Tara & Steve: A Tale of Swingers

by August MacGregor

“Be my guest.”

  My heart leapt into my throat. My girlfriend giving the green light for another woman to take care of me? Again, I was greatly impressed.

  “Awesome,” I said. “Let’s hit the alley.” I slid on the seat, moving toward the red curtain.

  “No, let’s not,” Claire said.

  She moved over to my side of the booth, making the curtain swish. The air seemed charged with even more electricity with this redheaded hottie sitting next to me.

  “Screw the alley,” Claire said. “Let’s do it right here.”

  I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I couldn’t think of a damn thing to say.

  Claire nudged me, pushing me on the seat, until my shoulder was against the wall. She unzipped my pants and gently fished out my throbbing erection. Ah, relief from the confines of my pants and boxer shorts.

  On top of that, the wonderful feeling of a woman’s warm hand on my cock. The sensation of her hand wrapped around my hard shaft sent tingles up my spine. Tingles also from the thrill that another woman was stroking me in front of my girlfriend. And the thrill that we were in a restaurant. Yeah, we were hidden away from other people—but we were still in a fucking restaurant!

  “The alley wouldn’t do,” Tara said. “Because everything’s got to be out in the open. In front of me.”

  Two silhouettes appeared. My breath stopped. I leaned forward, my stomach touching the table. This hid my naked dick from view. Claire’s hand stopped. Tara giggled.

  The same two waitresses materialized as one parted the red curtains and broke our hidden little enclave. The waitresses asked us how the oysters were and took away the oyster tray from the table. They surveyed us, maybe wondering why Claire had moved to my side. Surely, they wondered why my cheeks had blushed deep pink. Let them create their own wild ideas as to what we were doing.

  My breathing returned after they set down our plates of food and left. Claire’s hand resumed its leisurely masturbation. I settled back on the seat, enjoying my cock being stroked by this beautiful babe.

  “Why don’t you feed me some steak?” Claire asked. “My hand’s kinda busy.”

  “Which steak?” I asked, looking at the steak on the table, and then down to my lap.

  Claire smirked. “The one on my plate, silly. It looks so thick and so juicy. I want it in my mouth right away. I want to taste it and feel the juices ooze around in my mouth.” Her hand didn’t skip a beat in its smooth stroking.

  “It does look nice and juicy,” I replied and cut her steak. “Just make sure you swallow it all.”

  I fed her a piece of steak. I enjoyed how her lips softly grabbed the tines of the fork, and then they pulled the steak off the fork. Also, I enjoyed her expression as she closed her eyes and chewed on the meat.

  “Mmm,” she hummed, echoing Tara’s earlier purr of pleasure. “There’s nothing like a big piece of meat. I love eating meat.”

  A flash in my mind as I remembered what she had said to me in the orgy: I like sucking dick.

  You could tell that she was getting a kick out of teasing me. Her fingertips danced over my steel-hard cock, tickling the sensitive area under my dickhead.

  I fed her another piece of steak, and she yummed her delight.

  What was my girlfriend doing all this time, while another woman masturbated and teased me? Tara was clearly enjoying it. She ate her own steak and watched the fun.

  “Steve, it’s your turn,” my girlfriend said. “You haven’t told us your worst Valentine’s story.”

  “I really don’t have one,” I replied. I would much rather have simply sat there and felt Claire’s wonderful hand on me.

  “You have to,” Tara countered. “It’s only fair. Evie Stevie.”

  Even though I didn’t want to do it, I figured I should contribute. After all, they had told their stories. I needed to step up to the plate.

  My mind rushed through my past Valentine’s experiences. I didn’t really have a bad story. I had a great story, though. It was of my ex-girlfriend Heather, when we had to peel ourselves off the ceiling after a marathon of fucking on Valentine’s. There had been some romance when I gave her red roses and took her out for dinner, but mostly it was a ton of wonderful sex.

  But that story wasn’t going to fit at all with Tara and Claire. Not at all.

  So, I kept thinking back. On most Valentine’s, I had either hung out in bars with friends and tried to pick up chicks—or I had been by myself.

  Hmm. That’s an idea.

