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Today I wanted to post a fantastic piece of work from a fellow blogster. Lucinda Jack’s The Rosary is an erotic love story, for our times. A world of smart swingers’ orgies and fashionable empowerment groups for bi-curious girlies. It’s a ‘Dangerous Liaisons’ for the cyber age and the best part is it is a semi-autobiographical account of Lucinda’s hot wife and swinging lifestyle.

Dial-a-Fuck

Unlike Catriona, Pen had been unperturbed by my predilection for phone sex on premium rate telephone lines and I had therefore continued occasionally to use the services. I have also to admit that the chat lines had become something of a habit. While some choose to smoke or snort cocaine, I craved the thrill of phone sex with disembodied voices and whenever I was alone in the house, it was difficult to resist dialling the numbers, long ago committed to memory, to see who was online. Sometimes, I would even give my mobile number to the invisible caller and we would take the chat private – invariably an audio accompaniment to mutual masturbation.

Late one Saturday night, after a good meal and a little too much wine, I suggested to Pen that we try one of the lines together. We had talked about it previously but now that we had experienced our first foursome, the idea had greater currency. I plugged a second phone into the bedroom socket so that we could both participate in the conversation and dialled the service. Women ring one number and the men another so that they can message each other via a time delay system. Pen listened attentively as I logged on to the system. Strictly speaking the line isn’t a sex line and it doesn’t officially sanction couples but, at any one time, there can be up to two hundred people on the line and more often than not the system monitors turned a blind eye. I recorded an introduction, trying to sound my sexiest.

“Hi, it’s Mark from central west London. Thirty years old, six feet tall, told quite handsome and online tonight looking for an adventurous woman for a broadminded chat.”
I left the message on autopilot, navigating my way through the computerised menus with a practised ease that didn’t escape Pen.
“There are – pause – one hundred and thirty-two people online. Press ‘1’ to join the party.”

As the introduction messages played through, one by one, Pen observed that most of the voices and accents belonged to people with whom we would never normally consort. Personally, I thought there was a certain frisson to such cross-socio, verbal fertilisation. When else was I going to have sex with a twenty-three year old hairdresser from Stoke? But it was best to keep quiet about that tonight and to moderate my behaviour in her presence. Minutes later, however, I was rescued by a sequence of five incoming messages, four of which we ignored. But intriguingly, the final message came from a man.

“Hello Mark, it’s Mike here. How are you doing? There aren’t many girls on tonight are there? If you fancy having a chat with me though, you’ll find me very broadminded. If it’s not your thing, sorry to have bothered you.”

Receiving messages from men on the women’s line trying to talk to other men wasn’t that uncommon. Indeed, I never ceased to be amazed by how many supposedly ‘straight’ men got off on talking dirty with a guy instead.
Pen, however, was confused. “What’s he doing on here?”
“He rang the other number to speak with guys,” I explained.
“So, are you going to send him a reply?” She sounded as if she wanted me too.
“Shall I?
“Go on. He sounded nice. Send him the message you would if I wasn’t here.”
I was taken aback at Pen’s perception but we were here to extend our boundaries so what the hell.
“Hi, Mike. Mark here again. Thanks for your message. I’m actually lying here in bed with my girlfriend, Caitlin. Tell us what you look like, where you live and what brings you online tonight?”

We listened through to the rest of the introductions again before Mike came back to us with his reply.
“Hello Mark and good evening to you Caitlin. Interesting that you’re on here together. You don’t get many genuine couples on this line. A bit about me then: I’m tall, slim and good-looking. Single at the moment; living and working in Central London. I was at a lousy party tonight, came home early and dialled in to see if there were any fun-loving girls around. But no luck. So I thought I’d try the guys’ line instead. Are you often on here together and, if so, what for? Hope to hear back from you soon.”

I wanted to show Pen another feature of the system and pressed the ‘1’ button, which sends the prized request for a live chat connection. A few seconds later, the system beeped: “The woman of your choice has accepted your request for a one-to-one connection. Please wait while we try to connect you.” We shuffled down into the bed as Mike was put through.

