Tara & Steve: A Tale of Swingers

by August MacGregor

  I said, “I was. High on the drug of pleasure.”

  Her eyes rolled. “I should’ve seen that one coming. My point is that you looked high all that time, but your face went beyond that when we went down on you. And when you came, it was a look I’ve never seen before on you. You were … shocked. Yeah, that’s a good way to say it. It was like you were shocked by the biggest orgasm of all time.”

  I felt heat on my cheeks, and I realized that I was a bit embarrassed. “Yeah, well. It hit me like a ton of bricks.”

  Her sweet smile said everything before her voice did. “Good. I like that.”

  “How about you?” I asked. “Did a ton of bricks hit you?”

  Another pause as she thought. “Yeah. Yeah, it did. When you guys were on me at the same time. On my pussy and my tits. All that attention did it. Yeah, that was an enormous orgasm.”

  “How many orgasms did you have last night?” I asked.

  Laughing, she said, “That’s such a guy question! Who cares? It’s not like I counted.”

  “Just curious.”

  “But I can say that I had lots of them. Over and over. All thanks to you and Claire.”

  I said, “Well, the whole thing was thanks to you. It’s like I said last night: You’re one of a kind to do this. Not every girlfriend would do that.”

  “You got that right,” Tara said. “I’ve certainly never done it before.”

  “Thank you for setting that up,” I said. “Like I also said last night: I’m beyond lucky. That was an amazing, crazy, wild gift that you gave me.”

  She raised a forefinger in the air, pointing up. “I did it for me, too. Don’t forget that.”

  Which made me slowly shake my head in disbelief. “You really are one of a kind.”

  “As are you. After all, you were the first to give permission, back at the party. Not every boyfriend would do that.”

  Another image flashed in my brain. Tara folded over the dining room table. She was naked. She had looked back at me, a questioning expression. Seeking a last confirmation. Then her expression as Kiefer’s thick cock entered her. How her eyes had widened as more of his girth slid into her pussy. And then, as even more meaty sausage entered her, how she had closed her eyes and opened her mouth. As if she couldn’t believe how much dick was inside of her. And how she had to adjust to the feeling of that immense size.

  I had also been adjusting. I was forced to adjust to my feelings. I had burned with jealousy, anger, disappointment. A whirlwind of emotions. Mixed in there was that erotic thrill. Like Tara had described when she saw my face with Claire.

  I realized that, when Tara had humped the Latin Lover at the orgy, I hadn’t seen her face.

  But Tara had seen my face with Claire and Betty at the orgy—and then with Claire again, last night.

  I wondered to myself: Did I want to see my girlfriend’s face like that again?

  Chapter 3. Payback

  Payback can be sweet. Very sweet. Payback is different from vengeance, which brings to mind action movies where the hero avenges the death of his brother or wife by kicking some serious ass.

  Payback is the settling of scores. But it doesn’t have to be violent. It’s when you repay someone, and you feel better because balance has been restored.

  That’s some of what I felt when Kiefer’s cock eased into Tara. Let me emphasize it was some of what I felt.

  I felt that balance had been restored—but I also felt disappointment over the size of my own manhood. Kiefer’s got a thick slab of meat down there. Sure, you know that bigger dicks are out there. You see them in a the men’s locker room at the gym. You see them in porn movies.

  But when you see one push into your girlfriend’s pussy, well, that’s a whole other thing altogether. You see the effect of it. Pleasure was written plain as day all over Tara’s face as Kiefer’s dick made its way inside her.

  I should take a step back. How did we get here?

  Easy. Well, it wasn’t entirely easy. But the answer is easy: I wanted to pay Tara back. So I invited Kiefer to join us. Pretty straightforward. Tara had set up a threesome for us with Claire, and then I set up a threesome for us with Mr. Club Cock himself. Evie Stevie.

  But why did I choose Kiefer?

  Comfort level. I wasn’t going to invite just any dude to join in a threesome with my girlfriend and me. I had to be comfortable with that dude. Tara had felt comfortable with Claire, and that’s why she was invited.

