tagLoving WivesA 'Swinging' Door Opens

A 'Swinging' Door Opens


This is the first of a series of true stories detailing how I turned my wife from her rigidly moralistic background to a woman who became one-half of a swinging couple who enjoyed sex as much as anyone ever has. It explains how I slowly managed to convert her from the straight-laced lovely I married to a woman who could trip a man and beat him to the floor. It’s also a love story. I could never love anyone more.

1. Beginnings: Mike had been fucking my wife for over 6 years before I wrote this.

The first time it happened, I thought it was just a fluke, but I certainly hoped that wasn't the case. I had been assuring Linda for so long that I didn't mind that she and Mike were obviously attracted to each other and encouraged her to let it continue. So, it was with a little surprise, but a great deal of satisfaction that I heard her say the words I wanted to hear so badly.

"Mike came over today," she said, almost challengingly. She was watching my face for a reaction.

"And.....?" I replied, starting to shed my clothes as I headed for the bedroom.

"And he kissed me," she said defensively.

I turned, taking off my shirt and said, "Well, that's nothing. He's done that before, hasn't he," knowing full well the answer. I had seen Mike kiss my wife several times as they danced at the local lodge. Who wouldn’t want to do the same? He had just been the first to be so blatant about it, knowing I was watching without obvious disapproval.

At the ripe old age of 31, she still had most of the shape I had admired since our high-school days when, on a dare, I had taken her out the first time. Very much a loner previously, I had admired her from afar, but never had the nerve to ask her out. She had many boys my age around her, but didn’t appear to pay any more attention to them than she did me. Four years later, we married. The 38D cups that covered her lovely breasts had, after two children, swollen to 42DD. Her waist had thickened from seventeen inches to the current 24, and her hips now measured what her bust had when we were first married, but she was still a walking wet dream. I knew it, and so did every man with whom she came in contact. Soft brown hair worn in a page-boy framed a face lovelier than anyone. Mischievous hazel eyes lit with joy when she was excited. That was when I realized that, after twelve years of marriage, she was becoming aroused by another man. What I couldn’t believe was why that turned me on as it had and why I was doing nothing to discourage her, in fact I was welcoming the attentions Mike displayed to her. I realized she did too.

"It went a little further than that," she announced, still watching for my reaction.

"We were sitting on the couch, talking, and he kissed me several times. Then he touched my breasts."

I was still smiling as I took off my work boots and started on my trousers.

"Well, I would have expected that. After all, he's no dummy. I think he feels the same way about you that you do about him, so obviously he would be attracted to you." I had probably let the air out of her sails by saying that. She had expected me, I think to start back peddling on the pronouncement that I had made after the last time we had been out dancing with Mike and his wife. That little chat in the car had led her to admit that she was attracted to him after I had asked her directly. When she said she was, I told her that she should let whatever was going to happen, happen. We were still talking about it that night as we fell into bed. I made sure that I gave her a good hug and kiss before muttering a response to her question about how far she should let it go. It was a question we had debated endlessly before from the time I had first told her I was interested in the swinging lifestyle that had become so prevalent.

She had laughed at first, then "poo-pooed" the idea, asking me if I would be willing to have another man make love to her. I didn't realize that it was a loaded question then. I do now. When I told her I would, she became angry, telling me that I didn't love her, etc. She was rigid when I took her into my arms and kissed her, telling her that I very much loved her and wanted nothing more than for her to be happy, but I also wasn't worried about another man taking her away from me. I thought our love would be enough to withstand anything anyone else could tempt us with. She would always be mine.

It had pacified her for a while, but I could tell she still wasn't in love with the idea, nor did she know just how far I was willing to go with it. I didn't help her out. I knew the attraction to Mike was there. It had been, right from the start. I had seen the lechery in his eyes when he first saw Linda, and I had seen her responding to him in "non-sexual" ways that led a man on. The relationship grew. I was hoping it would flourish.

"He'll be back, you know," were her final words to me before we went to sleep that night.

He was, in less than a week.