“Hi guys. How you doing?”
“Good thanks. You?”
“Yep, not bad. A bit frustrated after my crap evening, but otherwise fine. It’s so cool that you are on here together. May I say hello to Caitlin?”
I nudged Pen. This was the cue for her phone sex debut.
“Hiya Mike. It’s Caitlin. You see I am for real. So you’re frustrated tonight are you? Why would that be exactly?”
Pen had got off to a flying start. Instantly playful, she had no requirement for any coaching from me.
“Well, that would be telling, wouldn’t it Caitlin?”
“Yes it would… I’m all ears. Go on.”
“Are you now? You’ve got a naughty one there haven’t you Mark?”
“I guess,” I said. “Looks like she’s got your number, though.”

Mike seemed lost for words but neither Pen nor I were going to help him out. “To be honest, I’m feeling horny.”
Pen continued teasing. “Oh right. And why’s that?”
This I was starting to enjoy.
“My friends set me up with a blind date tonight but she was a frigid cow. All she could talk about was work.”
“Oh dear, that’s no good is it?” Pen sympathised.
“So, where are you now?” I asked.
“Me? I’m in bed.”
“Are you naked?” Pen added.
“Yes – since you ask.”
I gestured to Pen that I was going to reply this time. “Are you playing with yourself as we speak?”
“Maybe.”
Pen squeezed me back. “And just how hard are you?” she continued, pressing Mike like a professional interrogator.
“Very,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because it’s turning me on hugely thinking of you two, naked in bed and just a few miles away.”
“Hmm, that is naughty isn’t it?” I murmured.
I could hear the wavering in Mike’s voice. “What are you two doing now?” he said, sounding breathless.
Pen was gently cupping my balls in her left hand. Her brazen enticement was turning me on nicely.
“I’m playing with Mark’s lovely long cock,” she replied
“Hmm. Sounds nice.”
“Would you like to be here with us?”
“Would I? You bet. It’d only be my wildest dream come true.”
Pen was going for it now. She had control of this conversation and I was happy merely to eavesdrop.
“Well maybe, Mike, you’re speaking to your fairy Godmother,” Pen teased. “I haven’t consulted Mark about this, but maybe you should put down the phone, get yourself over here and join us.”
I wasn’t sure whether Pen was still playacting or being serious.
“Are you for real?” Mike asked, echoing my own uncertainty.
Pen turned her head towards me and raised her eyebrows. I shrugged in tacit agreement.
“Yep, why not?” she answered straightforwardly.
“What, now?”
“As I understand it, the three of us are horny, we all want to be naughty and it’s still early, so what’s preventing us?”
I wondered where this was going to end.
While Mike tested his own mettle, Pen came out with the clincher. “Tell us, how big is your cock?”
“It’s pretty big. About seven inches and fat. I’ve never had any complaints.”
“In that case, it’s settled. I like big cock. Call yourself a taxi and do it quickly before you change your mind.”

Then I was giving ‘Mike’ my address and phone number. Was I really conspiring in my girlfriend’s desire to fuck a man, whom we’d never met, at ten-to-one on a Sunday morning? Thirty minutes later, Mike arrived and I let him in, relieved to find that his looks matched the voice. I complimented him on his bravery, poured him a drink and he followed me upstairs to the bedroom. Pen was sitting up in bed with the duvet pulled around her chest and tucked under her chin. I introduced our guest and he sat on the chair at the end of the bed. For a few minutes we chatted away politely and nervously as I topped up the glasses.

“Mike,” I said, holding my glass up for a toast, “why don’t you ask Pen if she’d like a kiss?”
Mike rose from the chair and sat next to Pen on the bed. “Would she?” he repeated, gallantly.
“I think that she’d like that very much,” Pen replied.

Mike leaned forward and Pen exhaled deeply, shutting her eyes as his lips left their impression on her expectant body. I thrilled at interpreting Pen’s involuntary reflexes as reactions of willing surrender. He drew his mouth across her face and she pouted her lips instinctively, waiting on stand by for the sanctioned invasion of his tongue. Again, I caught the involuntary quaver of her body as Mike closed his mouth around hers. As he slipped his hand under her slip’s flimsy satin strap, Pen’s head jerked uncontrollably on the pillow.

