1974 Come the Revolution!

Childhood sweethearts, that's what they called us.

We had met at school and both lived in the Fordington part of Dorchester. I'm not sure that it was love at first sight but after he'd teased me a few times, and I'd given him a few friendly punches, I knew that Richie was the one for me.

He got himself an apprenticeship at a Precision Engineer's and I found a job at a Solicitor's, once we left school.

Right from the first time that we had sex, I loved it. I couldn't quite believe that it was so good. I had always been told that it was a chore to be endured and that only bad girls enjoyed it. I supposed that I would just have to accept the fact that I was a bad girl. I told Richie, he didn't seem to mind too much.

It took until we were nineteen to convince our parents to allow us to get married. Even then, we needed to stay with my Mum and Dad for the first year until we got a place of our own.

Richie and I had both been born just before the war. Growing up in the 1940s and 1950s, attitudes to sex were still pretty rigid. Once we were married we had our own room but if my Mum heard us making any sort of noise she would have a word with me about 'acceptable behaviour '. So we carried on doing what we had done before we were married, we found a quiet spot outdoors.

We wandered the country lanes and footpaths that were all around Fordington back then.

One Summer evening in 1958 something so outrageous happened that it flipped a switch for both of us. A long warm day that still left a few hours of daylight once work was over and we had found a spot just off a bridleway, behind a hedge and near a wood.

Richie, you may have guessed that he was christened Richard, had spent a long time slowly fingering me. He was good. It made me feel bad, very bad. I was nearly screaming to be shagged but he took his time before obliging me.

As he rolled off, there was a round of applause from a middle-aged couple who had just been standing there watching us. I covered myself and Rich quickly pulled his trousers up.

They looked like the country squire horsey types. Dressed from head to foot in tweed. The gent was carrying a shotgun. I noticed that he had it broken so I guessed that he wasn't going to shoot us just yet. I could see cartridges in both barrels.

Then I noticed something else. He had his dick out and the lady had hold of it. Not wanking him, just gripping it tightly.

"Jolly good show!" said the woman.

"I'd say so!" added her husband. Their black Labrador looked as if he had enjoyed the show too.

"Sorry, sorry, we didn't know it was your land. Please don't shoot us," I said, trying to get up.

"Good grief, no need for that sort of malarkey," laughed the gent.

"Stay where you are though!", said the lady quietly but with authority.

The woman went on, "If you do something for us, we can turn a blind eye to the trespass situation."

"What?" I asked. I was worried that she wanted me to have sex with the old gent or something like that.

"You could return the favour and watch us at it. I shouldn't take too long. His old dibber is throbbing already," the lady added, nodding towards the old chap.

"OK," said Richie, hesitantly.

With that the lady pulled up her tweed skirt above her waist. She plunged her fingers into the top of her big knickers and dropped them onto her brown leather brogues.

Bending nearly double she parted her feet slightly and turned her large white ass towards her husband.

"Don't just stand there man, get up me," she ordered.

He did just that.

As he bent his knees and started to pump away at her fat white bottom, he said to Richie, "I say old man, slip a couple of fingers into your pretty little lady, there's a good chap."

I don't know why but I just spread my legs wide, unconcerned that my stocking tops and spunky fanny were exposed to two complete strangers. Even though the class thing had started to break down since the war, if a toff suggested you do something it was still sort of expected that you did it.

Richie did as he was asked and added his first two fingers to the gunk that he'd left behind. As the country gentleman resumed his bumping so Richie pumped his fingers in and out of me, matching his rhythm exactly.

At the same time his thumb kept rubbing against what I now know was my clitoris. Looking back, I can't believe how ignorant I was about my own body.

I had my very first orgasm whilst being watched by two mature posh people, that we'd only just met, who were fucking in front of me and my husband.

Sex suddenly got so much more exciting as the lightning strike flashed from my clitoris upwards and outwards hitting my brain and toes at the same time.

"Oh, God. What the fuck was that?" I screamed.

"Good man, that's the ticket," shouted the gent as he came in his wife.

