Compelled To Swing

CHAPTER ONE He fumbled the slip of paper out of his pocket with the number on it and dialed. He noticed he was sweating slightly, although it was a cool day in Boston. "Hello," answered a pleasant female voice, "this is Laura Bestwick, speaking." There was a lot of cool assurance in that voice, Bill thought. "Hi, Laura. My name is Bill. I wrote to you and your husband a few weeks ago via a magazine, a ... ah, frankly, does this make any sense to you? Perhaps I have the wrong number." "What kind of magazine, Bill? Can you be a little more specific? Frank and I know a good many people." The voice had a teasing note to it now. Bill thought hard. "Ah, well, occasionally I do some work for a company which makes swings, you know for kids and parks, so I guess you'd have to say it was sort of a swingers' magazine." There was a long pause. "Oh, wonderful, you're that Bill. Sorry to be so dumb. It's just that we try and be pretty careful when we're thinking about meeting new people. I'm sure you understand," Laura answered. "I've got your letter right here with me. You said you'd be calling today. Say, I like those pictures. Particularly that one of you with your hand around your cock." Bill could feel the sweat running down his back now. Her use of the word had turned him on. He imagined her staring at the picture he had sent to the post office box number he had pulled out of the swingers' magazine. He had posed before a mirror with a hardon and then snapped the shot with a Polaroid, standing sideways so she could see everything he had. "I wonder if you felt like getting together sometime," Bill said into the phone. "I'd like to arrange a date for this evening if possible. I'm scheduled to go out of town tomorrow on business, but tonight is free." Christ, am I pushing too hard? he thought. Most of these couples don't like "singles," they want you bring your wife or girlfriend along for the other man to bang. He had been refused many times in the past. But not quite as many tines as he had been welcomed by horny couples, groups and single women who enjoyed freelance f*****g. "I take it from your letter that your wife hasn't joined the team yet. That's a shame. Frank will be very disappointed. I think in your letter you said she's only eighteen. That would blow his mind ... along with something else, I suppose, if that's what teeny-bopper's are still doing these days," she laughed into the phone. "Look Bill, we almost never just swing with singles. But you look good to me, so let's give it a try. I need your agreement on one thing, though." "Yeah, what's that?" Bill questioned. He was getting used to the kind of bargaining that went on in the world of swapping. "I'm sure my husband will want to take a few pictures while we're together. Do you mind?" Laura asked. "No, of course not. I'm into that. Whatever suits you, suits me." He arranged to be at their apartment after dinner about nine o'clock that evening. Bill went back to his office and spent the rest of the afternoon trying to figure out if his secretary could be had. She was a teasing little b***h, but whenever he had asked her out for a drink after work, she always said she was tied up or had a date. Although he tried to abide by his rule of not f*****g the office help, he'd make an exception in her case, he thought. She brought in some papers and he watched her big t**s jiggle invitingly through her blouse. "How about a drink after work?" What the hell, it was worth another try. The pretty blonde looked up from his desk. "Sure, why not. You've been begging long enough." With that she walked out, closing his door behind her pretty ass. He had a final quick look at her long, slim legs in dark stockings and a hint of soft thigh. Jesus, what's this all about, he thought. It's like getting married. The day after the honeymoon all the ass in the world falls into your hands when you couldn't get a piece for love nor money the day before. He remembered the secretary lived just outside of Boston, only a couple of miles away from Laura Bestwick's, luckily, he thought. He grabbed the Yellow Pages and began plowing through looking for a fancy motel in her neighborhood. "I'd like to make a reservation, credit card, please, for a Mr. and Mrs. Matthews for tonight. Yes, just one night," he told the desk clerk over the phone. "Give us a nice room, please." It never hurts to be prepared, Bill figured; he'd take Janice to the motel for drinks and dinner and then slip her in bed if she was willing, then he could dump her at home on his way to the Bestwick's. He'd brought his suitcase to the office because his wife, Penny, thought he was leaving directly from work for his business trip to St. Louis. Instead, he was catching an early morning plane, giving him a full night of freedom with no explanations due. Matthews smiled to himself. Jesus, this is fat city. If I don't watch it, I'll be all f****d out before I even get to Laura Bestwick. He tried to conjure up a picture of Laura Bestwick with her mouth around his d**k. It wasn't hard. Matter of fact, that's the only way he had ever seen Laura—with her mouth wrapped around a d**k. Bill had been thumbing through a swingers' magazine looking for some likely action a couple of months ago and come across a photo he couldn't forget. It kept popping up in his mind for a couple of days and that was when he had decided to answer the box number. He fished for his wallet. He had been carrying the photo around ever since. It showed an attractive man and woman without their clothes on lying on a bed. The girl was on her back and the man was lying on his side. He was feeding his p***s into her mouth while his hand rested in her thicket of cunt hair. The woman's small t**s had large n*****s and they looked very hard in the picture. One of her hands was around the man's d**k, holding it in her