"Swap Talk" - читать интересную книгу автора (Thirdwall Robert)

Chapter 8

I simply can't believe how differently two people can remember the same events. I'm sure Bob never intended to show me what he had written, although now that I've seen it he claims he had planned to show it to me all along. But really I think he let me read it only because I got so mad when I finally realized that someone had been tampering with my diary. I suppose some people write diaries for other people to read, but I don't. What goes in my diary is for me only, and I don't want even Bob poking into it just because I'm away from home for a while.

But after reading what he wrote, the matter of the diary takes second place as an issue. We have in fact, been arguing about this whole thing for days now. There were a few little things I simply didn't know about before, such as that little girl from out of town, whatever her name was, squirming all around on him in an airport parking lot in broad daylight. We had always at least tacitly agreed that if we were going to swing, we should be discreet about it and not do things that might cause some sort of public legal problem. We don't, after all, want to be hounded out of town by a scandal. And I hardly consider it safe or discreet to stick your dick up a minor in public, no matter bow hot her cunt is.

But that isn't the main issue either. I've done some things he doesn't know about, too, as I'll mention later on. The main issue is that he presents a very onesided story, giving only his view of everything. That in itself is bad enough when there are a lot of people involved, but what I particularly resent is that he constantly makes remarks about my feelings and reactions which are as biased and onesided as the statements he makes about himself. Anyway, the upshot of all our bickering over this is that he has agreed to let me add this section to what he has written. We know we could never agree on one single version of things, so this is my chance to give a corrective to some of the things he wrote. Really this ought to come at the beginning, at least I think so, but since it's dependent on the narrative that he's already written, I've agreed to let it sit here at the end.

You can think of this as "Helen's Version," then. Essentially, I have three points to make, or corrections would be a better word. First, I want to change the image that good old Bob (I love him; don't get me wrong. I'm just pissed off at him for being so insensitive to some things. He may have been surprised that I was a good actress, but I can't return the compliment. There's some pretty juvenile writing in parts of his text,) as I say, that good old Bob has left of me as a swinger. As I read his stuff, he makes me look like some kind of shrinking violet who lived a sort of sheltered life until he led me out of it, at which time I gradually became more and more of a nymphomaniacal, exhibitionistic sex nut. Now, I'm not going to dispute his facts; he's at least got them down pretty accurately. But his interpretation is something else.

I don't see how married couples can live together for years and still not really know each other, although as far as I can tell this is the case with most couples. Even a couple like Frank and Marie, who I think are very close to each other, but don't really know each other all that well. Frank, not to mention all other men, thinks of Marie as a vivacious Latin sexpot who likes to swish her little black bun at every man she sees in hopes of getting a cream filling for it. But actually Marie is quite sensitive and emotional with only a flippant exterior. Of all the swinging types I know, she's the only one who always remembers the faces of the guys she screws with and whether they have deep warm eyes and things like that. I actually think she falls in love with a man the minute he touches her cunt and has an emotional as well as a physical experience with him. It's that emotional quality that makes men think she's so hot and like her so much. But what I originally meant to say is that I want to show that I'm not a nymphomaniacal, exhibitionistic sex nut but a normal, attractive girl who's simply become uninhibited enough to genuinely enjoy sex and the additional pleasure that comes from knowing that other people are getting sexual enjoyment from watching her fuck, or whatever. Somehow, I think Bob sensed this kind of freedom in that little teenager he screwed in the bosom of her family, but he can't see it in me because he's too hung up himself about marriage and propriety and so on.

My second point is that Bob himself isn't quite like the Bob in the story. In writing he always shows himself as basically a voyeur who allows sex to happen to him but doesn't bring it on. Naturally, that's a hard image to keep up when every episode he writes about was at least partly of his own making. The reason for this, I think, is that he has some kind of unconscious conception of how a good Middlewestern boy (as opposed to a bad Middlewestern boy who can go to playboy clubs and whorehouses) goes about being a swinger. He wants to be a swinger with a necktie. The deeper his prick is buried in something nice, the higher he wants to keep his head above it all. In short, the Bob of the story is kind of an anemic ass, which isn't fair to Bob in real life, who is as forthright and horny a lover as any girl could ask for.

Finally, I want to explain the sudden disinterest in sex that Bob says came over me the day after the big show in Chicago and lasted for a record two weeks. He simply doesn't understand it at all, and I don't think he ever will.

