Back in the Swing

My wife connects us with old and new friends

Part 1: Steve narrates.

"Don't you think we're too old for that now?"

That's what my wife said.

Ellie's face and posture indicted that she had resigned herself to our changed circumstances, even if I still held out hope for a return to the lifestyle we once enjoyed.

Ellie had a point. We had not been back to the resort for several years. We hadn't been back since Ellie's hip began to hurt whenever we had sex. When it became difficult for her to walk, Ellie finally decided it was time for her to have her hip surgically replaced. We didn't go out much the following summer while she was taking physical therapy.

Her physical therapist had told her that she had made an excellent recovery. Ellie could walk without a limp almost from the first day after surgery and now she could climb stairs with ease. Sex was back among the pleasures we shared together, although we were still careful not to stress her hip. She wasn't as flexible as she once was. It didn't matter to me. I was gentle when we made love. It was fun to have her back, even if half the positions in which we had once enjoyed having sex were now just memories.

And then there was the scar.

Ellie had not expected the scar to be that long. Neither had the orthopedic surgeon. But the surgery had been a bit more complicated than planned and the original incision had to be enlarged to complete the procedure. As complications go, it wasn't that big of a deal. Her life was never in danger. Her recovery was as quick as could be expected. Yet, there was the scar running several inches down her thigh. And it bothered her.

She recognized and admitted that she was being just a bit vain. Maybe a little more than that. She even apologized to me for it, which was totally unnecessary. Still, it was hard for her to get her confidence back despite my reassurance that she was still a very attractive and vibrant woman.

She had taken menopause in stride. Grey hair hadn't bothered her. She actually liked the way the streaks of grey made her look distinguished. The hip was a different kind of aging. It limited her active lifestyle. It made her feel old even after it was fixed. It was more than looks.

She had tried to just 'tough it out' when the hip started to bother her. She had been an athlete most of her life. She was familiar with the occasional pain of an injury. She tried to convince herself that she could work through it like she had so many times before. A couple weeks of stretching and whirlpools, then she would be back in form. That had worked when she was younger. That didn't work this time.

She didn't complain so I didn't notice at first. I commented when she didn't join her friends at the rowing club. She brushed it off as being too busy, although she wasn't. When she started taking an elevator instead of stairs whenever she had a choice, I knew something was wrong. We never lost the physical intimacy of naked cuddling as a married couple, but vigorous sex and swinging with friends was replaced by infrequent episodes of mutual masturbation at home.

The extended ordeal had caused my wife to lose her confidence. The new hip had taken away her pain, but it had not restored her confidence.

Her reaction was not entirely irrational. Competitive rowing was still out. A competitive rower powers the first phase of her stroke with knees drawn up to her chest. Even if she recovered the strength in her legs to power her stroke, her new hip was not designed for that sort of explosive force in full flexion. She could still row our dory, but she could not compete in a racing shell.

Ellie had always been as athletic in bed as she had been in a racing shell. She could buck as hard as any man could thrust. Our sex life was wide-ranging and inventive. She had more than one speed in bed. We could spend an afternoon fucking wildly in a variety of positions or we could have gentle sex spooned together on our sides that faded into a prolonged embrace. But she only had an orgasm with sex if she had worked up a sweat.

It had been a long time since she had an orgasm that didn't involve one of her vibrators or my tongue. She didn't trust her body to let another man fuck her, so what was the point of going to a resort where many of the couples were swingers.

She repeated her question for me.

"Don't you think we're too old for that now?"

I worked up my courage and gave her my best shot at an honest answer.

"Why don't we let Roger decide?"

Roger and Beth had been among our best friends at the resort. We parked our trailer next to their cabin for several summers. It wasn't just sex. We shared many meals on their deck as the sun set over the hills. And then there were all those late-night sessions talking about everything that mattered and sometimes laughing about nothing at all.

So, it was decided. After some emails back and forth with Roger and Beth, we would park our camper for the weekend next to their cabin again. We would sit on their porch and renew an old friendship. That was all Ellie promised. Maybe .... she said ... she would take her top off when we got there. She wasn't promising to swim in the pool or use the open-air showers, both of which would require her to be naked.

Part 2: Ellie narrates.

Both Roger and I could hear the noises coming from inside the cabin.

Giggles at first. That had to be Beth. Steve doesn't giggle. At least, not in a high sweet soprano register.

Then there were the grunts. Deep and loud. That either had to be Steve or a hippo. So, I assumed it was Steve. I imagined Beth's lips encircling Steve's cockhead as he leaned back against the headboard.

