Swing

by Miasha

  Table of Contents

  ___________________

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  About Miasha

  Also Available from Infamous Books

  Copyright & Credits

  About Akashic Books

  Chapter 1

  No Sins As Long As There’s Permission

  Tori & Kevin

  The way his shaft was rubbing against my clitoris gave me a feeling I had never had during sex before. He rotated his pelvis like he was dancing to a reggae song, with a little force and a whole lot of passion. It felt entirely too good.

  Meanwhile, the other he was getting his dick sucked. I watched out the corner of my eye. Yes, there were two he’s in the room. One he was penetrating me and the other was my husband, Kevin.

  This was Kevin and my first trip to Puss & Boots, an exclusive swingers club in Atlanta. It was a surprise for Kevin’s thirtieth birthday. I blindfolded him and we jumped in the back of a town car. I walked him inside the club and didn’t remove his blindfold until we were smack dead in the middle of the dance floor surrounded by nudity and sexual acts. He was pleasantly surprised. His dick got hard in point two seconds. We were already drunk from the rounds of Amsterdam we had consumed earlier at Cheetah’s, a strip club we frequented.

  Our being intoxicated—mixed with the excitement of all that was happening around us—removed any reservations. Kevin laid me down right there on the dance floor. He pulled his dick through the zipper of his jeans and lifted my dress. I wasn’t wearing any panties—I never did when Kevin and I went to Cheetah’s. I don’t think I need to explain.

  He inserted his horny, erect dick into me. And we had sex right there between two women dancing with each other and a couple sipping drinks talking about who they wanted to fuck that night. We didn’t care if anyone was watching us. In fact, we hoped people were watching. It added to the pleasure.

  We ended up only fucking each other once, although we did interact with other couples, Kevin fondling a titty here, me jerking a dick there. It was fun. Exciting. Gave our new marriage the spark I thought it needed.

  I know what you’re thinking. Why would a new marriage need spark? Well, here’s the thing: Kevin and I may have only been married a year but we’d been together for ten. We met in college. I was a freshman, he, a junior. We started dating immediately. We’ve been inseparable since. So my entire college experience was null and void. No parties, no hangovers, no one-night stands. I was a girlfriend the whole time. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed it. I loved Kevin. He loved me, deeply. We had our own fun together, and I didn’t feel like I was missing out on anything at the time. But now I was pushing thirty. Already married. Having kids was a daily discussion in our household, mainly brought up by Kevin. I felt like any chances of me experimenting with my wilder side were soon to be over. And I was afraid of that. I wished I had just gotten it all out of my system in college. But Kevin came too soon. No pun intended. So there I was, trying to inject all that I had missed out on into our marriage. He was going along with it too. And what man wouldn’t?

  The circular movement increased in speed. My clitoris was dancing with joy. My senses heightened. I could hear my heartbeat racing through my chest. My body jerked. For a millisecond I was scared. But the wave of vibrations that came next, starting from my head and ending in my toes, transformed fear into an emotion I couldn’t yet identify. I blurted out some words, or should I say sounds. My thighs shook. Then there was this release. I felt completely at ease. This was a first for me, and by the look on his face, it was a first for him too.

  In ten years of being with Kevin, I had never had an orgasm. But after only twenty-two minutes, I was experiencing my very first one with a guy I was meeting for the first time. A tear rolled out from the corner of my eye. It slid backward toward my ear. I hoped Kevin didn’t see it. The room was pretty dim so maybe not. I didn’t want to wipe it and bring attention to it, so I left it to evaporate. Maybe it would disguise itself as sweat.

  I couldn’t seem to turn my head away from him. Even though I wanted bad to look over at my husband, assure him I was still his. But I was paralyzed. Or maybe just my eyes were. Fixated on his. Apparently his had the same paralysis. Our gaze was unbreakable. I could only imagine how Kevin was feeling. If it were me, I’d be a disaster. I’d probably throw a temper tantrum. It would definitely be time to go. I was waiting for the tug, but an abrupt laughter broke out instead. From her.

  It dislocated our gaze, which I was sure was its purpose. I looked over at Kevin while the other he carefully slid out of me. Well, maybe he wasn’t being careful. It felt more like reluctance. I smiled at Kevin, hoping he couldn’t tell it was forced. He grinned. Or maybe grimaced. It was dark.

