There was something about her, a quirkiness that drew you to her when she was around. It could have been in the middle of a party or large gathering of friends celebrating who-knows-what; it didn't matter, she stood out.
Not a 'babe' in the traditional sense of the word, no, she was rather average; a bit on the short side, maybe 5'4 on a 'tall day', a few pounds more than she wanted to have but there you have it, the pounds were there. Not so much so that it was unattractive but enough that there were 'soft spots'. Her breasts were on the smallish side, probably A+ or B- but with very easily aroused nipples that begged to be sucked when they were awake.
She laughed a lot, found humor in most circumstances and loved to kid and joke with her co-workers at the steakhouse where she bartended. That was where I met Dawn, but it was before I began working at the steakhouse on weekends, as the second barkeep at the larger, main bar downstairs, or as the upstairs service bartender.
She and my wife were friends, having worked together for a couple of years. After busy nights it wasn't unusual for the wait-staff to gather for after-work drinks at a nearby bistro to let the adrenalin from busy weekend nights slip away, to come down from the warp-speed pace that the bartenders and wait-staff had to work at on busy nights. I would join them, most nights, when I picked up my wife from work at night, before I started working there as well.
Dawn and my wife would go shopping together sometimes, and we had also become friends with her husband, John, and often did things together as couples. Dawn knew of my wife and I's involvement with swinging, but was not at all judgmental of us about that; it was our thing and that was fine with her. We never approached her and John with thoughts of screwing them; no, that would never have flown with John who was a very nice guy but also very traditional in every sense of the word. So we were social friends, not sexual ones.
My 'regular' job required a lot of travel for me, during the work week, which also allowed both my wife and me to indulge in extra-curricular sexual adventures when apart. Not a lot, but enough that we both enjoyed it. We would share our sexual adventures with each other during nightly phone calls or after I returned home from my business trips. The sharing of our sexual trysts with each other always resulted in marathon fucking sessions for us, without fail.
Barb, my wife, was a 'looker' with a killer body and knew it. While not overtly conceited about it, she knew how to use it to her advantage when she wanted to with both men and women. Barb was an equal opportunity swinger; men, women, couples, it didn't matter to Barb, it was all good.
Over the course of several months as Barb and Dawn became friendlier and started hanging out during off-work times, Dawn heard many stories from Barb about recent swinging activities of us, the both of us, so she knew where our heads were regarding recreational sex with other people.
I started working weekends as a bartender with them temporarily when they were short help at the steakhouse and was asked to continue by the management, so I did. I became part of the crew, on weekends, and would join in the after work festivities when we closed.
One such evening, Dawn and I were the last to leave the steakhouse and she said that she didn't feel like joining the gang for drinks that night. Barb was visiting her parents back home and wasn't in town.
"Feel like smoking a joint with me?" she asked me as we stood in the empty parking lot of the steakhouse.
"Sure, you know I never turn down a chance to toke," laughing as I said it.
She did know for she had shared lots of weed with us over the past several months. Not John though, no not John. He knew Dawn smoked but just didn't want to have her smoke at home, didn't want the kids to find it or smell it.
We sat in her car, toked up, and just bullshitted about non-important things as we got high.
"You really don't mind Barb fucking other people, huh?" she said suddenly, out of nowhere.
"No, we're okay with it; not many people understand the mind-set it takes to be a swinger," I said, responding, "and after all, it's not like I haven't had my share of recreational pussy," ending my answer to her question.
She laughed, her eyes now glazed, betraying the stone that was overtaking us both.
"Yeah, I know," she said, "Barb's told me of a couple of your flings on the road."
"Hey," I joked, "even traveling salesmen get horny."
She laughed with me and then we were in each other's arms, kissing lustfully, our hands touching each other, fondling each other with reckless abandon. I unbuttoned her blouse as her hand squeezed and rubbed the bulge in my slacks.
My hand easily covered her breasts, her nipples pressing against my palm as I felt her, squeezing softly, slowly. Our breathing was labored, the windows fogging up from our make-out session.
"I want to fuck you so much," she moaned between kisses, "but I know we shouldn't be doing this and yet I don't want to stop."
"Sweetie, as hot as I am at this moment," I said to her, her head between my hands as our eyes locked, "if there's the slightest chance of regret in the morning by you, then you're right, we shouldn't be doing this."
