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

by Jacqueline Applebee

  Before I could put two thoughts together, I blurted out, “I think I want to marry you.”

  She giggled again. “We’ll see about that.”

  * * *

  We sat on the bed and talked all night. I told her about my dog, run over by a car when I was eight; Chooch Bartkowski, my best friend from high school who was doing time for grand theft auto; and my first girl friend, Debbie Lipschitz. That’s right, Lipschitz.

  Mary Beth didn’t run away.

  In fact, she told me about her mother’s Valium addiction and her father’s affairs. She told me about furtive hand jobs delivered in the back row of theatres and her friend Marnie who was having an affair with her English professor at Princeton.

  Just before daylight, she removed her blouse and bra. She wriggled out of her jeans. “I’m a virgin,” she confessed. “I guess I’ve been saving myself for you, Billy Wisniewski.”

  I’d like to say, I was tender and sure. I’d like to say, I was the restrained older man leading her to the Promised Land.

  But I wasn’t like that at all. I couldn’t get it fast enough. I pushed my face into those breasts and suckled until she cried out. She unbuckled me with one hand, while clinging to my neck with the other.

  She stroked, reached lower, and squeezed my balls. I pushed a hand into her panties. She was beyond moist, far into the wet zone. I pushed first one finger, then another inside. I finger fucked her long and slow and ground my palm against her clit. She bucked and spasmed, then pulled me over her.

  “Do you have a . . .”

  I reached for my jeans, dug into my wallet, and unwrapped the foil.

  She took the condom and grabbed my cock. It throbbed like a toothache.

  I rested between her creamy thighs. “You ready for this?”

  “Do it, Billy.”

  I didn’t have to be told twice. I thrust and she lifted her hips to receive me. We rocked and kissed and squished and slid. It took about three minutes. I’m surprised that condom survived the impact.

  Six months later we were engaged.

  Six months after that we graduated and married on her daddy’s long, green lawn.

  After a honeymoon in St. Lucia, reality settled in.

  We moved to Des Moines. She took a job at the Register, and I went to work for a big insurance company. My office was the only skyscraper in town. Out on the prairie where we lived, safely ensconced in our affluent suburb, we were never out of sight of that building.

  The lights of Midwestern Mutual burned all night long.

  * * *

  Charlie Whistler and I were eating cheeseburgers. Will Hennessey noisily finished his chocolate milk shake. Not far from where we were seated in the Uptown Food Court, workers moved to and fro, grabbing a mid-day bite before heading back to their cubicles. Our eyes glued on every woman who crossed before us. If one of them inadvertently gave us a flash of thigh or cleavage, we nudged one another and winked.

  We’d all joined the company at the same time. We were all married, childless, and three years into life in Des Moines. We talked like sailors on leave, not lawyers charged with oversight of $200 million in assets.

  “I’d fuck her right here, right now, in front of God and everyone,” Charlie said.

  He referred to a young woman in a tight sweater.

  “No you wouldn’t,” I said. “First, you’d lose your job. Then you’d lose your wife.”

  “It might be worth it.”

  “No strange pussy is worth that.”

  “I’d give my left nut for a piece of strange,” Will said, a faraway look in his eyes.

  “How long’s it been for you, Billy?” Charlie asked.

  “Since I met Mary Beth. Four years or more.”

  “You can’t tell me you wouldn’t like a taste of another woman.”

  “You can get away with that here,” I told him. “Not in good old Dez Moinez.”

  Des Moines wasn’t a terrible place to live. The downtown offered a cozy accessibility. In an area south of Grand Avenue, large old homes and shady lawns sprawled as surely as on Lake Shore Drive. The suburbs had their share of malls and mini-marts, assuring the same unbridled consumerism that afflicted the rest of America.

  But on the flip side, there was a sense of isolation. Cornfields gathered like natives at a feast, hundreds of miles in all directions. Right-wing nut job preachers, held forth against all manner of sin including adultery and fornication. And worst of all, for me, there was a loss of the anonymity you take for granted in a city like Chicago.

