To explain how the Knights got to this point...Alyssa and he were well aware of the high risk to them for being active swingers while he worked in a sensitive government job. They talked about it in depth when they were first drawn to the lifestyle by way of some rather innocuous initial wife swapping. Well, one might call it innocuous, but it was addictive for both of them. Neither will ever forget their first hookups.
It was a private wingding at the home of Marcia and Wilbur Collins, with a dozen couples, and no singles that were noticed. They had gotten pretty inebriated, you can call it drunk if you prefer, at a party with mostly new to them acquaintances. Right about midnight Marcia announced "Its Cinderella Time, any of you who want to go home now can turn into pumpkins with our profuse thank you for having joined us for a great evening. Anyone who feels that you may have had too much drink to drive or, for whatever other excuse, want to sleep over here, just hand me your cell phones. The husband's phone, that is."
As some men started handing their phones into a breadbasket sized box, Devan looked questioningly at his worldly wife. She grinned and leaned over and mumbled in his ear "Sorry, I forgot to clue you in beforehand. If you don't want to play, we just say our thanks and go home now." Two or three couples seemed to be doing that very thing.
"If you do want us to stay over, just put your cell phone in the box. Then, we'll stay here, and the ladies will take turns blindly picking out a phone, but we can't pick our own husband's. Then we go off with the owner of the phone we picked to find a private corner to spend the night together.
"Fair warning Devan, when you come around to find me in the morning, expect me to be pretty much filled with someone's cum. If you think we are ready for this it's your decision, sweetie." Her beaming grin made it clear which path she was favoring. He loves her so much he couldn't bear to disappoint his oversexed wife. So, solely for her sake (wink, wink) he surrendered his ageing I-8, the last in the box.
Marcia, the hostess lady, then handed the filled box to her husband and told him to take charge while she herself drew the first match-up. She then grabbed a nondescript black phone without seeming to dig down into the box. As Marcia circulated around holding out the phone she had picked, Dev was quickly able to identify it as his own. She grabbed him by the shoulders with a brief kiss on the lips and he took his first really close-up look at the red-headed lady, who was not a lot older than him. She had a prettier than average face and way prettier than average tits. It also appeared, by all available evidence, that she sported a gorgeous hind-end. Devan immediately felt that his neighborly decision to play the game had been the wisest choice to make.
Everything went pretty much according to script for the rest of the night. Pretty much. Actually, over the following 3 ½ hours, Devan fucked the hostess Marcia in her luscious mouth and pussy and again in her mouth. After a couple hours of sleep his partner de jour awoke beside him on her master bed and, after a tinkle, she wouldn't keep her hands off of him. Well, at least she acted like she wouldn't, he never actually asked her to stop. She shoved him on his back and proceeded to cover his boner with her still slippery vagina. He fondled her big breasts and kissed them a lot.
After the lady of the house finally had her fill, he wandered around to find his sweetheart. He located Alyssa down on the first floor in the dining room off the kitchen. Literally down on the first floor. She was being taken advantage of, by a nice man proactively trying to screw her naked body into the carpet. Dev didn't really recognize the man. Marica had led him up to her bedroom before Alyssa even took her turn at the draw. He sat down Indian style alongside them and watched intently. He hoped to pick up a few tips on how to properly play Cinderella Time with Mrs. Knight. Based on his wife's audibly raucous sounds, the man apparently did do a good job of nailing her to the carpet.
On the way home they were both laughing aloud and feeling each other up in the car. She proudly told him that her phone guy turned out to be a quite good fuck and they were at it most of the wee hours. What little sleep they had was with his head between her breasts. Only one other man seriously came on to her and they screwed for maybe half an hour before her husband had sat down next to them.
Alyssa emphasized that it wasn't her that finally ran out of steam. Devan silently loved the way she was developing of chatting so casually about intimate details that would have sent the average married couple screaming toward the kitchen knives. Alyssa, for her part, was smiling inwardly at the recollection of reaching out to squeeze her husband's hand while this man, whose name she didn't even catch, had her bucking her bare ass into up into his fervent thrusts and loudly orgasming for the umpteenth time. God only could recall how many she had been blessed with last night.
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They were hooked. Totally addicted. They gushed about it to each other frequently in the coming days and weeks. And with each retelling they seemed to magnify the wonderfulness of their experience. Quite the opposite, he felt, than the way most couples might downplay their enjoyment of their extramarital activities.
But they fully understood that if their new hobby was discovered by LVMPD, it would instantly be found to be 'Conduct Unbecoming an Officer of the Law'. What should they do? They could cross their hearts and swear never to party outside marriage again. Silence. No supporters? This had been WAY too much fun.
Or he could just find new employment. He vetoed that, at least for now. He is rightly proud of what he does, and thinks he is pretty good at it. Alternatively, they might just keep on exploring this aphrodisiac lifestyle, very cautiously, and move to another city only if they get caught. That may be a cop-out, but it garnered the most positive responses.
They clearly understood that any more group parties like those at the Collins' would get them identified for who they were and that would probably be career ending. They had heard about the sex clubs and he suggested that they had a decent chance of anonymity under stage names at one of those places. So, they explored the idea carefully, he had some good source material in the Metro archives, and finally decided they liked the famous/infamous Green Door, out west on Sahara, best for their purpose.
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In their first club dates Devan had tried to participate together with the woman he came in with, but rather soon she candidly informed him that she didn't really prefer that. She smilingly pronounced that, while he was a better fuck than any guys she met in the clubs, and she loved him to death, he was easy, and she could have his cock any old day. So, she wanted to reserve her club time for the excitement only new cocks can give a girl. God love her for her foresight and her directness.
Thereafter, they went together to the club, and returned home together, but usually went their separate ways inside the maze of rooms. On most nights, they made it a point to meet up every hour or two; typically, she might wink and hold up 3 or 4 fingers, and he might shrug his shoulders, or raise a single digit. To them, "going out to the club" translated to "let's go out together for some extra heavy extra-marital sex, and maybe hubby can get a little too." They made no pretenses, and no apologies, and both thrived in that culture.
Sure, there were rules. Health and security were foremost. Both would use made up names and dress in a way that would at least partially disguise their identity. They were never to leave the club with anyone other than their spouse. They agreed never to accept any drugs, or drinks that might have been doctored. They were never to agree to any photos, although the club would surely enforce that rule for them. They never touched anyone that they even suspected of using a false ID. Or who looked like they could possibly have some kind of STD, although how does one really spot that? Last rule, they had to recount to each other, every word and deed as best they could recall. If asked.
Those rules had served them pretty well for the last 2 ½ years. There was only one breech and that was completely accidental. Somehow, Alyssa lost track of her husband one night, they have no recollection of where he had gotten to. She freaked out and had a few too many shots while waiting for him to find her. He had the car key of course and they had left their phones in the car. She had only small money in her clutch purse and didn't know if Uber or Lift would accept her credit card (they would have).
Some presentable looking gents offered to take her home and she rather quickly agreed, figuring that with four of them, nothing very evil was likely to happen. And it didn't, not really. They drove Alyssa to their own place instead of home and she couldn't think of any reason to object, the night was still early, and the company was enjoyable. The all-male quartet made sure she was comfortable and tended to, and that her drink stayed full.
Then the four gently, but persistently, enjoyed all her delectable orifices well into the next day. She didn't remember to even call Devan from a borrowed phone until past noon and caught holy hell from him for that. Two of the gentlemen drove her home to a very worried and angry husband.
He civilly thanked them for returning his wife in one piece and took her to the couch to comfort her. She fell asleep in his arms after giving him only the briefest summary of what parts of her anatomy the guys had done what with.
