A Second Generation Wonderslut

"Guys, I'm not breaking up with you, I just, I just need some space." We were driving, Cassie's call had come through on loudspeaker, and clearly Cassie was trying to let us down gently.

Cassie was the woman my wife Tabby and I fucked regularly after we began having sex with people outside of our marriage. Together we learned so much about how to share, how to manage when not everything goes as you might have planned, and how to enjoy letting go and letting lust flow. She was also our first experience of developing an incredibly close bond with someone through sex, and here she was putting an end to it.

"Cassie, is there someone else?" Tabby asked, and we both laughed out loud at the script we were following so precisely.

"Well, now you mention it, yes - I am seeing a new man, and his name is Jason. Normally I'd love for you guys to meet him, but - well, I think I'll keep our recent history just between us."

I thought it was entirely understandable, not every new partner would be cool about wild sex and debauchery. But I realised very quickly that our new found love of fucking other people was going to take a bit of organisation and hard work if we were to continue.

"Don't you worry about us, Cassandra, you reformed little slut, your secret is safe with us. And also, don't think about you and I doing 69, or about Karl and I tying you down and making you cum with a vibrator and a feather." Tabby was laying it on thick.

"STOP! I think I may need to look after myself and then go and meet Jason's parents. You two are the best. And the hottest. It's not over, so can we just.....press pause?"

"We might be busy that night" I said, and I received a warm chuckle from Cassie for my efforts.

"Go with grace, Cassandra, and bring him over to the dark side. Byeeeeeee" said Tabby, and shortly after the call disconnected.

We looked at each other, both of us feeling a little sorrowful despite how supportive we were with the decision.

"Well, fuck!" Said Tabby.

"Beautifully said, Tabitha." I concurred.

"You know what this means, don't you?" Tabby didn't wait for me to answer. "It means you are going to have to get online and find us someone to fuck, because I'm not ready to stop just yet."

"It's a big job, but I'm up to it. I'll throw the line out tonight and see what I can reel in."

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It was harder than I thought. Some people had photos 15 years out of date, some couldn't spell, some wanted to do stuff we weren't into, and some were just not a four way match. Also, some people who looked ideal lived a very long way away from us.

We tried to reconnect with Marina and Max, the couple who had seduced us into the world of sharing, but distance and schedules meant that didn't happen.

One night while we were lying in bed, I stumbled across the section of the site where people could advertise for quick hook ups. The idea of a random, risky hook up would usually seem utterly distasteful, but all of a sudden it seemed absolutely ideal to desperate souls like Tabby and me.

We found a couple saying they were in town for one night, and I responded. The messagiong that followed was fine. The photos were fine. The hotel they suggested meeting at was fine. The wine that Tabby was knocking back like it was water was better than fine.

"Tabby, we're meeting them for a drink, nothing more, just relax" I said.

"You know it's not just a drink! It's a drink with people who want to fuck us, Karl. Do you know how crazy that sounds?" In fairness, she had a good point, so I allowed her to get ready for our date and take courage from the bottle at the same time.

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Thom and Petra. The names should have warned me off. But they were attractive, and engaging. The wine flowed, the conversation flowed, and before we knew it we were having a perfectly pleasant time. They were no Max and Marina, but they were confident, engaging - and easy enough on the eye.

We told them about our indoctrination into swinging and they told us of their many years in the lifestyle, and that they liked to play together or alone. If that was their way of signalling their intentions it was missed by Tabby who was well on the road to intoxication, and missed by me because at that moment a call came through on my work phone.

I made my excuses and moved away from the table, and then I used the opportunity to go to the bathroom. As I came out of the bathroom to rejoin Tabby and our new friends, Petra was waiting for me. She pulled me by my hand and led me around the corner and into the vacant "family change" room.

And locked the door.

She then rushed me, kissing me hard, forcing her tongue in my mouth. I put my hands on her shoulders and pushed her back slightly, but she had real strength and came for me again.

"My cunt is wet for you Karl, ever since I saw your photo I've been waiting to feel your cock in me. Can you do it now, - can you fuck me please?"

