It all started when I overheard a couple men talking about the party that they had recently gone to. Now I am not normally an eavesdropper, but when they mentioned sex, my ears just naturally became more alert. Especially when they began to candidly describe the behavior of the women, making it sound like their insatiable lust drove them to unprecedented heights of debauchery; at least by my standards. Yet it was when they included their wives in this depraved orgy, that I really took an interest.
As I listened, I began to feel an overpowering force seize me, shaking the moral fibers of my being, tearing them out and casting them aside. I found myself wishing that I was in their shoes, satisfying my carnal cravings with any woman that I desired. Envisioning a room filled with hot sweaty bodies, especially my wife's, as everyone engaged in gratifying their sexual needs. With everyone changing partners whenever the mood struck them, until everyone was too weak and exhausted to continue.
Now I am not, and never have been disenchanted with Connie. I love the way her brunette hair curves around her face, and drapes over her shoulders. The way her deep set brown eyes look like simmering pools of lust and desire. Or the way her beasts sit so firm and supple on her chest, and although they are not large, they were more than ample for my tastes. Besides, I have always believed in that odd adage that anything more than a handful to be a waste. But, it is her adorable pussy that I admire the most, the way the lips protrude so invitingly and the how it is always so warm and wet when I wanted to use it.
All these things I love about her, and so much more that I cannot possible put into words that would convey my feelings. Yet, despite how I feel about her, I cannot dispel the reoccurring fantasy that I have. The one where she is allowing other men to use her body the way I have so often done.
This vision was so overwhelming, that I brazenly swung around, in my booth, and asked them how I could become a part of their group. At first they looked at me as if I were some kind of pervert intruding on their private conversation. Yet, when they noticed that I serious, they invited me to join them. When I had, they began to eagerly tell me all about their wife swapping club, filling me in on every aspect of it, making me more determined than ever to be a member. The only thing that prevented me from doing so, right then and there, was the knowledge that Connie would never consent to it. Nevertheless, before we left the restaurant, they gave me a phone number, for when I was ready to join.
The rest of that day, I could think of nothing else but the lifestyle that they had so enthusiastically endorsed. They had made it appear as if swinging was a panacea for all the ills that troubled a marriage. Although mine was not sick, it had lost its zing and definitely needed something to put the spark back into it. I was certain that a little promiscuous sex would be just the answer.
That night, as Connie and I watched television, I approached the subject. I had deluded myself into thinking that maybe she would feel the same way that I did, but I was wrong. She not only didn't want to discuss it, she didn't want to hear about it. This perplexed me, as I knew about her numerous affairs, before we were married, and was hoping that maybe she would like to relive them.
With dogged tenacity I began my quest to break down her resistance. Every chance I got, I would point out some good looking guy and ask if she would like to have him fuck her. Later, in bed, I would make believe that I was that guy, exploring her body for the first time, while expressing the joy that it gave me. Even when we make love, I would say that it wasn't me that was doing it, but an old lover or some strange man.
Gradually I began to notice a change in her. Connie no longer complained that my behavior, especially my comments and suggestions, was disgusting her. This small breach in her armor encouraged me to strive harder to break down her remaining defenses.
That was when I started bringing home movies, particularly those that involving group sex, and would make lewd remarks throughout. Usually something about how euphoric the women looked, having other men's cock's shoved into them, and how she could experience that same exhilaration if she would only allow herself to. Even telling her how fascinating a woman is when she's getting fucked, and how marvelous it would be to be watching her take another man's cock into her body.
Little by little I began to see that all my efforts were beginning to have an effect on her. The bulwark, of moral virtue, that had protected her, was crumbling and falling apart, until eventually she was defenseless.
"You really want this, don't you?" she said forlornly.
"Yes I do. I think that we would both enjoy it very much."
"Okay," Connie replied reluctantly, looking away. "I'll try it. But I won't promise anything."
That was all I needed. I immediately jumped up, before she could recant, reached into my wallet pulling out Paul's number and called him. After explaining that I was the guy from the restaurant, we quickly arranged a meeting for the next night. He suggested that it be at our house, as this was our first time, and I readily agreed giving him directions. But, when I put the phone down, I noticed my wife scowling at me, as she got up and left the room.
As I followed her towards the bedroom, I could tell that she had not expected me to act so quickly. It was also obvious that although she had committed herself, she was already beginning to regret her decision. Although I felt bad for forcing her to make it, I was also afraid that if I did not do something that she would reverse it. So when we reached the room I tried to reassure her by saying that no matter what happened that I would always love her. However, the only response that I got was an emotional demand for me to get out and leave her alone.