Pen arched like a cat as Mike freed her other breast from the slip. God, she looked gorgeous and I was reminded by his fresh wonder just what attraction those fleshly forms held for me. I found myself shaking in sympathy with Mike, so physically manifested was his desire for my elegant slut.

He pulled the slip over Pen’s waist, letting it rest on her hips and pausing to take time to enjoy the spectacle. Pen’s breasts sat obediently on her chest, her skin undulating gently all the way to her pierced navel, the black satin modestly hiding further pleasure for just a little longer. Pulling back the duvet, Mike took the lacy trim and lifted it up over Pen’s thighs until it was gathered like a scrunchy beneath her buttocks. Underneath she was naked and the sight of her bare sex sent a pulse through me that forced a small bead of pre-come on to my leg.

Pen opened her legs accommodatingly as Mike placed his hands on her thighs. It was, at once, disgusting and thrilling to see how openly and without shame her body moved to facilitate another. She sighed heavily as his mouth made contact with her swollen lips, and then she buckled, pushing her head into the down pillow and raising her hips into his face.

I gazed intently into Pen’s eyes because I knew that their closed lids were gatekeepers to another world into which this woman, whom I loved and dared to know, had been temporarily transported. The real permission that I’d given Pen was truly to become lost in a parallel universe of sexual pleasure. The shared and the not shared – this was the paradox that pumped with my heart in my cock.

Pen was on her way to an orgasm. I could tell from the rhythmic heaving of her breath and the increasingly audible cries, which were encouraging Mike in a virtuous circle of lust and probing. Pen’s eyes were still closed but the expression on her face was changing from peaceful contentment to one of pained pleasure. Her eyes and mouth were screwed up as I imagined they might be in the early stages of labour. I started masturbating. Vicariously I was going to share in their orgasm.

Pen’s state was visibly altering before me. She had long since abandoned any attempt at conventional swinging etiquette and she was making no attempt to suppress her enjoyment of Mike’s attentiveness for my benefit. No pretence that whilst pleasurable, this wasn’t as good as being with me. This was fucking great. Her body was on autopilot, navigating her through the galaxy of sensations and feelings that a foreign force was applying to her and what made bearing witness to this transfiguration all the more remarkable was how with Mike’s bit between her teeth, she lost all inhibition.

Reaching the brink of her orgasm, Pen returned briefly from her reverie. She told Mike to undress. As he stood there bare-chested, I observed her staring wantonly at his hard-on, visible behind the cloth of his jeans. I felt a shiver of pre-orgasmic retraction at the base of my penis as I, too, glimpsed the curled shape that was trapped in his trousers.

There was no conversation but there was no need for talk. Prehistoric instincts were taking over. As Mike steered his penis into Pen, she exhaled heavily once again at the feel of his form pushing into her. And then they were fucking. Pen pulled her legs up around him to clasp the stranger’s body to her own, drawing his sex deeper in. This was a position that she had never adopted with me and I was forced to witness a sexual reaction that I never caused in my own girlfriend. Mike reacted to Pen’s obeisance by pumping harder and Pen reciprocated by clinging on tighter. Soon he was fucking her so roughly that my protective instincts were roused. But the expression on Pen’s face betrayed only pleasure. My concern was wasted. God, I didn’t know my girl could take it this hard. Was this the way that men were supposed to fuck the women they loved?

Mike stepped up a gear. Each thrust of his cock now accompanied by the crack of a hard slap – his pelvis connecting with her buttocks. They seemed to complete in slow motion. Pen knew that he was going to come. She wanted him to, however dirty it was. My fiancée was willing and squeezing the come of another man into her body’s recess. She was lost in the feeling of being ripped apart at the seam. And then… three long, hard thrusts and he was spent.

We took refuge under the duvet and made some brief, uneasy post coital small talk. Mike made his excuses and dressed. Pen joined him at the bedroom door, still naked, to say goodbye to her guest. A continental kiss on each cheek their only farewell, it seemed a strangely formal departure considering what has just passed between them. I showed Mike out to the taxi with a gentlemanly shake of the hand. And he was gone.