  You couldn’t fart on the street in Dez Moinez without someone commenting of the fragrance much less engage in an affair without your wife finding out. Anyway, I loved my wife. I didn’t want to cheat on her.

  “Maybe we could join a swingers’ club,” Will said.

  Charlie and I stared at him. “Where would we find a swingers’ club in Des Moines?” Charlie asked.

  “I don’t know. The Internet?”

  “Mary Beth won’t even go out in public without a bra,” I said. “No way she’s joining a club that features fucking with strangers.”

  “It was just a thought.”

  “Here’s another thought,” Charlie said. “Maybe we start our own club. Only three couples. All friends. No strangers.”

  “You want me fucking your wife?” Will asked.

  “As long as I can fuck yours.”

  Will rubbed his chin. “I like it. Jen might be a hard sell, but . . .”

  Charlie’s eyes widened. “I think I could convince Chloe. She’s got a kinky side to her.”

  I lost concentration as an image of Charlie’s dark-haired, cheerleader-compact, dynamo of a wife, Chloe emerged. The idea of grabbing her hard, muscled ass, while fucking her from behind had considerable appeal.

  “We could do an offsite weekend, the six of us,” Will said. “You know, test the waters.”

  “Lots of wine and a hot tub,” Charlie added, going with it.

  “I know a place in Kansas City,” Will said. “What do you think, Billy?”

  I didn’t think there was a snow ball’s chance in hell, but I liked the fantasy of being with Chloe and Jennifer. “We’ve got nothing to lose,” I said.

  * * *

  I made love to my wife that night.

  In the four years since we’d married, our sex life had settled into a routine, as comfortable as my old chambray work shirt. Once a week we found each other in the early morning hours, before heading off to the trenches. We often reconvened on gray Sunday afternoons.

  But that evening, I left work early, poached salmon filets, tossed a salad, and poured us each a glass of Chardonnay. After dinner, I led her upstairs.

  Mary Beth still looked as good as ever. The only difference was she’d cut her hair and traded in jeans for business suits.

  “What’s got into you?” she asked, when I maneuvered her onto the bed.

  “I’m still crazy for you, Mary Beth.”

  I pushed the skirt of her gray pin-striped suit over her hips and whisked off her pantyhose. I got that first whiff of her sex and dove in.

  “I’m still crazy about you, too,” she purred.

  Oral sex between us had become a rare treat. Those weekday mornings when we got it on, I’d usually spoon behind her and squeeze her breasts a few times, before pushing her panties aside and plowing home. Sunday afternoons, she’d rub the head of my dick against her clit until she oozed nectar like an overripe fruit, then she’d squat over me, riding hard in front of the fireplace.

  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a blow job or given her a proper licking.

  But tonight, I devoured Mary Beth’s slit like a kid with an ice cream cone. I gazed up over her flat belly and the rise of her breasts. She bit a lower lip and thrashed. Then, suddenly, I was imagining Will’s red-headed wife’s pussy in my mouth. My already-hard dick nearly burst out of my jockey shorts.

  A few moments later, Mary Beth/Jennifer grabbed the bed covers. Her thighs shuddered
and clenched around my face. When she settled back to earth, I knelt beside her. I pushed my cock between her lips. She took the cue and swirled her tongue over the head.

  She wet my shaft with her saliva and jacked and bobbed. All the while, her blue eyes looked up lovingly.

  But I couldn’t help myself. I started to think about Charlie’s wife Chloe. I imagined cherry lips around me. I imagined her hand on my ass. I came like a freight train, spurting into Mary Beth/Chloe’s mouth. She moaned and swallowed and stayed with it for the last few drops.

  “Wow, baby,” she said with a smile.

  “Wow, yourself.”

  I leaned over and kissed her. “I love you, Mary Beth.”

  “I love you, too, Billy.” She wiped her mouth with a Kleenex and cocked an eyebrow. “Is everything all right?”

  “Sure, of course, absolutely. Why are you asking?”

  She patted my thigh. “No reason, I guess.”

