Message-ID: <22970asstr$951498606@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Original-Message-ID: Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" From: "Andrew O'Nath" Subject: {ASSM} Swoon {F+M+, FM rom cons} Date: Fri, 25 Feb 2000 12:10:06 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: kelly, Vulpine Swoon {F+M+, FM rom cons} ===== Copyright (c) 1999, 2000 by A.G.J. O'Nath This story is a work of fiction and is intended for adults (over 18) only. Comments welcome. Suzanne and I have been married for almost six years and live in a pleasant seaside suburb of Sydney. We've talked on and off for a while about the possibility of having children but, having never reached the level of commitment needed to stop using contraception, we are still what some people refer to as 'DINKs' (Double Income, No Kids). I work as a Community Arts Officer with the local council and Suzanne is a Marketing Manager for a big theatre company. I am quite tall, thin and apparently not bad looking. Suzanne is also fairly tall, for a woman, but her most striking feature is her long, wavy, red hair, which contrasts dramatically with her pale, flawless skin. She is very elegant, with fine--almost sharp--facial features. Many people, both male and female, admire her. In many ways we have a good relationship--most of the time. We certainly enjoy the sex. Sometimes however, I wonder if we really are compatible. Suzanne can be almost cut-throat in her dealings with people. Recently, things have become rather strained between us. I have sensed that Suzanne is bored with life, even bored with me. Our love-making has started to become a little routine--and less frequent. One day, I suggested relationship counselling. Although at first Suzanne wasn't particularly interested--which surprised and saddened me--she did eventually come around to the idea. So, I found someone near Suzanne's work, a woman in her early thirties named Cameron. We started seeing her on a weekly basis and, although she seemed quite good, for many weeks there was no noticeable improvement in our relationship, certainly no 'breakthrough'. On the one hand, I felt that Suzanne was always blocking and denying her own feelings; on the other hand, Suzanne felt that I always tried to control everything, putting too many expectations on her and on us. At one session however, Suzanne surprised us both--and possibly herself--by admitting something for the first time: "I just feel Andrew I and have gotten into a rut ... and ..." Her voice trailed off. "And ...?" Cameron asked. "And ... maybe ... maybe we need some sort of change." I was about to say something like "Aha! I knew it!" when Cameron spoke again. "A change?" she asked. Suzanne started to open her mouth, but closed it again, playing nervously with her hair instead. Cameron tried to stop Suzanne retreating from her feelings again. "Do you mean like a temporary separation?" Cameron continued. "No ..." Suzanne paused. Then, about five seconds later: "I don't know ... maybe." I was taken aback. I waited for Cameron to dismiss this as an attempt to run away from the real issues, but instead Cameron turned to me and asked, "What do YOU think?" I had to consider my response carefully. After all, I didn't want Suzanne to think I was trying to hold onto her desperately or limit her options. But I didn't want a separation either. After a long, awkward silence, Cameron spoke again, "OK, I can see this is a problem for you Andrew." "No, it's just that ..." "Well look," she continued, without waiting for me to finish, "let's try a different tack. How would each of you feel about the idea of playful, open sex in a group setting ... with different partners?" "You mean ... swinging?" asked Suzanne, noticeably startled. Cameron smiled. "Yes, that's a common name for it. At least that's a better word than 'wife-swapping' I suppose!" Suzanne laughed, nervously. Cameron continued, "I've actually known a few couples whose relationships have improved as a result of it." She asked us both again, "So what do you think?" "Are you serious?" I asked incredulously. Cameron just nodded. I tried to work out how Suzanne might have been feeling. She had looked quite shocked at first, but now her expression seemed ambiguous. (What I didn't realise at the time was that she was even more shocked than I was.) But I was tired of waiting to see which way the wind was going to blow; I decided instead to act decisively, to take a risk. "Yeah, all right," I said at last. Suzanne's eyes widened and then seemed to glaze over. Cameron and I began to make arrangements, while Suzanne's mind