Sandie's First SwingbyJennyGently©
This is the story of a first and only 'wife swapping' evening, as told to me by a good friend. Let's call her Sandie. I have changed names and places but I suppose, if by an incredible coincidence you know the individuals involved, it might be possible to work out who they really are.
The evening was unplanned and unintended and as yet is unrepeated but remains a powerful memory which she says has changed her forever.
I have written it in the 'first person' as if Sandie was telling the tale herself. I might have embellished the sex a little -- she was too drunk to remember all the details - but the story and the ending are exactly as she described them.
'Sandie' is the only person who knows about my writing. During a rather drunken evening at a friend's (third) hen party I confessed my writing to her and she confessed this story to me. 'Sandie' has read this story and is happy for me to publish it. She said it helped her re-live the best parts of the 'incident' without the guilt so here goes... my first publication as Jenny Gently.
If you don't like wife swapping or infidelity stories, please don't read any further. There are other stories on this site which would suit you much better. Please don't read something you know will upset you and then send abusive messages to the author.
To give you a bit of background, my husband Tom is a tall, good-looking, highly successful businessman, now in his mid 'forties. He's going a bit grey but still has all his hair and is in great shape. I am a little younger and a secondary school teacher. I suppose I'm in good shape for my age too with a dress size of ten (on a good day), small boobs and shoulder length, suspiciously blonde hair. We both often go to the gym after work and at weekends and enjoy the outdoor life as often as we can fit it in. We have two lovely pre-teen children having started a family later in life than many.
In short, we are a genuinely happy English family.
Having kids is an easy way of making new friends and we have known Lisa and Paul since our youngest was only two years old and at nursery. Having two kids themselves, of similar ages to ours, we soon got to know each other better both as adult friends and for 'play dates' for the kids, with shared birthday parties, sleepovers and trips out a regular occurrence.
Lisa and Paul are a bit younger than us -- let's say mid 'thirties -- and are great fun. Paul does a more physical job and has a great body. He spends a bit too much time in the gym and in front of the mirror for my liking and fancies himself rather more than I think he should but is otherwise good company. His wife is a close friend of mine who can always be relied on to make an evening fun with news and anecdotes, many of an increasingly risqué nature. She is tall, slim to the point of skinny and genuinely blonde with surgically enhanced boobs which were a present for her thirtieth birthday.
Over the years we have seen a lot of each other, our kids getting on very well indeed, so it was inevitable that, after one of the many dinner parties at each other's homes, it was suggested -- and enthusiastically agreed - that the two families should try going on holiday for a week together as a group of eight the following Easter.
Over the coming months, much after-dinner alcohol- fuelled debate ensued about where the holiday should be. Budget is an important consideration when four kids are involved but eventually we agreed to take a cottage in Snowdonia, the wild, beautiful North Wales National Park, an area Tom and I knew well and had always loved.
To make it even more perfect, we booked an old stone cottage in a very isolated spot where there was plenty of good walking, exploring and good bike riding for the kids. Sadly though, we knew the local restaurants were poor so we would probably be eating all our meals in the cottage.
Eventually the week arrived and we drive in convoy to the countryside. The weather was unusually kind for a British Easter and the cottage was amazing too, and was more like two tiny cottages knocked together into one. Over three hundred years old and with no mains power, it relied on an old petrol-driven generator for light and real fires for warmth. Like many old houses it had thick walls and small windows. The heavy lined curtains kept out almost all the light, and of course being in Wales, the rain clouds allowed little moonlight through anyway. When the lights were out it was very dark indeed but to our surprise the kids found this exciting rather than scary.
The accommodation was simple but perfectly adequate for a week. Downstairs was a good sized lounge / dining room with a separate kitchen, a reasonable family bathroom and two small double bedrooms for the four adults. Upstairs was one large single attic room with four beds a TV and Playstation and a good selection of games to keep the kids amused when the weather turned bad -- a fairly predictable happening in Wales.
The holiday passed off almost without a hitch. True, the kids squabbled quite a lot but lots of fresh air meant that they were always exhausted at the end of the day and slept soundly together in the attic room from about 9pm which gave the four adults a little respite.