  She slid out from under me and headed into the shower. I collapsed on the bed and closed my eyes. It was Jennifer’s pussy, Chloe’s ass. We were fucking and sucking and fingering and eating. While Mary Beth rinsed off, I got hard again and jerked off, spraying a second load onto my belly and chest.

  * * *

  That weekend in Kansas City was nice, but it did little to get us down the road of Swingerdom. On Saturday, the girls visited a spa, while the guys drank beer, shot pool, and watched sports on TV. Sunday, the girls shopped, while Will, Charlie, and I trailed along, encouraging purchases we really could have cared less about.

  We didn’t get near a hot tub.

  But a couple of weeks later, the six of us traveled to Omaha in Charlie’s big-ass Escalade to visit Old Town and eat bloody steaks. After dinner, we managed to get the women into the hotel pool. Even my modest Mary Beth slid into the water in a black one piece. I got hard seeing Chloe’s dark brown nipples through the wet fabric of her see-through white top. And I was sure Jennifer was looking at my boner when I stepped out of the pool.

  Later on in our room, Mary Beth and I fucked like we had back in the day.

  Then as winter approached and that steel-gray Midwestern sky settled over us, the wives announced that they’d formed the Gourmet Dinner Club of Greater Dez Moinez. Every other week, one of the couples opened their house to the other two couples. The host and hostess prepared the food, the guests brought the wine. Elaborate five course dinners were followed by movies in the family room, drinks in front of the fireplace, or just good conversation around the table. Sometimes one of us guys steered the conversation to sex.

  One evening, Mary Beth piped up and said that she and I had tried anal sex twice with no success, but one of her favorite things was when I slid my dick between her ass cheeks like a hot dog in a bun while she ground against a pillow stuffed between her legs. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Jennifer bit her lower lip and quaffed half a glass of wine. Chloe informed us that she and Charlie had anal sex about once a month. Will and I shared a glance.

  Another evening, Chloe asked if anyone had ever tried swinging, and it was denied by all. Then Jennifer confessed that while in grad school she and her boyfriend had swapped mates once. Everyone at the table nodded and encouraged her to share the details, but she blushed and politely declined.

  Then shortly after Christmas, on a night when the snow piled up, it was decided that after-dinner travel was too dangerous. Will and Jennifer had space for everyone as long as one couple was willing to sleep on the pull-out sofa. Mary Beth and I volunteered.

  I was taking a leak in the middle of the night when Chloe walked in. She was there for the same reason and was dressed only in panties. Her bare nipples pointed like six shooters.

  “I guess I should’ve locked the door,” I said.

  “Not on my account,” she replied with a wink, her eyes on my water hose.

  While I rinsed my hands, she dropped her panties and squatted. I glimpsed her dark bush and felt my heart skip a beat when I heard the soft sigh of her piss.

  “Well,” I said.

  She reached out, her fingers playing along the inside of my thigh. “Nice boxers.”

  “Thanks.”

  She stood, tore off a wad of toilet paper with her free hand, and wiped between her legs. She wriggled into her panties and stepped between me and the sink on her way out, her pelvis pressed against mine.

  Half way down the hall, I heard her whisper, “You’re welcome.”

  Two weeks later came that fateful trip to Minneapolis and the Mall of America and the cat was out of the fucking bag.

  * * *

  A few days before our scheduled travel, I was seated at the table watching Mary Beth wash dishes. I loved the way her ass swayed beneath the tight-fitting navy blue dress she’d worn to work. I stood, positioned behind her, and nuzzled her hair.

  “Hey,” she said. “What’s going on?”

  I went hard and cupped her breasts through the fabric. “Couldn’t help myself. You look so good.”

  She dried her hands, turned around, grabbed me by the tie, and pulled my lips to hers. She kissed me hard enough to bruise.

  When the kiss was over, she continued to hold me tight by the tie. “I want to ask you something,” she said.

  “Ask away.”

  “Do you ever think about other women?”

  I’m pretty sure the blood drained from my face. “Honey, you’re the only woman for me.”

  She pulled tighter. “Don’t give me that bullshit, Billy. I want an honest answer. Have you ever thought about fucking Chloe or Jennifer?”

