Let's Swing

by Piquette Fontaine

  When at last he was drained, he sighed, leaning back, and Derrick put his sticky face forward into him, sucking off the last few drops of sperm from the tip of his prick.

  “Awwwwww, yeeeeeeah...” That was nice, said Richard, stroking my husband's hair. “Sorry about the aim there... I got a little bit carried away, I think...”

  “Don't worry about it,” said Richard, smiling, and to drive home the point, he leaned in, and kissed the man, slathering him up in a quantity of his own fluids, and pouring what small amount he had on his tongue into Dick's open mouth.

  Dick smiled, breathing low, and Derrick stepped away from him, moving over to the dresser to retrieve one of the wash cloths we had stored there for occasions just such as this. He fumbled around, and as I heard one of the drawers slide open I realized with surprise that I'd forgotten something earlier that morning...

  My husband, smiling, lifted up the pair of lacy black panties that I'd left in the drawer from our encounter with the Joneses earlier. Amused, he turned around with the dainty little things in his hands, showing them to Richard, and Richard couldn't help but laugh.

  “From one of our past customers, apparently,” he said, and then tucked the panties back into the drawer before finding the correct one in which the wash cloths were stored.

  Derrick climbed back over onto the bed with Richard, and began to dab away the sperm from both of their faces, slowly, tenderly, in a manner that was marked by a strange excess of intimacy. They kissed, more and more passionately, as this progressed, until finally they said to hell with it and cast the rag aside, wrapped up in one another's bodies as they suddenly were, grinding, pushing, unraveling, my husband's tight thong being shed from his form, and the two fellows' collected nakedness melting sensually into a sexy, steaming mass.

  My husband was versatile as far as being a gay lover was concerned. He enjoyed bottoming just as much as he enjoyed topping, but overwhelmingly, the men he pleasured during their visits here seemed to vastly prefer being fucked by my husband as opposed to doing the fucking. My rationale was that, presuming there were some repressed gay impulses on their part that they were taking this opportunity to indulge, they could just as easily perform penetration on the body of a female, but the feeling of being penetrated by such a well-hung male partner was a wholly separate beast entirely.

  Mr. Collier was no exception to this general rule, it seemed. My husband had climbed up on top of him from behind, mounting him like a damn animal on his hands and knees. He'd groaned quite excessively as Derrick pushed his prick up inside him, sliding in with his engorged tip first, and then following that up with inch by inch of his glorious curved shaft until at last he touched down deep within the man's body, and he let out a tremendous, shivering sigh.

  My ass rang with a sort of sympathy for the man- believe you me, I knew what he was experiencing right now... My husband could really stretch a girl out, in the most wonderful of ways, and so I supposed it must be the same for a closeted bisexual, to some extent or another.

  Derrick began to grind slowly, gently in and out of Richard's tight, hot butthole and Richard, all the while, clenching the sheets in his fists, closing his eyes, and taking it all in, every last, long, veiny throbbing inch of it. Sweat trickled along his spine and he shivered, the agonizing pleasure consuming him as he rode back and forth along my husband's dick, and his enthusiasm growing, as a lurid grin spread wide across his lips.

  “Go on... Yeah... Fuck me... Fuck me... Ohhhhh... Harder... Harder... Harder... Faster... Fuck... Faster... Faster... Harder...”

  Before long, Dick was screaming. My husband was really tearing into him, smashing his tight little ass with the heaving force of his pelvis, their sweaty bodies producing a loud, wet clapping sound, so intense and so startling that it actually made my eyes go wide, difficult as it was to imagine being ass-fucked at such a brutal pace and yet Richard, God bless him, seemed to be enjoying himself immensely all the while, right up to the very end.

  “God... God.. God... Fuck... Fuck... Yes... Yes!!!”

  And WHAM!

  “OHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

  Richard moaned, to be honest, almost exactly like a woman as my husband jammed his cock up inside him one final time, his body ringing with prostate organ as Derrick hit his sweet spot, and began to unload himself wildly all over him. My husband filled our guest's tight hot ass with sperm, unleashing what I knew to be a vicious load of seed all up into his tight pink thing, and at last, after several thick pulses of throbbing pleasure being transferred from Derrick's body's to Dick's, he collapsed on top of him in exhaustion, crushing him sexily with his sweaty, powerful body, and extricating himself from the man's lucky, lucky back side.

  They kissed and groped and fondled one another for some time and after a while, I could hear the bed commencing to shake once more, indicating a round two of their sexual escapades. I figured I'd had my share of ease-dropping at that point, and I headed back downstairs- where, mind you, I could still hear the bed rattling above my head and I decided to join them vicariously by grabbing my vibrator, slipping into the shower and rumbling myself to sweet, splendid climax beneath the heated streams of water.

  God, I was a lucky, lucky woman...

  Chapter 3

  The rest of our week passed along fairly uneventfully. Mr. Collier had left the following morning after his evening sweating the sheets with my husband. It was kind of funny, honestly, he had this sort of uptight, professional demeanor on his departure, as though nothing at all had happened during the course of his stay. I had to suppress an intense urge to laugh as he left, but I could honestly understand and respect his desire not to delve any further into the matter. It was, after all, his business- and my husband's I supposed. So that was that.