There was lots of walking in the mountains, lots of playing on the beaches and the rocks nearby. We even found a leisure centre with an indoor / outdoor swimming pool and on the hottest day spent the entire time on the water flumes and sunbathing by the waterside. I have to say that Lisa with her slim figure, mega-boobs and bright red bikini made me in my dark blue one piece costume feel fat and frumpy but I consoled myself that there were a lot of older fatter women there and I wasn't the worst by far.
My husband looked very attractive, playing boisterously with the kids in his blue shorts. I was pleased to see there was very little evidence of the approach of middle age and I enjoyed watching him when I knew he couldn't tell. Paul of course used the occasion to show off his body and I have to admit that it was worth showing off. In lycra-tight swim shorts his well defined chest and arm muscles almost shone in the water and his buttocks looked tight and firm. I tried not to stare but I'm sure Lisa caught me giving him the once-over a couple of time. Fortunately she didn't seem upset -- I suppose when you look like the two of them you expect to attract attention, perhaps even crave it.
It was Friday night -- our last night in the cottage. The weather had been very good that day, and after a long walk along an old railway track, we were all hungry and thirsty. The four kids had eaten their dinner earlier and had gone into the cottage's games room to play darts and pool leaving the adults free to relax in the kitchen and lounge.
Paul and Tom had cooked dinner for the kids which had been consumed with gusto, and were now preparing a slightly more sophisticated meal for the adults while Lisa and I chatted. Thanks in part to liberal doses of wine, this had taken much longer than we had originally predicted and as a result, by the time dinner was finally served, Lisa and I had drunk much more than we were accustomed to and were, as she put it, 'completely squiffy'.
Perhaps as a result of this unaccustomed tipsiness, It took me much longer than it should to realise Paul seemed to be quite casually but deliberately touching me on my thighs and calves under the table as we sat and chatted before dinner. I tried to ignore it, but when his hand slipped higher up my thigh I looked at him sternly but jokingly. The look he gave me back was what could only be described as a suggestive grin - his eyes sparkled with mischief and I quickly looked round to see if Tom or Lisa had noticed. To my relief, they were both fully occupied, their heads pressed close together as they pored over a large map, working out where we had been that day and planning our route home for tomorrow.
I fidgeted subtly a little further away from Paul's straying fingers and tried to ignore him but to be honest it felt good to believe he found me attractive, even in a light, flirty way and I drifted closer to him again as we began to eat our meal.
Dinner consumed and another bottle of wine later, we were all feeling replete and the conversation after dinner had started roamed widely. I suppose we were all relieved that our first holiday had gone so smoothly, especially that the kids had got on together and behaved so well. We raised our glasses to the Welsh weather several times.
As the evening progressed the conversation, as it was prone to do when Lisa and alcohol featured, had touched briefly, but initially only obliquely, on sex. Lisa had always been a terrible gossip and had heard that afternoon from a friend that a another mutual friend had disgraced herself at a recent business awards ceremony by getting drunk and spending the night with two men after her husband had gone home. Lisa's unimpeachable sources were usually friends of friends. According to these 'sources', the husband had picked his wife up from the one of the men's houses the following morning, her dress covered in semen stains but had taken her back as if this wasn't unusual.
We all expressed the expected amount of outward shock and horror -- genuine in Tom and my case - but across the table I could see Paul smiling at me again, and felt his fingers trying to return to my thigh. Across the table Lisa was regaling us -- in increasingly slurry words - with another story of an errant acquaintance. Her voice and hands were animated, touching my husband's arms and legs repeatedly as she spoke and directing almost all of her attention to him. To my surprise and annoyance, I noticed his hand resting on her shoulder, stroking her neck a little in an intimate gesture I felt belonged only to me.
Telling myself he was probably as drunk as I was and unaware he was doing it, I tried to listen to Lisa's story but she was giggling so much at whatever Tom was whispering in her ear that her words became incomprehensible -- especially to my rather inebriated ears. By now I had stopped trying to keep Paul's hands away from my thighs and in fact, if I'm honest, had started to enjoy the attention. Clearly my husband wasn't going to provide any!
