November 3, 2005
A couple of months back we featured a snippet from the fantastic blog The Rosary. So I thought I’d give you all another taster from the lovely Lucinda Jack. Her blog The Rosary is an semi-autobiographical account of Lucinda’s hot wife and swinging lifestyle.
The Morning After
We woke alone in the house the next morning. I won’t regale you with a blow-by-blow account of the night’s sexual goings on but suffice to say, in the course of a few hedonistic hours, we had graduated from frustrated probationers into fully-fledged swingers. The highlight in a night of previously only imagined combinations was the infamous full swap – a milestone in every swinger’s odyssey.
Max had been on top of Pen who was on her back next to me. I, meanwhile, was being ridden vigorously – a little roughly even – by Claudia. The thrill of the forbidden act that was taking place as Pen and I lay side by side had been heightened by the communal bond between us, communicated silently through the interlinking of our fingers. And then, with Max at full thrust, Pen had turned her head and kissed me gently. Never could I have expected physical infidelity to feel so intimate, nor had I imagined that adultery might be the source of such tender feelings.
But then suddenly, Claudia had lifted herself from me and had flounced out of the room. I couldn’t tell whether she’d meant to slam the door behind her or if she’d just been surprised by its lightness. Max didn’t seem unduly perturbed or maybe he was too engrossed in Pen. I left them to it to find Claudia and see if she was OK although I assumed at first that she’d gone for a pee. Reaching the landing by the toilet, however, I saw the loo door was still open and Claudia still wasn’t to be seen. I looked around downstairs. Maybe she was getting water from the fridge but the kitchen was also quiet. Back upstairs, I checked the back bedroom, which I used as a study but which also housed a small sofa bed for unexpected visitors. Here I found Claudia sitting, her knees drawn up to her chin, and quietly sobbing.
“What’s wrong?” I whispered softly. “Did I hurt you, my friend?”
Claudia didn’t answer and continued to cry. I didn’t know what to do. This wasn’t a position that I’d found myself in before: offering naked comfort to another man’s distressed wife, whom only minutes earlier I’d been fucking, while her husband was still in our bed screwing my girlfriend. I put an arm around Claudia and gave her a hug, which she accepted but still not sure with whom she was upset, I was reassured when she turned and hugged me back.
“It’s not you or Pen,” she sobbed. “It’s Max. He can be such a beast sometimes.”
This took me unawares. “What do you mean? I thought we were all having a great time?”
Claudia dabbed her streaming eyes with the back of her hand. “We were. It’s not your fault.” She paused and forced a brave smile for me. “Listen, I’m not going to spoil your evening with it. Max knows why I’m pissed off with him. It’s our problem. Really.”
I had decided not to pry any further when the alleged offender appeared at the door, his penis still incongruously erect and glistening with Pen’s sex. All of a sudden, I felt self-conscious being naked in front of them and sensing the tension between them, I left the two of them to it with the reminder that they were most welcome to stay the night on the sofa bed. We would see them in the morning for breakfast. Max thanked me for our understanding and I closed the door behind me.
I rejoined Pen in bed and explained what had been happening.
“What do you think he’s done?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I can’t say I noticed anything other than his being really into you. Maybe that freaked her out a bit. But you’d have thought they were over all that by now.”
We were nonplussed by this development. All evening Max and Claudia had been our confident guides but now we were the ones left wondering what had gone wrong between the two of them.
I cuddled up and started kissing Pen, wishing to reclaim her as my own and I was quickly aroused again and hard. I nestled into her breasts and worked my nose down her tummy to her neat landing strip. Her chest and body bore the alien smell of Max’s aftershave, a faint yet erotic reminder that only minutes earlier his body had been sprawled over hers. Keenly I buried my mouth between her legs and Pen responded by pushing her sex firmly into my face. The lips were sticky and smooth like a warm, fleshy oyster. Parting her labia, I probed Pen’s insides with my tongue. She was wet and tasting very sweet. I resurfaced and kissed her fully on the lips so that Pen could taste the cocktail that had been stirred in her pussy. She then straddled my head whilst resting her hands against the wall above the leather headboard. I reached out to hold and part her buttocks as she hovered like a dragonfly an inch above my mouth.
“Lick my clitoris,” she begged.
