languidly open eye, Gail saw Livia brush the remaining chess pieces to one side. She sat at the edge of the board for Daw, holding her peasant skirt up at the knees as if she were about to go wading or stomp some grapes. Daw unzipped his jeans, then grasped Liv by her feet. He began kissing her cherry-painted toenails.
Gail moved a hand into her own crotch. An instant later, Clement’s hand met hers there.
That hand felt good. The man had finesse; and, in order to take full advantage of his light touch, Gail removed her own hand and just let herself go, grinding against Clement’s palm.
Clement moved his face down to the level of Gail’s nipples, and while he suckled her, she turned her head to get a better view of the other couple. She saw that Livia’s feet were trembling as Dawson fondled her ankles.
Need had been building in Gail’s miniskirt all evening. As Clement made a furrow in her panties and titillated the periphery of her clit, crimson sparks were already beginning to flash in her head.
“You’re going to make me come,” she panted, and Clement chuckled seductively.
“I know.”
These two words—and his direct pressure on her button as he spoke them—put her over the edge. She reeled with wetness and pleasure and electricity. From far, far away, she heard the succulent smacks of her husband kissing his way up Livia’s naked legs.
“Let’s focus, everybody,” said Clement in a voice that was, for him, a loud one. “Gail’s having our first orgasm of the night.”
Our first orgasm. The pronoun, bold like Livia’s nearly-bare ass on that beach, transformed Gail’s climax into a double-decker, and she cried out as the renewed euphoria rippled through her. She was coming for four, and, damn it, she was going to do them all justice. Her heels kicked into the front of the sofa as another generous flood of nectar stained her silk.
Sinking into the couch with post-release heaviness, she seemed to hear her own moans continuing on in a disembodied voice. She realized that these were Livia’s moans she was listening to. “Your wife and I moan in the same key,” Gail remarked to Clement, who responded by nuzzling one of her orgasm-warm ears.
Livia’s moans were the result of whatever Daw’s mouth was now doing under her skirt. Her head was thrown back in a textbook posture of acute ecstasy. Gail watched Dawson’s shoulder muscles tense and relax with the precision of his wonderful task; and yet her gaze was repeatedly drawn to Livia’s exquisite face.
She had an impulse, and she acted on it.
“Mind if I cut in?”
Dawson had to pull out to see who was tapping him on the shoulder, and Gail inferred that he hadn’t heard her question over his hungry lapping. Livia opened her eyes, and Gail had a moment of fear that she’d be pissed at her for interrupting, or freaked out by Gail’s display of Sapphic desire. But Livia’s pupils glowed with fierce anticipation when she took in the scene.
“Plunge in, babe,” said Daw, who had registered what Livia wanted. “I recommend it.”
The world beneath the peasant-skirt tent was a moist, spicy, palace for the senses. Livia’s pussy—slightly trimmed, but ninety-percent natural—was a tropical garden of feminine fragrance and pooling love-oils. Livia’s thigh muscles pumped against Gail’s ears, while her cunt beckoned to Gail, spasmodically clenching and unclenching. Come to me, my dear, come taste me and fulfill me, it seemed to chant. Gail was virtually paralyzed by the feast—then paralysis melted into frenzy, and she angled her head right and left and right to lick, kiss, and nibble the flesh of upper thigh and outer pussy. The cunt gaped and quivered in utter heat, and Gail rushed in to satisfy it. Livia’s long, throaty sigh reverberated off every wall of the suburban living room.
What really got Gail was the release of control that Livia acceded to as pleasure consumed her. Here was a masterful chessboard schemer, dripping, cooing, giggling, squirming . . . completely and ecstatically undone by sensation, dissolving six ways from Sunday around the tongue of a friend. It thrilled Gail beyond belief to be steadily licking Livia into an incoherent soup of gratification. At that moment, she almost felt as if she never wanted to come out from under Livia’s skirt. Almost.
Caught in a delightful squeeze between Livia’s legs, with a rose-petal pussy orgasming in her face, Gail suddenly felt fingers yanking down her thong at the rear, and rubbing greedily along the crack of her bottom. Thick, male fingers. Dawson’s fingers. She wiggled her ass, luxuriating in the dual sensuality of being tickled behind while Livia’s cunt lips tickled her mouth under the magic skirt.
Gail rejoined the larger party after Livia had finished coming, and she saw that both men had their cocks out: Dawson was standing at the corner of the coffee table, dick in the air, while Clement sat in a corner of the couch, cradling his martini in one hand and something hard and fleshy in the other.
“I saved a seat for you, Gail,” said Clement.
She rose to her feet.
“Wait,” said Dawson. She turned to him, and he ate her mouth lovingly, grabbing her ass for good measure. “Have a good time, sweet.”
When Gail pulled her panties off and eased herself backward onto Clement’s prick, she knew that she had the best seat in the house. Her liquid pussy was throbbing with solid satisfaction, and her eyes were feasting on the sight of Livia, now nude, climbing atop Daw, who sat on the table. Livia straddled Daw face to face, and Gail was in heaven watching the woman’s lewdly spread ass as it started to bounce. Daw sculpted Liv’s breasts, and the gorgeous ass flounced harder in sympathetic delight.