  After him, things remained pretty light. We had a couple of other guests during the week, both single, a man and a woman, and though either of them would have made fine bedfellows, neither of them took the bait of our specialty menu, so we didn't push the point any further. And then, in a rare turn of events, there was no one at all booked for Saturday and Sunday, no one but a sweet little old elderly couple and no, we did not fuck them or offer to do so. But they were pleasant enough company, regaling us with boring stories until they conked out at about nine o'clock or so, and as far as customers went, they were largely hassle free, requiring a minimum degree of hassle or clean-up and sometimes in the business, that was honestly about the damn best thing you could ask for in your clientele.

  And then Monday rolled around...

  On Monday, the couple walked into our door that was about to rock my goddamn world. The Smiths had made a reservation a couple of weeks in advance and had surprised us by reserving the room upstairs for the whole week. This was the first time such a thing had ever occurred, and though the payment for that long was certainly welcome, it left us facing the prospect of either one of two possibilities sexually. We didn't know what they looked like or what their attitudes about sex were until they got here, so this was either going to be a very boring week without an ounce of “outside exploration,” or else Derrick and I were going to be so stupendously oversexed by the time all was said and done that we'd need to spend the whole next damn week closed just to recuperate our strength.

  But nearly the second that we opened the door to greet our new guests, Derrick and I turned to one another, nodding affirmatively to give them “kinky” breakfast menu, both of us somehow intuiting from a single glance that these two were very much a couple that we hoped to know, in the biblical sense...

  God, they were hot...

  Her, a sexy little blonde tigress, with the features of a model and an overtly sexual air about her, always wearing something slinky and suggestive, but wearing it in a manner that nonetheless produced an impression of elegance, so that you wanted to fuck her, but it was impossible to view her as cheap or easy- even if she may or may not have actually been so.

  He, meanwhile, was tall, dark, suave and handsome, with a thin layer o
f stubble across his chin, a dark smile and eyes, and a demeanor so fine that it became hypnotic to stand in his presence for all that much time at all.

  These were, without a doubt in either of our minds, the perfect company with which to share a bed for the upcoming week, if, fingers crossed, they were indeed as up for bumping uglies with the two of us as we were with them.

  At any rate, their demeanors seemed to suggest that that was very much the case. They were easygoing but sexy and flirtatious in their speech, always looking as though they were within an inch of stripping down to their birthday suits and getting busy at a moment's notice, yet so composed, so refined, that it was almost maddening to try and reconcile the conflicting impressions they stirred within one.

  Jim and Irene were their names. They sat down to dinner with us, and we found ourselves flowing more smoothly into conversation than was sometimes the case with our guests, the two of them seeming filled with the most interesting stories and adventures, and the glasses of wine being passed around the table, refill after refill, causing us all to become lightheaded and giddy, eager to fall gladly into sexual temptation should it come calling for the four of us by the time was dinner was over.

  I kept making eyes at my husband whenever it seemed like the two of them weren't looking. It was like I had to keep confirming things with him- are you seeing this? Can you believe this? Can you believe our luck? God, I can't wait to get into bed with them...

  I thought for sure they were going to come right out and ask us upstairs with them, though of course I knew I needed to pace myself. They were going to be here for an entire week, after all, and I didn't want to go and eff things up straight out of the gate. And besides, they hadn't actually gotten around to seeing our offer on the breakfast menu, had they? They needed to know, on no uncertain terms, that the offer was out there first, and I decided I needed to get a handle on my expectations if I had a hope in hell of surviving any potential love fest that might result from their presence in our home.

  After about an hour of dinner and conversation, they thanked us profusely, excusing themselves under the pretense that they'd been traveling all day, and my husband helped them with their bags, showing them up to their rooms.

  I began clearing the table, and Derrick came back down to help me after a few minutes, having shown them around.

  “And now we wait...” he said hopefully, grinning at me, indicating that he clearly wanted this every bit as much as I did.

  God, we were a perfectly matched couple of perverts.

  Once the kitchen was cleaned up and the dishes were done, Derrick and I sat around in the living room for what felt like hours- it was hours, actually, a couple of hours, anyway. But it felt like more than that in our giddy anticipation, with me sitting around, anxiously jiggling my leg, and my husband trying but failing to concentrate on a magazine, the pages of which he seemed not to turn for a good twenty minute span at a time.

  And at last, startlingly, there it was- the telephone ringing, making my heart do somersaults, my anticipation for this event having taken on almost embarrassingly large proportions by this point.

  I grinned hopefully at my husband, crossing my fingers, and ran over to pick up the receiver.

  “Hello, there? Can I help you with anything?” I said, as nonchalantly as I could possibly force myself to be.

  “Hi there, yeah, we're calling down about the Super Delight Special? We'd like it, please... As soon as you can come up...”

  Holy hell... They didn't even have to ask what it was. God, our reputation was really beginning to circulate.

