Robert Thirdwall
Swap Talk

Chapter 1

We went into it with our eyes open, but opening them had taken a long time. At the time of our marriage I'm certain neither of us had ever considered the notion of marital infidelity, much less wifeswapping and other such refinements. I can speak with absolute certainty for myself, and for Helen I have the voice of her diary which she abandoned with everything else when she left. The only entry at all pertinent is from three months prior to our wedding.

"Tuesday, October 3: Went out with Mike. Seemed a little crummy with Bob out of town, but engaged isn't the same as married. We saw a rerun of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. Mike kept hanging his hand over my shoulder and making it creep down my sweater. Pretty mean; but I guess he couldn't know how sensitive my breasts are at this time of the month. I kept shooing him away, but by the end of the show I was feeling pretty amorous, all the same. He wanted to park, and I let him. We made out for a while. He really charged my mouth with his tongue. I wouldn't let him unhook my bra, but he squeezed my tits around a lot anyway and reached in and got my nipples, which really turned me on. Then he started up my legs. He got onto my bare thighs, and I had to stop him. If it wasn't then, it would have been never. He was real sweaty and mad and said I was a prickteaser. I told him I was engaged and that he knew it. Then he sulked and finally drove me home. So I guess I won't try that again. From now on if Bobby doesn't make love to me, nobody will."

My experience really wasn't so very different. I went out with girls I had dated earlier, several times after we got engaged. I kept telling myself I wanted to be sure, but part of it was simply that with Helen a sure thing I felt a little freer with the others. I didn't get all that much unfortunately, because I'm not particularly aggressive with girls. But I didn't bat.000 either.

There was a little girl named Tina whom I had met in one of my classes and dated occasionally. She was real slim and pale, as if she was anemic; and she didn't have any tits at all. But when we parked, she was real fiery. I was usually kind of scared of her, but this one last time I let myself go. It was warm for September, and she didn't get cold when I pulled her sweater all the way up to her armpits. We were kissing like mad. I got her bra undone and up and started rubbing her tits. They weren't much, but her nipples were something else. They were like hard, hot stones and stood out at least half an inch. I pinched them and twisted them, and she groaned. Then I got down and started sucking one. I squeezed it hard between my tongue and my teeth, which made her buck her hips forward. She was making a kind of humming sound.

Once she started that bucking, I went for her crotch. Her stomach was perfectly flat, and when I put my hand over it, she drew it in, practically inviting me to slide my hand under the waistband of her skirt. My fingers were snared in her humid, hairy nest, and then they were over the hump and into the top of her slit. I was all excited and pushed down all the way between her legs, generally sensing rather than savoring the swollen softness of her lips and the warm juice that made them so slippery. We probably would have fucked in another few minutes, but a cop car started slowly into the other end of the lane we were parked in. We beat it in a hurry; we were both too startled to get going again.

Obviously, I wasn't much of a Romeo. I was nineteen and had never made it with anyone before we got married. Neither had Helen, for that matter. But this is not to say I was totally naive. If my cock was innocent, my hand, at least, had felt several cuntsССfour to be exact. Besides Tina and Helen there had been two football weekend dates in college whom I had never seen again.

In retrospect it doesn't seem like much, but within my own circle of friends such innocence was not uncommon, even though we all talked as if it were. Things may have been different on the East or West coasts or at bigger schools, but at H. College in W., Indiana, those were the facts of life.

Going back to my story, though, we were both relatively innocent when we got married and had no reason to suspect that marriage was not the sole and final answer to the mystery of sex. We were almost overly familiar with each other's body before the ceremony. We had slept together and spent hours just looking at each other and handling each other, not fucking, more than anything because of Helen's scruples. More than once we stared lovingly and seriously into each other's eyes while frigging each other. Helen liked to watch me come. She laughed at the big white gobs squirting in the air and landing warmly on her thigh or breast. Her amusement was a cover for sexual fascination.

