Let's Swing

by Piquette Fontaine

  I came, hard, nearly crushing the skull of the beautiful bastard presently sucking on my pussy, my thighs collapsing around his head, and trembling until at last he was released. I then groaned loud with contentment, releasing him, and allowing my body to go drifting back down onto the bedspread in an exhausted heap.

  Now, it was Michael's turn to get his nut up, and I was like putty in his hand as he picked me up effortlessly, bringing me onto my hands and knees, and mounting me like a damn animal. I cried out in agony as he pushed himself inside me, piercing my tight pussy with his cock and screwing his way inside, his erect shaft immense as he slid along, filling me up totally with himself, and groaning until he at last touched down, deep, deep, deep within my body.

  God, how I loved it, the feeling of him in me, expanding me and pushing me to my outermost limits as he began to thrust, slowly heaving his massive anatomy in and out, in and out, in and out of me, his strokes getting harder and harder and harder as the moments slipped by.

  And before I knew it, I was being absolutely pounded by this behemoth of a man, his pelvis smacking against my ass and his thickness being plunged deeper and deeper up between my thighs, fucking me so hard that I thought I might go cross-eyed, my breasts swaying wildly with each blast of his body and my head waving about wildly and at concussive speeds from the force.

  I began to moan, to shriek, to cry out with passion, and suddenly I overheard a similar sound coming from the next bed over, a chorus of pleasure that I simply couldn't help but investigate. Simultaneously, as I was being plowed by Michael, Ashley was straddling my husband grinding away on top of him and humping him like there was no tomorrow, her beautiful glazed body swaying in the darkness, and my husband's eyes so wide that he seemed disbelieving that this could really all be happening to him.

  After so much of this pounding of my own, I was at last heaved into with one last, vicious strike, nearly knocked clean off the bed, I thought, until orgasm began to pulse through my form in waves yet again, every part of me lighting up with climax, and the effects even more devastating this time around. But, much to my surprise, Michael didn't yet cum inside me, and though his cock throbbed and pulsed and threatened to burst, he eventually pulled out of me, for the most part, dry.

  There was still a hell of a lot left for the four of us to accomplish before he allowed himself to achieve release...

  Very soon, the two king sized beds were being pushed together, in a manner that symbolized that this previously isolated incident of swinging, with the two couples keeping at arm's length of one another, was now being transformed into an outright, free-for-all orgy.

  Accordingly, the four of us now dissolved into a sloppy, unsanitary heap of limbs, damning our presumed sexual orientations to hell, and grabbing onto whatever bits of hot, heaving flesh we could find. Before I knew it, I wound up in Ashley's arms, kissing another woman for the first time in my life, her taut, sweaty body, feeling almost magical beneath my fingertips, and her lips tasting sheerly splendid as they melted against my own. I loved having her body pressed up against me, our pussies so close together that they nearly touched, not to mention our breasts making contact at the nipples, and I began to wonder why the hell I had gone this long without ever having fucked another girl.

  Almost even more astonishing than this, however, was the fact that our respective lovers were now playing with one another as well, Michael and Adam holding one another's cocks and stroking them wildly as they watched Ashley and I make out, the entire scene seeming almost fictional, unbelievable, but oh so delectable all the while.

  Soon, the four of us were spreading out across the bedspread, arranging into a man, woman, man, woman pattern, and ducking our heads between the legs of the next individual in front of us, in what turned out to be an agonizingly beautiful daisy chain.

  Simultaneously, I had my pussy eaten out for the third time that day, this time by my husband once again, as meanwhile I did my damnedest to give head to the immensely endowed Michael, his cock a difficult one to get my lips around, but the feeling as it came sliding down the tight crook of my throat beyond any pleasure that words could describe. I sucked and slurped and rolled my tongue around him, swallowing him and letting him slide back out yet again, again and again and again, the pleasure of the scene blinding, mind-blowing, and so sweet that I didn't know how the hell I would go back to my day-to-day life once the extent of this vacation was over.

