My husband was promoted to regional director for Minnesota within his Insurance Company, and I easily transitioned over to the City of Minneapolis Police Department. I had to go down from Sergeant to Constable, but the streets of Detroit are a lot tougher than The City of Lakes will ever be, so at least I felt safer. My salary was cut by 10k, but Paul's raise was worth five times that, and I had no doubt that I would rise to sergeant again, just as soon as an opening came up.
We had been married for only a year, having had a few long term relationships, we were now confident enough to have an open one, only insisting that our dalliances in the sexual context, were openly revealed to each other, and we remained as safe as possible, with the constant use of condoms, and visible inspection of our lovers, to keep our own home safe.
I am 5ft. 10 and I have a very muscular form. I carry 20 pounds more than the charts call for, but my breasts are on the big side, while my shoulders and thighs are more muscular than most men. Paul keeps pace with me at the gym, but he doesn't have to fit into a bikini like I do. I'm not so ripped that I compete, but I do get other officers wondering why I was wearing the thicker combat vests that only SWAT officers wear, but of course, I am only wearing a regular vest, just like them. Men are such jackasses.
We were swingers in the bedroom, back in Detroit, and we hoped to make new friends to play with, from either Minneapolis, or St. Paul. We heard whispers about The Minneapolis Canoe Club when we brought our first couple to our bedroom. They told us the name of a medical clinic where we could apply, since they are not a secret society, just a closed group of similarly minded people.
I did some research at work, and found that they were not under investigation with the Police, so I called and set up an interview for Paul and I to consider, and be considered for entry into their swinger's club.
"Paul and Shannon Thomas?" The Receptionist raised her eyebrows as a question mark to her statement.
"That's us," I answered first, as we both arose from our chairs.
"This way please," the shapely woman wiggled her finger, then her hips, as she turned to lead the way.
Of course I knew that Paul was glued to the sway of those hips and the roundness of her ass, but I was not jealous. We followed our temptress to a far examination room but we were surprised when she came into the room with us.
"Please remove all of your clothes," she proposed. "You can hang things from the hooks in the corner, but we will need Mrs. Thomas in the stirrups for a vaginal inspection to start, so it will be easier if you are both completely naked, before the Doctor gets here."
The receptionist stayed and watched us undress, but she didn't say a word. Paul's cock was as stiff as a board by the time he dropped his jockey shorts to the floor. He is only average in the boner department, but he has no fat, so his 6 inches feels more like 7 or 8 to the average woman. Of course, I'm not an average woman, with thick thighs and shoulders and muscular arms. I was not as flexible as most women, but I had no problem putting my legs in the stirrups, as I lay back to survey the room.
I am trained to look for exits and signs of drug paraphernalia, while memorizing the facial features and body dimensions of everyone in the room. Paul is trained too, but having a rough idea of when someone will die, hasn't really helped him to socialize.
I met him on the streets of Detroit. He halted a robbery by smashing the guy's head into the ATM wall, but he had been slashed across the chest before he managed to knock the knife out of the assailant's hand. His adrenaline was running so high that he didn't even know that he had been cut, so I gently pulled his sweatshirt up to reveal his magnificent chest, with blood flowing freely from a 6 inch slice just under his nipples and a bit more than a quarter inch deep. I thought he was going to faint, but he kept eye contact with me, while the paramedic put a compression bandage over the wound, then they wrapped five or six yards of gauze around and around his upper body. He never looked away from my gaze.
"Will you let me take you out, Sergeant," he finally said.
"If she's not interested..." the cute ambulance attendant started.
"Yes! I think that you need looking after," I jumped in, seeing that this one might be a keeper.
The receptionist came over to the gyno chair and bent for a little inspection of my sex, then she rose back to full height and checked out the rest of me.
"I prefer more labia," she said, then turned and walked out of the room, leaving the door wide open.
Paul moved toward the door.
"Leave it Pooh," I said, with his affectionate nickname. "It could be a test."
He came back to my side and he evilly started to tweak one nib until it was as stiff as his cock. The other one started to feel neglected, but I didn't say a word. A dozen people passed the door, with some of them pausing for a good long look. Finally a man that looked like a Doctor with a white lab coat and a stethoscope around his neck, came down the hall.
"Oops, Cooper should not have left this door open," the probable Doctor mused out loud. "High folks, I am Doctor Percy."
"Paul and Shannon Thomas," Paul answered for us.
I was busy noting that the good Doctor was 6 foot 3, Caucasian 190 pounds, dark brown hair and brown eyes. I don't usually make a note of the dimples...but.
"So, you are interested in the Minneapolis Canoe Club," he started the conversation. "Tell me how long have you been 'canoeing' together?"
He pulled a wheeled chair over between my legs, and sat with his head right in front of my cooch.
Again, Paul served as the spokesperson.
"We have been together for 18 months, married a year ago and swinging with other couples for almost the entire year and a half."
"Okay, how often do you swing, and how many couples have you engaged with in the last 12 months?" Doctor Percy continued.
Paul was so much better with numbers, so I let him continue. I would interrupt if he got anything wrong.