drifted off somewhere. Eventually Suzanne's concentration returned to the consulting room and she seemed to be paying attention to what we were saying again. "Here's the address," Cameron said. "Now you'll need to arrive between seven-thirty and eight. That's very important." This is when Suzanne realised that a "swingers' party" was being organised for us, even though she had not actually said OK. She told me later that she felt annoyed at first but for some reason said nothing. It was as though her anger and the motivation to speak out were locked somewhere inside her. (Maybe in a strange way, she even enjoyed being powerless. Was this part of the problem between us?) Suzanne's mind started drifting again and before she knew it, the session was over and the two of us were being seen out the door, with me holding a business card with the details of the party written on the back. By this stage, Suzanne had resigned herself to the plan, as strange as it was. *** It was 7:50 pm on the appointed date. Suzanne and I arrived at the door of a large terrace house. I knocked. I could scarcely believe this was actually happening. Surely something like this was just a fantasy--exotic, forbidden, debauched--yet it was about to come true. I felt butterflies in the pit of my stomach. Suzanne's feelings were so mixed up however that they almost cancelled each other out, leaving her feeling numb. We could hear voices inside the house. Finally, the door opened and a man with short, spiky, blonde hair appeared. He looked about 35. "Hi. You here for the party?" he said. We nodded. "Password?" the man asked. "Kubrick," I replied. Suzanne smiled slightly, presumably at the not-too-subtle reference to that famous director's final movie. "Come in," the man said, gesturing with a smile. We followed him and immediately noticed how warm it was inside. "I'm Peter." "Hi, I'm Andrew." "Suzanne." Peter led us to the entrance to a large room filled with people. He gestured to a small table just outside the doorway, with a large, open appointment book on it. After registering and paying, we entered the room and noticed a small bar at one end. We ordered our drinks--a gin and tonic for Suzanne and a light beer for me. From the din of conversation it appeared that many of the other guests must have already known each other. We just sipped our drinks quietly. Shortly after 8 o'clock, Peter--the man who had answered the door--clinked on a glass to get everyone's attention and, when the noise had stopped, began to address us. "Welcome, everyone. I can see a number of familiar faces here tonight but for the benefit of newcomers, I'll run through the few simple rules. "Firstly, in a few minutes, each person who is staying will be issued with a freshly washed, white cotton wrap--a small one for the men and a larger one for the women. For the rest of the night you will all be wearing this .... or nothing at all. You can get undressed in here or in one of the bathrooms that come off the hallway. We have secure lockers for your clothes and other belongings at no extra charge. "Secondly, if you decide now that you don't want to go through with tonight's activities after all, you can get a refund--minus ten dollars to cover drinks--with no questions asked. We don't want to force anybody into anything. "Thirdly, what you do with each other tonight, as long as no-one is physically hurt and there is total consent from both--or all--sides, is totally up to you. In each room there's a large, red 'panic' button. Press this if you feel your rights are being infringed in any way. Jacquie, my wife, and I will also be cruising around throughout the night making sure everything's OK. "Fourthly, with the exception of the kitchen and one other room clearly marked 'private', you are free to go anywhere in the house, courtyard and pool area. "And finally, please leave your guilt behind and have a great time!" Jacquie and Peter distributed the wraps and a number of people started getting undressed right there, but Suzanne and I headed for the bathrooms. I emerged first with my wrap around my waist, clutching my clothes nervously in front of me, and waited for Suzanne. As I waited, the butterflies in my stomach seemed to multiply. All around me, naked or nearly naked men and women were walking and talking excitedly. Some were already flirting or even touching each other intimately. I couldn't help noticing the many differently shaped and sized penises, in various stages of erection. Eventually, Suzanne emerged, with her wrap around her torso, also clutching her clothes. She smiled at me and we headed for the