Tara & Steve: A Tale of Swingers

by August MacGregor

  Despite Savannah’s boozy protests, Tara and I leave. We kiss goodbye all around; Luke and I shake hands. Did I say awkward? It sure is. And that bums me out. The night had great moments, but ending on this down note puts a shadow over it.

  Back in our own room, Tara and I slip out of our clothes and into our honeymoon bed.

  “Did you enjoy her tits?” Tara asks with a smirk.

  “Let’s not end like this,” I plead. “You had fun with her tits, too. And I’m sure you had fun with muscle boy.”

  Her smirk eases out. “All right, yeah. I’m guilty. He was fun.” Her eyebrows raise in an ah well expression, and then she says, “Hey, for the next time, let’s pick someone quieter. We can’t end our swinging days like this.”

  With a sigh, I say, “I suppose not.” I have to give it to her: She’s right. Ending this way would really suck.

  Tara says, “Maybe we should try that brunette woman you keep glancing at.”

  Damn, she’s good. She laughs at my surprised face.

  “Yeah, I’ve noticed,” she says. “You were so obvious with Ms. Big Titties. But you’ve also been stealing glances at that brunette. A wife knows, sugah. And don’t you forget it.” She flashes me a smile. “Besides, her boyfriend is really cute.”

  With that, we shut off the light and kiss. Then I lie back on my pillow, replaying the titty-fuck in my head and wondering what the next day will bring.

  Chapter 7. Smoothing It Out

  Tara and I skip our morning sex that we’ve enjoyed most days on our honeymoon. I get the feeling that Tara wants to rest up from last night’s swinging sex with Luke and Savannah. And maybe she wants to clear her head for approaching the next couple for swinging—and hopefully end our adventure on a high note.

  We find the cute couple sitting down at the tropical resort’s restaurant. After more than a week on our honeymoon at Lujuria, we’ve come to notice routines at the resort. The cute brunette and her boyfriend are usually eating breakfast by the time Tara and I get to the restaurant.

  “C’mon,” Tara says to me, “let’s get right to it.”

  The couple looks curiously at Tara and me as we walk toward their table. The cute brunette doesn’t seem surprised when Tara asks if we can join them. Maybe she’s even pleased—but I could be mistaken.

  Tara, sweet as can be, says, “We’ve seen you guys around, and we’d like to hang out with you, have breakfast together.”

  The couple checks with each other and nods. So far, so good. We shake hands and exchange names. Gwen and Kevin. It’s nice to know their names, rather than just call them the cute couple.

  We settle into those questions you ask when you meet someone. Where are you from? How do you like it here? What have you guys seen so far in Jamaica? Thankfully, our conversation flows easily. Gwen and Kevin are from Colorado. They finish their breakfast first, then stay at the table as Tara and I eat scrambled eggs, yogurt, and loads of fresh fruit.

  “We noticed you guys at the beach yesterday,” Gwen says. “Looked like you guys were having a good time with that other couple.”

  She doesn’t say that she saw the four of us without our swimsuits on.

  “Yeah, they’re fun people,” I reply.

  “But they can be a bit too much fun,” Tara adds with a frown.

  Gwen raises her eyebrows, probably wondering what Tara means, but she doesn’t ask for details.

  “So, you have one up on us,” I say. “You’ve seen us naked.”

  Gwen counters: “You’ve seen me topless at the pool. It’s not my fault that you didn’t see me at the beach.”

  “Oh, I saw you guys,” Tara pipes up. “You’re in great shape,” she compliments Gwen, who replies with a smile. Then Tara turns to Kevin and says, “And you, well, let me just say this: very nice. How long is that tool between your legs?”

  While Kevin blushes crimson, Gwen frowns, asking, “Did you just say what I think you said?”

  “Yep. My husband thinks you’re hot, and I think your boyfriend has a long dick.”

  Kevin and Gwen stare at her, stunned.

  “What the hell?” Kevin asks.

  Tara leans forward, illuminating the situation for them: “I’m sorry. We can be a bit forward. You see, we’re swingers.”

  Now it’s out there. There, on the table, next to the empty breakfast plates. Our new friends keep staring at us.