  I sat up slowly, taking time to glance over at his wife. Her laugh was just tapering off. I gave her a fake smile too—well, an uncomfortable smile.

  She returned it as she patted her husband’s butt. “He’s great, isn’t he?” These were the first words I heard after my first climax. I would always remember them.

  Kevin was watching me closely. I could feel his eyes. He was waiting for me to say the wrong thing. I wasn’t going to answer. I was sure the question was rhetorical anyway. As if the orgasm didn’t tell it all. No need to fan the flames.

  “You think we should exchange numbers?” he asked, pulling his black boxer briefs over his perfectly sculpted pelvis. He could have been an underwear model—he was a hell of a specimen. His honey-toned skin was so smooth it looked like it was painted onto his muscular arms and brick-like abs. He was hairless. No tattoos. His features were pronounced: dark eyebrows that appeared naturally arched, tiny light brown eyes the same color as his skin, well-defined cheekbones, a thin pointed nose, and crescent-shaped lips that had some plump to them. They gave me all sorts of ideas.

  “We’ll see each other again,” his wife said, nodding at Kevin and me. Her eyes were low, though, almost closed. She wasn’t being sincere. I couldn’t blame her. It was obvious her husband had never brought her to the place he had gotten me to.

  Kevin didn’t respond. He was in the same boat as her, I guessed. I was sure he’d prefer it if this was the last time we saw each other. He looked at me. “Tori?”

  I played along with her. “Sure we will.”

  “Well that was fun,” she concluded, standing up, a white towel covering only the bottom half of her nude body. She was a white woman, but tanned to perfection. Her makeup was flawless. She wore her blond hair straight down her back. It was clear she worked out too. That was one thing the two had in common: she was in as good as shape as he was. I must say, she looked great for an older woman. Not that she had revealed her age to us, but I was privy to knowledge that she was a cougar—a sugar mama, actually. Their relationship appeared more like mother/son than husband/wife.

  She grabbed his hand, and before the goodbye that was sitting on his lips could jump off, she squeezed it. I didn’t see her do it, but I caught his reaction and he didn’t say goodbye. Thinking back, that is another thing I regret about that night. Maybe had he said those words, it would have been the end of it. Maybe it would have been the last time we saw each other.

  Kevin gathered our towels, handing me mine. I used the tip to wipe away my bodily fluids. While I felt around for my shoes, he finally spoke his mind.

  “What the hell happened?”

  I landed on one shoe and slid my foot in. “What do you mean?”

  “Did he . . . did you . . . ?”

  I put my hand up to my husband’s face, palming the right side. He was no underwear-model prototype, but he was mine. His average
build and common features were what I loved about him. I looked him in his eyes. “It doesn’t even matter. This is all about you tonight. Did you enjoy yourself?”

  He moved my hand from his face, nodded his head, and mumbled, “It was cool.” Yet his entire demeanor told a different story.

  “Baby, I did this for you,” I whined. “I worked on this surprise for months, please don’t let it end like this.”

  I wanted him to walk out of the club with the same excitement and thrill that he felt when he’d walked in and I removed his blindfold.

  “It’s cool. Let’s go.”

  “No, it’s not.” I understood how he felt. Like I said, if the shoe were on the other foot—well, in this case, if the condom was on the other dick—I would have been feeling some type of way too. But I didn’t want that for him. It was his birthday. His thirtieth at that. A trip to a swingers club was supposed to have been the surprise of a lifetime.

  In my heels I came to his chin. I started kissing him on his neck, chin, and bottom lip. I wrapped my arms around his neck. I imagined it was he who had made me reach my peak. My energy began to transfer to him and his guard slowly receded.

  “You are the only man I want and need. Don’t you ever forget that. What we did tonight was a milestone in our relationship. Something for the books. And as long as it’s a we thing, it shouldn’t be a bad thing.”

  His arms found their way around my waist, hands crossed on my butt. I had reclaimed him.

  “You’re right,” he said. “As long as we only do it together. All or none.”

  “And as long as at the end of the day, we know who we each belong to,” I added.

