20 erotic swinging and swapping stories

by Miranda Forbes

  Jacqui might believe she’d come out on top again, I thought as we breakfasted on pastries and coffee, but when Ray and I invited her and Gareth over to our place, it would be a different matter. Her boyfriend might be gorgeous, and he might have a big, beautiful boat, but mine had a well-stocked toy box and a very kinky imagination, and I knew I wouldn’t swap either of those things for the world.

  Like A Moth To A Flame

  by Elizabeth Black

  Amelia emerged from her hot shower. Her skin shone, warm and rosy. The scent of peppermint shampoo and cassis bath gel wafted in the steam that flowed out of the bathroom door.

  She had already eaten for the evening. She’d found a drunken Goth who had stumbled out of a club, and she’d overtaken him in an alley. She hated Goths. They were an insult to her kind. His blood wasn’t the best she had ever had. He must have been A negative. A negative blood tended to have a sharp sour quality to it. Maybe it was the cheap booze he drank that made his blood taste so vile. Even though he was not particularly appetizing, she’d needed to eat. She never hunted a new lover on an empty stomach. An empty stomach led to bad decisions. She’d picked a few losers in her past when she hunted on an empty stomach.

  She had taken extra care in brushing her teeth. She used whitening strips for two weeks to make sure her teeth were as white as marble. Drinking blood had a tendency to stain her teeth yellow. She grumbled at the waste of 50 dollars, but she knew she could not make a stupefying entrance at the art gallery tonight with teeth that made her look like a chain smoker.

  She cranked up Delerium’s “Chimera”, which played on her MP3 player. Her entire body felt charged with excitement.

  Tonight was the night she would claim Peter for herself, once and for all.

  Peter had been her painting instructor for the past six months. She had chosen him for her new lover within the first two classes. She needed a new lover. Her old one had been with her for over a hundred years, but he had deteriorated and had needed to be hidden in her cellar with all the others a few weeks ago. He was useless to her now. She needed a new lover.

  Within one week she was sipping red wine at Peter’s home, when his wife was busy working at the Celestial Gallery of Fine Arts. Within two weeks, they were naked on the couch in his living room, surrounded by his paintings. His paintings witnessed their frantic lovemaking.

  Amelia knew Peter couldn’t resist her. She became more enticing to him as the weeks went on.

  Amelia had slowly worked her magic on him, introducing him gradually to red meat. He was a vegetarian, but she knew that wouldn’t last long in her presence. She soon had him drinking more than the one glass of red wine he drank during the day. She introduced him to Benedictine. She had to prime him for when he would fully become her lover.

  Amelia sat naked on her bed. She squeezed some cassis body lotion into her hand, and rubbed it against her freshly shaven legs. She imagined Peter’s hands massaging that lotion against her hot skin, behind her knees, against her thighs, and into her hot labia. Her pussy melted at the thought of Peter’s touch. She would have him tonight. She was going to make sure of that.

  There was one other she would have tonight, and that was her secret. Peter did not know about it. She’d told no one. Her second lover was to be her treat to herself.

  Her new bra, garter belt, and stockings lay on the bed. All were shades of ruby and crimson. Amelia put them on, slowly, one after the other, and imagined Peter stood with her, dressing her. His large but delicate hands gently stroked her skin as he fastened the bra straps. Those hands from which came the most beautiful oil seascapes and nudes of lovely women would mould her skin and press against her hot flesh until she melted in his grip. The silk fabric of the garter belt chilled her skin. The stockings felt as airy as spider’s webs as they slid over her legs. Peter liked her calves. She had a dancer’s legs. He loved to run his palms over the length of her legs, from her ankles, up her calves, along her thighs, until he reached her heat. Then he pressed his fingers against her and inside her until she was satisfied.

  She looked in the mirror. She liked what she saw. She knew Peter would like what he saw too when he tore off her clothing tonight after the art show.

  She pulled her new dress from its hanger in the closet. It was a blood red, satin, vintage 1951 sheath dress. The entire bodice and long sleeves were made of Italian lace. The satin felt cool as water as it slid over her body. It hugged every curve. Peter liked to see her in clothing that fitted her like a glove. This dress was a second skin.

