tagLoving WivesOur First Swing: Sheri's POV

Our First Swing: Sheri's POV

byTx Tall Tales©

When I first read Steve's account of our first time swinging with another couple, his writing fascinated me. I wasn't aware of much of what had been going on, and had a different view of much of the action. We talked about it and he encouraged me to document the events as I saw it. This is my story.

* * * *

When I first met Steve, he blew into my life like a whirlwind. He was the most outgoing guy I'd ever met. From the first time he met me, he pursued me with an incredible dedication. I couldn't deny he was interesting, but I was getting over a failed marriage, and was embarking on a new career and didn't have the time to invest in a new relationship.

He was witty, charming, funny and could talk on any subject. He was a big, muscular jock, with that ex-football player look. He was an aggravating know-it-all, who all too often did know it all. He was extremely romantic and generous. He was an overbearing, egotistical braggart. He was the center of attention in almost every activity, partially from his natural charisma and larger than life presence, and partially from his loud, blustering ways.

Although he could aggravate me to no end, there was no way to deny the fact that in many ways Steve was the embodiment of masculinity. You could walk through Harlem at midnight with Steve, and his easy confidence, imposing presence and relaxed comfort created an envelope of security around him. Countless centuries of evolution left some central core of my self-wanting to be with the big galoot. At times I felt like it was inevitable I would succumb to his efforts to seduce me. I remember in particular one afternoon, finally saying to him, "Fine, let's get a room and show me what you've got." He completely dumbfounded me by saying no, that wasn't what he wanted, he could wait until I wanted to at least give a relationship a shot.

Three months after I met him we went out. I rewarded him for his efforts and a delightful evening with a blowjob. Three nights later he took me to the first Grand Kabuki tour of the U.S., opening night at the Kennedy Center. He went all out, getting a limo, dinner at the Palms, a corsage. He looked so handsome in his tux and was so enchanting to be with, I let him take me to his place, which was impeccable. (I later found out he had hired a cleaning service to clean the place.) We had a fantastic night of pleasure and exploration, and we were living together within two weeks.

He was the most attentive lover I had ever had, and he was obviously enchanted with my body. He LOVED my rear, often following me up the stairs to the apartment, and never failing to compliment me on my 'assets'. I worked out hard, spending at least 20 minutes a day on the stairmaster at work, to make sure I stayed hot in his eyes. The oddest thing was that almost from the day I met him, it was as if he were in a state of constant erection. If I were bent over working at a desk, he would sneak by, and when his hips would pass my butt, I would feel his hard-on press against me. Something about me did something to him, because I could invariably get him ready for action within moments, on demand. Before we were dating, he would go out of his way to run into me at lunch, and when we got up from the table, his obvious excitement level would always be apparent. It was quite flattering and ego building to someone whose love life had been on the skids for about 4 years.

When I met Lisa, she was almost like a project. She was a sweet girl, who wanted to be perceived as worldly, whereas in reality she was about as naive as possible. Her experience with men in general was almost non-existent, and she had no idea how attractive and sexy she was. I got a lot of fun out of talking to her about my love life, much of which I'm sure she thought I was exaggerating. Over the months I would get her to tell me a little of her own situation, until finally the walls crumbled and she opened up to me fully.

She had married young, to the first guy who really desired her and gave her much attention. She'd been a fatty in school, and had worked hard to make herself a new life in D.C. She'd lost weight, and changed her looks and style to what she saw as wild and sexy. She now had a fanaticism for fitness, and was slowly developing an interest in learning a little bit about the whole wide world she'd only recently really become a part of.

What can I say about Bill. He reminded me a little of Mark Knoppfler of Dire Straits. Skinny, he had one of those metabolisms that could make you want to kill him. He would eat everything in sight, and never break 150 lbs. His hair was awful thin for a guy his age, sort of a straggly blonde. Pretty smart, he was a software programmer in Roslyn. Of the four of us he was the only one that didn't work in our two buildings. A nice, easy going guy, always willing to be the one to give-in, he was on the verge of being spineless. He was flexible and amiable. Almost too nice. Any one of the three of us would run right over him. He was attentive, very much in love, and not much more worldly than Lisa.