That day Richie and I realised that there was a whole world of erotic pleasure to be explored.

.......................................

Now we were aware of the ignition switch there was no end to the possibilities. Richie came up with lots of ways to make me orgasm. From stroking it to licking it and even tickling my clitoris with a feather or a rabbit's foot. He rubbed butter on it. He even put ice-cream on it once. Every time I ended up with my whole nervous system jangling.

Sometimes he did it before he fucked me, sometimes after. Sometimes, before and after.

.....................................

Within a year we moved into a place of our own.

From then on luck was with us. Richie was amongst the first young men to miss National Service. This meant that he could complete his apprenticeship without a break. He finished top of his year group and was kept on by the company.

After two years his grandfather sat him down and had a serious talk with him. It had been Grandad's intention to include Rich in his will but, rather than wait until the old man died, he offered to buy him a small engineering firm that had become available just outside Wimborne Minster. Richie and I were so grateful.

The premises had a house within the grounds so we moved in there.

Now Richie had a second passion. The business went from strength to strength.

By the late sixties we were doing very well.

........................................

Don't believe what they say about the 'swinging sixties'. I can't speak for London but Dorset wasn't much different from the fifties.

Granted, we had exciting music on the radio. There was the occasional controversial play on the telly. The clothes were different but the attitudes were very much as conservative as ever.

Occasionally, groups of Mods would flash through the town on their scooters or gangs of Rockers would roar through on their motorbikes. But that's about all we saw of it.

The seventies arrived. The main difference was that we were robbed. There were 240 pennies in a pound then overnight, almost, there were only 100. For some reason the French and Germans did it like that so we had to do it too. All because we had joined Europe. The people had voted for it. It was funny because I didn't know anybody that had voted for it and nobody that I knew knew anybody that had voted for it.

Rich and I continued to be as sexually adventurous as we could behind closed doors but it didn't pay to let the neighbours know about it. We did a lot of role play in which we acted out our fantasies. That first encounter with the Horsey Couple was re-enacted from time to time.

One day he came home with a men's magazine called 'Fiesta'. Rich had been to visit a customer in Bournemouth and had seen it on the top shelf in a newsagent's. We were amazed. As well as photos of pretty half-naked girls there were articles about sex. They talked about a lot of the things that we did as well as a lot of things that we hadn't ever thought of doing.

What surprised us most was the letters from readers. People talked openly about their sexual experiences.

Rich nearly choked when he turned the page to find photographs of readers' wives. Men had sent in Polaroid snaps of their spouses in various states of undress.

"I don't know if I could do that," I said, "although the idea is making me very horny."

It wasn't a very subtle hint but Richie took it.

.................................

The next day we filled in the subscription form in the back of the magazine. Each month the latest edition arrived in a plain wrapper. The postman always made a point of knocking on the door to hand it over to me. I just used to say, "Ministry of Defence Engineering, all hush hush."

We would read each new issue in bed together. It was a great way to talk about what turned us on and what turned us off.

Rich always said that the professional models were alright but he much preferred the readers' wives photos. More real, he said.

It was seven months before I made my first appearance.

Rich bought a Poloroid camera and sent away for some kinky underwear. We started off slowly. In the first photos, I wore a Venetian mask and a red bra and knickers. Instead of being April from Wimborne, I was Maureen from Hull.

It's hard to describe the feeling I had when we turned to the wives page. I didn't look too bad but I felt really naughty. Rich loved it, I think that he had wanted to do it from the very start.

Three months later we went for black underwear with my nipples showing. I was Readers' Wife of the Month. I was so proud I was tempted to show my Mum, I had never won anything before in my whole life.

There was an advert in the magazine for another publication called 'Penthouse Forum' which claimed to be the 'International Journal of Human Relations'. Rich sent off for a sample copy. When it arrived it contained the same sort of articles and letters as 'Fiesta' but they were set in a more sort of academic context. Rich was disappointed that there were no readers' wives.

What we did notice was that there was all sorts of sex stuff going on in America that we knew nothing about. Some things were too weird for us but a few we found interesting.

