SWING AND MISS Chapter 1
This idea came to me one night when I couldn't sleep. I had to laugh, the next morning, because it's not the type of story I would usually want to write. But there it was, the very next night, keeping me awake again. I ended up writing an outline of the key ideas, and a brief description of a few characters. The following day, I just couldn't stop adding to my notes - until I had about 35 handwritten pages. Okay, I thought: that makes it a story.
You'll be able to tell that I've been reading too many other writers' stories on Literotica: this won't be my 'usual' protagonist, and the story will have elements of Group Sex and even Loving Wives -
NOT
my usual genres. Hope it works for you anyway.
While I'm at it: thank you all for your supportive comments and helpful feedback. They're why I post my work on this site. Thanks also to Alianath Iriad and Lastman 416, who've been supporting me and improving my work for quite a while now.
***
Carol was from Northern California. After going to college there, she moved down here (mostly to get away from her family). We met at the University: she was doing Grad work in Mathematics, while I was finishing Law School.
We didn't hit it off right away. Both of us were dealing with our own issues.
Carol didn't like the way she looked. To me, she's always been attractive, though I wouldn't necessarily use the word pretty. Unless she wears her long hair in a particular style, to frame her face, it can look like her face is too wide: big cheeks, wide mouth, and square jaw. 'My fat face', she calls it.
I, for one, can't believe that she ever struggled with her weight. Fat face or not, Carol looks like the girl next door. She has dark hair, grey-green eyes, a few freckles on her nose, and a lovely smile. But she also has the body of a swimsuit model: great legs, a nice ass, and an hourglass figure topped by truly outstanding breasts. Heroic, I called them, once, which she quite liked. Her measurements are 36-25-33, if you must know.
Meanwhile, I was a crusty orphan who had clawed and scraped my way through college. You might say that I had a bit of a bad attitude - my goal was to make sure that I never had to work for anyone else. You may have heard the expression 'He doesn't suffer fools gladly'. That's close.
The truth is simpler: I don't really like most people. I wasn't prepared to give anyone the benefit of the doubt, either. I kept my expectations low, and most people lived down to them. There were exceptions, of course, and I kept a reasonably open mind - a few individuals gradually changed my opinion of them.
I met my best friend Andrew in Law School. We saw eye to eye on many issues, and disagreed vehemently on others. We both realized that that would make us excellent teammates, and eventually partners. We weren't opposites, or yin and yang, or any of that bullshit, but he could pour oil on the waters after I'd stirred up the shit (if you'll excuse the mixed metaphors). I also introduced him to his wife, Shelley - which turned out to be a very good relationship.
It wasn't as simple as bad cop-good cop, but we had a similar vision and the work ethic to make it succeed. Against the advice of everyone we knew, we started our own partnership, specializing in corporate and tax law. While it's true that large corporations hire the big, glitzy law firms, we could appeal to smaller, or up and coming companies who didn't care if I wasn't the 4th generation of my family to occupy the corner office. Our fees were more reasonable, too.
Andrew had the social skills, and we originally thought that he should find us new customers while I worked on their files. It took us a year to discover the counter-intuitive truth: the fact that I didn't give a shit about schmoozing became our calling card.
"I'm your lawyer - I'm not your friend" was my standard line. "You go play golf, and enjoy your game: I'll be working on your business plan." was another expression of mine that became well-known locally. Our clients could count on me telling them the truth, and Andrew could soothe their hurt feelings. We both looked after their interests.
I don't mean to suggest that I was hobnobbing with the rich and famous. But my partner and I created a successful business that didn't take up every waking hour of our lives. We'd agreed on that, too, before we started. I didn't golf, and I didn't do three hour lunches. Did that cost us a few customers? Maybe. But the clients we had were actually happy to know that I wasn't out on the links, or sipping martinis at Treadwell's.
As I said to one customer: "I don't want to be meeting you for oysters at 9:00 in the evening. I want to be home making love to my wife - and you should consider doing the same with
your
wife."
I did alright with the ladies. They say that confidence is attractive; it's interesting how much 'not giving a shit' resembles confidence. I don't mean to suggest that I didn't care about women - but remember the part about 'not suffering fools gladly'? Yeah - that applied to women, too. I wasn't about to tolerate a blithering idiot just for the sake of a one-night stand.
What? Do I hear you asking 'what on earth is wrong with that fool'?
There was a guy in law school with us. Derek. One of the female undergrads was suggesting that she would happily provide me with sexual services - no strings attached. That was a lie: she expected a higher grade. I told Andrew and Derek about the encounter.
- "Fuck her!" said Derek. "I would."
Andrew and I just looked at each other, and shook our heads.