  I turned bright red. “I don’t know, I mean, you know. I like them, but . . .”

  “I’ve seen the way you looked at them. Chloe, especially.”

  “Well, it’s natural to fantasize . . .”

  “Look,” she said, “if you want to fuck another woman, I’d rather it be Chloe and Jennifer than someone I don’t know. I’d rather we agree that it’s all right from the outset than have you cheating behind my back.”

  “I’d never . . .”

  She released the tie. “But, just so you know, what’s good for the goose is good for the gander.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means I get to fuck Charlie and Will.”

  I stared at her for a long moment. It was the first time I’d seriously considered that possibility. It was as disturbing and exciting as anything I’d ever experienced.

  * * *

  We shopped the Mall of America Friday night after driving up from Dez Moinez in sleet and freezing rain. We settled on pizza in the Mall and retired early to Charlie and Chloe’s suite at the Residence Inn. I plopped down on the sofa, Charlie reclined on the floor, and Will kicked back in an easy chair. Charlie worked the flipper, switching from Bear Grys and the Discovery Channel to Friday Night Fights.

  I didn’t even notice that the women had opened a second bottle of wine until they reappeared from the kitchenette.

  But it wasn’t Mary Beth who settled next to me and offered a glass. It was Chloe. My Mary Beth snuggled against Will in that easy chair, while Jennifer sat down beside Charlie. She took the flipper away and switched on the DVD player. Frank Sinatra’s classic voice filled the room with “Strangers in the Night.”

  “What’s going on?” I asked with what I’m pretty sure was a silly grin.

  “I think you know.” Chloe said, her face close to mine, her breath warm and rich with the scent of Cabernet.

  Across the room, Mary Beth draped an arm around Will’s shoulders and pressed her breasts against him. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” she asked.

  I sipped my wine and watched as Jennifer took Charlie’s hand in her own. She was sitting cross-legged in a short skirt. I got a flash of white panty. “I know it’s what I’ve been wanting,” she said.

  I felt Chloe’s fingers on my thigh, just like that night in the bathroom. “It’s what I’ve been wanting too,” she said.

  “How about you, Billy?” Mary Bet
h asked, her fingers playing with the buttons of Will’s shirt. He had that deer in the headlights look.

  “Well, I mean, we talked . . .”

  Jennifer climbed on top of Charlie. He reached around and massaged her buttocks through her skirt. A moan escaped between bars of Sinatra.

  “Then, I think you should go for it,” Mary Beth said, just before she leaned in and kissed Will on the lips.

  Chloe’s hand encircled my cock through my khakis. I went hard in an instant. “Yeah, Billy,” she whispered, “I think you should go for it.”

  I watched as Mary Beth stood and led Will into the upstairs bedroom. My eyes never left hers as she brushed past.

  “Come on,” Chloe said. “I need to be fucked.”

  She lifted her sweater over her head. Purple aureoles the size of silver dollars beckoned. A few minutes later, we were in the downstairs bedroom, no more than a screen separating us from Charlie and Jennifer in the front room.

  I took her from behind, just like in my fantasies, that apple-hard ass twitching beneath me.

  Just before I came, I heard my wife’s familiar cries through the thin walls, “Yes, yes, oh God, yes.”

  * * *

  It’s one thing to fuck another man’s woman. It’s another thing to give your wife to another man. It’s another thing altogether when your wife embraces fucking other men with the same surprising enthusiasm with which she’d fucked you when you first started out.

  But that’s what happened with Mary Beth.

  Although there was a bit of awkwardness at the outset, as winter turned to spring, our every-other-week gourmet dinners became less about food and more about sexual experimentation.

  The first few times, we paired off discreetly in different rooms. I alternated between Chloe and Jennifer, while Mary Beth took turns with Will and Charlie. I got my anal sex with Chloe, watching her smoldering pout in the mirror while I buried my hard-on in an orifice that gripped me like a vice. I got my porno sex with Jennifer, splattering her face while she did herself with a vibrator the size of a washing machine.