  I also figured that Tara would’ve been comfortable with Kiefer. After all, he was one of the two guys who fucked my girlfriend during the holiday party orgy. And I know Tara loved it. I saw it on her face when Kiefer’s dick entered her. I saw it when she described it afterwards and carefully chose her words, so as to not make me feel small and jealous. The words didn’t match her face, though. Her face showed that she had very much enjoyed Kiefer’s thick cock.

  So, I called Kiefer and invited him over to our apartment for beers. I thought about going to a bar, but figured I didn’t want to talk about a threesome in a public place. Too many ears might’ve heard. I didn’t have the boldness of Tara and Claire to set up some naughty play in a restaurant booth.

  Kiefer came over while Tara was out with some girlfriends of hers. Just us guys, mano y mano. I laid it on the line for Kiefer, telling him that Tara had set up a threesome with a woman, and I wanted to return the favor.

  He wasn’t surprised in the least. Kiefer wasn’t a mellow surfer dude, but you’d be hard-pressed to find a guy more easy-going. He said, “Yeah, I’ve done this before. It’s fun stuff. And I’d love to help you guys discover the world of swinging.”

  “I don’t know if we’ll keep going with this,” I told him. “We might be done after this.”

  Kiefer said, “Hey, that’s totally fine. You guys can get your toes wet and have some fun. It doesn’t have to lead to a lifestyle change. It did for Tiffany and me, but that’s not for everybody. I’m totally cool with that.”

  I figured that nearly everything would be totally cool with Kiefer.

  “But one thing I want to get out there,” I said. “I’m not into guys. I’m not looking for doing stuff with you, too.”

  He chuckled as he waved this off. “Fine, fine. It’s all good. I’ve dabbled a little in that, and found that I wasn’t really into it. Boobs over balls for me, man.”

  Boobs over balls. I agreed with him there. Women—with boobs and more—were wondrous beings. I didn’t feel a desire to try out guys. Curious that he tried it, though. But then, it fit with him. Being totally cool with lots of things.

  He and I set about planning the whole thing as we drank some beers. A couple of times, he asked if I was sure that I was okay with this.

  “Yeah,” I replied. “Yeah, I am. I’ve given it a ton of thought, and I want to do it. You only live once, right?”

  He shot me a toothy grin. “That’s right. But I want to make sure this isn’t some rush decision. These things can have consequences.”

  I nodded as if I was the pro he was, then I realized my blunder. I was very much a newbie at this. I said, “We talked a lot after the orgy and the threesome.”

  He was obviously pleased. “Good, good. That’s important. Keep that up. Be honest. Certainly worked for Tiff and me.”

  “So, Tiffany’s been cool with it the whole time?”

  “Oh, I won’t lie to you,” Kiefer said. “We’ve had our rough patches. But what marriage hasn’t? Doesn’t matter if you’re swingers or not, you’re gonna have up and down times. Just keep talking and keep being honest.”

  I asked, “You don’t mind if she’s banging other guys?”

  “It has bothered me, sure. But we’ve gotten to a point where we trust each other to say if a feeling’s gone beyond simple carnal pleasure. You see, sometimes emotions will come up. Deep emotions, I mean. Not just lust. And we trust each other to say something when those deep emotions come up. We talk it through. It’s essential to
it all. But, if you’re asking if I mind when another guy’s dick is in her, well, sometimes it does. Most of the time, well, I’ve gotten used to it.”

  I had to wonder: Would I ever get to this point? Did I want to?

  “That’s incredible,” I said. “You know, I’ve figured that people like you are out there, but I’ve never met one.”

  He laughed. “In the flesh. We’ve been friends for several years, but you never knew, did you?”

  I shook my head. “No clue. It’s crazy.”

  “Sure is,” Kiefer replied. “But you know I can keep a secret. And so, if we do this, mum’s the word. Except with Tiff. I’ll tell her.”

  “Yeah. Being honest. I get it.”

  His finger pointed at me. “You’ve got to do it. Doesn’t work otherwise.”

  I raised my beer, saying, “I’m learning from the master,” and then I took a drink.