She was like a crazy woman, but despite myself, I was getting aroused. She was reaching into her panties as she spoke, and the scent of her own arousal hit me. She pushed her finger, slick with her wetness into my mouth and together we licked them dry. Without another word she dropped to her knees and pulled my cock out, manipulating me to full hardness expertly.

"I'm going to swallow your cock, baby, then you're going to cum deep in my cunt. I'm going to suck you so much better than she can."

Those last words hit me like a slap across the face.

"Pardon?" I asked. My cock had deflated fully. She looked up at me, confused.

I tucked myself in and opened the lock, leaving Petra getting up off her knees looking confused. I made my way back to where we had been enjoying our drinks to find Tabby and Thom were nowhere to be seen. I looked around, seeing no sign of my wife and our new "friend."

Petra caught up with me and tugged at my arm.

"Karl, come on, let's go find the other two, they'll be up in our room."

"Who said anything about going up to your room?" I asked. "Last I heard we were having drinks with you guys, and now......when did things escalate?"

Instead of answer, Petra just led the way to the lift and we rode to the 4th floor in silence. We opened the door and there on the bed was Tabby, dress up, panties still on, and Thom putting on a condom in preparation for imminent penetration of my wife.

"What the fuck is happening here?" I demanded.

It broke the moment, Thom's head shot around to see me approaching the bed, and realised I was clearly unhappy. Tabbly lifted her head drunkenly off the bed.

"Karl, did she fuck you good?"

That threw me. Tabby is a stickler for grammar, and never would she ask such a question. No matter how drunk, she would ask me "did she fuck you well?"

"What do you mean, Tabby?"

"Thom here told me that she was gonna fuck you good, so I'm here about to get a good fucking of my own."

She was slurringly drunk, and there was a belligerence to her tone. I realised very quickly that these people had decided to divide and conquer.

I acted quickly and decisively. I helped my wife off the bed and pulled her dress down to its appropriate length. Feeling her drunken weight against me, I realised just how many drinks she must have had, and how she ended up, pussy nearly exposed in the hotel room without me.

Tabby held on to me as we lurched out of the hotel and into the car. I strapped her in, and we drove away from the hotel, far enough to feel some comforting distance between us and them, before I parked the car and pulled her to me in an awkward but genuinely loving embrace.

We said nothing, we just stayed there, holding each other. When we finally disengaged, Tabby sagged back against the car seat, and I saw her eyes were wet. She seemed to have sobered up now we were away from the situation, and she looked at me warily.

"I don't need it that much, Karl. When it's good, it's great. But when it's not great.....it's not good enough."

I let her words sink in.

"We dodged a bullet, Tabbycat." I said. I leaned over and kissed her gently. "Love you, you drunken slapper." I received a playful swat in response.

As we drove, Tabby recounted the story from the moment I left to take the phone call.

"They plied me with wine, and I didn't even think about refusing. I was enjoying myself, and they seemed perfectly nice. Perfectly fuckable, actually. Her boobs looked amazing, and since Cassie isn't visiting any more, I thought I'd quite like to spend some time with another woman.

They must have a bit of a system worked out, because no sooner had you left the table, they kind of went into "go" mode. Petra was the instigator - she suggested taking it upstairs to their room, and that Thom would come down and get you once she'd shown me the way. Anyway, we got upstairs and they basically attacked me, and it felt pretty fucking hot, because I thought you were about to walk through the door and join us.

Petra had her back a off and I was sucking on her boobs that were borrowed but beautiful, and she had a hand up my dress with her fingers doing impressive things to my clit. Thom was pushing his cock against my bum, and when I turned to look it was still in his trousers, so there was no reason to think I was in trouble. Then it was my turn for the loo, and when I came out, Petra was nowhere to be seen.

Thom got me another drink and set about seducing me. To his credit he was in no rush, and I have to give it to him - he can kiss. Anyway, after a while he told me that we should get on with our own fun because he was confident Petra was fucking you downstairs somewhere. I found that odd, but I was very drunk, and actually the thought of you being seen to was very hot. We kissed, he rubbed me through my panties, he took out his cock and masturbated himself as we kissed. He got up to get a condom, and I took that opportunity to lay back and close my eyes - I was so tired all of a sudden. And then you came in.

