Tara & Steve: A Tale of Swingers

by August MacGregor

  Tara & Steve

  A Tale of Swingers

  by August MacGregor

  This novel is a work of erotic fiction and is meant for mature readers of at least 18 years old. The image in the cover is stock photography, and the models are used for illustrative purposes only—inclusion on the cover is not meant to imply the models' involvement in the activities described in this story. Any resemblance between the characters in this novel with persons living or dead is purely coincidental. All characters in the story are older than 18 years old and participate in consensual sex. The mention of companies and products in the story should not be taken as their support of the events in the story.

  Chapter 1. Blame It On The Eggnog

  We felt sorry for Ralph, but what he did was uncalled for—and it had consequences far beyond his intentions. His act had to rank near the top of Auntie Helga’s Rules for Party Anti-Etiquette.

  The top of that list was probably to walk to the host’s shed, borrow the chainsaw, and rip it through all of the partygoers. Ralph’s behavior wasn’t nearly that bad, but it probably ranked in the top ten.

  All of us froze when Ralph did it. In Wild West movies, the gunslinger struts through the saloon’s two swinging half-doors, and everyone in the place immediately shuts up. You could hear a tumbleweed tumble by. But in real life, you never experience anything like this.

  Except for now.

  Everyone froze at the sight of Ralph swinging his eggnog-covered dick and yelling, “Bring it on! Who’s first?”

  Ralph had become a gunslinger, all right. His gun was loaded and ready to fire. And we had become the shocked audience.

  Before you judge Ralph, let me tell you this wasn’t typical behavior for Ralph. He used to be a bank manager, the guy with a warm smile and firm handshake. The kind of guy who you would borrow a hunk of change from to buy a house. The kind of guy who you would hand over your savings to and say, “Keep this safe for me.” You trusted him. Of course, you knew the whole sum was insured by the federal government, but you still trusted good, old Ralph.

  Then things changed. In a big way. Ralph lost his job, his savings ran out, his house was foreclosed, and his wife left him. In that order. Thankfully, they didn’t have any kids—those would’ve made it a lot tougher.

  He couch-hopped from one friend’s house to another. Rumor had it that he surfed job websites during the day and went to therapy groups for the unemployed. Rumor also had it that he was a helpful guest. Cleaned house while you were at work. Made a mean Beef Stroganoff. From scratch—not the bullshit from a box. He walked your dogs if you had them. Cleaned the litter box if you had a cat.

  Like I said, we all felt sorry for the poor fucker.

  But now this.

  Ralph was completely sloshed. Still, it takes serious balls to whip out your dick and wave it around in public. On top of that, demand that someone bring it on. That takes serious cojones—even while drunk.

  I had never heard gossip about Ralph turning to drink after losing his job, house, and wife. As a couch-hopping guest, he had actually turned down drinks when offered. A model house guest, like I said. Not some bum who ate all the food in your pantry and sat like a zombie in front of the TV all day.

  However, Ralph was certainly drinking tonight. Heavily drinking. But who could blame him for letting his hair down at Kiefer and Tiffany’s Annual Holiday Party? Who could blame the guy for drinking an eggnog or two or twelve?

  This was more than drunk, though. We were staring into the nasty face of utter desperation. His frustration over the several losses in his life and not being able to land a new job had mounted into desperation.

  This became toxic when mixed with Tiffany’s tasty eggnog. Tiffany made wonderful eggnog from scratch. Not pre-made stuff in supermarket jugs—actually from scratch. Before Ralph’s incident, guests had ladled the sweet nectar from the glass punchbowl to their cups, and then they marveled over how good it tasted.

  It was Tiffany’s ornate punchbowl where Ralph dipped his dick into. Afterward, he spun around and caused a scene that none of us would ever forget. Ralph in his dark grey slacks and light gray sweater. Dick stuck out his fly. Tiffany’s homemade eggnog dripping off it.

  All of us stared.

  And then our jaws dropped even further as Tiffany knelt down and began to blow Ralph.

