Let's Swing

by Piquette Fontaine

  “After everything you told us you're actually going to sleep with him?” Danny asked.

  “Who I sleep with is none of your business,” Amanda spat.

  “Great, so now you're going to sleep with him and Matt's going to sleep with anyone he pleases and I'm going to be the one that's left behind. That's just fantastic,” Danny said, rolling his eyes.

  “Oh, stop being a drama queen,” Matt said scowling. There was obvious hostility between the two men and it threatened to boil over to a violent degree. She was about to say something when Ricky stood in between all of them.

  “Look, it seems we have ourselves a bit of a situation here, I want to fuck her, she wants to fuck me, she's also fucked both of you. You want to fuck each other but he wants to fuck her as well, and I'm guessing you're not really opposed to that,” he said to Matt and Danny respectively. The two surfers nodded and then Ricky looked at Amanda. “Well, there would seem to be one simple solution. Do you think we'll all fit in your bed?” he asked. They all looked at each other as they processed what Ricky was suggesting. At first they were hesitant to indulge in such a hedonistic scenario but as they looked at each other they found themselves becoming more and more open to the idea, until finally they each shrugged and in turn made their way to the bedroom.

  Amanda was in between the three men, surrounded by testosterone wherever she turned. They wasted no time in getting naked and soon enough she was running her hands over muscular bodies, drowning in a flood of hormones. She felt the same way as when she’d confronted the wave, for the torrential flood of pleasure promised to be more than she could handle. Danny, while enjoying Amanda, was also taking delight in Matt's body too. The two men kissed while Ricky and Amanda made out, but their hands were exploring each other and Amanda was there for all three of them. All four bodies meshed and melted together in one hot and heavy amalgamation, their cocks were hard and rigid, while Amanda was wet. Fingers teased and explored while her hands reached down and played with each in turn. She collapsed to her knees and her mouth joined the fun, her eyes watering as she sucked hard, trying to give each one equal pleasure but soon enough she had lost track of which one was which. She was only aware of the heat surrounding her, smearing over her face. At one point Danny dropped down so that he could service Matt and he and Amanda linked arms as they pleasured their men, before Danny rose again so that he could have pleasure.

  The whole room was filled with the stench of sex. Their bodies were soon slick with sweat and Amanda's skin was glazed in glistening arousal. She tasted the hard cocks and sucked until her jaws ached, until she was pushed down on the bed onto her back. She watched Danny and Matt kiss as they formed an arch over her, their cocks resting on her body, burning her, while Ricky moved down and started to eat out her pussy, burying his head and making her writhe and shudder, making her mind crack with utter delight. She thought a threesome had been hot but having three men was almost too much. She moaned and gasped as the pleasure sang through her body. With her hands she reached out and grasped Matt and Danny's cocks, playing with then, wanting to feel their cum all over her body. She pulled and stroked and used them like joysticks, but then the two men moved around. Matt pushed Danny over Amanda's body, bending him over her, and started to fuck him in the ass. Amanda watched Danny's face contort in sweet delight and felt the movements of their body as they pinned her down, and she was tormented by the act of sex. Matt pounded Danny's ass hard, coming down on him like a juggernaut.

  Meanwhile Ricky was still eating out Amanda, and she was loving all the pleasure that pulsed through her body. Her hair was splayed out around her and her legs moved up and down as she tried to brace herself for the onrush of orgasm. Danny's body was hard on her, and to be so close to Matt and Danny while they fucked only turned her on even more and it wasn't long before she felt that sweet release and everything came gushing out, drenching Ricky. He rose and appeared over Danny. Amanda locked eyes with him, and with one look told him to fuck her. He was more than happy to oblige. Ricky held her legs open and plunged his thick erection inside her, causing her eyes to grow wide as she welcomed him inside. He started slow and deep at first but soon grew fast and hard, matching the intensity that the two men were bringing.