Pen was building up to a thundering orgasm. It was late and she was being too loud. I shushed her, concerned for my neighbours’ peace and our own reputations but she was unable to control what had already begun.
“Oh fuck!” she exclaimed, grinding herself on my face almost painfully. “I need to pee!”
I don’t know where it came from or why I said it, but I heard myself saying, “Go on then. Piss in my mouth, you filthy whore.”
She relaxed her bladder and a stream of hot liquid rushed into my mouth. At first I tried to swallow it all as it came. But soon the unyielding flow of recycled champagne was too much and I had to open my mouth, allowing the shower to flood on to the sheets, hot at first but cooling rapidly as it made contact with the air.
I had never before engaged in water sports and this had been an entirely spontaneous decision. The way we explained it afterwards, was that it symbolised the deeper closeness that Pen and I had achieved that first night we had swung. While many would consider my accepting her pee as dirty and disgusting, for us it served as an affirmation of our proximity, notwithstanding the acts of gross infidelity that we’d both just committed. It was our way of saying that there was still plenty left, which we could call our own; that was ours exclusively and not to be shared with others.
We were lying there, collapsed in a heap of sex and wet bedding when there was a quiet knock and Max popped his head around the door. “Hi guys. Sorry to disturb you but we’re going to go back. It’ll be better that way. I just wanted to say sorry. It’s been a lovely evening but Claudia wants me to take her home now.”
“You can’t drive back to Ely now, Max,” I replied authoritatively. “You’re both way over the limit. Please don’t take the risk of getting arrested for drink-driving. You know you can stay here. It’s no problem at all.”
But they weren’t to be persuaded. Our mentors gathered up their belongings, kissed us goodnight and went on their way into the night, shouting and screaming all the way down the street to their car. When we were sure that they had gone, we found a dry spot in the bed, cuddled up in a ball and fell asleep.
A few hours later, I woke first from the same spoon-like position in which we’d slept. Light was streaming through the wooden blinds and as I lay there counting the thumping throbs in my head, I became hyper-sensitively aware of the familiar street sounds of a Shepherd’s Bush Sunday morning – the old man delivering the voluminous papers from a squeaky Tesco trolley and next door’s kids up and out early playing football in the deserted street. Out there everything was as normal. In here, things had changed forever.
My mind raced back over the events of the previous evening and I became hard again at the memories. I turned to press myself into Pen’s sleeping buttocks and I reached around to her front to cup her snoozing breast in my hand. I needed to be inside my girlfriend again and I began grinding into her behind. From under the duvet, a delicious aroma of sweat, cologne and sex was mingling with the cold morning air.
Pen was waking slowly and, through her rising consciousness, she started to respond to my rocking motion. She lifted her buttocks accommodatingly to grant me silent access. And then I was in. For once, we said nothing as we made love but held each other tightly as our bodies luxuriated in their rightful union. How good it felt to be alone again, not because being with the other two had been anything other than pleasurable and exciting, but simply because it felt close and marvellous, having shared that, to be us again. To restore. To remind ourselves what is the difference between fucking as enlightened, dirty sluts and making love as two who believe that their true place is with one another.
We lay together lazily in the sex-drenched bed, reflecting on what had passed. It was too early to tell what long-term effect, if any, our transgressions would engender, but there and then we felt contentedly at ease. Perhaps the recriminations would follow later, but that morning we just felt incredibly aroused by what we had done. I felt no jealousy at all of her having slept with Max and Pen, meanwhile, seemed entirely comfortable with my congress with Claudia.
We got up and went about our Sunday as normal save for the many little hugs and cuddles we bestowed on each other throughout the day – spontaneous gestures of affection serving to affirm our commitment were the prior night’s activities any reason to doubt it. By nine o’clock, we were shattered and crawled back to a freshly made bed and slept soundly. We waited for the half-expected recriminations but the green-eyed monster never did knock.
Claudia sent an e-mail a few days later apologising profusely for the scene she had created – at least they had made it home safely. The note, in comedy, broken English, attributed her outburst to the consumption of too much champagne. She promised that it wouldn’t happen again and to reinforce their goodwill towards each other and to us, we were invited to Ely for a ‘return match’, a date we pencilled in the diary for the middle of February.
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