Gail moved her ass, too. She felt as if she were both women at once, fucking both men. The aroma of cunt filled the place, and the whole world was sex. Chess was sex. Vodka was sex. Gail was going to explode with sex, like an engorged, excited cock. She would have laughed at this incongruous, paradoxical image, but she was too immersed in arousal to find anything funny. Everything went straight to her pussy, where she wrung every sensation from the situation with tingling, slow-motion rapture, using her ass as both motor and navigator. She was sitting on pure pleasure, churning and wallowing.
Then Clement shifted his position slightly, and his beneficent dick scraped Gail’s G-spot. Her vision honed in on a specific locus where the round of Livia’s left ass cheek squished itself sen
suously onto a crease in Daw’s brand-new jeans. Gail wailed with abandon, clutching frantically at her own clit and dragging herself up and down, up and down along Clement’s shaft. As her juices soaked his exposed boxers, Gail felt as if she were snogging with everyone in the room, pawing them all.
Beforehand, she’d imagined two male-female couples, classically naked in twin beds, fucking symmetrically. Formally matched up like chess opponents. But tonight had been a carnival of spontaneity that was so much richer than that. Couch and coffee table. People too aroused to get fully undressed. A chess game scratched from the schedule, in the heat of the moment.
And a woman up another woman’s skirt.
Back in private, in the quiet of three a.m., Dawson and Gail kissed long and hard, hovering at the foot of their bed.
“Did it turn you on to see me fucking another woman?” he asked, as their pelvises got reacquainted.
“No,” said Gail. “It turned me on to see you fucking that other woman.” Yet again, she felt a delicious tickle of lubrication making itself known.
“Check,” said Daw, with a twinkle.
“Mate,” said Gail, pushing him onto the mattress. She slapped him lightly on the ass. Then she pounced on him. “Pretend I’m Livia,” she whispered.
Ghost Swinger
By Amanda Earl
Did you know Betty and Bruce are swingers? Course that’s not what we called it in our day, is it, Mattie? Back then it was “wife swapping.” Oh, I know I wasn’t legally your wife at that time. It’s not like we were traditionalists. But you swapped me a number of times as I recall, and I swapped you too. We did some swinging as well. Back and forth from lover to lover. Oh, those were glorious times, weren’t they, Mattie?
Remember that place? Tofino? That’s where we landed our sorry American butts so you could avoid the Vietnam Conflict as our dumb ass government called it.
Tofino . . . what a wild and rugged landscape it was, right out of a painting. You couldn’t call it calm though, could you? And it wasn’t just those high winds and big waves, as glorious as they were. We’d watch the waves come rolling off the sea during storms. Wouldn’t even wear raincoats, just let the water wash over us both while we watched the light play over the ocean, our own symphony.
But the main reason it wasn’t calm was because the whole place was shimmering with unbridled sex. “Free love” we called it. We sure were rebels back then, weren’t we, Mattie? Can’t imagine how we’d fit in with this rule-abiding bunch.
I’ve watched them, these swingers. They go to these clubs where you have to be a member to get in. There are different rooms depending on whether you’re a voyeur or an exhibitionist, or you want to have casual sex or chat first. It’s all so complicated.
Betty seems very partial to some girl her age named Marjorie, and I can’t blame her. I bet you’d give young Marjorie a run for her money, wouldn’t you, Mattie? Just because we’re not twenty anymore doesn’t mean we can’t dream now and again, does it?
They seem so organized now. You have to make reservations in advance. Some places don’t let single guys in. Imagine that. And nobody’s allowed to smoke. Yep, not even reefers. You have to show your membership card. Hell, we burnt up cards, didn’t we, Mattie? Remember your draft card? We doused it in Jack Daniels and set the fucker on fire.
Ah the world’s become so regimented, hasn’t it, Mattie? Remember how we’d spread blankets out on the top of Radar Hill, eat a few ’shrooms and lie under the stars; David on his bongos while the lot of us fucked our brains out under a full moon? We didn’t ask for a rule book then, did we? We just danced with somebody, and if they were hip to it, pulled them down onto a blanket.
At the end of the night, I’d wake up and crawl back into our tent, where I’d find you snoring away, some girlie nestled in the crook of your arm. I’d join you and go back to sleep. I still remember how you moaned in surprise when you woke up to not just me but also the other girl sucking your cock and playing with your balls as the rain fell heavy on the roof of the tent. By the time we were done, all sticky with sweat and cum, the only thing to do was to throw our exhausted bodies into the ocean, wash it all off and start over.
Some guy played guitar as good as Hendrix. Remember him, Mattie? Can’t recall his name, but I sure remember his cock and those fine licks he played on his Stratocaster. Nothing like hearing “Red House” as the sun is setting and being sprawled out on the long grass getting my cunt eaten out by a girl who’s an expert.