  As we worked out the details, it hit me that I was now actively planning group sex.

  In the orgy, I had been caught up in the excitement. The action had ignited spontaneously, and I jumped into the bonfire. Then, on Valentine’s Day, I had also been taken by surprise.

  But now, I was the one doing the planning.

  Which wasn’t really all that complicated. It was mostly me asking questions about how he thought I should surprise her. Because it had to be a surprise. Like I was surprised when I saw Claire in the restaurant on Valentine’s.

  Kiefer recommended a resort that was a couple hours’ drive away. A beautiful spot, good deal of privacy, and upscale to make it a very nice weekend away. Sounded good to me—and I trusted him to know what he was talking about.

  After all, Kiefer said he had been at that resort with Tiffany and another couple. I turned that thought around in my mind, like a brilliant gem. A foursome weekend. With only one bed, and someone got the sofa bed. But, of course, there had to have been lots of bed hopping.

  I was used to the idea of a romantic weekend getaway with just me and a girlfriend. Swingers had a much different idea. Sure, they could vacation by themselves—but they could also vacation with another couple. The more, the merrier, maybe? More conversation at meals. More possibilities in the bedroom.

  After Kiefer and I finished planning, I asked him about something that I had forgotten since the orgy. But it had popped up in my brain just that morning, before Kiefer had come over for beers and advice.

  “I have to ask you something,” I said. “How’s Ralph doing? I felt so sorry for him, losing his job and lifestyle, all that shit that happened to him. But when I think about it, I’m in this position—talking with you about a threesome—because of him. In a large part because of him. Just so happens that he pulled his eggnog stunt at your Christmas party and demanded a blowjob in a party full of swingers. So, it wasn’t all due to him. If he had pulled that stunt with regular people—I mean non-swingers—then we probably wouldn’t be setting up a threesome.”

  Kiefer said, “Yeah, you’re right. It wasn’t all because of him. And it wasn’t all because of us swingers, either. I remember you and Tara stepped up to the plate, got busy on the sofa.”

  I chuckled over the memory of our boldness. “We couldn’t help it.”

  “Which is another reason why you’re in this position,” Kiefer said. “But about Ralph. I talked to a few buddies, and one came through with a job for Ralph. In the accounting department. So, he’s doing better. I didn’t know about what Ralph was going through until our Christmas party. Shame I didn’t know earlier. I could’ve helped him earlier.”

  “That’s really good of you to do that.”

  “I like helping people,” Kiefer said. “What can I say?”

  I had to raise my beer. “I’ll drink to that.”

  “Hey, it feels good. Oh, and one last thing: If you change your mind, that’s fine. I mean it, man. It’s totally fine with me. And that includes if you get to the resort, and you’re in your room and you think, I’m just not into it. I’d rather it just be us two.” He looked at me, all business now. “I’m completely cool with it. Okay? There’s no shame in changing your mind.”

  I thanked him, comforted in what he said. Proof that I had picked the right person. Yeah, there was the expression that Tara had shown when Kiefer fucked her at the orgy. That was obvious. But added to that was Kiefer’s experience and attitude. He was just right for us.

  Which made me feel better about it. Good to have that feeling, with all the other emotions flying around in me.

  My nervousness and excitement grew as the weekend approached.

  I wondered: Was this how Tara felt as Valentine’s neared? I bet it was, especially since she said that Claire turned her on. Kiefer didn’t turn me on at all, but I knew he turned on my girlfriend.

  Then the weekend arrived, and I sprung the news on Tara that I was taking her on a getaway trip. She, of course, was surprised and curious—and then she took in stride my wish to keep the destination a secret. We packed that night, so we were all set for leaving the next morning.

  During the drive on Saturday morning, Tara was patient. She ventured only a couple of guesses as to the secret destination.

  “Are you taking me to the beach?” she asked.

  “Close to it,” I answered.

  “An amusement park?”

  “Of sorts,” I said, hoping this would create more questions in her head. “But that’s all I’m going to tell you.”

