This is a simplistic tale and at least in theory it shouldn't offend anyone. It was one of my first efforts and I still like it. The title is the one that I gave it long ago and I've stuck with that but perhaps a better name would have been 'Hank and Dolores',
When I first started submitting a collection of stories to Literotica, I said that all of my tales contained elements of truth. I'm afraid that claim is no longer true because for a long time I have needed to depend only on my imagination. However, I'm pleased to say is that this story is one of those originals.
My name is Jeff Purvis and I have been married for twelve fantastic years to Julie. We both work and although not what you would call rich, money isn't a problem. We have a pleasant house in a good area, a nice car each and we enjoy at least one fairly exotic holiday every year. The best part, from my point of view, is that Julie is an absolute doll, 5' 6" of delectability. A beautiful face, shoulder length honey coloured hair and long long legs that lead all the way to paradise. And her tits – I could write a whole chapter about her tits, round, full, firm, thrusting and all of this accentuated by a very narrow waist.
You will not be so interested in me but I will tell you all the same. I am 35 years old, (three years older than my wife), 5' 10 inches tall and of slim build. I am pretty fit, mainly because my job as a furniture salesman in a store keeps me on my feet all day with a fair degree of lifting and carrying. I also jog a bit when the mood takes me. Am I good looking? Modesty prevents me claiming to be so – but I cannot be too bad or I else I would not have pulled Julie in the first place.
I haven't mentioned kids because we don't have any. In the early years of the marriage, we were great friends with several other couples who were very like ourselves and there were some great parties with lots of laughs. Then one by one the others started producing offspring. When the first babies arrived, Julie got a bit broody, so we started trying too but without immediate success.
Gradually we noticed how the advent of children was affecting the lives of our friends so blessed. For a start their incomes were significantly reduced, the wives started looking tired and harassed, and their husbands both worried and distracted. So when the doctor said that my wife needed a small op on her tubes before my sperms could do their job, we decided not to bother. From then on it was paradise, no pill, no condoms, no diaphram – hey ho silver.
We liked to fuck. Any time, any place. In front of the TV, in the kitchen, on the stairs once just to say we had done it. We fucked anywhere that the mood took us and we both seemed to be always in the mood. The only thing that spoilt this idyllic situation for me was a reservation about the size of my dick. It was not small by any means, reading penis statistics told me that it was average but in all honesty I cannot even claim to be at all above average in that department. When I mentioned my worry, Julie came out with the old platitude, 'It's not the size that matters it is what you do with it that counts' but she then made it better by adding, "And boy do you know what to do with it."
When you screw as much as we did, no matter how inventive you are, you reach a point when it becomes repetitious even jaded. Well Julie and I had devised a trick to get over this that we called 'Situations' where we pretended to be other than we really were and the excitement generated seemed to carry on for quite a while afterwards. Part of the reason that this was so successful was because we took it so seriously, planning quite a way in advance.
We got hold of props and wore clothes purchased secretly that the other had never seen to make the situations as real as possible. To give an example - for the door-to-door salesman situation. I got hold of a seedy raincoat and trilby hat which I hid in the boot of my car together with a suitcase containing brushes and things. Then I said that I was going out to the pub and Julie went for a long hot soap in the bath. I changed in the car, waited for a while and then rang the bell to be answered by Julie, wrapped in just a towel and dripping wet.
In a variation as a vacuum cleaner salesman, I took our machine as my prop and was let back into the house with Julie wearing a low cut blouse. She leaned forward to examine the attachments giving me a good look at her tits and then, when instructing her on how to operate it, my touching her up quickly led to the inevitable. Sometimes it was my wife who left the house to return in the guise of either a masseuse or personal strippogram.
However for our most successful situation, both Julie and I spent a lot of money to ensure perfection and the reverberations from it are with us still. It was a wife-swap situation. I was meant to have driven off to the other couples house, while she waited at home for the visiting husband to knock on the door. I really did drive away, to a single friends, flat where I had managed to secrete a complete outfit of clothes unlike anything that I usually wore. I had also taken the trouble to get a false moustache from a theatrical shop together with some special gel to hold my hair temporarily in a different style. When I was ready, I drove home slowly to let Julie set the scene and allow my anticipation to mount.