  “Okay, okay,” I said. “There was this one time. It was horrible. I was alone. My roommate was on a date, but not me. So, I was lonely, and I tried drinking my sadness away. But it wasn’t enough.”

  I fed some steak to Claire and a piece of the seared tuna for myself. It was a nice way to pause and create suspense. It worked, as the women looked curious as to where I was going with this story.

  I continued: “Since drinking wasn’t cutting it, I needed more to overcome my sorrow. So I watched some porn.”

  The women chuckled. Maybe they weren’t expecting that. Maybe they liked my exaggerated sadness.

  “Yes, it came to that,” I said. “I was that lonely. I had to jerk off to porn. What a horrible Valentine’s it was. But, at least the movie wasn’t horrible. It was hot as hell. You see, it was about a threesome. There were two chicks and a guy. A brunette and redhead. Both were beautiful. We’re talking seriously beautiful here.”

  The women looked at each other and smiled. Claire’s hand kept up its soft massage.

  I went on: “And their bodies? Oh my God. So fucking hot. The guy fucked ’em both. Every position. Up. Down. Sideways. He pounded ’em over and over. And he ate ’em both out, too.” I paused to eat a couple pieces of my tuna. “We’re talking the hottest … the wettest … the craziest eating out you’ve ever seen.”

  This got an energetic giggle from the ladies. I ate another piece of fish.

  I said, “And the sex was the hottest you’ve ever seen. I kid you not. I’ve never heard so many screams from orgasms. I nearly came lots of different times.”

  Tara blurted out: “So, when did you come?”

  I slowly chewed on tuna, enjoying my story’s suspense and Claire’s stroking. She was using my pre-come to rub her slick fingertips around my dickhead. I was close to actually coming, and not just in my story.

  “It was beautiful,” I said. “In the movie, both of the babes went down on him. Oh, man. Those mouths going to town on him. It was intense. Two mouths on one cock. Sucking and licking and deep-throating. Licking him everywhere. His balls, his shaft, his dickhead. All over. You should’ve seen it. So, so beautiful.”

  Both women smirked.

  “You better get ready,” Tara told Claire.

  “Are you sure?” Claire asked. “We can switch if you like.”

  “No, no. You handle this one. Just wait for a moment.”

  Claire nodded.

  “What are you guys talking about?” I asked, confused between my story and their conversation.

  “Never mind,” Tara said. “So, you liked the blowjob in the porno, huh?”

  “Oh, yeah.” It was easier to get back on track with my story than trying to figure them out. “Two women going down on you? God, that’s hot. Feels so good. Um, your hand, I mean. I’ve never had two women go down on me.”

  “Wait for it,” Tara told Claire. “Just a second more…”

  “Huh?” I asked.

  “Now,” Tara said.

  In a blur, Claire dove down and clasped my cock between her lips. The sensation quickly shifted from her stroking hand to the wet warmth of her mouth. Her head bobbed for a couple of seconds. That’s all it took. I exploded. Her head stopped. All that luxurious auburn hair. I held onto her head as I shot come into her mouth.

  Fuck fuck fuck! Here I was, in a restaurant booth, spurting my come into this model-gorgeous babe, and she was swallowing it. I couldn’t believe my eyes at t
he mass of lustrous crimson hair above my lap. I couldn’t believe the orgasmic sensation glowing through me.

  But there they were. Right in front of me and inside of me. The orgasm thundered through me, in this public place, with this hottie—who was not my girlfriend—sucking down my cream. And my cream kept coming and coming, due to that long build-up.

  All the while, Tara watched me. I glanced up to see her. She looked curious. Not a trace of anger was on her face. That I could tell, at least. She had the same expression that she’s had after she’s given me head. Looking at me with satisfaction over my pleasure. Something else was in there, but I couldn’t figure it out. But then, my focus wasn’t the greatest at that moment.

  The orgasm pounded through me as Claire’s mouth held me until I stopped coming. Drained, I slumped back in the corner of the booth’s seat and the wall.

  Claire sat up and looked very proud of herself as she said, “Finally.”

  “Finally what?” Tara asked.