  Tara, velvety smooth as ever, says, “We used to be active in the lifestyle. But we’re on our honeymoon, and we’re giving it one last go before we settle down to a new life together.”

  My wife gives me a sweet look. Odd to see that after she complimented Kevin on his dick, but that’s a swinger’s life for you.

  Gwen directs a question to Tara: “Do you mean you have sex with other couples?”

  “That’s right,” Tara answers.

  “Both of you?” Kevin asks.

  “That’s right,” Tara repeats. “Either we share one person, or we exchange partners with another couple. We have a rule that we have to be together when we’re swinging. We don’t do anything apart.”

  I keep my mouth shut about Tara fucking Ayana without me there. And there were times at Strathmore when we didn’t see the other one having sex with someone else. It’s been a flexible rule. But now’s not the time to tell her that.

  “Hold on,” Gwen says with a frown. “Did you guys have sex with that blonde couple you were with on the beach yesterday? The ones you left the restaurant with last night?”

  Nodding, Tara looks impressed. “You’re perceptive. But we’re not going into details. We don’t swing and tell.”

  Kevin looks like gears are whirring in his head. Surely, he has noticed Savannah’s big tits. Is he imagining fucking her? I bet it wouldn’t be the first time he’s thought about it. Not with her jugs displayed at the pool and beach. But is he also imagining fucking Tara? Impossible to tell.

  Realization again dawns on Gwen’s face. “That’s why you’re sitting with us, isn’t it? You’re going to ask us to swing with you?”

  Tara’s polite and gentle. “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to. We’d just like to hang out with you guys. Have some fun together. That doesn’t mean we have to have sex. We can do other things. Go to the beach, go sightseeing. Stuff like that.”

  “Or fuck each other’s boyfriend or husband,” Gwen replies.

  “That’s right. Or I could fuck you.”

  Gwen stares at Tara. She didn’t consider Tara would desire her. Same reaction that Savannah had yesterday at the beach, when Tara spoke of her attraction for Savannah’s tits.

  I turn to Kevin and say, “In case you’re wondering, I don’t swing that way. Tara likes your package, but I’m not interested in it.”

  Kevin’s gears are whirring again as he nods at me. Gwen’s face looks like she’s also deep in thought. One wonders: Are they imagining having sex with us?

  Gwen finds her voice first: “We’ve, um, never been in a situation like this.”

  “And you might never again,” I say. “But there’s no pressure. Absolutely none. We’d like to spend the day with you. If you’d like to extend that into the night, it’s your choice.”

  “Your choice,” Tara echoes. “But personally, I’d love to see your face when you climax.”

  “Which one of us?” Gwen asks.

  “Both.”

  *****

  The wind feels good on my face. Riding scooters, we zip on roads through the Jamaican countryside. Tara hugs me from behind, while Gwen sits behind Kevin on the other scooter. I enjoy Tara holding me tight as we zoom up and around hills.

  The entrance to the nature park is easily found. We lock up the two scooters that we rented from the resort, and we hit the trail that leads into a forest.

  I find myself wondering how the Georgia couple is doing. They didn’t show up for breakfast by the time we left the restaurant. Are they hung over? Or are they back at the pool, blari
ng their tits and muscles? Whatever they’re doing, I wish them well.

  And I hope today has a smoother ending for Tara and me.

  The trail ends in a postcard-perfect waterfall. Instead of a single waterfall, the stream drops down levels of rocks in a series of falls, and then it lands in a large pool at the bottom—where some tourists are splashing around.

  We strip down to our swimsuits and jump into the big pool. The water’s really cool—much cooler than the water in the resort’s pool and the Caribbean sea. Both of those are nicely heated by the sun. The chill of this water is jolting at first, but we adapt quickly. It’s luscious in here, surrounded by the beautiful nature of the thick forest.

  Tara and Gwen are wearing bikinis, and I enjoy watching them swim. I like how they burst from the water to stand up, water cascading from their hair, down their bikini tops. I hope our new friends want to swing with us.

  After swimming for awhile, the four of us collect together, beaming with huge grins.

  “The water feels delicious,” Gwen gushes. “If it were just us, I’d take my bikini off. I’m getting used to swimming naked at the resort. It feels so much better.”