"I'm so sorry I took so long." I said to her. "No more taking calls when we're on lifestyle dates - unless it's an emergency. Deal?" I asked.

"Deal" She responded. "Speaking of which, better check the sky hasn't fallen since I checked my phone last." Tabby fished her phone out of her handbag to check for messages.

"Shit, Karl, I've had 10 missed calls from an unknown number" she said, worry creeping into her tone. She quickly called voicemail, which came through the car stereo.

"Hi, this is a message for Mrs Tabatha Sumner. I'm Doctor Clousten from Wellington hospital, your mother is quite unwell and we have your number as her emergency contact. Please get in touch with me on the following number urgently."

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We were spared any difficult decisions or long, tortuous moments waiting for news, because an hour after we arrived, the good doctor came out to deliver the news.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Sumner, we did everything we could......"

Those few words turned our worlds upside down. Well, Tabby's world, really. I knew her mum as a woman who did her own thing, eschewed society's demands on her as a woman, and someone who made no secret of the fact that she would have preferred her daughter not to have "given in" and done the whole marriage thing.

Tabby did not much like her mother, she was much closer to her father who had died ten years ago, breaking her heart. She tolerated her mother, she humoured her mother, but mostly she avoided her mother. It was easier to receive postcards (yes, postcards) from wherever her mother was travelling or visiting. The postcards were always signed "Love, Val." Never "Mum", always Val.

But, however difficult she was, she was still the woman who brought Tabby kicking and screaming into this world, and now that woman was dead. I had no idea how this would impact on Tabby - I assumed she'd go a little quiet, that the 100w bulb might dim for a period, but I wasn't expecting her to shut off like she did.

Tabby completely withdrew from me and the kids. She was present purely in a physical sense. After a few days it got a little much and I sat her down to talk.

"Tabs, I'm worried about you. I'm worried how the kids are finding all this, too. I know Val wasn't your classic grandma-type, but they're hurting seeing you hurting."

My mention of the type of grandma Val had been was a soft attempt at humour. She would tell our son on her very infrequent visits that he must turn against his very nature and be someone the world needed. And to our daughter she gave survival tips in a male-dominated world.

The humour went unacknolwedged.

Tabby's empty eyes and wan expression were almost too much to take. Tears slid from her eyes and she just shrugged. I gathered her in for a hug that I hoped would convey my love for her, but after feeling no response, after a few seconds I let her go. I looked at her for a long time, and an answer came to me.

"Cassie's beach house!" I whispered quietly.

She stared back at me, a frown clouding her pale, pretty face.

"Cassie's parents own a beach house in Patea. They're both in rest homes, her brother apparrently just uses it to get away from his family and spend weekends there permastoned. But he's now living in Australia, it's perfect for you."

Wordlessly, she got up and began packing her things.

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Tabby was away for three very long weeks. My mother came to stay during the week, ensuring I could focus on my work, and in the weekends, the kids and I walked on the beach lots, spent time on our bikes, watched movies and gave Tabby all the space and time she needed to heal.

I largely forgot about sex, let alone sex with anyone other than my beautiful partner. Strangely, since we'd begun fucking other people, sex had become a much more prominent facet of our lives, and yet conversely, it had become a much smaller issue in our lives. Prior to becoming "adult connectors" as we liked to call ourselves, (because frankly we couldn't quite get our head around the lable of "swingers") the sex seemed to be some kind of yardstick of our relationship. If we weren't having enough sex, it would become "a thing", and blame was attributed.

Now - sex was just another part of our lives, and if we weren't doing it a lot, it didn't matter. It wasn't about frequence or quality, and we could share a quick coupling before sleep, unburdened by the weight of scrutiny.

I had returned to my bachelor days of watching porn and masturbating before sleep, and I was looking forward to sharing the content I'd found with Tabby when she had done her soul searching. She always liked watching the things I watched, not that we shared the same fantasies, but it was always hot to know what flicked our respective switches.

I was cutting up carrots for dinner when I heard the front door open and close. A moment later I felt arms around me from behind.

"Guess who?" she asked quietly against my back.

"Angela?" I asked. She shook her head.

"Pamela?" Another shake of the head. I took my time with the next guess.