  And finally, following one final, absolutely agonizing switching up of positions, I found myself being smothered with love by the collective of the group. My body was draped out across my husbands, penetrated from below by the man I loved, and his lips pressing warmly against me as I shook with splendid anticipation for what was about to take place.

  Then, God almighty help me, I felt Michael climbing onto the pile on top of me, mounting me, and pushing his way inside me. I had to pull my lips away from Adam's, screaming and cringing with sensation, as I was stretched out wide by the force of two erect cocks inside me, their shafts sliding together in the wet folds of my body, and the pleasure of this knowledge crippling me like nothing else could possibly do.

  And at last, with both of them pressed deep inside me, they began to fuck, to thrust, to grind together, each motion of their bodies more devastating than the last as they plowed me, so that no amount of screaming, or moaning, or crying out with pleasure, could possibly go any length at all in preserving me. They pushed and pumped and humped, their combined heat and weight crushing me in the most pleasant of ways, the agony a dreadful beauty as the moments ticked along, and the entire room seeming to spin in circles around me.

  And finally, with a last, brutal thrust, the two of them pushed their way as deep as they could go inside me, holding themselves in place, and spilling over the edge.

  The two of them absolutely filled me up with their warm, abundant seed, the stuff pulsing through my body and overloading me to the brim, their own substances coating one another's still pumping cocks and lubricating them, and at long last setting me clean over the edge.

  I came, harder than ever, sandwiched between my two immaculate lovers, my screams causing my own ears to ring, my body trembling all over, and every ounce of my composure shot to hell with each hot wave of orgasm rolling over me like a steamroller.

  And finally, after every last bit of pleasure was exhausted, the two men pulled out of me, and wrapped me up in their arms. For some time the three of us, along with Ashley, lay entwined in the afterglow, rolling around and making out, performing more sexual favors for one another as the affair spanned on into the night, and the sheer bliss of it all seeming eternal, permanent, and neverending.

  And God... This sure as hell hadn't been mentioned in the brochure...

  THE END

  Menage In The Attic

  It wasn’t like they’d never joked about it before. Seriously, who hasn’t joked about a zombie apocalypse? Who doesn’t know exactly which weapon they’d choose to battle the undead? Who hasn’t semi-seriously considered the layouts of places like Walmart, Lowe’s, and Target, pointing out the fact that it would be much easier to grow a sustainable, aquaponic garden in Lowe’s, but less effort necessary to expend while living off the snack-packed aisles of Target? Who hasn’t debated the speed at which a zombie can run, and whether they can survive in frigid climates or not? The three roommates had gotten drunk and talked zombie contingency plans more times than any of them could count. It was practically a right of passage as a young 20-something to know your plans in the event of a zombie apocalypse.

  They just never expected to have to use those plans.

  “Max, stop fucking around and nail those boards over the windows,” Casey Beeler yelled as she flipped back her long red hair and used the heel of her beautiful spiked Louboutins to hammer a nail into a plank of wood across the front door. Because, of course, this incompetent house of juvenile delinquents didn’t have a second hammer. For Chrissakes, of all the people to be stranded with during a zombie ap
ocalypse, Max Schwartz and Jeff Conrad were not the ideal candidates. Casey paused to pull her phone from her back pocket and check the screen for any messages. None. She sighed and jammed it back into her jeans.

  “No word from ‘New Boyfriend’?” sneered Jeff, taking a break from hauling boxes of canned food up to the third floor to lean on the counter.

  “No word from ‘Rainbow Tears’?” Casey snapped back, slamming her shoe against the head of the nail. Scuffs were starting to mark the black matte sole. If they survived this attack, Casey was going to kill these assholes. And then buy them a better toolkit. One that didn’t include a single hammer, a broken ruler, and an old Snickers bar.

  “Her name isn’t ‘Rainbow Tears,’ it’s Misty,” Jeff sniffed, folding his arms. “And I’m sure she’s perfectly fine in a safe house somewhere.”