I had not felt well when I came home that day and so I retired early, pleading a headache. Linda sat up and read, as she often did. It was almost nine when I heard the doorbell ring in my groggy, medicated mind. I heard voices, but I couldn't make out the words. Thinking that it might be someone from work and pertaining to my job, I got up. I was at the door to the bedroom and had opened it softly before I realized that the male voice was Mike's. Curious, The lights in the bedroom still off, I stood there, straining to hear every word, but it obviously wasn't a conversation intended for me. Only when he stood in a certain position could I hear anything intelligible, and then only a few words of the sentence.

Then I heard Linda laugh softly and knew that something was going on that I wanted to know about. Getting a small shaving mirror from the bathroom, I put it in the dark hallway, taking a chance on being observed as I leaned it against the wall. Fortunately, I wasn't. I went back into the bedroom and stood at the door, staring through the crack between the door and the facing, into the mirror. The mirror placement was almost perfect. If there had been just a little less hallway, I could have seen them both. As it was, I had just a partial view of Mike sitting on the couch next to my wife. He seemed very relaxed, smiling and nodding as he usually did, one arm out of sight at shoulder height, leading me to believe that it was around Linda.

At first nothing happened. I was seriously considering shutting the door and going back to bed when I saw him lean toward the arm that was out of sight. Most of his body was out of my line of sight. It stayed that way for a long time, then it happened again. This time I saw his other arm disappear out of sight.

I felt my cock swelling. I suspected I knew where that hand was going. It took almost thirty minutes for my suspicions to be confirmed. Linda came into view, the top of her gown spread widely apart. She sat down in Mike's lap, facing him, straddling his body. I could see both his hands now. They were clasping her buttocks, one on each side, gently squeezing them. Linda had leaned forward and was kissing him.

I had known from the start that Mike was a butt man. Almost from the first, as soon as he and my wife had began dancing together at the club, it seemed his hands were constantly near her warm ass, stroking, fondling it, much as I would have been with her breasts. What was even more appealing was that he knew I had seen him doing it. He had given me a few appraising or questioning looks during such occasions. I had always returned them with a smile and a slight nod. Although I hadn't gotten anywhere with his wife, he was obviously doing quite well with mine. I didn't mind that a bit. Neither did his wife, Tanya.

She certainly wasn't blind, and obviously had become inured to her husband's little peccadilloes. Tonight was a little different though. Mike was uncharacteristically quiet. As I watched, I could see that Linda's head was at least eight inches above his. I could barely see his hair over her shoulder. That told me that he had found those delightful breasts of hers just as interesting as her ass. Linda's arms were spread, and her forearms in front of her. She was obviously holding one or both of them up for his admiration and approval. I heard a little sigh of contentment as her head came back and she leaned closer to him. His hands, still on her ass, were tugging her gown higher and higher, edging closer and closer to a full view of her creamy butt cheeks. Both her arms dropped and one of his hands disappeared from sight between them. Linda murmured something and raised herself slightly. I saw that she had unzipped his trousers and pushed them down slightly. Mike's nuts were prominently displayed between the fabric of his trousers, already below his crotch, and the cheeks of my wife's ass.

At first they remained like that, rocking back and forth slightly, occasionally exchanging kisses. Each kiss lasted a little longer and so did the movement of Mike's hands over my wife's body. Finally I saw her shake her head slightly and raise herself. Mike reached between them, while slowly snaking his trousers lower. I saw his thumb disappear in the vee between her legs and his balls. Linda gasped slightly and then I saw her lean forward and kiss him again. It lasted longer than ever before, and then she stood up, letting her gown fall back into place.

When Mike got up, my curiosity got the better of me. I tiptoed out of the bedroom and into the hall. I got there just in time to see Mike, with both his hands inside Linda's gown, kiss her and slide his hands down to cup her ass once more. Linda closed and locked the door behind him as I scurried back to the bedroom, retrieving my mirror as I went.

I had barely gotten back to bed before she turned out the light in the living room and I heard her steps coming down the hallway. I had recovered to a semi rigid state by the time she finished her nightly ablutions and joined me in bed. Her arm accidentally touched me as she pulled the covers up. I feigned a sleepy question.