"Sandra? Rita? Monica?" She took her cue.

"Nope, not Erica, Tina, Sandra, Mary or Jessica." I laughed and turned to her holding her in my arms. Mambo number 5 was a guilty pleasure and one that made Tabby do silly dance moves.

Still holding each other, I got the information I needed.

"You ok?"

"Yep." She replied simply.

"Good to hear. Glad you're back." I said.

"Guess what?" Tabby asked.

I said nothing, waiting for her. Which was the wrong move, she squeezed me so my ribs hurt.

"What?" I coughed.

"Mum was a filthy fucking swinger."

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That night as we lay in bed, Tabby took me through her last three weeks. Lots of walking, lots of tears, lots of weed smoked (a thing she did by herself or with friends from school) and clearly the odd revelation or two. Val had left her a long letter and a bunch of unsent postcards in a box that was labeled "the postcards I wished I could send you." In these short messages dating back two decades, Tabby's Mum shone a light on her life as someone who shared the love. Tabby was holding one of them in her hand and gave it to me to read.

"Dear Tabitha,

So now you know that I'm something of what society calls a "slut". You know I've never liked labels, but if a slut is someone who fucks for the sheer joy of doing so, then yes, I am a slut. And I'm ok with it.

Your father, bless him, couldn't handle the fact that I wanted to be with other men sometimes, and women. He tried, but it just wasn't his thing. My sexual appetite drove him away, Tabitha. He was a good man, your dad, and I hated hurting him. We made things right before he died, so when it's my time, I'll go in peace, and with a smile on my face.

Don't hate me Tabitha, I'm human and I have always craved sex. I think there's something of me in you, and I wonder if one day you will have your own experiments with the flesh. I love you, my little Tabitha, more than you will ever know.

Love, Mum.

PS - Auntie Jean is my longest-term girlfriend, we've been raging lesbos for years!!!!!!

"Whoa." I said. "Val the sex fiend - who knew?" I said.

"I know!" said Tabby. "So cool, though."

We were quiet for a while, then Tabby added, as an afterthought.

"Oh we've got a date on Wednesday night."

"What?" I questioned. "Didn't we say we were going to take a break?" I asked.

She frowned.

"No. We had a date with a pair of arseholes and then my mum died. I never said anything about stopping, I just think we should do it better, that's all. Besides, fucking is in my genes, and who am I to stand in the way of nature?"

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Wednesday evening found us nervously de-hairing, choosing clothes, discarding them, re-choosing them and then realising we were close to running late. As we drove, Tabby filled me in on who we were meeting and how it came to be.

"So, during my "Indulgence" (as her break had come to be known), I had a good look at what I wanted out of this lifestyle, and I decided it was time for me to be a bit more proactive. So, I got lightly stoned one night and looked for a couple for us to meet. That's when I found Jake and Imogen, aka My other car's an Aston."

"What a fucking awful name" I declared.

"I know. And they know - it's some kind of private joke, and it's their online couple name, so - anyway. They're lovely, we shared messages on Kik, and they wanted to meet us."

"When were you going to add me to the chat?" I asked, starting to feel the stirrings of resentment.

"Karl - remember - Indulgence. Me. Not you. Me."

I stayed silent.

"Anyway, we shared photos, we shared things we like and don't like, and they decided they wanted to meet sooner rather than later. You're going to love her - she's got the best tits."

"I love your boobs." I said, which is true.

"I know you do, Karl - and I love that you do, but remember, this lifestyle means you can love my boobs and want other boobs, too. I love your cock, but I also love the feeling of another man's cock sliding into me."

I was suddenly as hard as rock. She had returned from her time away a more centred version of herself. She had an air of strength that I never knew she was lacking. As we walked into the hotel, such was her quiet confidence that it didn't occur to me to think of the last hotel visit. I was just happy to be on the arm of Tabby, the second generation wonderslut.

The hotel was pure quality. Rather than a reproduction of a corporate mold somewhere in America, this was all colours and art, and it helped to creat a sense of occasion. When we saw our hosts, I immediately saw what Tabby had found so compelling. They were normal, very attractive people.

We hugged, and in fact Imogen and I kissed briefly on the lips, causing her to break the ice immediately.