So there was something of a sexual frisson in the air and as the plates and cups were finally cleared. Partly in order to put a bit of distance between my legs and Paul's fingers, I insisted on making more coffee and asked Tom to helping me wash up in the kitchen. Lisa moaned in mock disappointment as he rose to help, at which point Paul eagerly volunteered and took the tray of dirty cups through, leaving Tom and Lisa once again crouched over the map, his arms either side of her torso. Lisa was giggling, my husband Tom's face close up to hers as he leaned over her. She seemed to be rubbing her bottom against him playfully. In my inebriated state I found this funny and giggled myself as I gathered up the remaining crockery and went into the kitchen.
Paul was standing at the sink as I entered the room, his arms deep in the warm soapy water. I placed the last few plates alongside the sink.
"Are they OK?" He asked me, smiling.
"I think they're flirting." I laughed, but felt a little pang of unhappiness about it.
I frowned at the thought. Inside I knew it was hypocritical of me to feel jealous when Tom was simply flirting with Lisa and I myself had enjoyed Paul's touch on my thighs. Perhaps I needed a little more flirting myself.
I started to place the cups one by one into the sink as Paul washed them up. Our fingers touched in the warm water. I paused then placed another dirty cup in the sink. Again our fingers touched. This time I paused and watched as Paul slowly drew a wet index finger up my arm, leaving a soapy wet trail up to my elbow. Neither of us spoke but to my surprise, I pressed my thigh against his and we washed the dishes together in loaded silence, feeling the warmth and strength of his powerful body against mine.
The reverie of the moment was broken by the kettle which began singing insistently on the hob. With a slight sigh, I turned away from the sink and began to make four large strong coffees, wondering what -- if anything -- had just happened. A few minutes later I carried the tray of coffees into the lounge and placed it on the low table in front of Tom and Lisa, who were now sitting closely side by side on the sofa. The map was open on the table before them but it was obvious that neither of them were interested in anything but flirting with each other. Tom's hand rested on Lisa's upper thigh and she kept grasping him by the arm as she told him yet another story. I recognised the tale as a highly sexual one involving someone Tom and I knew well and which we had both been sworn to secrecy.
I sat down and sipped the hot liquid very slowly to avoid having to make conversation while my mind was racing so fast.
"I'm just going up to tell the kids to go to sleep!" Paul called as he left the kitchen and entered the hallway. Not wanting to raise a scene about Tom's outrageous flirting but also not wanting to have to sit and watch it, I volunteered to go too and weaved my rather unstable way up the steep stairs.
There was silence as we entered the room where to our amazement the four kids were snuggled up in their sleeping bags. The younger two were already fast asleep, the older boys more than half way there.
"Goodnight kids. No talking after midnight. We've got a long drive tomorrow." I said softly, in the certain knowledge that all four of them would be asleep within minutes after the day's long, tiring walk.
Descending the stairs, we re-entered the lounge to finish our hot drinks. My wobbliness on the stairs had made me realise how much wine I had drunk and how much I could do with a strong coffee. As we entered the lounge area there was a sudden movement from the sofa and Tom and Lisa seemed to spring apart. I was annoyed at this. What had they been doing that they had felt so guilty about? I look at Paul for reassurance but he was acting as if nothing unusual had happened. Knowing I was slightly tipsy, I began to doubt my eyes and most certainly didn't want to make a scene on our last night.
I crossed to the table and picked up my half full coffee cup. Turning round without looking I began to sit in the armchair across from the sofa. Unknown to me, Paul had also started to sit there and we collided drunkenly, spilling coffee all down Paul's shirt.
"Oh no!" I gasped. "Quickly! Before it scalds you!" I grabbed his hand and pulled him into the kitchen where I immediately held a cloth under the tap and began to put cold water over the hot, wet patches on his shirt. It smelled strongly of coffee and stuck to his chest as I patted and patted it with the damp cloth.
"Better take it off and we'll soak it now. Coffee is a bugger to get out." I said, turning to the sink for a last soaking of the cloth.
When I turned back, Paul had stripped off his wet T shirt and was naked from the waist upwards. For a second I was taken aback. I had seen him working out in the gym many times, as did Tom, and ha admired him at the pool too but I had not been that close to the clearly defined muscle structure I saw before me now, the firm flat tummy -- almost a six-pack -- and the powerful shoulders and arms. He looked simply amazing.