lockers. After securing our clothes, I said, stupidly, "Well, here we are." "Yes, here we are," she said, echoing the obvious. "So, where do you want to go first?" I asked. She shrugged. Just then, a very good looking man, NOT wearing a wrap, came up to Suzanne and introduced himself. "Hi, I'm Phillip," he said. "Hi Phillip. I'm Suzanne ... and this is Andrew." "Hi," he responded automatically, but it was obvious he was not at all interested in me. His penis, which was already starting to thicken, hung about 45 degrees out from his body. "Would you like to come with me to the pool?" he asked, looking directly at Suzanne. "OK," she said, and immediately left with him. I just stood there, stunned. I had expected at least some hesitation from her, some acknowledgement of my feelings or of what was happening, but instead she had just walked off without even saying goodbye. This was not at all how I had imagined a swingers' party to be. I had pictured the two of us having our new sexual adventures TOGETHER. But instead here I was, standing by myself, surrounded by complete strangers. After a minute or so of feeling sorry for myself, I started aimlessly walking in the opposite direction. After all, I didn't want it to look as though I was spying on her. I went down a hallway, around a corner and up to an open door. Inside were about ten naked people, already in the middle of--there was no other word for it--an orgy. They certainly hadn't wasted any time! Amongst all the bare flesh, I could make out five penises, all bright red and hard, being thrust repeatedly into open mouths, vaginas and anuses. I felt strangely detached. I probably could have joined in somehow, if I wanted to. But instead, I walked on. Over and over again, the same thing happened, upstairs and downstairs. I would come across people in groups of two, three or more, fucking furiously, watch for a minute or so and then move on. I had no idea the house was so large. I saw a doorway ahead of me, which lead out to a courtyard. I could feel the fresh air and realised how stuffy it had become inside. On the floor just inside the doorway, a middle-aged man was kneeling, thrusting his cock slowly and rhythmically into a much younger woman, also kneeling. I stepped carefully around them. The man seemed to be totally oblivious to my presence but the woman glanced up as I walked past and looked me straight in the eye. The expression on her face, of total unashamed abandonment, had a strong and sudden effect on me; for the first time since Suzanne had left with the other man, I could feel my penis start to harden and rise under the cloth. I paused momentarily, wondering if I should listen to my desires, when the woman on the floor closed her eyes and began to moan loudly. At the same time the man behind her started to jerk uncontrollably, obviously spurting his cum into her. Curiously, the hungry feeling in my loins began to recede and I moved past them, out into the night air. I breathed in deeply and noticed the unmistakable smell of chlorine. Looking around I could see, through a gap between some palm trees, the blue, flickering light of a swimming pool. I hadn't meant to end up here but here I was anyway. As if in a trance, I walked slowly towards the glow. The 'trance' was so deep that I almost tripped over a couple spread out on a large beach towel in front of me: a woman lying on her back with her legs wide apart and a man, prostrate between her legs, licking and sucking her. Then he saw them--Suzanne and Phillip. Suzanne was sitting back on the edge of a large outdoor sofa with legs apart, receiving Phillip's thick cock as it thrust repeatedly in and out of her. I wasn't sure if either of them had seen me; I just stood there, staring. Immediately a flood of conflicting emotions washed over me: desire, jealousy, excitement, anger, passion, hurt. My attention focused more and more tightly on the area where Phillip's penis kept disappearing into Suzanne's vagina, her fleshy outer lips widening and bulging with every in-thrust and her dark red inner lips clutching the veiny shaft with every withdrawal. I looked at her outer lips again. Something was different and it wasn't just my new vantage-point. Suddenly it hit me--Suzanne had shaved herself. (Her pubic hair is normally bushy and red.) Suzanne knew quite well that I like shaved pussy but had never done it to herself until now ('too itchy when it grows back,' she'd always say). Now she had finally done it--at home before we came, I assumed--but the first man to enjoy it wasn't me! My emotions may have been confused but my cock certainly wasn't; it