  “Yeah,” Casey snorted. “A safe house of incense and patchouli and her feelings.”

  “Casey, stop fucking around and nail those boards over the door,” Max called from the front window, where he was ineffectually trying to fasten two boards in an x formation over the glass. He paused, picked up the smoking joint he’d set beside the broken lamp, and took another hit.

  “Jesus fucking Christ, Max, how are you this incompetent. And how are you getting high right now?” she asked incredulously. “We’re trying not to die.”

  Max raised an eyebrow and took another hit. “How are you not getting high right now?” he replied easily.

  Casey thrust her shoe at Jeff and glared at him. “You do the door,” she said. “I have to help Max understand that two measly planks, shoddy construction, and marijuana are not going to save us from the undead.”

  They hadn’t moved into 183 Dancy Street together because they were friends, not by a long shot. Casey was studying painting at the university, and she’d needed a cheap place to live close by. Unfortunately, so did everyone else attending the university, and finding an apartment she could actually afford to rent in a place that wasn’t an hour away minimum by public transportation turned out to be an impossible venture. When she saw the ad for a room in 183 Dancy, she’d been ecstatic. The house wasn’t much – a two storey post war blue house on a corner, the porch sagging on one end, the floor boards rattling beneath her feet, dishes unwashed in the sink, stupid figurines on the old mantle above the fireplace (which she later learned belong to Max, because who else would own an Indian snake figurine that promised fertility to all the men in the house), and strange dirt marks all along the walls in the living room. The stove hardly functioned when called upon. The furniture was mismatched and broken. Nothing had been dusted in the last fifty years. But the room had cream-colored crown molding and a nice view of the trees, and the roommates… Casey would be an idiot if she didn’t admit that the first time she met them, she had to work to keep her face from betraying how gorgeous she really thought they were. Jeff was a photographer, and maybe he was a total slob and was constantly bringing home the dumbest girls humanity had to offer, but his swooping mop of blonde hair and his tall, strong physique had made her heart pound. And Max was a massage therapist, for God’s sake. With strong hands and a permanent 5 o’clock shadow and green eyes that could weaken her knees in a millisecond. Yes, he smoked a lot of weed and played video games all day long, and maybe she should have paid more attention to those attributes when she was looking at the room, but she’d been blinded by their combination of light and dark beauty. It was all she could do not to cheer while she signed the lease.

  If Casey had known she’d have to rely on the two of them to keep her alive during a zombie attack, she might have been just a touch choosier, though to be fair, the news reports hadn’t made it seem like it was going to amount to anything at first. A few news reports about a strange illness emerging in Malaysia, something that looked like a weird form of leprosy. None of the reporters on CNN had confirmed anything, and the people on NPR made everything sound horrible, so who was going to pay attention to that? And then it was in India, where it spread quickly throughout all of Asia, and suddenly the illness was in Europe, the news showing nervous reporters looking at their notes as they detailed that the strange illness had been found in a passenger aboard a plane to Boston. After that, everything had happened so fast. It seemed ridiculous that Casey was going to painting class and making out with Andrew only last week.

  Now the three roommates huddled in the attic against one another, Casey in the middle absorbing both their warmth, and they listened to the dim sound of moans that had been going on for hours now. They’d boarded up every opening they could think of, finishing just as the first zombie clawed at the side of the house, and then they’d boarded themselves inside the attic. They had walls of boxes filled with canned food all around them; the entire bathtub in the small bathroom was filled with water; and they’d brought up every blanket and pillow they owned. Now they waited. Casey clutched her Swiss Army knife and tried to breathe properly. Jeff blew on a piece of blonde hair that had fallen across his face. Max sat with his arms on his knees, flipping the hammer in the air higher and higher.

  “Ow.”

  “Max,” Casey said wearily. “Would you just…”

  “Red,” Max snapped, using the nickname he knew she hated the most. “If you’re planning on shouting orders at us for the rest of eternity, I’m going to have to kill you right now.”

