Although the dinner and dessert were enjoyable, we didn't go to Tiffany and Mike's parties for the food. The dinner was only a prelude to the sex that would come later. Sitting at the table while socializing and eating gave ample time for everyone to check out the other guests in a non-threatening environment. After all, most people are comfortable at a dinner party with clothed guests, but the couple that can walk in on an ongoing orgy and join the fun is rare.
Mike was very particular where people sat at the table and assigned each guest a seat. Couples never sat together. Rather, Mike seated people together if he thought there would be some physical or intellectual attraction between them. Tiffany and Mike always invited five couples they only had seating for twelve. Among the other couples, we hand only met Ken and Mary. The other couples we knew only from their profiles on Lifestyle Lounge, a swing websites we all had in common.
After dinner, I followed the rest of the guests into the living room and found a spot on a couch next to an attractive couple I hadn't met before. Before I could introduce myself, Tiffany, entered the room holding a black beret.
"To get this evening's festivities started," Tiffany started, "we're going to play a little game. After picking a card from the hat, you'll get five minutes to tell the story requested by the card. Make your story as erotic and descriptive as possible."
Tiffany always came up with something to set the mood. At her last party, she had two of the female guests dress up in lingerie and put on a hot lesbian show in the living room, complete with some serious strap-on action. The party before that, Tiffany had everyone draw straws for the privilege of having her go down on the person drawing the shortest straw, regardless of gender. Her party games always worked wonders getting people aroused and ready for uninhibited sex. Without an icebreaker, people tended to sit around for hours chatting and eating chips until someone got drunk enough to shed their clothes and get everyone else involved. Or at least that's the case with inexperienced swingers.
Although the game sounded fun, I was sure we'd only hear one or two stories before a couple started kissing or a woman began sucking cock. That's all it took. Just one couple losing their inhibitions and within minutes everyone would be naked and pairing off with their partner or someone else's. Or if a sufficiently wild group, there would be flesh piles of four or more people scattered about.
While Tiff passed the hat around, I glanced around the den where the twelve of us were sitting. When things got wild later on, there weren't any bad choices; the guys were all good looking and so were the women. Many times there would be hot women for my husband, but the men would be awful. Nice and with good personalities maybe, but unattractive. I had a hot hubby and could afford to be choosy; if I just wanted to get laid, I could stay home and have great sex with my husband Jon.
When the hat finally got to me, I pulled a card with a number one on top. Damn. I was giving the first story.
I read aloud the instructions, "Tell us about the first time someone performed oral sex on you".
I took a sip from my Cosmo. "OK, I'm not very good at telling stories, but I think you'll like this one. I got off to a very late start when it came to sex; I was a junior in college before I had the pleasure of having someone go down on me. "
"Spring break of my junior year at Annapolis, I decided to hang around the area and visit friends in DC and Baltimore. The dorms were deserted during break as most of the midshipmen flew home to visit with their families. The mids who remained usually didn't do so out of choice; they were mostly there as punishment for substandard academics or conduct.
Saturday afternoons in the dorms were usually pretty quiet as everyone was out on liberty. But it was absolutely deserted on that day since most everyone left for vacation the previous evening. I was reading a book in my bed and enjoying the quiet until shouting outside of my room distracted me.
Before each meal, plebes stood at numerous places throughout the halls yelling out the menu and various trivia such as sports around the yard and uniforms to wear. I was usually pretty mellow and didn't harass the chow callers, but my plans for the evening were ruined when friends cancelled on me at the last moment and I felt ornery enough to take it out on someone else.
The plebe at the station outside my room was muttering her way through the menu. I could tell that it was Ms. Robb by the voice, but I was a surprised at how poorly this normally squared away plebe was doing. I slammed my door open and stormed out to tear her apart.
"What kind of chow call is that?" I asked. "Pick up the volume! Do you want people to miss evening meal formation?"
She gave me a blank stare and continued on as if I hadn't said anything. Her look seemed to state, "No one's around but you, and I don't care enough to yell my heart out." Her lackadaisical attitude was annoying and I was determined to ruin her evening. She probably wasn't happy that she was on academic probation, but I wasn't in a forgiving mood.
"Come around to my room after dinner, Ms. Robb. You've got 30 minutes to eat and get back up here."
Exactly on time, I heard a several loud raps on my door followed by, "Ms. Robb reporting as ordered."
Latching open the door, I went out in the hall and had her stand at attention against the bulkhead.
"What was the matter this evening?"
"Nothing, Ma'am."
"Are you going to do a better job tomorrow at lunch?" I asked.
"Yes Ma'am", was her less than enthusiastic response.
She just stood sullenly against the wall in her black working uniform. Not inclined to discuss her problems in the hall, I asked her to step inside my room.
"OK, what's the problem? You normally are one of the loudest plebes on the floor and now your lack of enthusiasm is just pathetic."
She replied with another sullen "Nothing Ma'am."
"Do you think you need some kind of incentive to do better?"
"I don't know."
"I don't know just doesn't cut it. Come here and face away from me", I ordered.
Grabbing my webbed bayonet belt from the closet and doubling it up, I strode up behind her and whacked her bottom so hard that the resulting crack surprised me.
"Is that the kind incentive you need?" I yelled, forgetting everything I was taught about positive leadership techniques.
She yelped, but didn't say anything or try to move away.
I gave more whacks, but with lesser force. "Still no opinion?" I asked.