  The four of them fucked and the room was alive with the sounds of the fervent moaning and gasping. Danny had already came, and his cum seeped out over Amanda's stomach. It wasn't long before Matt released himself as well with an almighty howl, and Amanda felt Danny's body shudder as it took all of Matt's cum. The two men collapsed and rolled over onto the floor, completely drained and spent, but Amanda was still being fucked by her long lost love. There was anger fueling them but also a passion that they had forgotten, but in that one moment all their nights of mad, crazed sex came flooding back and they were reminded of the lustful beings they had been. Even after so much time the two of them were united, their bodies remembered each other and responded with shivers and tremors that led to earthquakes. Ricky had saved himself for so long and it was all boiling up. Amanda could see it in his face.

  “Give it to me. Give me everything you've been saving for me!” she screamed as she reached up and clutched at his body with frantic hands. His expression was apoplectic and she could feel his entire body rumble. Before he came he pulled out, and then his cum showered her, hot drops of thick white cream fell all over her face and her body, she caught some in her mouth and gulped it down hungrily, grinning and reveling in the naughty delight.

  THE END

  Cowboy Seed

  Chapter 1

  I stood in the corner of the barn, the appropriate smells you might expect to experience in the corner of a barn wafting up into my nostrils, and my inability to join emotionally in the festivities with the rest of these fine folks around me causing me to take more offense at such strong odors than I might generally feel. I put my arm to my nose in an effort to block it out just a bit, but then the music, too, started bothering me, the loud humming of the fiddles in my ear giving me quite the splitting headache, and virtually every aspect of sensory stimulation taking place in the room before me serving only to upset me in some way or another. I struggled to buck up just a bit, to snap myself out of this dismal mindset that simply would not quit, to put on a brave face and smile like an idiot as I watched the finely arrayed men and women from town all looping around and dosey-doeing and having a gay old time, and by gay I mean it in the traditional, old fashioned sense, because I can guarantee you that out here in the wild wild west a more modern understanding of the phrase “a gay old time” might not be smiled upon so readily in public...

  No, this was an innocent undertaking, a townwide square dance, and by all means, at least as far as most of these fine folks were concerned, an occasion to be enjoyed and celebrated, not frowned upon like some gloomy Gus as I was currently doing over here in my sheltered little corner of the barn. I did, at least, make an effort to show some enthusiasm. I tried to have sympathy on behalf of all those happily pirouetting cowboys and cowgirls, moving with synchronized actions that somehow, nonetheless, gave the impression of completely carefree whimsy, skipping to the lou and whatnot, as it were, as happy, I reckoned, as they would ever be.

  But it was just so damn hard, you know? I felt so far beyond the possibility of feeling what it was they were feeling, of experiencing the life in that joyous, blissful manner with which everyone seemed to approach it, their eyes glistening and their cheeks rosy and the smell of animal shit surrounding them seeming not to phase them in the least, caught up as they were in their own sweet illusion, their happiness in one another's company, their ability to socialize and feel accepted and all that feel-good community shit...

  I'd always been this way, to a large degree. That is, I mean I'd never really gelled so well in these manners of gatherings, always feeling just the least bit out of place here and unable to let my guard down in the company of what basically amounted to strangers, these fine folks and folkettes whom I saw just about every living day of c
reation, and yet who felt like such distant entities that I might as well have been living in some far-off and alien land. And I mean, it wasn't like they were ever cruel to me, or intentionally closed me out, nothing like that. It was just me, being the way that I tended to be, sticking out like a sore thumb and endeavoring to keep to the shadows, wallflower that I was, in order to best conceal myself from their company.