  One had to wonder: Did she want to prevent any more eggnog from dripping onto her carpet? Was fellatio for guests on Tiffany’s Rules for Party Etiquette? Was this a pity suck for all that Ralph had been through? Had she been aching to orally pleasure Ralph ever since meeting the man? Where was her husband, Kiefer, and what exactly did he think of his wife doing this?

  Being a gracious hostess is one thing. Giving head to a guest who is not your husband is quite another.

  “What the fuck?” I whispered to my friend Ben.

  “No clue, man,” he replied.

  Not long ago, Ben and I had been talking about football. Which college and professional games we were looking forward to seeing. Your standard party banter.

  And then Ralph happened. Ralph had put a big kibosh on all the conversations in the crowd of guests. Stopped us in our tracks. Adding to that kibosh was Tiffany’s blowjob. Whatever we were talking about before—be it football or gossip or holiday travel plans—those conversations were long forgotten.

  I’ve never been to a live sex show. Never been to a seedy part of a city and gone into a porn shop and seen a live show of people fucking. Was this what they were like? Surely, they lacked this intimacy. You didn’t know the actors in those shows. In this show, we certainly knew them.

  Ben and I were stationed behind Tiffany, so we could see her head moving, but we couldn’t see the actual sucking. It was a little irritating, like in a porno movie that shows the woman’s back for too long. It was a neat angle, sure—but only for so long. You needed to skip past the back of her head to the view of her mouth working on a hard cock.

  I wanted to move through the crowd, bumping people aside, so I could get a better view. See Tiffany’s mouth on Ralph’s rod. But I figured that wouldn’t be polite.

  Betty appeared next to the couple. Everyone’s eyes shifted to her. She looked quite fetching in her black velvety pants that hugged her ass and flowed down to her ankles. A neat trick how those pants were snug at the top and billowy at the bottom. Betty had a tight little ass that made men imagine holding it while drilling her from behind. At least that’s what I imagined.

  But what was Betty up to now, as she stood next to the blowjob couple?

  “Tiffany,” Betty said, “what are you doing?”

  Precisely what all of us were thinking. Tiffany looked up at Betty. Ralph looked over at Betty. Everyone in the room looked at Betty.

  Betty said, “Are you going to hog all that for yourself? Or are you going to share?”

  Ben and I gasped. This was what, shock number three?

  Tiffany took Betty’s interruption in stride. “Be my guest,” she said and got out of the way.

  You had to marvel at her perfect choice of phrase. The smoothest hostess in the land.

  Betty took over where Tiffany had left off. Ralph simply stared down at Betty sucking him. No complaint from him.

  “Well,” Tiffany said, looking over the crowd. “I could use some more eggnog. Anyone else?”

  We just stared at her. It was as if she had asked us to strip naked and walk around on our hands. She wasn’t bothered, though. She simply went to the punchbowl and poured herself a cup of the ’nog. I guess she didn’t mind that Ralph’s dick had just stirred the creamy beverage.

  “What’s going on?” someone muttered.r />
  “Is this a prank?” someone else whispered.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Where’s Reggie?”

  That was a very good question. Reggie was Betty’s husband. One wondered: What did Reggie think of his wife gobbling up Ralph’s dick? I didn’t see him around. Kiefer still hadn’t turned up. There was the lingering question of what he thought about Tiffany, his wife of many years, gobbling up Ralph’s dick, too.

  And then another question arose: Where was Tara? During these shocking events, I didn’t even know where my girlfriend was. Last time I saw her, she was heading to the basement with a couple of her chick buddies. Did she know what was going on in the living room?

  The buzzing had started. The crowd grew as guests from other rooms joined the audience. They were busy whispering and murmuring about the blowjob happening before our very eyes.

  Kiefer appeared and went to his wife. Finally, the host of this grand ball showed up after all the wild stuff started. Now we were going to see his reaction to his wife’s oral indiscretion.

  Strangely, he didn’t seem upset at her fellatio. You’d think the guy would’ve yelled at her or maybe even punched Ralph. Nope. Instead of an angry retort, Kiefer hugged his wife and kissed her. Kissed those lips that had recently been wrapped around Ralph’s dick.