  She’s right about that. But why haven’t I seen her completely naked at the resort’s beach? Curse my luck. Still, at least I’ve seen her topless at the pool—and I really enjoyed it.

  “Yeah,” Tara says. “Skinny dipping is wonderful.”

  “It’s the best,” Gwen agrees. “Especially at night. Feels naughtier then.” She glances at Kevin with a playful grin on her face. “A few nights ago, we swam naked in the ocean.” She giggles. “And we got a little naughty on the beach.”

  “By naughty, do you mean fucking?” Tara asks.

  “Yeah,” Gwen giggles. “Sex on the beach. Mmm, that was fun.”

  Well, fuck me. Memory images flash in my head. Silhouettes on the beach. The night that Ayana and Tara got it on, and I took a walk on the beach by myself. I’d seen silhouettes in the ocean as I went away from the resort. And on my return trip, I saw silhouettes humping on the sand.

  “Wait,” I say as the realization hits me, “that was you guys on the beach?”

  “You saw us?” Kevin looks embarrassed—as does Gwen.

  “Just your silhouettes,” I reply. “Don’t worry, I didn’t see any details. I hurried by. I didn’t want to bother you.”

  “Thanks for that,” Kevin says.

  I have to laugh at finding the answer to that mystery. “You know, I’ve been wondering who that was.” I turn to Tara, asking, “Why haven’t we done that yet?”

  Tara has a sly grin. “Well, I did that.” While Gwen and Kevin stare at her, she offers more information: “I was on the beach with another woman that night. She wasn’t into men, so Steve wasn’t involved.”

  “So, you two haven’t had sex on the beach together?” Gwen asks.

  “That’s right,” Tara replies. “Steve proposed on the beach, but we haven’t had sex on the beach.”

  Gwen is clearly pleased. “And here, I thought you guys were the adventurous swingers.”

  “Oh, we’re not all that,” Tara says. “You guys have one up on us.”

  “Hmm,” Gwen purrs as her eyes frolic over my chest and stomach. “Maybe we could fix that.”

  Kevin’s eyebrows leap up. “Wait, are you saying you want to go back to the beach with these guys?”

  A corner of Gwen’s lips rises. “Sounds like a good time, doesn’t it?”

  “Yeah.” Kevin turns to Tara, drinking her in. “Yeah, it does.”

  My hopes rise.

  We decide that it’s time for lunch. We towel ourselves dry, put on our sandals, take the trail back to our scooters, and drive into town. Lots of colorful restaurants beckon around the town, and we pick one with tables on the sidewalk. Eating meals away from the resort is a great way to sample the local scene.

  People walking by are also thankful we’re there. Gwen and Tara left their bikini tops on—they just threw on shorts over their bikini bottoms. Gwen has a pale blue bikini; Tara has a striped one. Men are clearly appreciating these two hotties in bikini tops.

  For lunch, we share Jamaican jerk chicken and mahi mahi. As with breakfast, our conversation moves effortlessly. Hanging out with this couple feels so nice and easy. They tell us about their life in Colorado, about hiking in the mountains, their jobs, about the spectacular beauty of their state. Tara and I share stories of our life in Southern Florida, telling of the nature and culture there. Our new friends don’t hammer us with lots of questions about our swinging experiences.

  After lunch, the ladies go shopping. Kevin and I don’t feel like joining them, so we find a bar with a deck overlooking the Caribbean and drink a couple of light beers. Now that we’re mano y mano, Kevin asks me about swinging.

  “I still can’t get over that you guys are swingers,” he says. “Do you really let another guy have sex with Tara?”

  “Yeah, and women, too.”

  Kevin takes a drink and shakes his head. “Fucking incredible. I thought swinging was just back in the ’70s.”

  “I bet it happens a lot more than you think,” I say. “Bet a lot of crazy shit happens behind closed doors.”

  “What’s it like?” Kevin asks. “Watching your girlfriend have sex with another guy?”

  “Surreal at first. Feels like you’re in a dream. Same thing when you’re having sex with another woman.”

  “She lets you do that, huh?” Kevin asks.

  “We keep it balanced. Evie Stevie, she likes to say.”

  Kevin laughs and shakes his head again—it’s a lot for him to take in. “Crazy shit, man. That’s really crazy.”