  But at the very least, at some point in time, I'd been able to think that things could improve over the course of the evening. Sometimes, I could have some hope in hell that maybe a stranger might just see fit to ask me to dance, unaware of my anxiety at the prospect, not to mention my burning desire to be asked, which was just as damn powerful of my equal and opposing fear of such an event befalling me. And sometimes, in the past, such a blue moon event as that did chance to occur. Strangers would often sweep me off my feet and pull me dizzily onto the dance floor, unaware all along how nervous I was as we spun across the floor laughing and carrying on, and gradually, when such a unique event did occur, I would manage to shed a little bit of that damned self-consciousness, that inability to let go, and I would allow myself to have a good time for a few minutes, to feel like I was part of the excitement and swept up in the whirlwind of activity until the dance ended- and then, inevitably, I would end up scampering away with my tail between my legs, terrified at the prospect of any more in-depth interaction with whatever poor bastard had thought to invite me onto the dance floor, and going home in solitude to hope that, yes, maybe some day, I would work up the nerve to be more social, there was always next time, always next time, always next time...

  But now- now I didn't really have that, even. Now, I was married, yet still here by myself in order to keep up appearances while my husband was out of town, stuck in a sort of no man's land where I could neither enjoy myself or overtly display the very fact that I was failing to have a good time.

  And I knew that I didn't have a hope in hell of being approached by some smooth talker at this point in my life, not now that I was married to the Sheriff of this dusty little town and any perceived flirtations on the part of other men would result in either jail time or a big fat noose around the neck.

  Christ, what had my life become?

  I loved my husband, I really did, but I felt as though there was some crucial lack of connection between the two of us, some fundamental rift that kept us from being what a couple should be, me forever aware of the disparity, and him seeming blissfully ignorant of the fact, which, in turn, led to myself becoming even further alienated from him internally, no matter how well he'd provided for me and did his damnedest to love me.

  Hell... Maybe it was this same rift that had led us to getting together in the first place.

  Don't get me wrong, I've always been quite the looker as far as attracting male attention was concerned, and if relationships were forged on that alone things might have turned out far different for me than the way in which they eventually unfolded. I had beautiful blonde hair, lustrous and silky, which, mind you, was quite an achievement in the skanky old days before the crucial introduction of shampoo and conditioner to the world. My face, I had it on good authority, was rather angelic in nature, with penetrating blue eyes, tight pink lips, and a smile that was reportedly dazzling on the rare occasions I deigned to show it to those around me. And then there was my body... Christ, what a figure... Even though, you know, I was generally pretty covered up by quite the form-concealing cotton outfit, any real indications of a sexual nature blocked from view by the general sensibilities of social propriety of the day, I think men could secretly tell what I had going on under there, and I could tell when they were around me that they wanted it, pretty damn badly. I had soft, flowing curves, a tight little body that was enough to knock a fellow's spurs off in passing, and such hypnotic proportions that I could often detect men's heads beginning to spin like tops on their necks any time I happened to walk past them.

  Without getting too perverse here- or hell, maybe I want to get perverse, and that's why I'm bringing it up- I had a set of tits on me that were, quite frankly, immaculate, and though I had generally, up to that point, been the only real party who got to sneak a peek at them, I knew that they were quite the asset for eventually sneaking my way into a man's good graces. They were plump and lush and firm and bursting with the radiance of youth, the sharp pink nipples so tantalizing as I stared at them in the mirror that I began to wish that I myself could somehow suckle on them, get drunk off my own nectar as it were... I had no earthly idea whether that sort of behavior was prohibited by the Bible or other moral codes or whether that somehow made me a lesbian in a sense, but often the need for self-exploration was so great when admiring myself like this that I would find any number of excuses to sneak off and go touch myself, to compensate with my own frisky fingers for that which I inevitably failed to procure from the loins of any interested males.

