Romy and I love to travel. We were touring the American West when we heard about a valley hidden high in the mountains and a village of people there with some wild sexual customs.
We were having supper in Sanford's Grill and Pub in Rawlins, Wyoming, one night in June. After our meal, we sat at the bar where we met some other tourists, a ladies' baseball team in town for a tournament.
Two of these female athletes began to tell us stories of wild public orgies in a little village tucked away in a hidden valley, but the two other women from the team would only giggle and blush when we asked specifics about how they knew about it and what exactly went on in this village. They said they were afraid we would tell their husbands.
However, they gave us good directions to the route south that led to the entrance to the mountain pass and the valley. So feeling adventurous, Romy and I decided next morning to head up there to see for ourselves.
It was indeed almost hidden. We took several turns onto gravel roads and finally onto a dirt track with tough prairie grass growing in the middle. The track wound around rocks and bushes as it climbed higher and higher until the mountain itself closed in on the road.
The pass through the mountain was barely wide enough for our car, solid rock faces dripping with water on both sides, and as the road dipped down on the other side, the rock wall on the left suddenly disappeared in a terrifying drop to a steep gorge with a wild, running river at the bottom. I went very slowly. Romy gripped my arm as the car bumped and jolted down toward the valley below.
With relief we emerged from the mountain pass and followed the track out onto flat land in the valley. As we did so, the road widened and became a paved highway.
Further along the highway, a billboard welcomed us to "Hidden Valley. Land of the Giant Penis". The sign bore a photograph of a naked man reclining on his back, his legs spread wide and a long, thick penis sticking straight up from his testicle sac capped with a menacing, flared cock head.
Romy stopped chattering at me when she saw it and gave me a look that said, "I don't believe it, but there it is, but I think maybe I like it." She does love sex. She has told me often enough.
I could see a village in the distance, so I continued down the road. Then a big Ford sedan with a couple of guys in reversed ball caps passed us heading toward the mountain at top speed. I never did find out who they were or why they were driving so fast.
As I was looking at them in the rearview mirror and wondering out loud to Romy about the reason for their haste, a police car also passed us from the direction of the village. As I watched behind me, he braked and turned the cruiser around and pulled in behind me, flashing his lights for us to pull over, which I did immediately.
He came up to the car and leaned in the window. "You folks going to Johnson?" he asked. That was the name of the village, well named as it turned out.
"Yes", we said.
"Do you have a vagina with you, son?" he asked me then. I looked over at Romy in surprise.
"Yes," I told him matter-of-factly. "She has a vagina." I knew that because I had seen it; in fact, my penis had been inside it.
"Good", he said casually. "Then you will be welcome in our village as long as she is willing to share it."
I looked again at Romy. What did he mean, 'share it'? She was wearing her mischievous grin, the one that twisted her lips in a particular way, a smirk that she gets when she thinks about sex. She looked over at the cop standing at my window as he patiently waited for her answer to his unspoken question. Was she willing to share her vagina?
"Yes", she told him sincerely. "I think I could." Crazy old Romy. Always up for an adventure.
But was I up for it? I thought about the billboard photo and wondered how I would feel if I saw that man stick his big johnson in Romy's cunt.
Romy and I had talked in candid moments about the possibility of swinging with another couple or participating in group sex of some sort, but we had never done anything about it. Now it began to look as though we were about to have an opportunity, indeed as though we were now committed to it.
At that point, we both imagined that the villagers were into the sort of sedate wife swapping in comfortable family rooms in neat suburbs that we'd read about or seen in porn videos, and we thought "sharing her vagina" could be fun, another adventure, even if it was a strange way of asking us to join a wife swap. Little did we imagine the wild and cruel sex that was in store for both of us.
"Ok then," the cop said. "Since you have both agreed, I won't have to ask you to turn around and leave our little valley. Follow me," he ordered with casual authority. It turned out he was the town sheriff. So I started my car and followed his cruiser toward Johnson.
As we passed into the village, the road was flanked by two giant wooden pillars forming an archway. We were startled to see that they were accurate replicas of giant penises set on huge wooden testicle sacs and featuring obscenely large cock heads with gaping pee holes. These giant cocks leaned against each other across the road to form an arch over our heads as we passed under. A sign attached to the giant scrotum on the right read "Welcome To Johnson."
The sheriff's flashing lights and wailing siren brought us to a stop in front of the town hall in the middle of the village next to the town square. When we had parked at the curb, the cruiser's presence brought many villagers over from the square, curious to see the strangers he escorted.
Uniformed deputies emerged from the town hall. One opened my door for me and shook my hand in welcome. I was surprised at his formality as he greeted me and his enthusiasm for our unannounced visit. I was surprised. What did we do to deserve this?
The mayor also came out of the town hall and stood on the steps wearing his robes and chain of office. He was balding and portly with thick lips and a fringe of grey brown hair. He was flanked by officials in dark suits and other employees in street dress. Clearly our arrival was causing a stir in Johnson and called for a civic reception. The mayor reached out his hand and shook mine warmly and asked my name.
Caught up in this sudden VIP treatment, I happened to glance back to where Romy was getting out of the car. Surprise. Another uniformed deputy on her side of the car had courteously opened her door and helped her out, but he had immediately slapped a set of handcuffs on her wrists and was marching her up the steps smartly, one hand on her shoulder and the other fondling her breasts and feeling her crotch.
She arrived beside the mayor flushed, her lips held tightly together. She was close to panic. This wasn't swinging. It was more like female abuse.
"Welcome to Johnson," boomed the mayor. "What is your name, sweet vagina?"
Romy stared at him. I could see she was really scared. "R ... Romy," she gulped.
"Such a lovely name," he cooed. "Romy." He then explained to her as though he were talking to a child, "This valley is what we call the Land of the Giant Penis because our men folk have mostly big penises and love to fuck, especially fresh cunt. So we don't allow strange men into our valley to fuck our women unless they bring us fresh pussy of their own to fuck. But when they do," he laughed heartily, "as you have today, we honor them and celebrate with public fucking, because when we share sex with others, it multiples all our pleasures, doesn't it?"
I stared at him in stunned silence. What had Romy and I gotten ourselves into?