Yes, I asked Carol to marry me. We dated for six months, and then were engaged for another nine. She had tremendous faith in me (and Andrew), and was willing to hitch her wagon to mine. Our business was beginning to prosper, and Carol got a job teaching at the local community college.
I've mentioned her smile, and her incredible body. Carol was also modest, and we shared many common interests and attitudes. On top of that, she had a sex drive to match mine.
For the first three years of our marriage, we made love every day - sometimes several times a day. To accomplish that while she was finishing her studies and I was launching a new business... I consider that an achievement.
Carol knew the moment I got home. Our first house had a very noisy garage door. She would be waiting for me at the door, or in our bedroom. The sight of my lovely wife kneeling on our bed, naked, with her incredible bosom heaving... well, that was usually the beginning of an evening that involved a very late take-out meal.
She had the most wonderful orgasm face, accompanied by little huffs and grunts. I loved her for her personality, for her essential goodness, and for how good a match we were.
We took a two-month holiday (thank you, Andrew), and went to Greece. We flitted from island to island, and Carol wore bikinis that she would never have dared to put on at home. I thought she'd never looked finer. She let me take a few nude photos of her after a swim... I look at them now, and can't believe how good she looked.
Then she was offered a job at a more prestigious community college, in the state capital, some three hours away.
Decision time. She was 32; I was 34.
- "I don't have to go." she said. "Not if it impacts your business."
- "But you'd like it."
Carol didn't answer. It would be a much more prestigious position, for considerably more money. How much we get paid
does
influence our own valuation of our self-worth. Of course she wanted to go. One of her best friends lived there, too.
As it happened, Andrew and I had been talking about expanding our business.
- "You could go and get us started." he said.
- "It's too early." I said.
- "Six months early." he agreed. "But aren't you the guy that told me to look after my wife, and that everything else would work out?"
- "I also said 'Fuck you and the horse you rode in on'."
- "I have selective hearing. I just don't listen to you when you start spouting nonsense."
- "I don't know, Andrew. I want to go with her, but..."
- "'Nuff said. We'll make it work."
Is it any wonder that I loved my partner?
Carol was over the moon. She knew that I worked hard, and that I valued my partnership and our business. Yet here I was, making a major accommodation for her.
- "I love you." she said.
- "You better."
We found a house, a bit outside our price range. We both agreed that we would make a serious effort to pay off the mortgage as quickly as possible. Carol understood (and shared) my distaste for paying interest.
She was super-energized. Many people would have focused on the their new job, and neglected their partners. Carol didn't. If anything, she stepped up her attentions to me. It was her idea to 'christen' every room in the house.
Obviously, that included our new master bedroom and king-sized bed. I came home to find Carol sitting on our new bed, naked, with her long hair thoroughly combed, and her incredible breasts thrust out.
The next night she was waiting for me in our guest bedroom. She must have been inspecting the thread count of the new sheets - again, in the nude. Her naked ass was pointed at the doorway, while her huge tits swung beneath her.
We fucked on the floor of the third bedroom, before it had been converted into a study for her. I was happy with the 'den', a smaller room on the second floor that was obviously intended to be an office; it was too small for anything more than a single bed. Carol dragged me in there, and had me fuck her while holding her up against the wall.
Kitchen table. Powder room. Main en suite bathroom. Walk in closet. Staircase to the second floor. She and I ticked them off one by one.
Carol also shaved her pussy, for the second time. She'd found it easier to simply trim and maintain, but she now reverted to a clean shave. As a dedicated muff diver, I had no complaint.
Just so you know: we may have fucked in every room of the house, and we certainly weren't averse to a quickie every now and then. But Carol and I had established a bit of routine when we came to lovemaking. I almost always started by going down on her.
As a super-breasty young woman, she wasn't surprised when men immediately grabbed for her tits. Don't get me wrong: I loved her boobs. But I wanted to make sure that she knew they weren't the be-all and end-all. I generally went for her pussy first.
One orgasm for her - at the very least. Then she would suck me (or at least slather saliva all over my dick so that we could have intercourse until I came - by then she might have had a second or third orgasm). On a good night, we would couple twice, or even three times.
I couldn't get enough of Carol. After four years of marriage, I still drove home with a boner, knowing that she'd be there waiting for me.
We didn't know many people in the city: there was one of her cousins (whom we both preferred to avoid), and her best friend Mona, who'd been a member of the bridal party at our wedding.
Mona had been a good friend to Carol, while they were at Grad school. She'd taught my wife to use less makeup, but more tastefully, and how to style her hair to minimize the width of her face. I only met Mona for the first time at the wedding, but I liked her right from the start.