was pushing hard at the cloth around my waist again. Slowly, I moved away from the two of them. I was heading back for the open door when I noticed a woman sitting by herself on a low, stone wall to my right. Even though part of me wanted to retreat from everyone and everything at that point, I found myself going over to her. She was still wearing her wrap. I glanced down at mine, relieved to see that my erection had mostly subsided. "Hi," I began. "My name's Andrew." "Hi, I'm Mandy." "Hi. So ... what do you think?" I asked, looking around. "Of this party?" she asked. "Mmm," I replied, perching on the wall next to her. "To tell you the truth, I was seriously thinking of leaving." "Yeah? How come?" "Well, it wasn't my idea to come here in the first place. My ... partner kind of talked me into it." "So where is he now?" "Oh, shagging some woman--or women--somewhere, I assume. This isn't his first time." "Is it yours?" I asked. "Yeah." "Me too." Mandy asked, "So where's your ...?" "Wife?" Mandy nodded. I just pointed to Suzanne and Phillip, who by now were in a sixty-nine position, sucking and licking each other like there was no tomorrow. "Hmmm ..." Mandy said softly. Again, seeing my wife and a stranger nearby having sex had an effect on me that I was unable to control--my heart raced and my cock stiffened. I looked quickly back at Mandy as if that was going to stop my desire, but instead noticed how attractive she was. (I don't know why it hadn't registered with me earlier.) I quickly changed positions to hide my erection (which wasn't easy with just a thin piece of cotton around my waist). Mandy's hair was short, straight and a very dark, warm brown. It framed her face beautifully, revealing her high cheekbones and finely sculpted jaw and neck. Her eyes were a deep blue, surrounded by long, dark lashes. Apart from a very natural-looking shade of lipstick, she seemed to be wearing no make-up. In short, she was breathtaking! "So what kinds of things do you like?" she asked. This took me by surprise. I expected that keeping the conversation going would be up to me. I was also surprised that she didn't ask what my job was. "Oh, let's see ... art, theatre, computers..." "Modern art?" she interrupted. "Yes, definitely." "Like what, for example?" "Oh ... Kandinsky. Especially the stuff from the 'twenties and 'thirties." A smile flashed across her face. "Me too!" she said. Her smile was exquisite, appearing to light up the whole area where we were sitting. "And Matisse," I continued. "When I see a great, original painting by Matisse, I just swoon." "What a lovely word--'swoon'," Mandy laughed. As we talked and laughed, about art, life, music, friendship and writing (in fact Mandy was a writer of children's books), her face and body seeme to be moving closer and closer to mine. Even though I had given up the idea of making any sexual advances on her, I was feeling deliciously light-headed, like a teenager in love. I wanted more than anything else just to lean over and kiss her, but stopped myself. I had to remind myself that she never really wanted to come here in the first place. There was a long pause in the conversation; instead of talking, we just looked at each other. A sharp cry or gasp caught Mandy's attention; she looked to her left and my eyes followed. We saw three men and a woman around a chair near the pool. The woman, who was facing us, was Suzanne and it was she who had been making the noises. She was sitting on one man's lap, impaled on his large, upright cock, while another man stood beside her with his cock in her mouth. Still another was kneeling on the other side, licking her breasts. I noted that none of the men was Phillip. Mandy glanced back at me and smiled weakly, then looked down at the ground. There was another lengthy pause. I was wondering what Mandy was thinking; maybe she was considering leaving again; maybe this was all getting a bit too much for her. Suddenly, after a minute or so, she spoke again, still looking down. "Do you want to fuck me?" I was startled to say the least. "Do you want me to?" was all I could come up with as a reply. I was still not sure that this was what she REALLY wanted. Maybe she felt it was kind of expected of her. Instead of answering, Mandy smiled directly at me again, reached up inside my wrap and gently held my penis. There was no hesitation or ambivalence for me now; in less than a second, my organ went from semi-limp to rock hard. With her other hand, Mandy reached for the top of her wrap, just above her breasts. With a slow, rolling motion, she pulled it apart and let it fall away from her