  “Finally, I got to finish the job. I told your boyfriend back at the Christmas party that I wanted to finish him off like that. But he didn’t let me.”

  With an eyebrow raised, Tara said, “Oh, really? He’s such a gentleman.”

  Claire nodded. “He wanted to fuck me instead of letting me finish him with my mouth.” She turned to me and playfully punched me in the shoulder. “But I got you in the end. And, damn, you had a lot of come. I might not be able to finish my dinner now.”

  “I think I’m gonna pass out,” I mumbled.

  Tara laughed. “You better not. I want to see if tonight turns out like that porno of yours.”

  All of my fantasy hopes for the evening didn’t appear far-fetched any longer. Reality already felt really good.

  Claire moved back over to the other side of the booth and sat next to Tara. I gently pulled my boxers over my limp dick and zipped up my pants.

  I blinked at my closed pants, trying to comprehend what had just happened. I mean, that jaw-dropping beautiful redhead over there had just caressed my dick, and then swallowed my come? It was more than my brain could absorb. Nothing like this had ever happened to me before.

  But then, before December, I had never been in an orgy, either.

  Even having a girlfriend swallow my come had not been all that common with me. There was Heather—that vixen in the bedroom who was open to many things—and she was just fine with swallowing my come and letting it drip from her mouth onto her tits. She had been deliciously naughty like that.

  But not so much with Tara. Yeah, she had swallowed me a couple of times. She had said one time to me: I’m just not that into it. I’ll do it for you on special occasions, though. I was okay with that. Hell, Heather had been the exception in my dating experience. I wasn’t used to her level of naughty.

  With Tara, I was deeply in love with her—and I felt immensely lucky to find a wonderful woman to be in love with. A woman who was open, willing, and excited to give me blowjobs. But she just wasn’t going to swallow. That was trivial compared to being in love with her.

  But Claire? Talk about getting a treat. This was only the second time that Claire and I had met. And she had swallowed. Like a fucking pro.

  It completely blew my mind.

  We set upon eating our food without any more sexual escapades. We simply ate and talked and had a great time. All while I basked in the sensation of having an orgasm and being with these two sumptuous ladies.

  One of the many things I love about Tara is that she is willing to talk about anything, and we usually have no problem making fun conversation. Turned out that Claire was the same way. We chatted about many different things, and time flew by. I regained the energy that Claire had drained out of me, and I talked and ate with gusto.

  When the waitress returned and asked if we were interested in desserts, the ladies protested, saying they couldn’t possibly eat another bite.

  “Oh, c’mon,” I said. “Tonight’s for indulging. So, let’s indulge. How about sharing?”

  They agreed to that, and we shared two decadent desserts. One was bowlful of plump strawberries that we dipped in a dark chocolate bath. The other dessert was an incredibly thick bittersweet chocolate mousse topped with raspberries. And, yes, we fed each other the chocolate-dripping strawberries and spoonfuls of mousse. Such a beautiful thing to feed each other the delicious sweets. I felt like royalty.

  As we left the restaurant, Tara suggested that I drive my car, and she’d go in Claire’s car. “Meet you back home,” she said with a coy grin.

  With that, I knew that my dreams for a threesome were about to be realized. As my heart thudded faster, my brain swirled with the possibilities of what the three of us could do together. Possibilities inspired by what I had seen back in the orgy, as well as from scenes of threesomes from porn movies.

  I realized I was driving too fast and not paying enough attention to the traffic around me. Another possibility would majorly suck: Getting into an accident on my way to a threesome with two beautiful women who were excited about it.

  I could easily imagine the horrific scene. Me laid out on a hospital bed. Tara and Claire sitting next to me and looking deeply concerned. Tara shaking her head and saying, “And we had such a fun night planned, too. Such a shame.”

  No way. No fucking way. I needed to arrive very much alive. So I took a deep breath and focused on safe driving.

  As a result, I got to our apartment after the ladies. They were in the living room, with Tara taking the foil off the top of a champagne bottle.

  “What took you so long?” she asked me. “You go sightseeing in the Everglades?”

  “Hardly,” I said. “I’m a careful driver, that’s all.”