"Give... um... give me the shirt... umm ..." I stammered like a love struck schoolgirl. Silently he gave it to me and I placed it in a bowl of cold water, leaving it to soak the way my mother had taught me.
"Thanks Sandie." Paul said softly from behind me. "I appreciate this." His hands were on my waist. Just lightly.
"It's ok Paul." I replied in a whisper. "I just hope... it all... comes out..."
I turned around and his hands remained on my waist, his face close to mine. I felt strange, as if something had just happened but I couldn't tell what. His hands were firmer on my waist and he was gently pulling me towards him. He kissed me gently on the lips. I froze, my head spinning. He kissed me again. I didn't kiss him back but I didn't push him away either. My hands went to his chest as if to push him back instead began to stroke the strong, well defined muscles. He kissed me a third time and this time I returned his kiss, opening my mouth and feeling his tongue.
His hands fell to my buttocks. This time I did pull away, mumbling stupidly.
"Sorry... got to get back... Tom... Lisa..." I turned away from him and walked towards the kitchen door.
Suddenly I was stopped short. In the hallway outside the kitchen was the usual full length wall mounted mirror. We had all used it to check our make-up, hair, hats etc before going out. Now to my astonishment I realised that it also gave anyone in the kitchen a good, clear view of the cottage's lounge, presumably to let parents keep an eye on their children while cooking. At the moment however it showed in full technicolour the scene on the room's large sofa.
To my amazement, Lisa was lying back on the cushions, her skirt pulled right up over her waist, her legs splayed wide open with Tom, my husband of fifteen years, his chest as bare as Paul's, kneeling between her knees. His face was pressed hard up against her naked vulva. Her fingers were entwined in his hair, her head thrown back in pleasure as she apparently enjoyed a minor orgasm right there in the lounge.
It was then I felt Paul's hands on my waist again. I span around and looked at him. He was also looking in the mirror but with a half smile on his face. Even in my drunken state I knew this was wrong. My first thought had been that Paul would attack Tom physically but he showed no sign of anger -- far from it.
My second thought was that my husband was cheating on me with one of my closest friends and that I should immediately go in and stop it but for reasons I can't understand even today, this simply made me more aroused and I did nothing but watch spellbound.
Gradually I became aware of a closer presence behind me as Paul pressed himself against my back. His hands were on my arms, stroking them gently. His lips were on the back of my neck, then on the sides, then on my shoulders. He felt strong and warm and... His hands were back on my waist now as he kissed my shoulders, my eyes still fixed on the two adulterers on the sofa who were now kissing open mouthed as Tom caressed Lisa's vulva to her obvious pleasure. Paul's hands moved to my buttocks, kneading them and I found myself pressing back against his fingers. His hands slipped around my sides. They were on my boobs, cupping them, feeling my nipples through my dress and bra. I leaned back into his strong, firm body and rested my head against his powerful chest. His hands slipped down to my groin and cupped my hot vulva through my dress. My legs went weak.
Back at the sofa, Tom had stood up and was taking off his trousers and pants. I watched mesmerised as his cock sprang forwards. As Paul's finger began to massage my outer labia through my panties, so Lisa knelt on the floor and took my husband's cock in her mouth. Tom threw back his head and looked at the ceiling as she began to work on him and Paul's fingertip began to slide backward and forward over my cotton-covered slit. I felt a ball of heat glowing within me as he continued to massage my vulva and kiss my neck, a strange feeling of unreality all around me.
I felt Paul's hot wet tongue on my ear and he nibbled my lobes as his hands continued their work down below, gradually raising the hem of my dress to gain access to my panties. I sighed loudly as his fingers slipped under the elastic and toyed with my sparse pubic hair. For a second, my eyes had trouble focussing on the mirror but when I blinked them back into focus, Tom had taken Lisa by the hands and raised her to her feet. She kicked her panties off her ankles and with a broad smile, took Tom by the hand and, before my eyes, led him across the room to the bedroom he and I were using. As she passed the hallway I could have sworn she saw me and Paul as he fondled me in the kitchen but my memory is fuddled by alcohol and lust.