  We didn’t pull up to an amusement park. No cheesy tourist shit. We pulled up to the resort’s main building, all brilliant glass gleaming in the Florida sunshine. The building wasn’t huge—just a few floors, as most of the guests stayed in separate bungalows instead of the main building. The structure had a modern architecture that exuded good taste.

  Of course, that was reflected in the cost to stay there—but it was going to be well worth it. This was going to be a weekend that Tara would never forget.

  And that went for me, too.

  Tara’s eyes lit up like the sun as she saw the place. “This is nice. It’s a restaurant? But isn’t it a little early for dinner?”

  “Yeah, it has a restaurant, and we’re going to eat there. But we’re also staying here tonight.”

  “Wait. We’re staying here?” She was starting to see more of the picture.

  But only a little of it. She hadn’t seen the whole picture just yet. But she would soon.

  I replied, “What, you don’t think I’m classy enough for this place?”

  “I wouldn’t say your apartment was all that classy. Not until I moved in with you.”

  I said, “Just because you put up some Paris café photos doesn’t mean it’s classier.” I had to get in a little zing. Actually, I liked the artwork. But I also liked teasing her about it.

  She laughed. “They’re a lot better than your posters.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I replied as I opened the car door.

  My posters were generic tropical nature stuff. Palm trees, white sand beaches. I had graduated from my beer and hot babe posters of college, but I hadn’t gone into classy.

  “Enough about posters,” I said. “Wait here. I’ll check in, and then we’ll see our bungalow.”

  “Bungalow?” Tara asked as I walked away.

  Entering the main building, I could see the Atlantic Ocean from the reception area’s windows. The restaurant was just beyond the reception area, and it surely had spectacular views of the ocean—not that we’d see much of it at night. Maybe we’d see three lonely ships passing in the night. We certainly wouldn’t be three lonely ships, though.

  The chick at the reception desk was pretty, and the amateur swinger in me wanted to invite her to our bungalow to join in the festivities. Add another pussy to the mix, make it an even foursome.

  Nah. Today was for Tara. Not for me. Even though Tara had shown to have a taste for ladies with Claire, I didn’t want to assume my girlfriend was going to be in the mood for the reception des
k babe tonight. Not with Tara having two cocks to handle.

  The woman at the reception desk was a model of exceptional customer service. She couldn’t have been friendlier. As she explained the location of our bungalow and confirmed dinner reservations, I wondered how she’d react if I—like drunken Ralph—whipped out my dick and requested a blow. Surely, she would’ve been surprised, but I got the sense that her response would’ve been gracious and sweet. All in exceptional customer service.

  When I returned to the car, Tara smiled a wide grin at me. She didn’t say a word on the short drive to our bungalow. But then, as we approached then bungalow and entered it, she gasped.

  “Steve,” she breathed. “This is amazing.”

  Indeed, it was. The living room had a fireplace and tasteful furnishings. Not typical Floridian hotel shit of pastel walls, wicker furniture, and shell lamps. This was much classier. Through a doorway on the left side, we could see the bathroom. A doorway next to that led to the bedroom. Through the glass doors at the end of the living room, we could see our private patio.

  Tara grabbed me, planted a big kiss on my lips, and then she said, “Baby, you rocked out on this one. I mean, just look at this place. What’s out there?” She made for the glass doors and onto the back patio.

  I joined her on the patio, to see what the resort’s website had promised to be the most romantic thing imaginable. Our private patio had a view of the ocean. Tropical plants and bushes flanked on the left and right sides. Through the dense tropical foliage, you could see a tall wooden fence—the kind with wide slats that you can’t see through. With these, our neighbors in other bungalows couldn’t see us, and we couldn’t see them.

  Other than the ocean view, the best part about the patio was the pool. It wasn’t a huge one—we weren’t about to swim laps in it. This was a small, private plunge pool. Just ours. A jellybean-shaped pool with one depth. Enough to stand in and feel the water all over your body and kiss your lover.

  Or lovers.

  “This is stunning,” Tara said, sounding as if she were still in disbelief.

  “Sure is,” I said. “Our little palace for the weekend.”