Usually after I had come, I would keep working languorously at her clitoris and cunt lips until she became tenser and tenser, like a strung bow, and then broke into great jerks of orgasm. Then we would cuddle and sleep, and she would promise me that we could fuck the instant the ceremony was over.

In time, of course, the ceremony was over and we did fuck. Not immediately after the "I do," naturally, but not long after. Actually, we hardly stopped fucking for four months. Two or three times a day was the rule, and it was frequently broken. I even computed that at one hundred strokes per screw, with my cock being seven inches long, I shoved over three miles of hot, hard prick up my dear, sweet Helen's cunt during that period.

I should add, perhaps needlessly, that Helen was and is, a glorious lay, although I only intuited it at the time, having no standard of comparison. She's fivefour, dark blonde, and thin; but her breasts are heavy and full, real swingers when she walks without a bra. Her nipples are large and protuberant. And as for her pussy, it's beaut. The bones of the pubic arch are especially prominent, so any clothes she wears that fit closely in the hips and crotch make her mound look almost as big as a man's. And covering it is a fairly large area of brownish hair, darker than on her head of course, which is both fine, at least for pubic hair, and rather sparse. The result is that instead of hiding her cunt it veils it. Her slit is always dimly visible through the tangle.

With such natural equipment and high interest, it's no wonder she learned a lot in those four months. She could match my rhythm or force her own; she could squeeze my cock inside and milk it; she could prolong her orgasm into successive ecstasies; she could do anything.

But after those four months, we both began to sense that fucking each other wasn't all there was to sex. We didn't talk about it because we both felt it would be accusing the other of inadequacy. We simply let our sex lives run down. We fucked, but not often enough or enjoyably enough to satisfy ourselves. I relapsed into the masturbation pornography syndrome, and she did, too.

Occasionally, she would write sex fantasies into her dairy:

"I wish someday I could go to a swimming pool in a bikini with only men around. They'd all look at me, and I'd take my bra off and swing my tits at them. They'd all have big cockstands. I'd poke my crotch out, and they'd all stare at it. Then I'd lie down on an air mattress, and they would all fuck me, one after the other, until semen ran out of my cunt in a stream. (I've been writing this with my hand in my pants, and I just came.) So goodnight, diary… "

There's no point detailing this period any further. It went on for almost two years. We had celebrated our second anniversary happily, for this difficulty had not really touched our feelings for each other as husband and wife. We were both twentyone and out of college. I had a good job since I was an electrical engineer, and we really felt independent. Getting married young had made for an awkward family situation as long as we were still dependent. But now we were free of family, selfsupporting and newcomers to P., a suburb of Chicago near the industrial park I was working at. It was almost like starting life over again. For the first time we could consider having children, but we decided to get settled for a year or two first. In short, we were embarking on a typical suburban life.

What happened to change that life was very trivial. For a couple of years I had been looking at Playboy and every couple of months buying a dirty paperback on the sly. I'd keep them hidden, read them, and discard them. Most of the time my conscience led me to select "classics" like Fanny Hill or safely dated Victorian jobs. There was a seedy suburb between P. and work, however, which broadened my horizons. A newsstand there had a tremendous selection compared with what I was used to, and I branched out, first to a very contemporary book about teenyboppers in miniskirts getting sucked off in class in high school, and then to a book on wife swapping.

They were both wildly fanciful, of course, but at the same time they suggested that even if people lived only half as wildly as they pictured, those people made me seem like a country parson. I had read about odd positions and sucking off in the other books, but the impact hadn't been strong. Helen and I had never tried other positions more than halfheartedly, nor had we ever sucked each other, except onceССtimidly. We had been like sex addicts when we first got married, but only within very staid and traditional limits.

I read the book on wife swapping slowly, savoring and jacking off at every wild party, orgy, key club, and sex game it described. Then, one day when I looked for it in my desk, it was gone.