Oh yeah. Did I mention his family had more money than God? He lived on a 80 acre horse farm in Middleburg. His neighbors included Senator Warner (and Elizabeth Taylor), Jack Kent Cooke - owner of the Redskins, and Linda Carter - Wonder Woman. He and Lisa lived in the guesthouse at the edge of the property, in a very nice 2-bedroom cottage. It was a wonderful getaway, if a bit of a long commute to work.

We pretty much hit if off from the start. The guys both were frustrated musicians, and would jam to Neil Young, David Bowie, Lynyrd Skynyrd, and a strangely eclectic set of different kinds of music. Steve on the guitar, and Bill on the bass, they would play loudly and sing badly and have a lot of fun. Occasionally Lisa would join them on the piano. She was the only one of us with any talent, and could really play. But her taste in music didn't jive with theirs and it was infrequently that we would get any real music out of the bunch.

Steve and Bill were extremely well traveled, and could be very sophisticated and worldly. We had great fun at everything from opera and Broadway shows to country drives and craft shows. We made a good-looking crowd if I do say so myself. We had a reasonable amount of ready cash, and a willingness to enjoy life. Lisa and I both had grown up within spitting distance of where we were born, and were perfectly willing to let the guys expand our horizons.

We were all very happy, and the friendship developed pretty easily. There was clearly a lot of sexual tension between Steve and Lisa, and when we would get together, there would inevitably be a point in the evening where these two would go at each other. Steve teased her mercilessly, and she was quick to find fault in everything he said and did. It never got to the point of viciousness or wrecking our good times, but Bill and I did have to redirect the conversation and the attention of our lovers several times to keep the peace.

So there, I've set the table. Two couples. A nice country cottage. Three forceful personalities. Two relatively inexperienced lovers, a young lady thrilled to be found as attractive and sensual at 27 as she was at 19, and not untutored in the ways of love, and an overheated, testosterone laden lover, who was madly in lust with yours truly, and open to any and everything.

* * * *

It was our second dinner in three weeks, and the last time together had been a really great time for all. Even Steve and Lisa's bickering had been kept at a minimum.

I had insisted on bringing dinner and had whipped up my homemade lasagna. I had already cooked it and frozen it, and just needed to reheat it. Dinner included antipasto, garlic bread, the lasagna, and spumoni. It was a great success, and during our after dinner drinks the subject turned to 'high-school' games, like truth-or-dare, spin-the-bottle, and post-office.

Steve was immediately teasing Lisa who had never played any of these games. Steve had played all of them, and many we'd never heard of. Bill had even played most of the more common ones. I must have led a more sheltered experience, the full extent of my experience being truth-or-dare, spin-the-bottle, and some drinking games like quarters, bizz-buzz, and 21. Lisa didn't even know what quarters was, claiming they didn't play it at Drexel. Right.

Steve regaled us with the many tales of his sordid past, even describing a game he called 'strip-rocks'. This is where two guys and three girls were so drunk, that Steve would place rocks in front of each person, from a pile of 5, where 1 was large, 3 were the same size and 1 was smaller. The person with the smallest rock had to remove an item. If the person with the smallest rock was naked, the person with the large rock could make them do anything for 2 minutes. He claimed they ended up in a huge daisy chain. It was amazing, he always had these kinds of stories, just on the verge of unbelievable, except that he was very consistent in the telling, and every so often we would run into someone who would verify the most unbelievable of all.

We had finished our first pitcher of frozen margaritas, and while Steve was out in the kitchen whipping up a second batch, he shouted out.

"Hey Lisa, truth-or-dare?"

"What?" she asked.

"Truth-or-dare? If you say 'truth' you have to answer any question I ask honestly. If you say 'dare' you have to do whatever I dare you to do. Don't worry, we'll play like we did in high school; so, truth-or-dare."

"Truth." She shouted back, just as he was entering the room, with a completed pitcher.

"You don't have to shout," he teased. "Ok, have you ever stolen anything worth more than 10 dollars?"

"What kind of question is that?" She answered angrily.

"C'mon, it's typical of the questions you might ask," I told her. "They're always either embarrassing, or sexual or both."

"She's right," Bill confirmed, "so, did you?"

"Well...I stole a yearbook from school my junior year, when I lost mine. It was a leftover they hadn't sold anyway."

"You don't have to tell us why," Steve explained. "Congratulations. You've now played truth-or-dare, a.k.a. truth-or-consequences. Now you get to ask the questions."

