Anne unbuttoned her blouse slowly, afraid to look at me. It reminded me more of a doctor's office visit than a wife swap.
"Do you want me to help you?" I asked.
She smiled nervously. "I guess so."
She dropped her hands to her sides and watched while I undid the last couple of buttons. Her blouse fell open, revealing a cream colored bra with a small lace border across the top. Her skin was porcelain-white, which made it seem even more forbidden when I lifted the blouse carefully off her delicate shoulders.
We were sitting on the bed at a Clarion Inn out on the interstate. My wife Becky and Anne's husband Biff were in the room next door, presumably doing the same thing. It was my wife's idea -- well, hers and Biff's. I wasn't exactly thrilled at the thought of handing Becky over to some ham-fisted muscle-bound redneck, but his wife Anne is so alluring, in that innocent girl-next-door sort of way, I couldn't resist the offer.
"Your turn,' she said shyly, looking like a Sears catalog model in her generic white bra. I pulled my T-shirt over my head. "Nice," she said, running her hand across my chest. My chest isn't really all that nice, at least compared to Biff's muscle-man physique, but the fact that I'm not covered with bear hair may have been a welcome change of pace for Anne.
We heard the thump of music next door, and it helped to break the tension. "At least it's not country music," Anne chuckled, touching on one of the many little sore spots in her and Biff's marriage. But don't all marriages have sore spots? Little areas where, no matter who compromises, someone ends up getting the shaft? It made me realize that my wife and I really had it pretty good; no big arguments, no conflicting goals or lifestyle hang ups. No wonder Biff and Anne wanted to try the swap. They needed a break from the unbearable reality of being married to each other.
"Do you want me to put on the music video channel?" I asked, feeling a little awkward.
"No, I'm good," she said, sitting there in her white bra and khaki shorts, her hands folded neatly in her lap. She turned her back so I could unclip her bra. I slid the straps off her shoulders. Facing me again, she stared wide-eyed as her bra fluttered into her lap. I took in the beauty of her small white breasts, like those of a teenager who hasn't yet made it to womanhood.
"They're not as nice as your wife's," she said, staring down at her chest.
"They're lovely," I said, reaching out my hand to touch her. She flinched when my fingers found the soft innocence of her flesh. Touching her reminded me of my first girlfriend, all those years ago, in my bedroom when my folks were out. "Do you want me suck your nipples?"
"Sure," she said, "I'd like that."
She lay back on the bed and I settled down next to her, resting my arm on her waist. I took a small pink nipple in my mouth and felt it stiffen between my teeth.
"Oh my," she gasped, "that's nice."
I scooted a little lower and let my knee nestle up between her legs. Then I moved to the other tit, keeping the first one occupied with my fingers. Slowly, her legs opened, till my thigh was gently nudging her mound. "Do you think we should get a little more undressed?" I asked, letting her slimy nipple pop from my mouth.
"I guess so," she said, pulling away from me so she could sit up.
"Let me do it," I said, sliding my hand down her tummy to the waistband of her bermuda shorts. She watched me while I undid the zipper, and then she raised her butt so I could slide the shorts down her white legs. Her shorts snagged the edge of her white panties, but she grabbed them, preferring to keep them on for the time being, even though I could see outline of her dark bush under the white cotton panel.
"I guess I'll take off my pants now," I said, hoping she'd volunteer to help. She just lay there, her arms crossed over her breasts, looking a little scared, so I eased my jeans down. I was already hard.
"Do you want to cum on my tits?" she asked.
"Sure," I said, climbing up on the bed and straddling her. She just lay there looking at me, so I gently took her hands and guided them to the waistband of my shorts. She edged them down carefully, since the head of my cock was snagged at the top. Finally, it popped out, and she let out a little gasp.
"Cool," she said, as she fished my cock free. She squeezed it a couple of times, and I realized I really should be naked for this.
"Give me a second" I said as I hopped off the bed and stepped out of my jeans and shorts. Then I straddled her again, my dick pointing at the wall above her head. She slid her hands up and wrapped her fingers around the base. Her touch was tentative, delicate, which only added to the tension. She cupped my balls. My dick twitched, seeming to get even bigger.
"Do you want me to spit on it?" she asked.