Two days later it was back. I knew Helen had read it. The circumstantial evidence was enough, but her avoidance of conversation cinched it. I was really worried that she would cause a great scene about it. Nothing was said.

One week later she said, "What did you think of it?"

"Of what?" I replied.

"Of the sex book."

My long hesitation before answering would have been infinitely less tense if I had then had her diary. The entry for the night before this conversation reads:

"Wednesday, March 3: This is getting ridiculous! I've been playing with myself for six solid days over a silly book. I haven't been so horny in years. Be it resolved that tomorrow I'll find out what Bob thinks."

I didn't know what she thought, however, and before I answered I considered several possible lines. I could apologize for buying it, or I could say I thought it was terrible and had gotten it from a guy at work. But perhaps I had an unconscious notion that here was a chance to break up the sexual logjam that was slowly building up in our marriage. In any case, I told her what I thought.

I told her it was the sexiest thing I had ever read. I said the thought of husbands and wives switching partners in front of each other and taking pictures of each other fucking in pairs or groups made me almost unbearably horny. I had a hardon just telling her that much.

All she said in reply was, "Me too."

Suddenly the logjam was goneССor at least in hindsight that seems to have been the moment. She came over and sat on my lap, and we kissed passionately. She grabbed my prick, and I squeezed her breast. In a frenzy we made our way to the bedroom. We undressed each other and caressed each other as we hadn't for two years. Her cunt was soaking. Two fingers went in to the hilt. I sucked her nipples until she moaned. Then she pushed me back and, kneeling, took my cock in her mouth. Stroking the shaft and halls she sucked and licked delicately at the head. It was an amateur job compared to later efforts, but I almost died. Finally, I pulled her up. She mounted me and after some effort got my prick inside her. Just as when we were courting, we looked each other soulfully in the face while she slid smoothly up and down my cock. Harder and deeper she forced herself down on it. Her big tits swayed, and I grabbed the nipples. Then we came together with one of the fullest orgasms we had ever had.

It seems strange that the simple confession of reading the same book and finding it exciting could produce so amorous a reaction. I'm sure she wasn't fantasizing along the lines of the book while we fucked. I know I wasn't. It was just good loving. It must have been that, having grown bored with one another, we had come to doubt our own and each other's sexuality. The sudden revelation that we were both still full of lust must have triggered the reaction.

We cuddled after fucking and talked. I can practically recreate the conversation…

"Can you really imagine someone like Ted Barnes fucking me?"

"I can see you now, with Ted on top of you and me beside you screwing Ann."

"Do you like Ann?"

"Right now I think I like only two things, you and cunt. I think I'd like to slide my hand between the thighs of every girl we knowССwithin reason, Marge is pretty ugly."

"Remember the scene in the book where the guy fucks the girl between the tits? I'd like to have you do that on me while someone behind you felt my cunt."

"Or sucked it."

"Oh, I don't know. That part sounded messy; I don't know if I'd like it."

"What if it was me sucking some girl right over your head while I fucked you between the tits?"

"Oh, that'd be all right." Then she paused. "Do you think well ever do any stuff like that?"

"Well, it's not going to happen if we don't make it happen. We've been married for two years and haven't been invited to an orgy yet."

"Do you want to make it happen?"

"I don't know. Do you want to make it happen?"

We had been playing with each others genitals throughout the conversation, and at this point as the conversation came to a head, so did our play. My hand was slithering all over her cunt. Semen and cuntjuice coated the whole area between her thighs. Now I was concentrating move on her clit. She was grabbing my cock harder and Pumping it steadily.

"Maybe we shouldn't, Bob." Her voice was hesitant.

"Doesn't the idea of it make you want to come, though?"

She was on the verge of coming. "Yes! I want to fuck somebody and suck somebody and lie in a heap of naked bodies!"