There's no point going back over our early experimental days in any detail, Bob has included the details. But the spirit of the whole thing is absent the way he tells it. For him it's all mechanics and sensation, but it wasn't like that at all. It was fun, exciting, spinetingling fun, with a lot of very human warmth rolled in. When Bob took that very first picture of me cuddling with Dave, I didn't just callously pull my dress open and clamp his hand over my tit. He was a damn goodlooking guy, and we were all high and horny. When I leaned against him on that couch, I wanted him to feel me up and feel me up good, and he wanted to feel my tits and kiss me like any normal man would. The camera was Bob's prop and excuse, not ours. With or without a picture, Dave would have been pinching my nipples hard in a few minutes, and I would have been feeling for his cock minutes later. Even when I was dating and a virgin, I loved to feel a guy's cock and take it out and rub it. Bob couldn't get this out of my diary, but I have always been a "prick girl" like some men are "leg men." I was shy with him after we got married because he always came on like a prude. I didn't sleep with anyone before him, but Id sucked off more than one guy on dates. That's the real reason I was so surprised at finding that fingering Judy's cunt was fun. I was so big on male genitalia that I had never thought about women. The smoothness and hardness of a prick go so nicely in the mouth, I never imagined that there could be equal enjoyment in the hot, wet, odoriferous jungle of a girl's crack. I learned.

But Bob missed the atmosphere of that first night, and it's too bad. It was all so tender. I remember Dave just beginning to finger my slit, and me sliding my butt down so he could get more of his hand onto it, when Bob finished taking Judy's picture and finally did what she had obviously been wanting him to do from the moment she entered the house. That glorious twat of hers with gleaming red lips showing where she was holding her panties aside. He waited to snap a picture before he put his mouth on it, but after that it was great. Bob's head looked so naturally perfect buried between Judy's white thighs licking her. Just watching him, made Dave's fingers feel more exciting. Then I sucked Dave off, and it went on from there.

Bob doesn't seem to remember that it was the three of us that talked him into holding our big orgy. He wanted to do it. He wanted to fuck some new girls. But he was timid until other people persuaded him. Then he took over the organizing. But the way he describes it just isn't the way it was. You'd think his damn game was everything and that it was just marvelous luck that the people we invited were willing to go through with it. I'm not saying his game wasn't a good idea. It did draw the whole evening out and make it last, But the orgy would have gone on without it. While he sat around waiting for the right moment to start, the rest of us were really underway. Three different guys had had their hands inside my panties before the game started. I started out dancing slow with Frank and let him work his hand to the inside and then down on my breast, which of course was bare under my dress. He mentioned it and said he'd like to do more, and I mentioned the game we were going to have later. Then he just went ahead and put his hand under my dress, and we kept on dancing with him feeling my cunt until the record stopped.

Then I had to go to the kitchen for some more refreshments, and while I was standing on a high stool to get some clean glasses, the Swedish guy, Bent I think his name was, came in. Well, when you're wearing a miniskirt and transparent panties and standing three feet above someone else, you can't do much. So I just looked down and smiled, and he looked up and smiled and put his hand between my legs. After that, the final guy who felt me up was the one who left before the game started. I really liked him, and we went into the bedroom where he was all over me on the bed. I even sucked his prick until we heard someone coming. But unfortunately, even though he said his wife was always willing, she was having her period, so they had to leave.

So the whole game bit was nice, but not necessary. That way we all got to see each other's bodies and all got to feel each other, whereas otherwise we might have just drifted off into separate corners, but the ice was broken before it began. Bob exaggerates the mechanics of the game, too. I think the rest of us remember it as a semicontrolled freeforall. The greatest thing I remember was Frank's prick. It really was a giant. Like Bob, I was shocked that Marie, who's truly petite, could take it up her. I was even shocked that I could. Sitting down on top of it at that party and feeling it squeeze into me inch by inch was surely my greatest sex joy up to that date. I felt impaled. It was like a great spike of hot flesh that just kept going in and never stopped. In fact, it was probably that fuck which opened my eyes to sex as much as anything, because for the first time I could look around me at all these fascinated eyes and see that the harder I forced myself down on Frank's prick the faster and deeper moved the fingers of the people around me on each other's sexes. To me it was the joy of giving joy. I don't think it was exhibitionistic. It didn't heighten my sexual pleasure so much as my emotional enjoyment. Lustful eyes will never take the place of something rubbing your clitoris. But I got a kick out of it all the same. This is what Bob doesn't appreciate. I think he's just too selfish, but I'm sure he'd argue with me about that.