And how lucky was it that the guitar guy ended up being this chick’s boyfriend. We all made beautiful music together. Brenda, that was her name, remember? Long black locks that kept getting tangled, sea green eyes. She looked like a witch or a gypsy. And the guy . . . oh yeah, I remember now, he went by the name of Raven. He had this wild afro and such gorgeous coffee-colored skin. I was as white as a piece of paper when I got to Tofino, but by the time I’d spent a week making love out in the open under the big Tofino sky, I was bronze and sunkissed. And kissed by a lot of lovers too.
Remember how we partied with Raven and Brenda? Oh, what times we had. Raven introduced us to acid. I still remember how your eyes got all wide, and you wrote the craziest rhymes, all about being in harmony with the universe. The sea looked to us like it was all the colors of a rainbow. You couldn’t resist it, said it was luring you in with its colors and beautiful song.
I was a bit worried when you and Brenda, both high as kites, jumped into the waves and pressed your bodies together while Raven and I watched from the shore. But it was such a turn on seeing the way Brenda dazzled you, watching her seduce you with those sparkling eyes. It was like the two of you became one with the sea. You dragged her with you far out into the ocean and then you both rolled back on the crest of a high wave, sputtering and laughing.
You looked over at me then, and I could see you were a little scared. Maybe the water grabbed at you a bit too forcefully, tried to pull you down. I smiled at you. I wanted to tell you that life was worth living to the full. The only thing to do was grab back at it and fuck the living daylights out of it.
Maybe you read my mind. I wasn’t surprised when you pushed Brenda down onto the sand and entered her, and I laughed when the two of you howled as you fucked. Raven and I couldn’t resist. We rolled over to where you were and joined in. I lay beside Brenda and parted my legs, looking over at you and laughing. You reached over and touched my naked breasts, making my nipples harden. Raven and you made jokes about our tits, saying we should have a contest to see whose nipples could get hardest.
Both Brenda and I stuck out our tongues and kissed each other while the two of you stroked yourself and watched us. I watched the two of you standing in the sand, your cocks hard as rocks as you looked down on us. It turned me on even more.
I took one of Brenda’s nipples between my fingers. I seem to remember telling you that the better contest would be to see who could make Brenda’s nipples hard. I leaned down and sucked and sucked, tasting the salt from the ocean, then reached over to the other one and tugged on it.
Her nipples glistened with the wetness from my mouth and the water. Her eyes shone as my hand reached down and caressed her beautiful stomach, all golden from the sun. I brushed the kelp from her body. Her hair lay splayed out in the sand, and she was as seductive as a mermaid. I let my hand rove further then tickled her inner thighs with the gentle motion of my fingers against her skin. She spread her legs for me. I moved lower until my face was hovering over her cunt like a humming bird over a flower. I gently parted her lower lips and began licking at the top until I reached her tiny clit. I sucked it into my mouth and Brenda moaned. I placed my finger inside Brenda’s warm, welcoming cunt. She moved against it, begging for more. I put another finger in and another, and she cried out. I looked up at you and Raven, and you were rubbing your cocks hard at this point, the sight of me fucking Brenda driving you wild.
The waves were coming in faster now. The tide was going to come in soon. I moved my fingers in
and out of Brenda’s cunt. She writhed her hips to take them deeper inside. The two of you kneeled down to get a closer look. I felt a warm hand on my back.
It was Raven. You and he couldn’t let us have all the fun. You moved up to kiss Brenda and Raven slid his fingers along the curve of my back and down to my ass. You straddled Brenda and she took your cock into her mouth while Raven slid his fingers between my ass cheeks. I opened for him while I spread Brenda’s lower lips wide and slid my tongue inside her cunt, tasting her sweetness. I pressed my lips against her mound and curled my fingers inside her.
Her cries were muffled by your cock stuffed inside her mouth. You used your hand to guide your cock deeper down her throat. Raven danced a finger gently around the rim of my asshole. I wanted him to put it in there. I heard you telling him to stick his finger up my ass. You knew how much I loved ass play, how much I liked to be fucked in that tight, small hole.
Raven moved his finger in and out of me for a while. The beach was completely empty, one of those secluded spots so common in those days, but I doubt we would have cared if others were around. We would have just invited them to join us.
I could feel Raven’s cool breath on my back as he leaned over me. He removed his finger and gave me a light slap on the ass. I remember hearing you laughing and thinking I would get you for that later. You knew I liked a little slap now and again, even sometimes a bit rougher, but that was something we hadn’t shared with anyone else so far. I looked up at you and frowned, but you just winked and shrugged as if to remind me that anything was possible and that I should just go with the flow. I let my mouth return to Brenda’s cunt and licked up all the juices flowing out of her. I changed my hand position so I could manoeuvre better. Then I pressed my thumb against her asshole and she moaned.
Behind me I felt the pressure of Raven’s balls on my ass. I relaxed, waiting for him to enter me. I felt his cock nudge my asshole and then slowly, slowly slide in, waiting for me to relax enough so he could go deeper. I cried out then, told him to fuck me deep.
SWING! Adventures in Swinging by Today's Top Erotica Writers Page 25