I dove for her cunt and for the first time put my mouth to the warm, wet, sultry morass at the center of her ecstasy. She came in seconds, the contractions of her lips gently squeezing my nose and lips, Then, still feverish with extended orgasm, she squirmed around and got my prick in her mouth. I remember warning her I was about to come, but she kept on sucking. I squirted a great dose of semen into her mouth, and I could feet her swallowing it.

Again we cuddled, sweaty and exhausted. On the edge of sleep she asked me, "Are we really going to do it?"

"Yeah, I guess so," I said, and we fell fast asleep.

Of course, we didn't just jump out of bed the next morning, call up some friends and ask them over for a screw. The decision was made, and even though we were both embarrassed about it the next day, we agreed that we would stick to it. But there was much to do and talk about between decision and action.

We couldn't even talk about what to do and how to do it until we knew more. I began to scour bookstores in Chicago for more on the subject, which we both read avidly. Night after night we would lie in bed naked, reading sex books and playing with each other. Good passages we'd read aloud, and then we'd finish by sucking each other off or fucking, often in some new position.

Never had our sex life been so good, even in the first days of marriage. Helen loved the taste of my semen just as I loved the smell and taste of her cunt. Positions that had made us uncomfortable and embarrassed when we had tried them before turned out to be glorious when indulged in deliberately and freely. I developed a passion for entering Helen's cunt from the rear while she was kneeling. Banging it into her with full force only to be met by the cushiony resilience of her rump was a new thrill. And she liked the fact that I could squeeze her nipples or frig her clit from that position.

Helen also went shopping for some new clothes. She had never been dowdy, but she had been a conventional dresser. Now she became both stylish and provocative, at least for home consumption. First she bought some thin nylon bikini panties. But seductive as they were, they weren't enough. So she found a store that sold patterned lace panties. These weren't as sheer as the others, but the added layer of lace in the crotch could be removed to great effect. Once that was done, her bush was clearly visible. She would sit in front of me on the bed in a full skirt with her legs spread, and looking up the dark tunnel between thighs and hem I could see her cunt even to the dark line of her slit, veiled in fine white lace.

Bras were something else. After trying very thin ones and very low cut ones, she decided to try wearing none. The experiment was a great success. She had never looked sexier than she did walking around the house in a miniskirt and a soft velour top beneath which her tits swayed and bounced, the nipples making points of cloth jut out. Some deep Vneck tops designed to be worn with a blouse under them did still more, as did a couple of seethrough blouses she picked up at a boutique.

All of this shopping produced more than just nightly strip shows, however. She also set about redoing my wardrobe in moderation. I was too conservative to go in for much visible change, but she did supply me with net teeshirts and briefs and some real lowcut boxer shorts that made my equipment particularly noticeable. She even went so far as to take out some of the double layers in the net shorts. When she was finished my cock and balls were no more concealed by my underpants than her pussy was by hers.

What all of this amounted to, however, was playing for time. When it was all over, we either had to put up or shut up. It seems strange, really, that during this period when we were enjoying sex more than ever before we should have been preparing for additional sex, but perhaps it was the anticipation which honed the edge of our inexhaustible lust for each other. This interim period between decision and act was in part delay, but also in part acclimatization. Reforming our habits of sex, reading, and dress also strengthened our resolve and got us ready for bigger and better things.

Finally, the day came, after three or four weeks, when we had to make some definite plans. First and easiest, we decided to buy a polaroid camera. Second, we decided not to write to any swap magazines like the ones we had bought. That still seemed too sordid to us, and the pictures people sent in to them weren't too inviting. Third, we decided to seduce some of our friends into wife swapping and group sex so that at least we would be among beginners.

The question was how to go about it and with whom. We made a list of couples we knew, which was fairly long. Then we cut out those neither of us liked or those one of us didn't like. Next, we cut out a few on grounds of unattractive appearance. Still the list was fairly sizeable, perhaps a dozen couples. Finally came the hard part, trying to guess who would be amenable and approachable. This, after several hours of discussion, pared the list down to three. We picked one by lot, Judy and Dave Harris.