We had a long conversation about wife swapping (yes, I was surprised too but evidently it went on over there).

Richie didn't subscribe to this magazine.

.......................................

Over the next couple years the subject of wife swapping came up occasionally. We both reassured each other that our marriage didn't need it. Nevertheless, it increasingly appeared in our role play.

As we approached our thirty-sixth birthdays, I finally told Rich that I wouldn't mind giving it a go for real. He confessed that it hadn't been far from his thoughts for a long time now.

We agreed that it didn't change the way we felt about each other.

It sounds simple, doesn't it? But you can't just put an advert in the Post Office window, can you? We certainly didn't want to approach anyone we knew. Although there were a few couples in the town that I wouldn't have minded swapping with. Can you imagine the gossip if you approached the wrong people?

As usual, 'Fiesa' came to the rescue. There was a classified advert section. It was mostly men kindly offering to help couples out but there were a few from couples seeking like minded couples. None of them looked particularly promising.

There was one Indian couple in their late forties. We weren't too sure. They were a bit older than us but they did state on the South Coast of England.

In the end we decided that it wouldn't hurt to reply. It didn't commit us to anything.

Nothing happened for a couple of weeks but then a letter arrived. They said that it was the first time that they had done anything like this. They were on the verge of giving up, they had received so many unsuitable replies. They liked our fully clothed photo and had sent us one of them.

They were dressed in tasteful modern clothes. He was pleasantly attractive, slightly built and intelligent looking. His wife was stunning. A little shorter than him with a neat plump figure and a beautiful face.

I said to Richie, "Wow, she's gorgeous."

"I saw her first. You didn't mention that you have lesbian tendencies," he laughed.

"I don't think I do but I may just make an exception in her case," I replied.

All that made for an exciting shag on the kitchen table.

.........................................

We exchanged more intimate photos. They sent us one of them standing naked next to each other. He had an erection.

"Beautiful!" I gasped when I saw the photo.

"Yes, it's a bit bigger than mine," said Richie.

I didn't mean his cock but it saved me explaining.

Richie said, "Nice to see decent sized tits and hips. No offence."

"None taken," I lied.

...............................

It took a while to establish a trust between us and them. It was uncharted territory for both couples. They had received letters from some really strange people before they got ours. Mostly from men who wanted to do some very bizzare things to Kulpna while Bharat watched them.

Slowly we discovered that they were originally from a small town in Uttar Pradesh but had moved to England twelve years ago. Bharat was a professor of Fluid Mechanics (no, I didn't know what it meant either) in Southampton. Like us they had no kids. It just hadn't happened for us. I told my mother, and Rich's mother too for that matter, that these days women had the choice. It didn't really bother me, after all it's not like the medical profession would ever be able to do anything about it anyway.

The couple lived in Christchurch, which they said was in Dorset. Everybody else in Christchurch thought that they lived in Hampshire. Some bureaucrats can move a line on a map but they can't change hundreds of years of history.

So many of the stories and letters about wife swapping in 'Fiesta' involved a bish, bash, bosh scenario but we all wanted to take a more cautious approach. It was important for us to like the other couple.

We planned our first meeting on neutral ground, an Italian Restaurant in Bournemouth. There would be nothing physical.

It went really well. Kulpna was even more lovely in real life. Her light brown skin radiated. She was modest and charming.

We all laughed when she said that she had grown up reading the Famous Five books of Enid Blyton and then Jane Austin. England had come as a bit of a shock to her. She hadn't had afternoon tea once.

It hadn't taken her long to realise that she liked 1970s England better. The contrast to India was enormous. Women were free here to be themselves. She loved her family back home but they could be stifling. She was glad that they weren't watching her when she went shopping in Southampton or Bournemouth. Particularly in the Lingerie Shops.

Kulpna had worn her Sarees and Bindi for about a month and then packed them away.

I told her that I didn't know a great deal about India other than that the Beatles liked it there. Kulpna gave her lovely tinkling laugh.

Bharat was quite witty. He promised not to talk about Fluid Mechanics and Richie promised not to talk about Precision Engineering. Both Bharat and Kulpna spoke excellent English but she had been less exposed to some of our everyday idioms.