mouth. She had the head of it in her mouth and the man was watching her suck. Her hand was about half way down the d**k, which looked very thick. Her fingers didn't come close to being able to encircle the guy's prod. Bill wondered if it was Laura's husband or someone else. The woman had long dark hair, was lovely looking, with a gold chain around her waist, almost hanging in her bush. She had so much cunt hair that the guy's hand couldn't begin to cover it. Matthews felt his p***s lengthening along his thigh. Jesus, what a turn on. I'm going to enjoy getting that little b***h down on her knees. He wondered if her husband would insist on staying in the room while he f****d her. Some guys liked to see it. He hoped he could get her off alone. Sometimes they let themselves really go when their husbands weren't watching, but got uptight when the old man was there, he thought. The ad under the picture read: "Super sexy and attractive Boston suburban couple looking for same for fun and games. Into Polaroid’s, open swinging, particularly enjoy French and Greek cultures. Husband has eight inches. Very discriminating. Prefer couples and bi-girls. Wife needs long-lasting, well-hung men only. Don't write if you don't measure up." Two hours later, Bill and his secretary, Janice, were having dinner at the Wayland Hills Inn, just a few miles from the Bestwick's and even closer to Janice's home. "This is a nice place, Bill, how did you decide on here? I've only been here a couple of times before," Janice asked working on her glass of wine. "I've got some friends close by I've got to see later tonight, Jan. Business really. So I thought it would be convenient. I can drop you off and then get on my way." She looked disappointed for a moment. He felt her leg rub against him under the table. "You've got a room here, don't you?" she asked in a whisper, her hand travelling over his thigh towards his c**k. "You want some of this," she answered squeezing his c**k through his pants. "It doesn't much matter if it's in your car or on the grass, but it might be nice to stretch out upstairs." "Yeah, honey, it's going to be nice upstairs. Let's finish and get going. You're doing things to me. "I can feel. I'm going to like getting that in me. I heard you were an ex-ballplayer, but carrying your own bat around is sort of showy, don't you think?" she giggled. "I never know when I'm going to need it, Jan." His hand covered hers in his lap. He quickly unzipped his fly, looking around to make sure no one was watching them. The room was dimly lit. He fished his growing c**k out of his pants and pressed it into her little hand. She gasped, jerked her hand away, then brought it slowly back and wrapped it around his big d**k. "You didn't tell me it was a whopper," she giggled softly. "You never asked." He suppressed a moan as she squeezed hard at his d**k head as it slipped through the tight foreskin. She felt his c**k all over, all the way down to thick base buried in thick pubic hair and groped for his heavy nuts through his trousers material. "Let's go, I'm as ready as you are, honey," she said in a little girl's voice. "Are you wet?" he asked. "Yes. I can feel it in my panties." "Give me a minute to finish my wine, I can't walk out of here with that fuckin' thing waving in the wind. Let me have time for it to go down, baby." He put it back in his pants. It was uncomfortably tight. In the elevator, she clung to him, kissing him deeply, burying her wet, hot tongue in his mouth, giving little f**k-like jerks with her hips against his semi-hardon. He held her tight, smelling the perfume in her long blonde hair and pressed his chest against her big boobs. Jesus, she's big in that department, he thought. She's got bigger t**s than my fuckin' wife! They fell across the motel bed in each other's arms, clenching tight and he kissed her all over her face while his hands felt up her t**s. "s**t, you've got big ones, baby," he whispered. "You ready to see them? I could use some sucking on them. Are you going to kiss them?" Janice asked, sitting up. He didn't need to reply. He lay back and watched the twenty-year-old slip off her blouse, revealing a filled-to-the-brim black bra with the n****e area cut out. He had seen pictures of lingerie like that, but had never seen a girl wearing any of it. "Oh s**t," he moaned, reaching for her jugs. "Not so hard, they're sensitive. Treat them nice, Bill," she murmured. He felt them all over, pushing them into fat mounds, then working on the hard, red n*****s. The aureoles were as big as silver dollars, a pale pink, but the inch-long nips themselves were a deep and angry red color. He started sucking her t**s, first one, then the other. He noticed she had her hand up under her skirt playing with herself while he worked on her nips. "Get undressed," he ordered after a few minutes. "Aren't you going to undress me?" she begged. "No, I want you to do it. Hurry! But leave your bra on." She stood up by the bed and pulled her skirt down and he quickly slipped his shirt and trousers off. "Do you want everything off?" she asked, standing before him in only her bra and silk panties cut away at the crotch. A deep s***h, with blue ribbon at either side, revealing her hairy little snatch, just the beginnings of her cunt lips visible through the thick s*x fur. "Let me touch it, come here," Bill told his secretary. She took a few steps toward him, spread her legs and pushed her cunt out at him. He couldn't resist. With a moan he pitched forward, burying his face in the soft hair, smelling deeply of the sweet cunt juice, his arms wrapped around her, his fingers biting into her fat, but hard ass. "Ohhhhhhhh! Are you going to do that?" she moaned. "Yes, I'm going to eat you, baby." She crossed the room to an armchair and sat down, raising her legs in the air, spread wide and resting each one on the chair arms.