Our mode of procedure was to be cautious but insistent propaganda combined, when the time was right, with indications of willingness on our part.

Fortunately, we had easy access to the Harrises. They were a couple of years older than we were, but I worked with Dave and, as Spring was coming on, played tennis with him. Judy and Helen were close friends from college and went swimming together regularly. They were both very open and frank people, easy to talk to.

My approach to Dave was semidirect. Locker room conversation being what it is, I brought up the subject of wife swapping in the abstract, saying I had been reading about it. I ventured the sentiment that I wondered what it was like and then let the topic ride.

Less than a week later Dave brought the subject up. I was amazed to have gotten a nibble on the first cast. His discussion was abstract and curiosityoriented, like mine, but he was clearly interested, even if he himself didn't notice it.

Helen approached Judy through the topic of divorce. Judy had slept with one other guy in college, it turned out, and had tried to put it out of her mind. But Helen's talk of divorcing one man and then sleeping with another brought it out. They concurred that it wasn't particularly hard to imagine screwing someone else and that they had both known a man or two since they had been married whom they wouldn't kick out of bed.

We regaled each other with our successes and at the same time described our prospective lovers' hidden areas to each other. While I kissed and nibbled gently around Helen's blonde crack, she stroked my prick and told me that Judy had silkylooking, dark brown cunthair and firm Ccup tits. I told her Dave's penis was shorter than mine when it was soft, which was the only way I had seen it, and that he had a lot of black hair on his thin body. She leaned over me, and we sucked each other to orgasm.

But if the first round was won, there were many others yet to go. After a month or so, Dave and I had talked, at least in theoretical terms, about sleeping with each other's. wife. He hadn't rejected the idea; he had brought it up. The subject arose, too, between Judy and Helen. Dave, it seems, had talked around the whole subject to test Judy's feelings, and Judy wanted to test her own reactions on Helen. Helen said she felt Judy was ready to express either horror or amenability at the idea, depending on what she herself said.

"You mean your husband actually suggested that you sleep with Bob and I sleep with him?"

"Well, he didn't actually suggest it, but he implied it."

Helen waited before answering to build up Judy's tension, then she said, "Is he good in bed?"

Judy took this as an affirmative answer and, laughing with relief, answered, "I think he is."

Both of them walked on in a humorous vein, as if the whole thing were a joke, but the die was cast. We decided to invite them over for dessert some night, keep them guessing, and then hit them with it on a second evening.

The first night went perfectly. They were nervous when they arrived because they had a hunch something was up, but a couple of drinks relaxed them. It was clear that they were ready if we tried to broach the subject because Judy was dressed in a short skirt and buttonfront blouse instead of her almost invariable slacks. This was fortunate because it made Helen's costume look more normal. She was wearing a miniskirt, unusual for her in public, and velour top without a bra. Both of us were conscious all evening long of both Judy's and Dave's eyes following the sway and bounce of Helen's tits like a hypnotist's pendulum.

Conversation deliberately took an offcolor turn. We covered avantgarde movies, books, mores in general and girly magazines. I knew they subscribed to Playboy, and we talked about the efforts of that magazine to make the Playgirl of the month seem like a normal allAmerican girl. Then Helen turned the conversation:

"Why don't you show them the pictures you took of me?"

Even intoxicated, they looked startled and wary as I went to get the pictures. Since we were both so casual and open, however, they soon relaxed again; and we sat on the couch looking at the snapshots. They were all standard Playboy type shots but all quite modest. Skirt hiked up getting out of a car, clinging blouse, bluejeans undone a button or two over bare belly, and finally, on the very bottom, a picture of a different sort. Helen was stretched out on our couch, legs akimbo, stretching her arms and yawning. In the fullness of her stretch, however, one bare breast had lifted out of the restraining hold of her lownecked top, the nipple just peeping out. And her miniskirt had rumpled up over her abdomen revealing the bottom two or three inches of her white lace panties diving between her spread legs. Through the panties, of course, the nest of hair cresting her prominent mound could clearly be seen along with the top of her honeydewed slit.