  And with that we sealed an allegiance. No signatures, just our words and our hearts—ironically, two of mankind’s most susceptible, breakable elements. Truth was, neither one of us knew what we had gotten ourselves into. Yet somehow we thought we’d mastered it.

  Danielle & Stewart

  As Stewart pulled into the parking lot, I slid a Molly under my tongue and took a swig of the Deer Park water I had in the cup holder. I adjusted the pasties on my pink nipples, then pulled close my chinchilla to cover my breasts. As I stepped out of the passenger seat of our latest purchase, my coat brushed the concrete. I felt so damn sexy.

  “Welcome back, Mrs. Oxford,” said the valet who rushed to my door the moment we pulled the Lotus into the lot.

  “Thank you, honey,” I purred at the young guy.

  On the other side of the car stood Stewart, my tall, husky, handsomely bald husband. Everybody thought he was an athlete. We let them believe that. Our lifestyle supported the theory and it was better than telling them what we really did for a living.

  Stewart peeled a hundred-dollar bill from a wad that rested atop the stack of flyers he had in his hand for our annual Christmas party. He gave the bill to the valet—the very reason it nearly became a relay race between the attendants every time we pulled up. It was like seeing Ed McMahon coming: payday.

  “You know what to do with it,” he told the guy.

  The valet looked at the bill before folding it in his hand and nodding. “Thank you, sir.” He took Stewart’s place in the driver’s seat.

  Trying to steal one last glimpse of myself in the car’s chrome body, I caught the reflection of the club’s neon Puss & Boots sign. And boy did I feel at home.

  An overdressed Stewart, in his blazer, V-neck, jeans, and loafers, used the hand that wasn’t stuffed with flyers to open the club’s door for me. He was such a gentleman. Upon entering, we were greeted by Kelsey, a beautiful, tall, slender, tanned brunette. She could’ve easily been a Kardashian, down to the K name. The only thing she was missing was a lot of ass. She had a little bump but nothing that could stand beside that Kardashian clan.

  Anyway, she was the manager, and to prove that point she wore a tie on top of her bra, and instead of just panties or a thong like the other female employees wore, she opted for a miniskirt. Or the occasional pair of booty shorts.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Oxford,” Kelsey smiled, reaching her hand out to accept my fur as Stewart stripped it off my back. “Looking stunning as usual,” she said to my nakedness.

  “Thank you, darling,” I ate it right up. I loved compliments.

  “Did Sofia clean our room?” Stewart asked Kelsey’s back as she walked toward the office carrying my coat.

  “She sure did,” Kelsey called from inside the office, then returned with a key which she placed in Stewart’s palm. “She left about a half hour ago. Said she locked up.”

  Sofia was our housekeeper and the only person we trusted to clean our room at Puss & Boots.

  “Is Lyssa here?” I asked Kelsey. “Her tongue and my pussy have a lunch date.”

  Stewart smirked and shook his head. “Danielle won the costume contest last month,” he explained.

  “I remember,” Kelsey grinned. “And she’s been trying to get you to her house ever since. You know, she and Jake are very strict about doing anything here. They don’t like mixing business and pleasure.”

  “I’ll do her one better,” I said as I reached over and grabbed the stack of flyers from my husband’s grip. I passed one to Kelsey. “She can come to our house. We’re having our annual Christmas party . . .” Handing the flyers back to my husband I added, “You tell her she has no more excuses.”

  Kelsey glanced over the flyer and nodded.

  I cupped my breasts and mashed them together. “You ready?” I looked at my husband.

  He extended his free hand. “After you.”

  We opened the door that separated the real world from our fantasy and I strutted through. There were nude bodies everywhere: on the dance floor under strobe lights, at the bar carrying on casual conversations, in the dining area soaking up alcohol with food from the buffet, in the Jacuzzi, the pool, around the billiards table, scattered on leather couches and oversized daybeds. It was like the Garden of Eden, except Adam and Eve were multiplied by about fifty and that serpent that we know as temptation was the life of the party.

  “A Cîroc Coconut,” I told Nina, one of the scantily clad bartenders who stopped what she was doing to come over and take our drink order.