  “Oh... Um... Okay... We can be there right after we freshen up...”

  “Oh, just you please, darling. My wife and I are very much looking forward to it...”

  And, as simply as that, he hung up.

  I felt, suddenly, both very excited, and very guilty about my husband being left out of the escapades- for what would, presumably, prove a very long, very exhausting week...

  “Well?” asked Derrick enthusiastically, waiting anxiously to hear what was going on.

  “Well... I said, wanting to break it lightly to him, but knowing there was no point in beating around the bush about things. “Well, they... They only want me... I'm afraid...”

  “Oh...” he said, looking momentarily defeated.

  There was an awkward silence, with me standing dumbly at his side, trying to think of something to say to reduce the force of the blow. Nothing at all came to mind however, and I decided the best thing would be for me to just get on with it- after all, it wasn't like he never had fun without me, was it? There had been Richard, just the other day, after all...

  “I should go,” I said, and he smiled, trying to remain supportive.

  “Have fun,” he said, a little bit hollow in his delivery, and I scurried along, to go and get cleaned up properly, and to slip into something a little bit more... Well, you know...

  Chapter 4

  God, that first night with Jim and Irene... What else can I call it, short of sheerly, splendidly magical?

  I crept up into their room in my nightie- a fairly modest one, but still sexy in its way. I didn't know exactly how quickly I could expect the couple to operate, so I wanted to make sure I at least paced myself. Though, honestly, the urgency with which they beckoned me up over the phone had made me guess that, to some extent, I could look forward to some very rapid progression upon entering into the couple's bedroom,

  Sure enough, I peeked into the door, and there the two of them were- Irene in her ravishing pink bra and panties, and Jim, presumably, naked beneath the covers, the blankets all balled up over his lap.

  “Hello there...” I said, a bit sheepishly, and I realized, peculiarly enough, that for the first time during one of my encounters with guests, I was feeling positively bashful at the prospect of what was about to happen. This was highly unusual for me, I have to admit... And I think my reticence largely showed in my demeanor, as Jim and Irene both looked at one another and smiled.

  Irene hopped up from the bed, strutting in her feminine charm over to me across the room, and taking me by the hand. “Come on over, sweetheart... We don't bite... Unless you want us too...” She winked suggestively, and I smiled as I joined the two of them on their bed, sitting at Jim's feet, his body heat wafting up toward me as I sat nervously, in anticipation of what was about to happen.

  There was really no accounting for why the hell I was so anxious all of the sudden. You would have thought I was a virgin, or at the very least a “good girl,” for whom this was the first ever experience being bad with another couple. Of course, neither of these things were true, so I was at a loss for the fact that I seemed unable to raise my eyes to the two beautiful bodies surrounding me, staring instead at the quilt beneath me, and picking at a thread that appeared loose at the seams.

  “God, you look ravishing,” said Jim, and at this point I looked at him, blushing slightly, wanting to say thank you, but the words catching in my throat.

  It was Irene who saved me. I turned to her, rather suddenly, at the placing of her warm, loving hand on the side of my face. I gazed into her stunning arms, transfixed, and grateful as hell that I could finally manage to maintain the line of vision for so long, when up to that point I'd done nothing but turn away from either of the two sexpots in utter fright.

  I found myself suddenly short of breath, my nostrils flaring desperately as I inhaled her scent, my nerves prickling with sensation from the touch of her hand on my face, and sweat already beginning to stream down along my body before the act of love had even begun.

  And then, she leaned in.

  She kissed me.

  I kissed her back.

  Again, and again, and again, and again we kissed.

  She tasted wonderful.

  I seemed wholly unable to pry myself from her lips all of the sudden, transfixed after so much initial hesitance. Her touch, in itself, was splendid, magical, her lips sweeter than candy, the feeling of her tongue in my mo
uth so damn glorious that I might have grown intoxicated by it alone.

  Jim, behind the two of us, had subtly brought his hand beneath the blankets. He'd begun to stroke what I could picture as an enthusiastic erection beneath the privacy of the bedspread, dredging the flesh of his shaft from tip to base as he watched the two lesbians at the foot of the bed making out, both for his pleasure and for our own.

  We began to grow desperate for one another. I found the initial fear I'd experienced all but drain away, as Irene proceeded to slide her hands all across the front of my body, feeling me up against the front of my nighty, squeezing on my breasts, and, at last, making me gasp as she slid her hand up between my legs, squeezing firmly at the warm wet place between my thighs, causing my pelvis to ring out with echoes of pleasure beneath the thin, skimpy fabric of my panties.

  These people didn't fucking waste time...

  We continued to swap spit wildly, the straps of Irene's bra gradually slipping down along her shoulders, and she doing nothing at all to correct this as it happened. Instead, she decided to even the playing field, by sliding down the straps of my nighty, pushing the fabric down almost all the way to my stomach, so that it remained intact on my body, but my tits now hung out plain as day in the open, my nipples sensitized and aching to be serviced, and her hands, as they moved up once more to squeeze directly against my flesh, kneading me up into an outright frenzy, and causing me to cry out at the top of my lungs.