By the end of the evening both Rich and I were in love with Kulpna and Bharat but on top of that I was completely besotted by Kulpna.

..................................................

Two weeks later we met at their house.

Kulpna cooked a lovely meal. It was delicious. She had held back on the spices, she said, but it was still quite hot and made me sweat a little. Obviously, we had eaten Curry before but it has always come out of a packet that you added hot water to. This was a revelation, so many different tastes and textures. Kulpna said that it was all vegetarian.

She said that they were Hindus so, in theory, they avoided meat but since they had been in England they had tried all sorts of food except Beef.

After dinner we talked and drank a few glasses of wine. Another thing that they did over here that they hadn't done a lot of in India.

We could all feel the sexual tension in the room. It was like no-one wanted to appear too keen.

In the end Kulpna said, "Rishi and I will have our bedroom, she couldn't quite say Richie. April and Bharat can have the Guest Bedroom. I have made up the third double room, if anybody changes their mind they can go in there.

I said, "I don't think that anybody will get cold feet."

Kulpna looked shocked and said, "Oh, no, if you do, there are extra blankets in the wardrobe."

All three of us laughed loudly. Kulpna looked confused. Bharat said something to her in Hindi and she blushed slightly and then laughed that enchanting laugh again.

When Bharat and I were alone he was even more courteous and gentle. He took me in his arms and kissed me gently but passionately. He turned me around slowly and kissed the back of my neck. Unzipping my dress, he allowed it to drop to the floor.

I was glad that I'd taken care in choosing my underwear. Black always looked good against my white skin. I couldn't help wondering what Kulpna was wearing next to her fabulous body.

After hundreds of years of trying, men still haven't found a sexy way of removing their trousers and socks. This includes Indian men too, I learned.

But once he was down to his white boxer shorts, Bharat had regained most of his dignity.

His body wasn't muscular but it did have a wiry fitness about it. I took the large bulge in his shorts as a compliment. I must admit that I had been a little worried in case he didn't find me attractive.

He eased me towards the bed and sat me down. Standing in front of me he dropped and stepped out of his shorts.

My head jerked back slightly at the sight of his prick. I expected it to be a little bigger than Richie's but what I didn't expect was the jewellery. Around the base of both his penis and testicles was a gold ring. It had the effect of pushing his bollocks forward. As if this wasn't exotic enough, on the top of the ring facing proudly forward was what appeared to be the golden head of a Cobra.

So not only did I have a very stiff cock pointing at me but I was being stared at by a pair of red painted snake's eyes.

I wondered if this was some sort of Hindu tradition or if it was something that Bharat had thought up himself.

In my mind I had been rather hoping that I would get fucked doggy fashion this evening but it occurred to me pretty quickly that that may not make the best use of this reptile head.

Trying to put this thought on hold for a minute, I slipped my lips over the head of Bharat's cock. I sucked quite hard until I felt him tense slightly. I shouldn't have been surprised. Despite it being called cock sucking, Richie doesn't actually like his cock sucked as such. Evidently, I don't think that Bharat does either.

I bobbed my head up and down. Bharat made appreciative noises as he pulled first one bra strap off my shoulder and then the other one. This allowed my nipples to shyly emerge into sight.

Bharat took my head in his hands and raised it from his dick. He bent forward and kissed me firmly on the lips. As he released his hold he pushed me gently back onto the bed at the same time he lifted my legs and turned me so that I was lying in the middle of it.

I arched my back slightly as Bharat expertly removed my knickers.

It could be that he sensed that I was way past the stage where foreplay was required or maybe it was just that he was more than ready, I have no idea. Nevertheless, he eased my legs apart and slid between them. He lifted my knees and entered me simultaneously.

He was big. I was ready.

It soon became obvious what the golden Cobra head was for.

I thought it would be cold but it wasn't. An evening of close contact with Bharat had warmed it up.

I thought it would be hard and it was a little. It wasn't unpleasant. It just nudged my clitoris on each thrust.