Bob is right in saying the following summer was idyllic. Those beach and boating parties were magnificent. I don't think he says enough about them, because nothing novel happened sexwise. Novelty is his bag, not mine. I remember I'd lie sunning myself on the little beach of the island we sailed to, and there would be Bob out in the water playing around with Marie or Sue Ann. And then, Roger or someone would come up and lie down beside me and spread suntan lotion on my back and then go on rubbing me all over until his hands were under my bra feeling my tits and then under my bikini bottoms, diddling my slit, which by this time would be all creamy. Sooner or later, Bob would come by with whomever he'd been in the water with, and there I'd be with my legs spread wide, holding onto the head in my crotch and getting eaten out magnificently. And usually Bob would fall down right there beside us and fuck the girl he was with. What with the sun and the couple fucking next to me and the orgasm, it was really great.

And while I'm at it, I should correct a factual mistake he made. It was there on the island and not at the Ungers' party that I got fucked in the ass for the first time. He didn't even know about it. It happened in the lake actually. Dave had asked me to let him do it before, but I had refused because I was afraid it would hurt. He decided to try it anyway, though, and without my knowing it he greased his prick before we went for a dip. Then we got out there in the water and as usual started messing around. It's pretty hard to get worked up a whole lot in the water, but Dave took my bra off and sucked hard on my nipples, which are supersensitive. Then he got a hand in my crotch, and before too long I was really feeling it. He stood on the bottom, holding me facing him, working like mad on my tits and cunt, and I was going out of my mind and creaming up like mad in my slit. In getting my pants off he got me turned around and held me to him with one hand across my tits and the other still in my crack. With the water buoying me up, I could just nestle against him, but I was too steamed up to just cuddle. When I felt the soft round tip of his cock start to probe at my ass, I wanted it more than anything. I squirmed around until it was located right, and then I just let myself sink down on it. I don't know which I felt more, the pain of the intrusion or the almost unconscious pleasure of being penetrated; but after he was all the way in and had tried a couple of tentative withdrawals and replacements, the latter feeling totally overcame me. Suddenly being penetrated and stuffed up my ass was the greatest thing in the world. My cunt was making juice at a record rate, despite the water, and Dave kept his fingers going on my nipples and clit. We got going so hard and fast I was almost screaming. It hurt, but the screams would have been for the sheer pleasure each thrust in the ass give me. I could tell that he had come only by his prick growing smaller, but I had come earlier so it didn't matter much.

I don't know exactly why I didn't tell Bob about that incident. I guess I thought it might shock him somehow. I'm sure he was mystified when I wouldn't let him go in from behind that night the way he liked to, but I still hurt. Actually, great as it had been, I didn't try it again until I had to at the Ungers' party. There it didn't hurt nearly so much, perhaps because that black guy had a thinner prick than Dave. It also didn't bother me that night when Bob was watching. In fact, I hardly noticed Bob at that party at all. I was pretty accustomed by then to making it with Dave, Roger, and Frank, but getting felt up openly and blatantly by a lot of new men was distracting. Bob says that the girls didn't try to keep their legs together, but that's an understatement. When every man you're introduced to says hello by putting his hand on your tit or slipping it into your crotch, and when all around you girls are handling pricks and letting men feel them up, keeping your legs together is the last thing you want to do. You want to make a beeline for a couch, sit down, and as gracefully as possible, let the boys see what you've got.

To go on to some of the other things Bob says, though, let me talk about wife swapping with couples out of town. Besides the trip he made without me and the groovy time at the resort, he mainly tells about our first fling. And to hear him tell it, he was shocked at the forwardness of the other couple in the cocktail lounge. What he leaves out, however, is some of the other incidents where he wasn't such a passive shrinking violet. With the Merriams in Dayton, for example, he started the whole thing by composing this letter (If he can take my diary out of my bureau, I can look at the letters in his desk):

Dear Cindy, September 12

Thanks for the invitation to stay with you. I have business in Dayton on the 28th, so we'll come the evening of the 27th. Don't meet us at the airport. After looking at all those closeups of you sucking off Bill and playing with your beautiful, beautiful slit, I'm afraid I'd get a big, embarrassing erection right there in the terminal and have to fuck you in a telephone booth before we could leave.