Not knowing what else to do I heeded her request, and went to the living room. There I chided myself for my thoughtless disregard for the woman that I dearly loved. I hated myself for believing that watching my adoring wife having sex with another man, and me getting some strange pussy, would be a panacea for something that was not even broken. After all, how could I complain about a wife that willingly allowed me to use every part of her body? The only grievance that I had was that she would not let me have her as often as I wanted.
As I was thinking this, the conversation that I had overheard came rushing back into my head, and why I was so eager to have Connie get involved in swinging. From their comments, they made it sound as if all the women, that were a part of this lifestyle, were more than willing to let any man use their bodies. I remembered imagining that if my wife was a participant, than she would fulfill my fantasy, and as an added bonus let me fuck her whenever I desired. Even if she was not an active member, I would be able to satisfy my needs with the other women.
While these thoughts now sounded very hollow, even callous and irreverent, especially towards my wife, I cannot deny that I had them. There was still a part of me that clung to them; however that part was rapidly losing its voice. The other part was urging me to go to the love of my life and beg her forgiveness, and do whatever it took to win her back. I was about to do just that when she came into the living room carrying a pillow and blanket, and tossed them at me before hastily departing.
That night was the loneliest night of my life. By morning I was yearning to get back into my wife's good graces, but when I went to the bedroom, the door was locked and my clothes were piled neatly in front of it. With a sad heart, I got dressed and headed to my job.
When I reached the office, my mood had not changed. I regretted listening to that part of me that had so easily talked me into trying a life of unrestrained sex, and wished that I had never overheard that conversation. This reminded me of the sexual rendezvous that was only a few hours away, and I knew that I had to stop it. However, when I reached into my wallet, Paul's phone number was not there. Unable to call it off, I sat back and wondered if I would have a wife after it was over.
It was then that that part of me reappeared, now stronger than ever. Within seconds it was convincing me that I should get all the enjoyment that I could out of Paul's wife while I had the opportunity. This made sense, because Paul had told me that the swingers club was for couples only. So this might be my only change to enjoy the pleasure of her pussy, and I saw no reason to waste it by worrying about my wife.
When Paul arrived, I was astonished by the beauty of the woman that he brought with him. For some unknown reason, I could not believe that anyone that gorgeous would ever be a part of the wife swapping scene. I had assumed that the women would all be bored, disenchanted housewives who had let their bodies go to where the only way that they could get a man was through swinging. But Janice proved just how wrong assumptions can be.
Entranced by her loveliness, I could not keep my eyes off of her. Although I knew that I was acting like an adolescent boy looking at his first centerfold, I could not help myself. I kept my eyes focused on her luscious face and body, staring lewdly at every delectable bump and curve. And then she came towards me, her sensuous hips swaying seductively, and took my hand, breaking the trance that I was in.
As she took my hand, I felt a heated flush come over my face and a sheepish smile to my lips. I looked away, trying to compose myself, only to be greeted by a constant stream of razor sharp daggers coming from Connie's eyes. There was no doubt in my mind that if they had been real, there would have been nothing left of me to identify.
After leading them into the living room and taking their drink order I joined Connie in the kitchen. She was standing, bracing herself with her hands, in front of the sink, as if trying to control the fury that raged inside of her. Aware that I needed to do something to make amends for my typically masculine misbehavior, I placed my hands on her narrow waist. Yet, before I could even begin to apologize, she pulled out of my grasp and spun around to face me.
"You shamed me out there. I should go out there and tell them to go home, but I won't. I promised that I would try this lunatic idea of yours, and I will. So you'd better enjoy yourself while you can. Because when it is over-well, we'll see what happens."
I stood there, stunned by the implications, as she picked up the tray of hors-d'oeuvres and departed. As I mixed the drinks, I tried to find some ray of hope, some sign that I would not be spending the rest of my life on the couch, or worse. The only one I found was her comment about waiting to see what happens, but that was not very promising.
When I returned to the living room, Connie was seated next to the man who would soon have his cock inside of her. Or at least that was what I hoped. Still, I could tell that she was not very happy about this, by her false facade of joviality. She had often used this tactic whenever she had to be polite to someone, or was in a situation that she did not like. Yet, there was something else there, something that disturbed me, although I could not determine just what that was.