  Amelia did not want Peter to pick her up. She wanted to make her grand entrance at the Celestial Gallery Of Fine Arts when a crowd of art-lovers gathered in the lobby. Amelia commanded such attention she knew that every head in that gallery would turn towards her as she walked down the steps. Peter’s wife was showcasing his artwork this week, along with the sculptures, landscapes and portraits created by other artists in their club. Amelia laughed at the idea of a club. That was so pedestrian. Like a high school popularity contest. Amelia had seen the truly great artists and their works: Picasso; Rembrandt; Rossetti; Moriseau; Cassatt. She had taken a few of them as lovers over the years. This “club” to which Peter belonged was juvenile compared to real artists. Peter was above them. He had real talent. Amelia would make sure his talent became well-known, once she made him her own.

  Amelia slipped on her three-inch velvet crimson pumps, grabbed her clutch purse and keys, and walked out the door. As she drove to the gallery, she plugged her iPod into her car’s entertainment system, and turned on Delerium. She liked to listen to Delerium when she was in an especially wicked mood.

  She looked forward to seeing Peter’s face when he saw her in that tight red dress. She also relished the thought of his wife’s livid reaction upon seeing Amelia invade her gallery space. Amelia never referred to Peter’s wife by her name. That would bring her too emotionally close. She was always “Peter’s wife” or “the woman”. If things worked out well tonight, she would call her by her first name. Amelia had plans for his wife tonight. She would slowly torture her until she could no longer stand it. Amelia knew his wife was fascinated with her. She had seen her drive by her home several times, and park her Lexus on the street, spying on her. Once, in a fit of bravery, his wife had come to her house – to talk. Amelia played her like she played all people who felt threatened by her. She invited her into her home. She served tea and Madeleines. Amelia made it quite clear, as quietly and as calmly as possible, that she would not stop seeing Peter. If Peter wanted to stop seeing her, it was up to him to do that. Amelia knew the problem in their marriage didn’t fall on his wife. It was solely Peter’s doing. If his wife wanted to confront someone, it should be Peter.

  Amelia used the time to learn more about his wife. She was also a painter. Amelia had seen her paintings. Peter had turned her towards painting landscapes, but Amelia thought her depictions of classic myths were better. His wife was surprised to receive a compliment from her husband’s mistress. His wife also liked Madeleines, but she had never found the recipe or the tray anywhere. Amelia had an extra tray handy. She gave the extra tray to his wife, along with a recipe to make the delicious little French tea cakes.

  His wife did not know what to make of Amelia.

  She excused herself to use the bathroom. She had entered Amelia’s bedroom quietly. She thought Amelia did not know she had sneaked into her bedroom, but Amelia knew. She watched from a hidden space in the hallway. His wife went through Amelia’s clothes, taking out a blouse here and a dress there to sniff them. She opened a jewellery box, and ran her fingers over Amelia’s strands of amber and carnelian. His wife immersed herself in Amelia, and Amelia was pleased.

  Amelia was familiar with the feeling coming from yet another rival. His wife felt revulsion and attraction at once. Amelia knew how to handle that.

  Her thoughts were still on Peter’s wife when she parked her car in the gallery’s parking lot. Amelia was ready. Tonight she was to put on a stellar
performance.

  She walked up the stairs to the gallery’s entrance, and then opened the door. She waited at the top of the stairs leading into the gallery until a head turned in her direction. Then, another head. Two young, attractive men did a double-take when they saw her. A woman sipping champagne stopped in mid-sentence when she saw Amelia standing alone at the top of the stairs.

  A young, attractive man dressed in a tuxedo walked up the stairs to greet her. He was one of the artists, a sculptor. His name was Jeremy. He offered to show Amelia around, but she declined his invitation, gently, with a cool palm pressed lightly against his cheek. She heard his heart hitch at her touch. Her hearing was very sensitive. She smelled his blood. It smelled spicy and rich. She wanted him, but she could not take him in this kind of crowd.

  She told him she was looking for Peter. Jeremy wrapped an arm around her waist, and looked into the crowd. He pointed out Peter standing in a crowd near a painting of a grove and a bridge. Amelia saw him, and her entire body tingled.

  There was no sign of his wife. Amelia would deal with his wife in due time.

  Amelia stared at Peter, willing him to look her way. He did. She immediately turned to Jeremy, and asked him about his works. Jeremy was pleased to have Amelia’s attention. He told her he lived in the area, and he had been a sculptor for ten years. This was his third local show. He had been showcased in Italy and France. He gave her his card with the address to his studio. He scribbled his home phone number on the back, telling her he was not always at his studio number. She should feel free to call him at home. He looked directly into her eyes when he said that.