"Oh, you shouldn't have shown them that one, Bob!" cried Helen.

"Why not? It's better then anything in Playboy!" replied Dave, his eyes glued to the snap.

All four of us looked at Helen's pretty cunt for a while, but no one made any further move. The night had reached its climax; the final act would have to wait until we met again. Dave and Judy left fairly soon after that, and Helen and I retired for a good fuck after amorously rehashing the evening's events and tantalizing each other with anticipatory accounts of the Harrises' sexual prowess.

We decided a week was about the right interval to wait before inviting them again. Presumably they would have thought the whole thing over by then, and if they agreed to come, it could be taken as a tacit consent to something more. We waited; we asked them. They said they'd be glad to come.

We were both alive with excitement as we waited for evening to come. We had abstained from fucking for two days to guarantee arousal. It seemed incredible that we were really planning to openly and deliberately seduce another couple, but, after all our preparations, it seemed by now preordained. Helen put on her white lace seethrough panties, a pair of mesh hose that didn't need a garter belt, and her super Vneck velour top. I could hardly keep my hands off her as I watched her dress. Finally, it was time for them to arrive.

This time there was no tension apparent in them. Judy was sparkling eyed and radiant, Dave darkly aggressivelooking. They had probably had a drink before they came, but we all had a couple more just to be sure. Conversation was the opposite of that the previous week. We talked of general things, people we both knew and so forth. But below the conversational level the situation was entirely different. Instead of the two couples sitting on separate couches, we sat as mixed couples. It gave me an intense thrill to watch Helen turn to face both Dave and us, for this required that she fold one leg under her on the couch. Up went her hemline; down dropped Dave's eyes. At last I could see what I had long imagined, another man gazing lustfully at my wife's scarcely veiled cunt.

For her part, Judy was hardly less forward. Taking her cue from Helen, she hadn't worn a bra. And as she leaned forward in conversation, the scoop neck of her dress fell free and afforded me full view of her splendid tits, large and firmlooking with big, pink, inviting nipples. I wanted to reach in and grab them and suck them, but I stuck to our plan and instead asked if they would like to see some new pictures I had taken of Helen. Needless to say, they did.

I returned with a stack of photos and the camera, as well. Helen and Dave had shifted to the couch next to Judy, and I pulled up a low chair in front of them. This time there was nothing modest about the pictures.

The first series was of Helen in bed with nothing on but her panties. She lay in various postures, all of which featured widely spread legs. In the last of the series she pulled her panties down far enough to display her golden mound.

Next were some shots taken of her bathing with only the refraction of the water concealing her lovenest. Then came the best series of all, a strip show she had done for the camera in a little patch of deserted woods we had found.

We all looked at the pictures intently and in silence. Dave's hand was around Helen's shoulder, and I could see it tighten as he gazed at her pictured charms. Helen was resting one hand on the inside of his thigh about half way up. The protuberance of his erection was immense. Now was the moment to go the rest of the way.

"Since I have the camera here, why don't I take some more shots right now?"

"Okay," piped up Helen on cue. "Take some of me and Dave."

Dave froze. Helen reached for the sides of her deep Vneckline and pulled them apart. Out sprang her tender, lovable globes, now pushed up and cradled by the garment coming below them.

"Come on, Dave! Don't he shy." She nestled deeper against his shoulder so that the arm draped around her neck could scarcely avoid dropping onto the inviting mound of her breast. She picked up his other hand and placed it over her other breast as she turned to let him kiss her. Finally Dave reacted positively, kissing her fiercely and moving his fingers to her sensitive nipples. I snapped the shutter and pulled the film to start the developing process. Judy was staring at Dave and Helen who were still embracing. Helen's hand was now stroking the whole bulging area of Dave's crotch.