"Was that Mike?" and listened for her reply.

"Yes," she answered shortly.

"Good," I murmured, before pretending to go back to sleep.

I said nothing about the late night visit that had lasted more than three hours the next morning. Linda had nothing to say either. I spent the day with difficulty, wondering what she would tell me when I got home that evening.

I literally had to pry it out of her as we sat eating supper that night.

"I thought I heard Mike last night. Was he over?"

She nodded. "What did he want?" I asked as innocently as possible.

"He said he wanted to talk to you about this weekend," she responded, eyeing her succotash, "and that he would call you later."

"Did he have anything else to say?" I asked. Her reply was just a shake of her head before she added "No, we just talked for a while, then he went home."

It was still troubling me when I was preparing to go to work the next day. So much so that, to my disgrace, I put a voice activated tape recorder beneath our bed with the mike taped behind the headboard. I wanted to hear more of their conversations and, after last night, I suspected it might occur in our bedroom.

For three or four days I got nothing. Then, on the next day, after she went over to see her friend, Laura, I pulled the tape recorder out, turned it on and hit pay dirt.

At first it was just muffled sounds, then their laughter and the creak of the bed as they settled into it. Linda was silent except for little sighs of appreciation. When the sounds of the headboard bumping the wall behind it rhythmically, I looked up to where it would have made contact. I saw the thin line of disturbed texture where it had rubbed against the wall. Mike had spent a large part of the day, judging from the length of the tape, fucking my wife. He cooed with pleasure as he sunk his dick into her, urging her to spread her legs wider. The intermittent silences, except for the headboard, signaled what I suspected was a change in positions. Finally I heard Linda, almost gasping, say "I'm cum-m-m-i-n-g," and a final gasp that I've heard from her many times as her orgasm peaked.

There was a muffled, "Wow" from Mike and some other exchanges of words before the marital bed resumed its squeaking. Three times more I heard Linda gasping with pleasure before the final sounds that sent me into my own ecstasy.

I had heard him say that he had to go more than two hours into the tape, even after fast-forwarding it through the unintelligible parts. His next words were the key.

"Suck it," I heard him whisper, then the sounds of my wife's mouth on his organ just before he exploded in her mouth with a gasp of his own.

"Don't go away, honey," were Mike's last words on the tape as they closed the bedroom door behind them and went down the hallway together, with Linda laughing.

I left the recorder there for days after, hoping to hear more but nothing came. It was more than a month later before Linda finally told me that Mike had nailed her. Again.

"Mike picked me up to go flying today," she said, as we finished supper that night. It had been a gloomy day, heavy with rain-swollen clouds, so I knew that they couldn't have made it together in the airplane. Then she finally said the words I had hoped to hear. They came flooding out.

"It was too cloudy, so we couldn't go. We went to the push button motel instead," she said as nonchalantly as she would have announced she had been shopping. The push button motel was a local haunt for those who wanted privacy during an affair.

I looked at her and saw her face was flaming with embarrassment. Then she blurted out, "and he fucked me. Are you happy now?"

I wiped my mouth with my napkin and went around to stand beside her.

"I'm delighted, I said, hugging her, "and I only hope that you enjoyed it as much as he probably did."

The tears poured down her cheeks as she admitted that our friend had spent the entire day plowing my wife's hungry pussy, leaving her full of his cum, exhausted by their mutual efforts and enjoyment. "I didn't want to tell you," she said, sobbing and holding onto me, "but he made me promise that I would. I'm so ashamed."

"Why?" I asked her, tilting her head up and kissing her. "I suspected this would happen sooner or later. I'm just surprised that it took him this long to get the nerve to ask you to be with him. And I'm delighted." I could tell from the expression on her face that this wasn't what she had expected to hear. She was barely able to croak out "And you don't mind?" as the tears continued.