  I took the champagne bottle out of her hands and sat it down on the counter. Then I was all over her. Enduring the teases that Tara and Claire had dished out at the restaurant burst out of me. I had been served a girlie cocktail, the oyster appetizer, and the tuna. The women had kissed each other and licked their fingers to simulate fellatio.

  Yeah, I had already burst into Claire’s mouth. That had certainly helped, but I still had plenty of pent-up anticipation because of these ladies. They had dangled goodies just beyond my reach, and my frustration had built up. Way up.

  Gratefully, that frustration was being released. Now, these delicious goodies were within my reach. Gone was the semi-private world of the restaurant booth, replaced by the privacy of the apartment that Tara and I shared. Private with the blinds closed, that is.

  My pent-up anticipation exploded into passionately kissing my girlfriend. While kissing her, I pushed her against the wall of our living room. Our lips wrestled. Our tongues flashed in each other’s mouths. My hands slid all over the softness of her velvet dress, groping her tits and ass and legs.

  “Oh my,” Claire gasped behind us.

  A thought arrived: Should I include Claire? No. This was Tara right now. I wanted only her in that moment. Just this amazing woman, whom I was deeply in love with—and lusted over.

  I slid up the end of her dress to above her hips. No underwear. Oh, that’s right. I had discovered that back in the restaurant, peeking under the table at the secret handjobs. I unzipped my pants. I raised her thigh. I pushed my cock into her pussy. Being inside her wetness was glorious relief after all that teasing. She was gloriously wet. I pushed. I heaved. I slammed her back against the wall. My mouth on her neck. Her panting shot hot breaths on my ear. Her black choker necklace was delicate up close. She hugged me. My hand on her hip. My other hand held up her thigh. Making access easier to fuck her. Fuck her warm and wet and wonderful pussy. Plush and soft and loving. Her pussy embracing my cock. My cock sliding, pushing, playing. Finally, let out to play. Finally, filling up this loving pussy. Filling it up and heaving into it. Banging her against the wall. The picture rattling on the wall. The picture of a street in Paris. Tara had brought it with her when she moved into my apartment. I loved her. Yes, I loved her. And
she loved me. I loved this pussy that made me feel amazing so many times. Morning. Night. Middle of the day. I had fucked this beautiful pussy again and again and again.

  I burst. Throbs raced through my cock. Come shot into my girlfriend’s pussy. She gasped against my ear. I stopped slamming her against the wall. My cock slammed semen inside her instead. She hugged me tighter.

  “I love you,” she whispered onto my ear.

  I kissed her neck and whispered that I loved her too. My throbs kept pounding until, gradually, they lightened and slowed to small pulses, then nothing. I slipped out of her. Lowered her thigh. Backed up. Sweat dripped on my forehead and lower back.

  “Fuck,” Tara said. “I need a drink.”

  Laughing, Claire said, “Yeah, me, too.” She was sitting on the sofa, with her dress bunched around her waist, her vagina as clear as day. She had been masturbating while watching us. She didn’t look embarrassed at all about being caught with her dress up. Just like when I had seen their two bare pussies under the table at the restaurant. No shame here.

  “You need something else, too,” I said, slipping my limp dick back into my pants.

  I went to Claire, crouched down, and kissed her pussy. I inhaled her scent, relishing in the difference between her aroma and Tara’s. Electric thrills coursed through me in having a different pussy before me.

  “What else do I need?” the redheaded hottie before me asked.

  I replied, “A big, fat orgasm.”

  Claire was wildly wet—as Tara had been when I entered her. I lapped at Claire’s smooth pussy, and she moaned her gratitude. Like Tara, her vagina was hairless, but for a small patch above it. Then I moved back and kissed her inner thighs. Kiss by kiss, my lips alternated thighs, with each kiss a step closer to the spectacular point where those creamy thighs met. My electric thrills crackled with each kiss.

  Pop!

  Claire and I jumped at the sudden sound.

  “What the fuck?” Claire said.

  My mind raced for an answer, but it was clouded by pussy. I looked up and saw Tara carrying three full champagne flutes, coming from the kitchen back into the living room. Ah-ha! The pop was the champagne bottle.