"The next shot will be of you, okay?"

Judy turned and looked at me, recalled from her mesmerization not just by my words but by the fact that as I uttered them I slid my arm all the way up the dark tunnel of cloth and skin between her legs, brushing my fingertips lightly along smooth nylon and smoother, softer flesh until they came to rest on the soft bulge of her twat, only a double layer of thin nylon panty separating them from the creamy entrance to her cunt. Now she stared at me, still panting, a flush rising to her cheeks. I moved my fingertips ever so lightly across the profile of her slit. I could feel the sticky syrup of her excitement seeping through her panties as I pushed against the cleft between her swollen lips. I have no idea what was turning over in her mind, but presently she stammered, "Okay… I guess so."

I announced that the picture was ready, to recall Helen and Dave from their passion. As we all looked at the snap, Dave never stopped kneading Helen's tits, nor did she take her massaging hand from his crotch. I repeated that it was Judy's turn now and eyed her critically to dream up a pose. She was still blushing and glanced furtively at Dave. Now was his last chance. I wanted to move slowly and deliberately so he would see exactly where things stood and could say no at any point. Either he would react as a traditional husband and call the whole thing off in a burst of indignation, or he would gobble up the sensation of seeing his wife handled and uncovered by another man the way I had done seeing him fondling Helen's nipples. Helen, naturally, increased the chances of the balance going in the later direction by continuing her delicate stroking of his clothed prick.

Judy turned her timid eyes and blushing cheeks to me once again as I moved to pose her. I slid her dress off her shoulders with both hands and slowly moved down the neckline, over the rounded foothills to her breasts, pulling the cloth lower and lower. One bright pink nipple popped out, stiff and hard, then the other. Her breasts were now entirely bare, and I massaged them lightly and twisted the pretty points before going further. A sideways glance assured me that Dave was playing the voyeur rather than the husband, so I pushed her back on the couch in a semireclining position. I lifted her left leg, bent at the knee, and placed her foot on the couch by her butt. At last the dark tunnel was partially opened to the light. I could see her panties, pink and sheer, shading darker over her triangle of cunt hair. Helen had gotten Dave unzipped and was working on his bare cock, which stuck out surprisingly far from his fly. She had also spread her own legs to give free play to his hand which now was exploring her crotch.

Judy still eyed me, and she seemed on the verge of swooning. I was sure of Dave now, but still not entirely convinced that Judy wasn't about to crack. The spell of the moment could have been broken by any sudden sound or movement. But there was none. I raised her other leg and propped it on the couch next to the first. Her skirt was bunched in her lap, the back of the hem hanging over the edge of the couch. The bottoms and insides of her thighs filled my gaze with the progression from stocking to skin to cunt. Exciting brown hairs protruded from beneath the elastic of her panties. I took her knees and spread them to a great width. The whole vista of her cunt was open. Only a threeinch band of pink nylon, darkening damply in the center, still covered the juicefilled slit that I would soon be burying my prick in. I almost had an orgasm looking at it.

My plan had been to take the shot as it now appeared, timid face peeking over peaked tits mounting above a wideopen, but still covered, twat. But then I had another idea, a final test of everybody's commitment. I took her hand in mine while with the other hand I pulled aside the damp band of nylon. For an instant I dipped my fingers into her juice, and then I put her hand in place to hold her panties aside. Now the picture was complete. Judy was deliberately showing her open crack to another man while Dave looked on, his hand slick with the cunt cream of another woman. I snapped the picture, pulled the film, and fell to my knees, my mouth completely seduced by the deliciously inviting cunt before me.

The warmth of Judy's inner thighs caressed my cheeks and ears as I took charge of holding her panties aside and buried my tongue in her slit. The heady, murky smell and slippery, viscous taste of cunt cream exploded in my senses. It was the same as Helen's and yet different. Distantly I heard Judy make little cries as I licked her clitoris.

