Its lots of fun to wife/husband swap. As long as you don't get left out in the cold, that is. Maybe this is a tale of woe - maybe this is a tale of liberation - maybe it is simply a tale of pure sex. You decide.
Liz, Tim and I (Judy) had been friends since high school. We lost touch for a few years because we went to different colleges and had holiday schedules that didn't jive too well, but to our mutual delight we all ended up working in Kansas City when in our mid 20s.
Although we were much more sophisticated and knowledgeable than in high school, physically and in basic personality we had actually changed very little. Liz was the prom queen type, desired by all the guys, very feminine, long blond hair and blue eyes. Tim was the student council president type, friendly and very likable, yet contemplative and smart at the same time. I was the cheerleader type, cute, perky, always with a positive outlook. While we often went on double or triple dates and to parties together, neither Liz nor I every dated Tim.
By the time we met again in Kansas City we were all married, none of us with kids. Tim was married to someone who didn't seem "his type" - whatever that means - at all. Except for her enormous tits, Simone looked like, and was, a fitness trainer; but she didn't appear to be very motivated or smart. "Who knows, maybe just an act," I thought to myself after my first two encounters with her.
Liz was married to a hard-charging business man named Wilson. He was big, strong, good looking, and personable, although anyone I ever talked to about him confirmed my impression that there was an indescribable glint in his eyes that sometimes made you feel uncomfortable, and other times energized.
Finally, I was married to Ben. He was a gregarious, "cute," not truly handsome like Wilson but about the same as Tim, smart guy with a really quick wit, and always seemingly wanting to please.
We rekindled our friendship quickly, and often had dinner parties or cookouts at each other's houses, and sometimes went to concerts, horse racing, or athletic events together.
All three of our spouses had one thing in common. They were uninhibited, and loved making bawdy comments. The comments weren't insulting, and always appeared to keep things light. Especially Simone's. With her comments you couldn't tell if she was serious or had just mixed things up, and when probed she would simply smile. She would also sometimes make outrageous statements, but when people called her on them and offered to bet her, she would either decline or bet something insignificant, so winning or losing meant little to her.
After about six months of getting together essentially every weekend, sometimes 2 or 3 times, and sometimes even during weeknights, you could tell that there was some sexual tension building. I know that I was always turned on by contact with and compliments from Tim and Wilson, and Ben loved attention from Liz and Simone. For several months there was a significant amount of consensual grab ass going on, by both guys and gals. Even though Ben and I rarely had sex weeknights, any night after we were with our friends we were like bunnies.
The sexual tension reached a crescendo one night at Tim and Simone's house. They had the biggest, nicest, and most isolated house of those in our group. After several hours of drinking, eating, and games filled with sexual innuendo, Simone appeared to be inebriated when she made an "announcement." She maintained that she could drink a half gallon of any non-alcoholic liquid in less than 10 seconds (about the time it takes to pour out a half gallon milk jug) without spilling or leaving more than a few drops.
Wilson, Ben, and me almost simultaneously yelled "Bullshit," and offered to bet her anything she wanted to bet. Liz and Tim also told her that wasn't possible, especially in her condition, and Tim tried to get her to back down. She steadfastly stuck to her statement and started calling us a bunch of wimps for not taking her up on her bet.
Finally, we could take no more, and all five of us called her bluff. We each would get an individual concession from her if she lost, such as Tim would get an hour-long back massage, Liz would get three free sessions of fitness training, etc. In return, she asked that we all pledge to do whatever she ordered us to do collectively in the next 30 minutes as long as it was not illegal.
Sure of ourselves and thinking that even if we lost it would be some innocuous task like in the few times past when she won, and having decided we would make her drink a half gallon of mostly milk but some added cream to fill up the half gallon container in her refrigerator, we all agreed. She made us sign a pledge on a piece of scratch paper she pulled out of a drawer.
Once all our signatures were in place and she put the piece of paper in a lock box, her demeanor changed perceptively. She no longer seemed the least bit drunk, she got a half-smiling determined look on her face, and after the half gallon container of milk was topped off with cream she handed one stop watch to me, and held another herself. Tim was to say "Go" and then we were to press the watch start buttons, and when the jug hit the table empty would press "Stop."
"Go" Tim yelled.
The jug went up, the liquid poured straight down her throat like she was a sword-swallower (I imagine that excited the guys), and she slammed the jug back on the table, with only a couple of drops in it.
I could not fucking believe my eyes when I looked at my stopwatch. It read 8.1 seconds. Simone's stopwatch read 8.4 seconds. There was no doubt that she had done it!
After looking at her watch and confirming the time with mine, Simone went into a Brandi Chastain routine and ripped her top off as she ran into the living room waving her shell above her head, and then sliding on her knees on the rug. Since her enormous tits were overflowing her bra, the three guys' eyes were popping out of their heads, and Liz and I were stunned.
After about 30 seconds of hooting, hollering, and self-congratulation, Simone straightened up, got a diabolical look on her face and took two pieces of paper out of her jeans pocket. She went up to Ben and Wilson and said "pick one." Wilson's said "Simone," and Ben's said "Liz."