  “You got that right.” I lean forward. “But I saw the way you looked at Tara at the waterfall. When you agreed that it could be a good time having sex on the beach with us. You imagined doing it, didn’t you?”

  He just looks at me.

  “Hey, it’s okay if you did,” I say. “I bet you imagined fucking Savannah, too.” Kevin looks confused, so I elaborate: “The blonde at the resort with the big tits. The one you saw Tara and me with. When you were at the beach and you saw her naked, did you fantasize about her?”

  Kevin nods. “Well, of course. With those tits? I sure did.”

  I smile at his appreciation. “Of course, right? It’s natural to lust after other people. Everybody does it. You do it. Tara does it. Gwen does it. Swingers take the next step. They act on that lust. That’s what makes them different.”

  “That’s a big step,” Kevin replies. “Huge one.”

  “But it’s a wondrous step.”

  Kevin leans back. “You think Tara would be into me?”

  I laugh. “C’mon, man. Haven’t you been paying attention? Remember her remark at breakfast? About your package?”

  His face shifts to a dreamy expression. “Oh yeah. Yeah, that’s right.”

  Tara and Gwen, toting one bag each, join us at the bar, and they order light beers for themselves. They bought one pair of shoes each on their shopping trip. As the ladies tell us of their walk around town, I believe that Kevin is thinking about screwing my wife. It’s how he’s looking at her. His eyeballs practically stroke her bare stomach and bikini-covered tits.

  “So boys,” Tara says with a devilishly wicked grin, “Gwen has an idea. Let’s head back to the resort, and us girls will drive this time.”

  Then Gwen lowers the hammer: “And let’s switch up partners.”

  Kevin gawks at her.

  Which causes Gwen to laugh. “On the scooters, honey! I’m not saying that we’re swinging with them. I’m not going to make that decision without you.”

  “Oh,” Kevin says. “I, uh, okay.”

  Gwen’s doing a good imitation of a Cheshire cat. “But I have to say that Tara has great boobs.”

  Again, Kevin gawks at his girlfriend. Seems that Tara’s gift of dumbfounding people is rubbing off on Gwen. Or maybe she already had that
gift.

  Gwen laughs, with a wide grin. I’m really getting to enjoy her smiles and laughs.

  “I grabbed her boobs,” Gwen explains. “Did it in a shop when nobody was looking. All that talk before, I couldn’t help myself.”

  Of course, Kevin and I are playing the scene in our imaginations. And now, he’s checking out my wife’s tits. Again.

  Clearly, the ladies were discussing swinging on their shopping trip—just as Kevin and I were discussing it in the bar. Gwen had the idea of switching partners on the scooters. That’s mighty good news. A step toward the end of the diving board. Would Gwen and Kevin dive into the pool of sex with us?

  The bags of shoes are stowed in compartments under the scooters’ oblong seats. We plunk down on the seats—with switched partners—and we head off, back toward Lujuria.

  Sitting behind Gwen, I hug around her midriff. My fingers are interlaced, so my hands are clasping. My inner forearms are held against Gwen’s warm stomach. Our touch is charged with electricity.

  My cock gets hard immediately. How can it not? How can I not think of fucking Gwen doggy-style, like I had fantasized about, lounging at the pool over the past several days? My erection pushes against her lower back. Gwen gazes over her shoulder and smiles. She feels me, all right. This was her idea, after all.

  On the other scooter, Kevin’s hugging Tara the same way. I bet his dick’s hard, too.

  Gwen smells of suntan oil and body wash—or perfume. She smells fresh. My chest presses against the bikini strap tied at the middle of her back. The knot strikes me as a tease, a dangling promise that if I simply flick the knot, it would fall apart and the prize would be obtained. The prize of Gwen. This cute-faced brunette. Soft spoken, easy laugh, big smile, perky breasts, killer ass. Let’s not forget surprisingly daring—given her having sex on the beach and grabbing my wife’s tits and suggesting we switch scooter riders.

  This is foreplay that’s better than what I could have planned. If our schedule were up to me, I would’ve chosen to zip quickly back to our hotel room and have at it. But this woman is more creative. Pressed against her, I desperately want to discover what her face looks like while I fuck her. I want to hear how her sighs and moans sound.