The game was kind of fun for a while, not much daring going on, but lots of personal questions getting asked. Bill, it turns out, had slept with 4 other women. Steve was proud to tell us he hadn't counted, but he thought it was around 12-15. Everyone now knows I lost my virginity at 16 to my second cousin.

"Dare." I answered to Steve's question, getting up the nerve to change the tone a bit.

"Kiss the front zipper of Bill's pants. For 5 seconds."

"What?" Lisa exploded.

Bill was laughing hysterically. "Oh, God. I remember doing the same exact dare when I was 16."

I laughed, "I think we all did, and I swear, 1/2 the girls chickened out." I scooted over to where Bill was sitting, spread his legs apart, positioned myself between them, and pressed my lips to his crotch. I was a little disappointed I didn't find a rise in them. I knew that Steve would have been hard just from the thought of it.

Steve was chanting out, "1...2...3...4...5." On 5 I pulled away, then impulsively planted one last quick kiss just as a tease. Moving back to my seat, I could see that I was right, Steve was clearly excited, and his pants did much less to hide the fact than Bill's jeans.

It was my turn, and I picked on Lisa.

"Dare." She answered for the second time. The first time, Bill had made her do something silly, like jump up and down on one foot 10 times.

"I dare you to play spin-the-bottle with all of us." I figured it would get us to a little safer game. Truth-or-dare might be safe for tentative 16 year olds, but I didn't trust Steve, or even Bill for that matter, to keep the game within decent bounds. I didn't want Lisa to get too pissed off at all of us if we pushed her too hard, too fast.

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, Steve was clearing off the glass coffee table, and Bill was in the kitchen rooting through the garbage for a bottle.

"How exactly do you play?" Lisa asked.

Steve as usual had the complete answer. "It's the easiest game of all. You spin the bottle. Whoever it points at, you have to kiss. If a boy points at a boy, he spins again. If a girl points at a girl, well that's the luck of the draw."

"That's completely unfair!" Lisa cried.

"Hey, what can I say. That's the way we played it in school. How about you, Bill?" Steve asked, looking for support.

"Pretty much exactly the same way. In college sometimes we spun a second time, and that person got to decide where the kiss went." Bill was just returning from the kitchen with a full plastic bottle of water.

"I don't remember kissing any girls," I countered, "but I guess it's Ok, if it is for you Lisa. But no second spin. I NEVER heard of that rule."

"Well, I guess it's ok, if that's how everyone played it."

Steve grabbed the bottle. "I'll spin it once, as a freebee. Whoever it points at gets to the start the game and gets the first kiss."

"Wait," Lisa interrupted, "does the spinner do the kissing, or get kissed?"

"Receives the kiss," Steve answered definitively. Knowing him, he'd answer confidently even if he were making up the answer. You had to give him credit; he was never wishy-washy, and for the most part, ridiculously fair.

For me, this was the turning point of the evening. We started out with a lot of giggling and joking, but little pecks soon turned to just a little more serious kisses, and it wasn't long until there was clearly some feeling going into the kisses. There was no touching aloud, just kissing. And there weren't many sloppy wet kisses, just sensual, lingering, exploratory kisses. Even Lisa and I were doing some very light tongue wrangling, and I can say quite candidly, I was getting excited.

The tone of the evening had changed, and the air was charged with tension. I didn't think the kissing could go on much longer without someone making a stupid comment, or something happening to change the moment. I was right. Steve with his impeccable timing (Ok, I'm being sarcastic) stopped on his turn to spin.

"I have an idea. This game has been great, but there's a whole world of other games out there. How about if I spin the bottle, and whoever it lands on can pick the next game we play. And to be fair - not like the strip-rocks - I'll even withdraw from play, just you three."

"That sounds fun. We could all write games on a piece of paper and throw it in a hat, the draw from the hat." I answered. Maybe his timing and comment weren't so bad.

"Just spin the bottle," Bill said, "and whoever it lands on can choose to kiss or choose a new game."

Lisa finally added her two-cents. "Ok I guess, but I may need some help coming up with a game and getting the rules right."

"No problem. Ok, here goes..." He spun the bottle hard, and the liquid inside made it do some weird moves across the table, but it finally ended up pointing at me.