  She knew it was a good thing she had eaten that Goth earlier. She was very tempted to take Jeremy right there on the gallery steps. She was full enough to keep her wits about her. She stifled a belch, and thanked him for giving her his phone number.

  She did not see Peter when he stood at her side. She hadn’t looked for him. She didn’t need to. She knew he would soon appear when he saw her talking to someone as sexy and as handsome as Jeremy. She was right.

  ‘I see Jeremy didn’t waste any time talking to you. He gravitates towards the most beautiful woman in the room,’ Peter said.

  ‘You know her, Peter? Who is she?’ Jeremy said as he stared at Amelia’s breasts. ‘She’s lovely. Have you been hiding her from me?’

  ‘Yes, he has, Jeremy. This is the first gallery show I’ve been to in over a year,’ Amelia said.

  ‘We are being rude, Jeremy, taking up all her time but not offering her a drink,’ Peter said. He turned towards Amelia. ‘Would you like a drink? Champagne?’

  ‘Yes, I would,’ Amelia said. ‘Would you like to join us, Jeremy?’

  ‘I would love to.’

  They walked to the refreshment table. Heads turned as Amelia walked through the crowd. Some of the women’s heads turned towards Peter and Jeremy, but it was clear to Amelia that Peter’s and Jeremy’s attention was completely on her. She saw men and women gaze at her with longing, envy, and trepidation. She was both enticing and threatening to many men and women in the room. If only they knew how much she could please them.

  Peter handed Amelia a flute of champagne. A crowd slowly gathered around them. She basked in the attention, especially coming from Peter and Jeremy.

  Suddenly, a voice boomed through the room.

  ‘What the hell is she doing here?’

  At the sound of Peter’s wife’s voice, the crowd dissipated. Amelia stared at her, not moving, much the way a snake stares down a mouse shortly before devouring it. Jeremy slid one arm around Amelia’s waist as if to protect her. Peter ran after his wife, who strutted about the room in a rage.

  ‘I can’t believe you brought her here! This is the opening of my new gallery, and you’ve ruined it!’

  ‘She came on her own. I didn’t bring her here.’

  ‘But you knew she was coming! How could you?’

  ‘She just wants to see the paintings and the sculpture.’

  ‘I bet she does.’ His wife ran into the back room, followed by Peter. Within seconds, the gallery went dark.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ his wife announced as she entered the gallery lobby. ‘The gallery is closing early. Thank you for coming.’

  At that point, Amelia knew it was time for her to act. As people left the gallery, she walked to the back room to find Peter’s wife. She found her cowering in a storage room, fighting off tears. Amelia walked in, and locked the door.

  ‘Get out!’ Peter’s wife said when she saw Amelia. ‘You don’t belong here.’

  ‘I came to see the paintings.’ Amelia said.

  ‘And Peter.’

  ‘And you.’

  Peter’s wife stared at her, confused.

  ‘What do you mean you came here to see me?’

  ‘I meant what I said,’ Amelia said as she walked towards Peter’s wife. The woman looked like a mouse, cowering on the floor with her mascara smeared beneath her eyes. Amelia was so close she could smell the red wine on her breath and hear the woman’s heart thumping hard against her rib cage. She was evidently both terrified and thrilled. That was what Amelia wanted.

  Amelia placed her hands against the woman’s shoulders, and coaxed her to stand. At her touch, the woman shivered. Amelia knew she had her exactly where she wanted her. The craving she felt for this woman was finally about to be quenched.

  ‘I know you’re fascinated with me,’ Amelia said. Her hands slid slowly around the small waist and her breath hitched at her touch. ‘I know you watch my house from your car. I know you’ve gone through my clothes, my perfumes, my jewellery. You can’t stop thinking about me. And I can’t stop thinking about you.’

  Their lips brushed and the woman stared at her with wide-open eyes. Her entire body shook, but she did not push Amelia away.

  ‘Don’t fight it. It’s easier that way,’ Amelia whispered. She kissed his wife full on the lips. The woman melted in her arms. Amelia’s tongue slid into her mouth, and she tasted red wine.