"No, honey," I assured her, kneeling down beside her and holding her even closer, "I not only don't mind, I hope you'll do it again. That's what I've been telling you all along, I wanted you to do it with him. I wanted it to happen, and I'm glad that it was with someone like Mike, who we both like." I paused for a moment, kissing her again, then asked the critical question.

"Did you enjoy it?" I wasn't prepared for the answer I got.

"Yes, damn you!" she responded, pounding the table with her small fist, "I enjoyed it. Now I hope you're happy. And I will do it again. I liked feeling him inside me, but I'll never understand why you wanted me to fuck him."

I had to think for a moment. Her response wasn't anything like what I expected to hear, and I knew that I had to be very careful or blow the whole thing.

"Because I like the thought of other men making love to you, and your responding to them because you like what they do to you, or what it feels like when you do it with them. If it hadn't been Mike, at one time or another, it would have been someone else." I held up my hand as she started to respond to that.

"I don't see anything wrong with it. Do you love me any less than you did yesterday?" I could see she was thinking, then she slowly shook her head.

"And I have to tell you that I love you more every day, and especially today because you did something that you knew I wanted you to do, then told me about it. That took nerve." I hugged her again and kissed her.

That night, after we made love, she lay close to me and whispered contentedly, "I do love you, you know. I just couldn't believe that it wouldn't embarrass or hurt you to know that I was with another man and enjoyed it."

I cuddled her in my arms and added a few words to those I had already reaffirmed repeatedly tonight and before.

"I hope you will continue to enjoy it," I told her softly. "I want you and Mike to be together as often as you want and I have no objection if there are other men with whom you want to be. It just proves what a desirable lovely woman you are. It makes me feel even better to know that they think so too."

"But what about Tanya?" she asked. "Won't she be angry?"

"I hate to burst your bubble, honey, but Tanya already knows how Mike feels about you. I've already asked her about it before the two of you got together. She not only doesn't mind, she laughed and told me that it took some of the pressure off her. She has a thing going with another man too. Mike knows all about it. He doesn't mind either."

"But won't you be after her? After all, we talked about swinging and I thought that was what it was all about, having sex with each other's spouses."

"Of course I'd love to," I told her truthfully, but I don't think I'll get to first base with her. She already is having more than enough fun to suit her." I didn't know how prophetic those words were. It was years before I got to enjoy Tanya's charms.

It also wasn't until months later that my wife got up enough nerve to tell me what had happened that first time they had decided to go all the way in the push button motel. I still call it her first time, because the few other times he had fucked her, it had been just a frightening, worrisome (for her) prelude to what happened that day. It had been in Mike's mind, and hers too, for months before it went all the way as it did that day.

That first time, in our house that night, was just a test. A practice run, you might call it. All the groping and feeling that followed after that first short encounter and a few quicky fucks they had been able to enjoy for a short time, had been fun, but not satisfying for either of them. Now he had finally enjoyed the one that I knew would hook him. It had to happen sooner or later, and they both knew sooner or later, after that, that it was going to go all the way. Mike was sure by this time that she would be amenable to his charms, ready for an all day fuck. That's what it turned out to be, she admitted.

Mike had told her he was coming by to pick her up that morning and that they would be going "somewhere". She had suspected that he wanted to fuck her, but the idea of the push button motel hadn't occurred to her. She knew that he was already enjoying himself with the few short infrequent visits to our house, but she didn't realize how much more Mike wanted from her than a quick roll in the hay, and how long he had been planning this.

Mike added to her account much later, finally comfortable enough with our relationship that to tell me about that day. The wait was worth it. I could almost "see" what had happened that gloomy day weather-wise, but brilliant in my wife's development into a sexual being.

Linda had been dressed conservatively, he told me, but enticingly. When he picked her up and saw that peasant, off the shoulder blouse, he had wondered if she was wearing a bra. Her full, flowing, knee length skirt showed off her legs. He knew she would be wearing high heels. She always wore them, whether she planned to fly or not. She knew how well they set her legs off and how men liked to admire them.

She was a little surprised when Mike took the road that led to the interior rather than into town, but she didn't mind. She felt safe with him, pulled beneath his arm, held close to him.

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