"To be honest, ever since I was 17 there's one game I've wanted to play. I even had the chance once, but I chickened out and walked out on the game."

"And that game is..." Bill coaxed.

"Strip-poker." I answered. I'm sure I was blushing. I'd always wanted to play this game, and I figure this crowd was pretty safe. Nothing too weird was likely to happen, and we were all pretty decent looking people so no one should get too embarrassed. We'd all been in bathing suits together, so if we got down to our underwear it should be no big deal.

"Lisa, did you ever play strip-poker?" I asked her, looking to see if she was willing or not.

She laughed out loud. "Are you kidding, no one saw my underwear until I was 20 years old. I never knew anyone who did play that game. Except for Steve here, the amoral bastard who would play strip-rocks with helpless drunken women."

"Hey, they knew what they were getting into. It was just an excuse to do what we all wanted to do anyway!" Steve answered defensively.

Bill, astute as ever, like I, was accustomed to deflecting these little arguments before they got hairy. "I'm getting the cards then. Steve, go over the rules."

Steve explained 'simple' strip poker. "In some games, people play for stakes, using chips, and using clothing to buy chips. That way there's all the elements of real poker, bluffing, betting, and even folding. We're going to play 'simple' strip poker. It goes like this. The winner of each hand gets to choose who removes an article of clothing. We play 5-card draw poker, with nothing wild, which at least introduces a modicum of skill to the game. Anyone, at anytime, can end the game if they're uncomfortable. Private negotiations are allowed, between two consenting parties, to determine what is removed, and in some cases to even allow NOT removing an item. Does everyone understand these rules?"

"Sort of," Lisa answered, "but I don't know how to play 5-card draw poker."

"Neither do I, really," I added. I understood poker, but couldn't remember the order of the hands - did a full house beat a straight? And where did a flush fit in?

Steve and Bill tried to explain the premise of what made a winning hand, and they were writing down the order of the winning hands, when Steve found a card in the deck that showed the order of the hands. Bill found another deck and it too had one of these cards, so Lisa and I were given these as cheat sheets.

Bill won the first hand, and I had to remove a shoe. On the next hand, Steve won, and the stinker made me take off the other shoe. Finally on the third hand Lisa won, and amid gales of laughter she made me remove my socks.

"Oh, come on, that's not fair!" I answered.

"Sure it is," Steve reassured me, "but remember, what goes around, comes around." Another one of his inane sayings. He should have been supporting me on this one. I only had four items left! And no one else had removed anything. I was almost ready to quit.

I finally won on the next hand.

"Ok, Lisa, it's your turn."

"Hey, you should be picking on the guys, they started it," she answered.

"I don't care, payback's a bitch, I want a shoe."

Lisa finally passed over her shoe. The guys won the next two hands and removed Lisa's other shoe and socks. This wasn't working out so well. The guys were fully dressed, Steve had brought out yet another pitcher of margaritas, and both Lisa and I were going to start showing our intimate apparel on the next loss. And the margaritas were really going to my head.

I remember Lisa won finally, and made Bill take off a shoe. Then Steve, who was winning way too many hands, made Bill take off the other, which brought about another bout of giggling.

After that initial play, things went pretty much as would have been expected. When Steve won, Lisa disrobed; when Bill won, I did. And vice-versa for the women.

I don't have the eidetic memory Steve appears to have, and I don't remember the exact order of what happened, or who won with what hands. I do remember that Steve made Lisa take off her pants, but it didn't do much good 'cause of her oversized sweatshirt that hid pretty much everything. When he made her remove her next item, she bribed him with a big wet kiss to remove her bra so nothing would be exposed. As I recall he also got a lot of grab-ass in on that kiss, which was a little overboard I thought.

To get even, when Bill had me remove my shirt, I gave him a bit of a show. I was lucky I didn't fall down, the margaritas were really hitting me hard. I got up at some point and got some water. Steve must have recognized that we were getting too drunk, cause the Margarita's weren't quite as strong in the second batch, and with the third batch he had brought out some popcorn to soak up some of the alcohol.

When Steve stood up to remove his pants, he was clearly proud of his huge erection pulling his underwear away from his waist. There was a wet spot the size of silver dollar where his head was poking out.

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byTx Tall Tales© 3 comments/ 199243 views/ 23 favorites

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