body. I was delighted. Her breasts were small but beautifully shaped, topped with dark, hard nipples. Her gently rounded tummy led down to her pubic hair, which had been neatly trimmed into the shape of a heart. Her legs were athletic yet shapely, like a dancer's. I stood up and removed the wrap from my waist; my penis slapped up against my body, shiny, red and hard. I pointed to her heart-shaped pubic hair then asked with a smile as I kissed her on the neck, "So who's your hairdresser?" Mandy laughed. "I know this man with a special talent in that area." "I love it." "Thank you," she smiled. "Would you ... like a closer look?" I knew what she meant--especially as she was now spreading her legs apart and parting her pussy with the tips of her fingers. I knelt on the path in front of her and moved my face close to her crotch. I could smell and feel the warm, sweet, steamy aroma of her sex. With my tongue extended, I made contact. I felt the wet, fleshy folds of her labia, parting, the engorged nub of her clitoris, swelling, and the deep cave of her vagina, opening. I formed my tongue to a point and drove it in. Each time I withdrew, I swept upwards towards her clitoris and down again. Then I started using my fingers--pulling her cunt wide open and gaping. Mandy pushed her hips forward and moaned. "How would you like to use your cock now?" she whispered. I moved my tongue up over her clitoris one more time, across her tummy to her breasts, then up her neck to her mouth. We kissed long and passionately. Meanwhile, Mandy's hands were caressing my chest and tummy. They soon zeroed in on my penis and, with one hand pushing my buttocks forward and the other holding the tip of my cock, she guided me into her. I could feel the cool night air that had been surrounding my shaft replaced with the warmth of her cunt. Mandy immediately began to push herself onto my erect penis. She wrapped her hips around me, grinding her pussy around on my cock. Her juices began to stream down my shaft and onto my balls. Her inner cunt-muscles contracted, moulding themselves to the contours of my penis. I slowly withdrew then thrust back up, hard. I repeated this again and again, falling into rhythm with Mandy's slow grinding. I loved the way the way we were fucking: slow, sensuous, smouldering. As intense as it was, there was no need to hurry; we just enjoyed touching each other and being touched, fucking and being fucked. Mandy stroked my buttocks with her fingertips, then reached between them and gently cradled my balls. I caressed her belly in overlapping, circular motions, from her vulva up to her breasts, then playfully tweaked her nipples. Loud slurping sounds were coming from Mandy's cunt. With every thrust, her clitoris squashed against my upthrust pubic bone, pushing her closer and closer to orgasm. And then ... and then it was upon her. "Oh! Oh!! Don't hold back!" she pleaded, softly but desperately. As she rode out her orgasm, her inner cunt-rings tightened, pulling and sucking as if trying to milk the cum out of my balls by contractions alone. Her body jerked up and down, breasts jiggling, buttocks squirming, thighs gripping my haunches. Then, with a cry, I shuddered and a torrent of semen shot deep into her vagina. Again, I pulled out and then thrust back into her all the way. Thick, creamy goo spilled from her hole, dribbling back over my balls. Mandy hunched her cunt at me like crazy, milking my twitching cock to the last drop. Finally, my cock popped out, still semi-hard, and rested against her deep red cunt-flower, a final drop of cum oozing from its tip. She shuddered, then clung to me adoringly, resting her head on his shoulder. As we kissed and stroked each other, Mandy whispered in my ear, "What are you doing this weekend?" I looked at her and smiled. "Why?" I asked. "I'm staying in a cabin up the coast this weekend, supposedly to work on my next book; but I think I could be talked into some other kinds of activities," she said with a wicked grin. I remembered that Suzanne and I were supposed to be going to a barbecue at Suzanne's sister's place that next Sunday; but the idea of spending a whole weekend with Mandy was so appealing I knew he would just have to make it happen somehow. "There's something planned, but nothing that can't be unplanned," I said, truthfully. I knew my life was about to get very complicated. The sense of control over my world that was normally so important, now seemed strangely trivial. I was being offered a gift so precious I dared not refuse. I was really swooning now. THE END -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+