  Then there was my ass, my wide hips and my jiggling buttocks, just the right size and composition, so that they bounced and quivered with just the right amount of funk in my trunk, the carryings-on of my rambunctious butt cheeks obvious to those around me even beneath the thick layers of my western regalia, and perhaps one of my most obvious selling points as a sexual prospect to say the least. And then there was my pussy... Oh Christ, what a pussy... Obviously, this was the most hidden of my jewels, as concealed from sight as my innermost depths, but I could almost see men's nostrils flaring at it whenever I happened to walk by them, visages of that floral pink organ formulating in their mind, tight and wet and strong and juicy... Yet, I can also guarantee that, no matter what wonderful things they might have imagined when men fantasized about this cowgirl's cunt, it surely came nowhere near the point of genuine accuracy, because if you put my pussy alongside any other woman's in town, say in the manner you might compare and judge homemade pies and jars of pickles and such at the county fair, I can just about guaran-damn-tee you I would waddle away from that perverse proceeding with a blue ribbon fastened to my thigh, mine surely being the juiciest, freshest, and most floral among their numbers.

  But... Um... Yeah... I reckon that perverse degree of explicit detail is just a notch or two beyond the realm of the point I'm trying to make with all this...

  Anyway, just suffice it to say that I was quite the lurid little specimen as far as the looks compartment were concerned, and so by all means I should have had no problem attracting a lover given just what sort of stuff I was strutting.

  The problem, then, arose from my diffidence, the disparity between my personality and my looks that made me appear so modest and mousy when in reality I was as hungry for cock and as much a craver of crazy ass sex as a woman could be. I could scarcely count with all of my digits the number of occasions on which guys had approached me with clear looks of lust in their eyes, the desire for conquest transparent and evident in their devilish gazes as they came up to me, and I found myself inadvertently but inevitably shutting them down in their tracks, not meaning to be a bitch but appearing as such anyway, turning away from shyness in response to their advances, my cheeks turning as red as a newborn's freshly spanked buttocks and my suitors, frustratingly, under the impression that I was therefore not interested, an impression that was impossibly misguided, but which, in my shyness, I found myself capable of virtually nothing to correct.

  I'd thought my chance for sexual fulfillment would never come, that I would remain unwed forever and eventually just rot into a sexless old maid. That is, until the day that fresh-faced town Sheriff Wayne Westwood ambled into my life, and his obliviousness to my every reaction led him to being the only man to have ever penetrated my seemingly insurmountable boundaries of shyness. See, while a lot of other guys would take my lack of response to their advances as a signal to give up, Sheriff Westwood proved himself quite the dumb bastard, and would likely not have intuited any lack of interest on my part when he approached me had I openly told him to go to hell and splashed my drink squarely in the center of his beautiful face.<
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  So, it just so happened that he presented to me the long-awaited chance to hook up with someone despite my shy, anxious nature, and as far as someone's went, I thought that he was just about the most desirable man I could possibly have asked for, or at least he was initially, anyway. I mean Christ, around these parts you don't fare too much better in the courtship department than the goddamn sheriff of the town, and I had therefore, foolishly, considered most, if not all, of my problems in life solved.

  But I found myself quickly disappointed as far as this went, as well...

  See, in many ways I probably could have lived an entire life without the presence of a man had it not been for my, if you'll excuse me saying so, insatiable carnal lust, as I imagine most women could if they really gave it any amount of honest thought. But sex had been one of the most compelling reasons for me to enter into a relationship- not the only one, of course, as I really did want someone I could love as well, someone with whom I could share an emotional connection, and security, moreover, because I wasn't going to remain this young pretty peach forever, now was I?

  But, much as Wayne failed in providing me with any sort of emotional connection, he proved himself unwilling to offer me up any manner of sexual gratification as well while the two of us were still courting. See, he was of the opinion that a good Christian should remain absolutely, one hundred percent chaste until their wedding night, should not even practice self-exploration, that God-awful abomination, and so, in what I viewed as a most perverse twist of fate, I had at last managed to wrangle myself up a lover who was, in point of fact, not really a lover at all...

  I'd tried, so many times, to seduce him out of his sexual indifference, remaining subtle in my efforts, however, in fear of coming on too strong and being accused of a harlot or something like that, which I really believe he would have if he hadn't been completely dense and failed to take any notice whatsoever of my unsuccessful efforts at luring him into my honey trap.