  What the hell?

  Ben elbowed my side and whispered, “Hey, man. You think if we stick our peckers in the punchbowl, we’ll get the same treatment?”

  I laughed, as others did who heard him.

  “Doubt it,” I said. “You’d have to be in the same sorry state as Ralphie boy up there.”

  “He’s not in a sorry state right now,” Ben said.

  “God, I’d love to fuck that ass,” someone muttered. I couldn’t identify the speaker, and I couldn’t tell if he meant Ralph’s ass or Betty’s.

  Julie emerged from the crowd to be the next person to approach the fellatio couple. I loved how her red sweater gripped her jugs. Betty knew how to flaunt her hot butt, and Julie knew how to flaunt her big boobs. Those sweater muffins were pipin’ hot fresh.

  Julie stood behind Betty, and then folded her arms underneath her wonderful rack. Didn’t say a word. She seemed to be waiting her turn. Maybe she was being patient, since Betty hadn’t been sucking for as long as Tiffany had. But it was hard to tell how much time had elapsed. Bewilderment had a way of making me lose track of time.

  “Holy shit, man,” Ben said. “Is she going to blow him next?”

  In the past, Ben had privately admitted to me that he’d love to get his hands on Julie’s sweater muffins. I had admitted to wanting the same thing.

  “Beats me,” I replied. “But it does look like she’s in line.”

  “Can you believe this?”

  Tara’s voice. She had found me. I felt a bit guilty, as if she had walked in on me watching porn and masturbating. Which had never happened, but I guessed it would feel this way.

  “No,” I replied, “I can’t believe it. Am I dreaming?”

  “No, you’re not,” Tara said. “Because if you were, you’d be the one up there, not Ralph.”

  I smiled. Had to give it to her. She was right on target.

  Tara was my second girlfriend to actually enjoy watching porn. Other girlfriends before her had tolerated watching a movie with me, but that was the extent of it.

  Just my ex-girlfriend Heather had actually enjoyed it before Tara. Heather was turned on by watching other people fuck. Same with Tara. We’d put on a movie and take turns caressing each other. Or we’d fuck in doggy-style, so both of us could watch the video at the same time. My favorite was to sit on the couch, with Tara facing away from me and bouncing on my dick. A sitting reverse cowgirl position. Again, so both of us could watch the movie and be turned on by it.

  It was a hot part of our sex life. Not that we watched porn every single time we had sex—we didn’t even watch it every week. But it was there when we were in the mood for the excitement of seeing other people fuck.

  This blowjob scene at the holiday party would’ve fit right into a porn movie.

  Yet another woman walked over to the action by the punchbowl, and she stood behind Julie. I didn’t recognize her. A newbie to the annual party, I guessed. She was pretty, with red hair pinned up in the back in an elegant hairstyle.

  “She’s getting in line,” Tara said, shaking her head. “Can you fucking believe this?”

  “Nope, still can’t,” I said.

  “Time’s up,” Busty Julie announced to Betty. “My turn.”

  Guess Julie got tired of waiting to suck on Ralph. Betty relinquished her spot, and for a moment, I could see Ralph’s erection. No more eggnog on it. It had been sucked clean off. Then Julie kneeled and started her turn.

  Another woman joined the line behind the redheaded woman. This one I recognized: Melissa.

  What the fuck? This had become like the ending of It’s a Wonderful Life, when all of the townsfolk lined up at the Bailey house to give money and bring poor old George Bailey out of financial disaster.

  Ralph was George Bailey. Except that Ralph wasn’t receiving money, he was receiving oral favors. I don’t know if Ralph had ever contemplated suicide, as George had done on that snowy bridge scene in the movie. But you knew suicide was the furthest thing from Ralph’s mind now. His biggest worry was probably lasting through the various women in line—which had grown by another woman.

  It was still Julie’s turn. Her long brunette hair swayed slightly as she bobbed on his Ralph’s dick.

  Then moaning.

  Not from Ralph, though. This was a woman’s moaning. It came from behind me. Lots of us spun in the direction of the moaning. It was clear as day where it came from.