I stood up, forgetting about the picture entirely and shed my trousers in an instant. My shirt took no longer. Sandals and shorts, and then I was naked, standing over this beautiful, cowering woman with a feeling of conquest I had never had before. My cock felt heavier and longer and my balls more pendulous than ever before. Judy's look was now more one of raw lust than shyness. I beckoned to her to stand. She stood, and with a simple movement I slid her dress the rest of the way over her hips and to the floor. She stepped out of it. I unhooked her garter belt and slid down her panties and stockings. She was naked. I drew her into an embrace. Her full tits were cushions on my chest, her fingers like feathers on my cock and balls. My hand was in her cunt.

We stood there in that pose for minutes, for our attention had now returned to our legal mates. Both of them were naked. Dave had his tongue buried in Helen's mouth and two fingers buried in her vagina. Again and again Helen jerked against the two probing fingers, trying to fuck herself on them; and then he laid her out on the couch. I tensed as I saw the bright red head of Dave's penis poised at the entrance to the delicate blonde cunt I knew so well. Judy tensed beside me. Then he was up her in one great stroke. I could almost feel how she must have felt as eight thick inches of alien prick slid into her body. It was done; Helen was being fucked by another man in my presence. The sensation was indescribable.

Suddenly I lusted to take Judy as hard as I could. I pulled her to the other couch and threw her down. She couldn't have been more ready, her curly brown mound thrust upward; her knees spread wide, her arms reaching toward me in desire. I descended on her and immediately jammed my prick into her. The hot wet channel of her sex felt like balm but served as goad. I wanted to get into her farther, harder. Again and again I shoved it in with all my might, grunting at the shock. Each time her pelvis rose to meet the thrust. Her eyes were shut, and in a rhythmical, throaty whisper she intoned, "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me… " with each stroke. I rose to my peak and blasted off, jetting my come in great gushes deep inside her. I hardly noticed the little cries she made as orgasm gripped her simultaneously in spasms of release.

Minutes later I raised myself from her and pulled my quelled cock from its warm pocket. I sat up and looked around. Helen and Dave were sitting lovingly together on the other couch watching us. Helen looked gorgeous with her hair disheveled and drops of sweat marking her brow and the valley between her breasts. No less did I feel an inexplicable warmth toward Dave. They looked at me with their completely relaxed smiles, and I laughed. Judy sat up and I gave her a big hug. Helen and Dave came over to our couch, and Helen gave a little yelp as Dave's semen started to flow down her leg.

We sat in mixed couples, girls in the middle, and we cuddled languorously. I sopped my hand first in Judy's cunt and then in Helen's. I sucked their tits. Such an atmosphere of love and friendship I had never experienced. Gradually the girls' fondling raised our pricks again, and it seemed that we might have another round. But Dave decided that they should leave instead. Judy disappeared to wash her twat while Dave dressed. In a long leavetaking we all said how much we liked it and agreed to do it again. Dave asked for the picture of him and Helen, and I gave it to him, only regretting that I had forgotten and overdeveloped the one of Judy displaying herself so shyly.

We saw them out the door and then turned to each other amorously. My cock was rigid in an instant when I clasped Helen to me. We went into the bedroom and fucked with slow passion. We needed no other comment on the effects of our experiment. Helen did write of it in her diary, however, and here are a couple of pertinent points:

"The thrill was unbelievable when Bob pulled her other leg up and spread her knees. It was just then that Dave got his hand inside my pants. I almost came. There was Judy's wide open pussy, and Bob was about to violate it… I've never wanted so much to be fucked hard and brutally. I wanted to be raped, to feel a strange prick shooting into me… I couldn't believe how tender and cute Bob looked, all tuckered out and collapsed on top of Judy. I wish he could fuck her again right away. Seeing it go in and out of her cunt really turned me on. I can see now why boys like to lick girls' cunts. They can look awfully sexy with a big prick in them… "