"Sure," I said, wishing she'd offered to put it in her mouth instead, but she was setting the rules. That was one of the things we had agreed upon before the swap. Whatever the lady says, goes. We'd also agreed that we wouldn't need to use condoms, since we were both monogamous couples using birth control, and there would be no need to worry about STD's or kids.
I watched as she spit a big glob of saliva into her palm and then slathered it onto the tip of my dick. "Oh God Anne, that's perfect," I moaned, as she went to work swirling her hand up and down my slimy cock. With her eyebrows scrunched in concentration, she looked so earnest, do dedicated to her task, it made me want her even more. Suddenly, I didn't want to cum on her tits, I wanted to cum inside her.
"Anne?"
"Am I doing it wrong," she asked, looking up at me in alarm.
"No Anne. That's perfect. It's just that..."
"Do you want me to do this?" she asked, sliding a finger up towards my asshole.
It was too late to stop now. "Yeah," I whimpered, bucking my hips. I could feel them semen building. "I'm getting close," I gasped as the unmistakable urge kept building. "Now!" I grunted. She jerked my dick down so the jizz wouldn't hit her in the face, and my cum started shooting out, all over her white freckled tits.
"You like that?" she asked, pumping me furiously.
"Yeah," I moaned, shuddering with the spams of my orgasm. She kept going, her fingers just barely hitting the ridge of my dick. Obviously, Biff had taught her well.
"You're really good at that," I said, trying to catch my breath.
"Were you saving it up?" she asked, looking down at the marbly blobs puddled between her tits and on her collarbones.
"I guess so," I said, suddenly feeling guilty. It had been at least a week since my wife and I had done it, partly because we were so stressed about the upcoming swap. And now, here I was, dripping what was left of my jizz on Anne's left tit. I should have been happy, but there was a strange emptiness, as if there was something missing. That something missing was love. Commitment. Knowing you're going to be with someone for the rest of your life.
"I'll go get cleaned up," Anne said, raising up on her elbows.
"No Anne, let me do it." I jumped up off the bed and hustled to the bathroom to fetch a washcloth. Coming back from the bathroom, looking at Anne laying thee on the bed with her small breasts smooshed up so my jizz wouldn't run down her sides, the pangs of guilt disappeared. She looked so vulnerable in her white panties, it was as if I my job was to make sure she got what she needed this afternoon. If there was something Biff wasn't giving her, it was my job to do it, even if she wasn't my wife.
She let me clean up the mess, and then I cuddled up to her. "Is it your turn to cum?" I asked, as my fingers slipped under the top of her panties.
"I'm not ready yet," she said, grabbing my hand and clamping it against her firm tummy. We stayed like that, frozen in time, for at least a minute. Then we heard it, the thumping of the headboard against the wall next door.
"Damn him!" she blurted, turning her back to me and curling up in the fetal position. "This was his idea, not mine." Then she started whimpering, covering her face with her hands. I spooned her, careful not to touch a breast or worm my hand down between her legs.
"It'll be over before you know it," I whispered.
It did no good. She just lay there, her shoulders heaving, her breathing racked with the sporadic gasps of her grief. I gave her another minute, and then I tried again. "I wasn't thrilled with the idea either."
"Why?" she blurted. "Because I'm not as hot as your wife?"
"That's not it, Anne, and you know it." I held her, waiting for the noise next door to stop. Finally, the action on the other side of the wall ceased and we could hear the music again. I gave Anne another moment to calm down.
"If it's any consolation Anne, I've been hot for you since the first day we met, but I never dreamed it would actually come to this."
"Liar," she sniffled, pulling my hand up between her clammy tits.
"You have timeless beauty, Anne. Your tits aren't going to be down to your waist when you're old, you're not going to weigh three-hundred pounds. Face it girl, you're going to be a hottie for the rest of your life."
"You're such a bullshit artist," she grinned, looking back at me. There was an awkward silence, and then she rolled over on her back, her face inches from mine. "Kiss me," she whispered.
As our lips met and we kissed, tentatively at first, as if neither one of us knew how. Who initiates the tonguing when the girl's in charge? She solved that dilemma for me by opening her mouth. We kissed harder. As our tongues began the dance, she guided my hand down her tummy and into her panties.