  “That’d be useful,” said Jeff idly. “Then we’d have some fresh meat to sustain us for the long zombie winter.”

  “God, fuck you both, you’re only alive because I’m not as brain dead as the two of you seem to be,” Casey huffed. She eyed the hammer spinning in Max’s hand. “And I’d like to see you try to kill me. Since you can’t even reinforce a window.”

  “Right, you know everything there is to know about zombies, I totally forgot.” Max rolled his eyes. “Because you’re, what, a hunter? A professional boxer? A scientist? Oh, wait.”

  God, what an asshole. He was baiting her. Casey could feel her ears burning, which was never a good sign. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her temper. Without thinking, she brought out her phone and looked at the screen.

  “Stop wasting your battery, Case,” said Jeff. “He’s not gonna text you.”

  “Who, ‘New Boyfriend’? Ha,” snorted Max. “Pretty sure ‘New Boyfriend’ is humping some crying sorority girl right now.”

  “His name,” Casey snarled, “is Andrew. And no he isn’t.” She stuffed her phone underneath the sleeping bag beneath her. “And fuck you.”

  “What, can’t handle the heat, Red?” Max smirked, his shoulder warm against Casey’s arm. “Oh how sweet, she’s blushing, Jeff. Our little delicate flower is blushing.”

  Casey reached out and shoved Max, harder than she’d intended to. He tipped over and sprawled on his side. Max shook with mirth.

  “Oh he is,” Max laughed, gasping for air. “He absolutely is. It’s the end of the world, Red. This is a prime experience to get as much ass as possible. He’s probably got some hot, blonde Psych major pressed up against a wall with his hand down her panties even as we speak.”

  Oh, God. It was happening. Casey could feel her anger crawling like insects up her limbs and into her head, where it pounded like a drum. It had been such a horrible, surreal day, and this little shithead was probably right, and now she wanted to strangle someone, and if it couldn’t be ‘New Boyf’ – no, Andrew – then it would have to be Max. Casey tackled him, pinning his hands down to the ground and sitting on his pelvis, using her strong thighs to fix him firmly beneath her, cursing at him blindly. Max looked up at her, panting, eyes wide with surprise and that stupid smirk still hiding on his mouth. He writhed, trying to free himself, and then suddenly he bucked his hips beneath her. The two of them stilled. They stared at each other for a long moment, quieted. Below them, zombies moaned and scratched at the outer walls of the house.

  Finally, Jeff cleared his throat. Max blinked, and something in his face shut down.

  “Get off me, R
ed,” Max said, his voice strangely hoarse.

  Casey tore herself away from him.

  “Um. Sorry.”

  Max rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. Uh. Me too.”

  Casey looked up at the crown molding on the attic ceiling so she wouldn’t have to look at those green eyes again. Her heart pounded.

  They sat in silence until, one by one, the three of them drifted off to sleep.

  Casey sat up with a jolt. It was pitch black in the attic, save for a small square of light beaming through the tiny window in the center of the slanted roof. Heavy, steady sounds of deep sleep filled the room, and she felt the body of one of the boys near her shift in his sleep under the heavy layers of blankets. Then she felt it again: something slammed into the side of the house, and Casey felt the structure shudder in a way that wasn’t comforting at all. Suddenly she felt a hand cover her own, and a face appeared beside hers.

  “It’s okay,” said Jeff’s voice in her ear. “It’s just the zombies.”

  “This is fucking ridiculous,” she whispered back.

  Jeff’s laugh was warm and comforting against the small hairs by her ear. “No shit.”

  Casey realized with a shiver of horror that the moaning had grown louder. “They haven’t broken into the house, have they?” she said, horrified.

  But Jeff was shaking his head. “We’d know if they were in the house. I think there are just more of them. They’re accumulating, or something.”

  She passed a hand over her face tiredly, letting her fingers toy with her long, frizzy red braid. “Well can’t they fuck off so we can get some sleep?”