  A cute couple at the bar who had witnessed the special service looked our way. They had to be wondering who we were to deserve it. Game time, I thought, and I took that opportunity to introduce myself. It was ritual.

  “I love your breasts,” I complimented the golden-complexioned woman. Flatter first. Then probe. “Did you get those done here in Atlanta?”

  The woman smiled bashfully. She was a newcomer. Great.

  “Thank you,” she said. “Texas.”

  Just what I wanted to hear. She was an out-of-towner. Stewart and I preferred out-of-towners. That way, the chances of us ever seeing them again were slim to none. I had to be certain, though, so I hit her with a follow-up question.

  “Are you visiting? Or are you like most Atlantans and you migrated here?” By now, my drink was in front of me. I grabbed it and sipped.

  “Visiting,” the woman replied, still smiling. Then she looked over her shoulder at the pale-skinned, light-haired, thin guy she was with. Perhaps she felt like he was being left out.

  That was Stewart’s cue. And he took it. His hand extended to the guy, he said, “How you doin’, man? I’m Stew.”

  The guy let go of his cup, shook his hand a little to rid his palm of moisture, and received Stewart’s handshake. “Brent,” he said.

  We women followed suit.

  “I’m Victoria.” She placed her hand on those titties I liked so much.

  “And I’m—”

  “Danielle,” Victoria beat me to the end of my sentence. “I heard the bartender say, Here comes Danielle.”

  “Oh you did, did you?” Then I paused my conversation with Victoria. “Aye, Nina!” I projected over the music and chatter.

  She darted my way. “Another one, Mrs. Oxford?”

  I leaned in, my ear as close to her mouth as the counter between
us would allow. “Mrs. Oxford, you say?” I winked at Victoria. She couldn’t help but chuckle.

  “Yes,” Nina answered matter-of-factly.

  “Oh, okay.” I straightened back up. “Just was making sure you knew the correct way to address me.”

  “Of course.” Nina put on a chipper smile, then shot a quick, cold glance at Victoria and Brent.

  I loved power as much as I did compliments. And from the looks on Brent’s and Victoria’s faces, they loved that I had it. They were hooked. Now I just had to reel them in.

  “Good,” I said to Nina. “Now, could you get that sexy gentleman over there,” I motioned toward Brent, “another one of whatever he was drinking?”

  “Sure thing,” she replied, scurrying to fulfill my request.

  Then I got back to business. “Well, now that the introductions are out of the way, would you two like to see our room?”

  Victoria’s smile widened along with her glassy eyes. “Your room?”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re not typical customers. We have a pretty unique relationship with the owners.” I sipped my drink.

  “We’ve noticed,” Brent chimed in.

  Make them feel like tonight is their lucky night. “So it looks like you two have a bit of beginner’s luck. First time here, visiting from Texas, and you stumble upon the VIP couple with their own room,” I smiled. Now go in for the kill. I took the pineapple slice off my cup and, looking Victoria deep in her hazel eyes, stuck my tongue through the small gap in the center of it. I slowly moved my tongue up and down. Either the Molly had kicked in or I was becoming a better actress by the minute. Whatever the case, I got her.

  “I’d like to see your room,” Victoria said in a sexy little whisper. Then she gazed over her shoulder at Brent again.

  He shrugged.

  “It’s laid out too,” Stewart assured.

  Victoria got up from her barstool and she and Brent fell in line behind Stewart and me, off to our VIP room. One couple down.

  In the hallway where our room was, there were six private rooms total. And I don’t mean private in the sense of belonging to one particular couple like ours belonged exclusively to us. I mean they had doors that could be closed and locked, whereas the other rooms and areas in the back of the club were open for all to see and congregate. Those areas were usually packed with people having orgies. Basically, whoever was in close proximity to you and your mate was whom you ended up swapping with. And it usually happened without much talk or thought. Like one minute you would be giving your man head and the next some random girl was sharing the task with you. Then you’d feel someone fingering you while someone else was rubbing your breasts. And before you knew it, you were engaged in all kinds of sex with all kinds of people. It was fun in our younger days when we were wild and free. But now we did what we did because it actually served a purpose in our lives. I mean, the selection process and the privacy were great, but we did it this way for the end goal—the bigger picture.