  ‘I’ve wanted you since I first met Peter,’ Amelia said. She kissed his wife on her eyelids, down the bridge of her nose, and against her jaw line. ‘Peter is a very talented artist, but he doesn’t have your energy or lust for life. I want his artistic spirit, and I want your vibrancy. I want both of you. I know you are fascinated with me. Now, you can have me. Just let go. Don’t fight it.’

  Amelia pulled a silk scarf away from the woman’s neck, and then sank her teeth into her throat. She found the pulse quickly, and sucked gently.

  She pressed her hand against the woman’s left breast. Her heart fluttered quickly, bouncing against the palm of her hand. As Amelia sucked, she fondled the woman’s breast. Her nipple grew hard. Amelia pinched her nipple between her thumb and forefinger. The woman groaned. ‘Don’t stop,’ she whispered. ‘That feels good. Suck harder.’

  Amelia was surprised. Most of her lovers did not like to be sucked too hard the first time. The suction felt very uncomfortable for some of her lovers. They felt as if they were being suffocated. She was gentle the first time, and then sucked harder as she turned her chosen ones into her lovers.

  The woman breathed through her mouth in short, quick bursts. Her body jerked as Amelia drained the blood from her throat. She knew to not drink too much, lest her lover die quickly and painfully. She took only what she needed – enough to render her lover helpless against her attraction.

  Amelia found the zipper on the woman’s dress. She slid the zipper down, and pulled the dress down over the woman’s shoulders. It fell to the floor. The woman wore a black teddy beneath. Amelia felt her pussy moisten as she gazed at the lovely, lithe body. The woman pulled the teddy over her head, and laid it on the floor on top of the dress. She then pulled off her stockings and added them to the pile.

  She stood before Amelia, naked and shivering in the cold. She heard people knocking on the door, calling to her to see if she was OK.

  ‘I’m fine,’ the woman called out. Amelia knew she told the truth.
‘I’ll be out in a few minutes.’

  ‘Won’t people want to come in here? You heard them knocking. We’ll be caught,’ the woman said to Amelia.

  ‘Don’t worry about them,’ Amelia said. ‘We won’t be long here. We can take out time later tonight, away from the gallery. Now be quiet and let me make love to you.’

  Amelia laid the woman down on the ground, over some canvas so she would not be lying on the cold floor. She lapped at the blood on the woman’s neck. Her wound had stopped bleeding. Her hands found the woman’s small breasts, and she kneaded one, then the other. She sank her teeth into the base of her left breast. The woman arched her back as Amelia sucked. Her nipples grew hard. Amelia pinched them, which made her heart beat faster. Her blood flowed so quickly into Amelia’s mouth that Amelia could not drink it all. She pressed her hand against the wound to stop the bleeding. As she lowered herself to the woman’s thighs, she looked into her face, which was flushed yet pale from the loss of blood. There was longing in her expression. It was the familiar combination of longing and terror that Amelia had so often seen. She must be careful to not drain her dry. It would do no good to have a dead woman for a lover.

  The woman lifted Amelia’s face.

  ‘Kiss my throat again, Hard,’ she said. ‘Tighten my scarf around my neck as you do it.’

  Amelia’s body flushed at what the woman wanted from her. Rarely did a lover like the suffocating feeling of blood being drained from the throat. She knew she could give the woman a monumental orgasm if she choked her gently. Amelia crawled up her naked body. She grabbed the scarf in her hands, and slowly tightened it. The woman moaned. Amelia moved the scarf so it was above the throat wound. She pulled it tightly, and once again sank her teeth into the woman’s throat, feeling her heart pounding against her breasts as she did so. She pulled the scarf tighter, and the woman arched her back as she gasped in ecstasy. Amelia sucked more of her blood, tightening the scarf as she fed. The woman’s eyes rolled back into her head. Her face was flushed from choking. Amelia held the scarf tightly with one hand, and slid the fingers of her free hand into the woman’s bush. She found her labia and clitoris in no time. She massaged her clit until her legs stiffened. Two fingers reached inside, searched for her g-spot, and found it within seconds. Amelia massaged as she sucked. The woman’s body went rigid. She held her breath. Then, her body uncoiled like a spring as an intense orgasm overcame her. She thrashed on the floor like a fish out of water. Amelia felt her pussy juices flow over her hand as she rubbed the woman’s g-spot.