  Vicky. Her husband stood behind her, his arms wrapped around her. One of his hands was underneath her black skirt, making a bulge at her groin. The bulge was busy with the obvious movement of him stroking her pussy. His other hand cupped one of her boobs over her green satin blouse.

  What the fuck was going on here?

  Around the room, the buzzing of what used to be whispers grew to chattering.

  “Is that Vicky and Darryl?” someone asked.

  “Yeah, that’s the Armstrongs, all right.”

  “Should we leave?”

  “About time someone besides Ralph gets attention.”

  “Did this happen last year? I wasn’t here.”

  Desire boiled in my veins. I turned to Tara and kissed her deeply. Desire demanded I kiss her hard and take her in my arms. She kissed me hard back, proving that she, too, felt lust burning inside.

  I ached to be inside her pussy. Ralph had set this train in motion, and the train had built up speed by each fellatrix who had served him. Then even more speed with Darryl’s hand down Vicky’s skirt. My train now wanted to drive right into Tara’s sweet pussy.

  “Let’s go,” I whispered to my girlfriend, with my lips an inch away from hers. “Either we find a bedroom or we go home. I want you.”

  Tara’s mouth was open; she was about to reply. But louder moaning and the sound of skin slapping on skin halted her voice. It was odd, since the moaning and slapping obviously didn’t come from her mouth, but it seemed that way at first.

  We spun toward the true source of the sounds: the couch. The sight stunned me. You’d think I would’ve lost the ability to be stunned, due to the whole business of women blowing Ralph in front of everybody at the party. But you’d be wrong.

  On the couch, Betty was riding her husband, Reggie.

  By riding, I don’t mean that Betty was sitting on Reggie’s lap and taking a rest. I don’t mean that she sat on his thigh, as if she were telling Santa Claus what she wanted for Christmas.

  No, she was clearly getting her gift of cock right now. This was fucking, plain and simple. Her hands were on Reggie’s shoulders as she bucked on his lap. His cock disappeared and reappeared below the crack of her ass.

 
; And what a searing hot ass. We’re talking perfection here. Smooth, firm, delicious cheeks. Finally, I got to see this ass in all its naked glory. After fantasizing about it during these Christmas parties and during Kiefer and Tiffany’s Fourth of July Barbeques, where Betty’s shorts were eagerly looked forward to by all the men in attendance. Betty’s shorts (and Julie’s tube tops) were an announcement that summer had arrived.

  Now, Betty’s ass graced us with its perfection.

  Reggie didn’t seem to mind that we could see his wife’s bare butt. Didn’t seem to mind that his wife recently had Ralph’s dick in her mouth. Not at all. He looked very happy indeed, with his khaki pants puddled around his ankles, his hands holding onto Betty’s bucking hips, and his eyes blazing up at his wife.

  “Oh my God,” Tara whispered.

  Was this how an orgy begins? If so, it was going to be my first. I immediately decided to act. I was not going to be a shrinking violet. I was going to be a bold tulip. After all, the bold tulip in my pants needed two pussy lips. Now.

  “Let’s do it,” I said. “On the sofa. What do you say?”

  Her eyes widened at the thought, and the gears in her brain turned quickly, and her eyes narrowed. She grinned a mischievous grin. I loved that grin and those narrowed eyes.

  “Bring it on,” she said.

  Ralph, do you see what you started? I checked over at the luckiest man in the world. At this moment, at least he was. Someone had brought him a dining room chair, as he was now sitting down. He probably didn’t have the strength to stand any more.

  Kneeling before Ralph was the redheaded woman I had never met before. They were sideways to me, so I could now see the sucking. The pretty redhead’s lips were wrapped around his member. I liked how her red hair bounced a little as her head moved up and down.

  Tara and I made our way to the sofa. Betty and Reggie glanced at us. Not much reaction—they were so into their fucking. I shoved down my pants and boxers, then sat on the other end of the sofa. Seemed polite to not sit right next to Reggie. Like not sitting next to a stranger in a theater, but leaving an open seat between you and the next guy.