When she opened the door I could hardly believe my eyes. From somewhere she had bought a Latin American style dress that showed off her breasts to full advantage and with the short skirt cut into strips which revealed what she had on underneath, as they swayed. She was wearing virtually nothing underneath for her panties were little more than a thong. Over the years she had worn some very daring underwear but nothing like these exotic pants which must have come from a sex shop. Her makeup was the finishing touch, totally erotic and looking completely different to how I had ever seen her. If she had walked into a room unannounced, I would not have recognised her. Now you know how I feel about Julie but if she and another woman who looked like that had stood side by side, then Julie would not have got a look-in with me. We fucked right through that Saturday night and right through Sunday, stopping occasionally to grab something to eat and then fucking some more.
Monday morning we crept out of bed to go to work totally exhausted. That evening, we sat holding drinks both of us still too tired to talk much. After one long silence, Julie grinned at me. "We are never going to top that," she said.
"It was fantastic, the best sex that we have ever had," I agreed. "You know, all the time I really did believe that you were another woman – and what a woman."
"Same with me. I have to admit that over the years, I have often fancied going to bed with another man but now I feel just as if I have - well almost."
"How do you mean – almost."
"Well you looked so different and in my mind I could believe that you were another man but your dick was the same. I still enjoyed it, you know that I love your prick but all the same, that was what kept bringing me back to reality."
I was not sure that I was happy with remark and could not think of a suitable response so I said rather lamely, "Well you convinced me. I believed all the time that you really were another woman."
Julie became suddenly pensive so I remained silent rather disturb her train of thought.
"It was too good," she said at last.
"Too good? How can anything be too good?"
"It was perfect and that is the problem. How can you improve on perfection? If we try again, no matter how much effort we put in to it, I doubt if it can ever be quite so good again. We're bound to miss that first time spontaneity for a start. Also, if we do a wife swap situation again and it turns out to be a lot inferior then it will probably spoil the memory of this weekend."
She was talking a lot of sense. "So we have to resign ourselves that the high spot of our sexual lives is over?"
"Unless we do it for real," she said.
It slipped into the conversation as easily as that. Now I have to admit that the thought had crossed my mind as a possibility but not really a serious proposition. "Are you suggesting that we do?" I said.
I think my wife had seen more shock in my face that I really felt because she quickly back-tracked. "I didn't say that. I was only stating the logical way to avoid a downhill path from now on. If you asked me to do it I probably wouldn't agree to."
I din not know whether to pursue the subject or let it drop. My feelings were very ambivalent. On the one hand, I could happily imagine myself putting it around with a load of nubile willing females but on the other, I was distinctly uneasy at the thought of some lecherous bastard screwing Julie. Something about the brightness in my wife's eyes told me that this was a dangerous subject, so I said no more.
The enhanced sexuality of our pretend swap weekend carried over for nearly a fortnight before it began to pall. I took to hanging round dirty book shops after work. This was not so much to get aroused as in search of inspiration for a new situation. We definitely needed a spark but any situation that we did now was likely to be a disappointing anti-climax. Then I saw the contact magazine and on finding it was a wife-swap special edition, I bought it without having made a conscious decision to do so.
At home I left the magazine folded inside the evening newspaper on the hall table while I hung up my coat. Before I could retrieve it, Julie came up to greet me, picked up the newspaper and the magazine fell out. At the sight of the title an expression of surprise came briefly over her face but then she gave me a long level look. "Are you thinking of us doing it after all?" she asked.
Now it was my turn to be cautious. "I just bought it on the spur of the moment. Actually, I thought that for a future wife swap situation it might make it better to pretend that we were real people."
Her "Oh" sounded non-committal but it might have contained just a hint of disappointment. However, I had dawdled too long in the porn shop and my evening meal was ready so it was not until afterwards that we sat together on the settee looking through the magazine. To be frank, the bulk of the couples pictured were not particularly attractive with many being fat, or old, or both. Also the pictures ranged from the tastefully photographed to the downright crude – with the more unattractive the couple the lewder the pose.