Looking forward lustfully,

Bob

Well, when we got there, we rented a car and drove out to this great country place of the Merriams. We talked and got to know each other, and had a few drinks. Then Bill suggested a dip in the pool, and we all changed. Their pool was in a large backyard, and even though the lots in the development were large, it didn't take binoculars to see what was happening at the pool next doorССand vice versa. Nothing much was happening there, just three or four people lounging around and swimming, but blushing Bob sure made things happen at our pool.

Cindy was wearing an almostnothing, red polka dot bikini, and it was a wonder every time she went off the board that she didn't pop right out of the bra. Bob kept feeling her up in the water, which didn't bother me. I didn't hesitate to check out the bulge inside Bill's suit underwater either. But then Bob followed her up on the board, where they could be seen in the whole county, and started to feel her up from behind. I was nervous because of the people next door, but Cindy liked it and ground her ass back against him. He got her bra off and put both hands inside her pants. Pretty soon he had her bottom off and was fingering away beneath her golden muff, and by God if he didn't make her lean over so he could slip it up her. Right there on the diving board! He fucked her! And he calls me an exhibitionist.

Of course, I felt that whatever harm was done was done, and I didn't want to be packed off to jail still horny. So I turned to old Bill, who already had his suit off and a huge cockstand, and sucked him and licked him and squeezed his prick in my throat until he came off with a great big load. And the people next door never gave a sign of noticing anything.

There was a joker in the deck I didn't find out about until later that night, however. Cindy and Bill threw a small pool party for us, quite fancy with good drinks and flowers floating in the pool, and who should come but the next-door neighbors on either side. This little subdivision, it seems, was so sexy that nobody tried to hide anything. But still, Bob didn't know that when he poked his cock up Mrs. Merriam's cunt on the diving board. So that proves that he has a lot more balls in fact than in his fiction.

The pool party itself was delightful. There was a certain amount of flirting and coquetry, but not as much as I'd seen at other parties. Of the four girls there beside Cindy and myself, I was still in the dark about the color of pubic hair of two of them after an hour and a half. The other two had managed to be "unladylike" or "indiscreet" in sitting down, however. All that changed at eleven o'clock, apparently the witching hour in that comer of suburbia. Everyone shed their clothes, or helped someone else shed theirsССtwo fellows were most attentive at helping me out of mine, particularly out of my bra and pantiesССand jumped in the pool. We were all like a bunch of kittens playing around in the water. Yet the effect of pool lights on naked bodies was not without its benefits and soon everyone was more or less paired off.

Some headed for the shadows. Others didn't. A girl with jet black hair, both above and below, sat at the side of the pool leaning back on her arms while Bill sucked her cunt. Another couple reversed it with the guy on the edge getting eaten by Cindy in the water. My own partner, named Al, took me to a lounge chair where he laid me down and slid the most elegantly long, curved cock about a mile deep inside me. He was a most accomplished fucker, smooth and easy but with a controlled fire that raged red hot at the end.

Then we danced, cooled off and naked, holding each other close and swaying to the music. Someone else cut in, and the feel of his prick hard against my stomach began to warm me up again. A male body closed in behind me to make us a trio. His prick between my legs touching the lips of my crack and reawakening them. I was vaguely aware of a haughtylooking blonde with a brownhaired cunt engaged with Bob in sixtynine on a couch. Then, a minute later, I realized she was heading my way. Looking slightly down at me with a sardonic, hollowcheeked look, she made a move to cut in. The fellow I was with let her. The bulge of her breasts was warm and soft against my own. Her bush pressed against my own rather protuberant mound. She had a masterful attitude, but she was warm nevertheless, and I blended my body against hers. Then she kissed me. I responded, and opening my mouth, received in it not her tongue but the hot thick semen that she had just sucked from Bob's prick and hadn't swallowed. At another moment I might have been revolted, but just then it was as exciting as a lightning bolt. We moved the semen back and forth between our mouths as we moved our hands now back and forth along each others wet slits. She maneuvered me to a chair, which I sank into. She looked down at me with the same sardonic look, threw a long leg across the chair and slowly lowered her cunt to my face. I buried my nose and mouth in it sucking furiously. I felt my legs pulled apart father and then the delicate stroke of a female tongue tingling my clitoris. She just teased me for a couple of minutes before going at my cunt with all her vigor, reaching back under her to toy with my tits as I was pulling hers hanging above my stomach. We both came in super faceclutching orgasms, after which, the rest of the evening was truly anticlimactic.