Finally, the bed springs began to creak rhythmically followed by a duet of deep guttural rumblings and high-pitched moans. It was obvious what they are doing.

Roger turned to me. His hand was on my knee just below the silky fabric covering my thigh. He was naked. His cock was still limp. I was topless. My nipples were already erect.

Roger and I sat together on a porch swing outside their cabin. Across the road, a mixed group of half-naked men and women were cheering a mixed group of naked men and women engaged in a game of volleyball. Nothing had changed in the years since we had been gone, not even the frayed net for naked volleyball. I was beginning to feel more comfortable.

I let Roger lean into me. His hand cupping my breast felt good. Roger's playful nibble on my ear was followed by his reassuring voice whispering in my ear.

"I know you want this. And I know you're a little nervous."

I bit my lower lip and looked down. There was so much to say. I couldn't find the words. He was right, of course. I did want it ... and I was still nervous.

I was wearing a short wrap-around skirt that opened in front. I wasn't wearing panties so it would have been easy for Roger to slide his hand up my inner thigh to reach my moist pussy. A part of me still hadn't decided if I wanted that to happen, but the part of me that picked out what I wore that morning had decided that if it was going to happen then I wasn't going to make it any harder.

Another advantage of this particular skirt is that I could be finger fucked or even straight-out fucked without the skirt coming off. The scar was on the outside of my hip so the skirt would hide my scar even when the flap was fully opened in front.

I was warming to the idea of having sex with Roger. We had done it before in what now seemed like "the old days". Roger had brought it up this time ... which wasn't surprising since we were at a swinger campground and we could hear our spouses having sex really loudly from our spot on the porch.

Roger had placed his hand on my bare knee again while we were talking. I put my hand over his and tugged it gently toward my pussy. He didn't take the hint.

I was disappointed. Maybe my fears were justified. Maybe I just wasn't attractive to him anymore. That explanation was quickly dispelled when he reached up to my waist and unfastened the snap that held my wrap-around in place. I wasn't wearing panties. Carefully pealing the skirt off and tossing it to one side, he revealed what was left of me to be exposed. He could see my well-trimmed pussy. He could also see my scar.

He looked intensely in my eyes to consider my reaction as he ran his fingers up my thigh to my moist pussy. I shuddered with pleasure, which he rightly took to be consent. He inserted his finger inside me while his thumb rubbed my clit. I moaned my encouragement. He apparently wasn't bothered by the scar and I was too distracted to worry about it any longer.

I was going to be fucked. The only question now was whether we would do it right there on the porch or join our spouses inside the cabin.

"You know Silvia had her hip done last year."

I opened my eyes and looked up at Roger. His face was calm. His fingers were still resting between the lips of my labia. His opening lines were not exactly what I expected if he really wanted to have sex with me. But I was in no position to protest so I just went along to see where this was going.

"Yes. I remember who she was ... I mean, is."

And I did. She was about the same age as my husband and me. In the years that we had been at the camp, she seemed to have a new partner every time we had seen her. She had been sharing the community jacuzzi in the embrace of a much younger man when we were pulling into the camp earlier that morning. She was always quite the exhibitionist. Her surgery apparently hadn't changed that.

"So, you know Silvia. She couldn't give up sex for any length of time. Turns out that her physical therapist was sympathetic. He gave her suggestions for a couple positions to use at first that would be both safe and comfortable with her new hip. Her favorite was standing up grasping a railing for support."

"And I see that you just happen to have a railing around your porch. Is that an invitation?"

I tried to deliver my lines in my most sultry voice. Roger and I had shared sex before. I wanted it again -- and without delay. Desire had overcome my hesitation. I didn't just want sex with a man other than my husband. I wanted to be fucked out in the open on a warm sunny day at a swinger's resort.

Roger leaned into me for a kiss. His probing tongue answered my question without words.

"I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable with this."

I kissed him again. Not passionately. That would come later ... but not much later. I kissed him as I would a friend for caring about me. He had addressed my anxieties. Now I really was comfortable with the decision we had just made.

I silently rose to my feet, leaned over the railing and braced myself. I have always enjoyed the feeling of an object -- dildo, finger, cock - moving deep inside me. I enjoy being penetrated. I smiled to myself in anticipation of Roger about to reach deep inside me with his long fleshy probe.

Roger's hands grasped my waist as his cock searched for an opening. I winced and straightened up as the tip of his cock pushed up against my ass hole. I wasn't ready for that and I don't think that he was either. As he pulled back to try again, I reached my hand between my legs and directed the head of his cock into my waiting pussy. He slipped in effortlessly. My dripping pussy had never shared my hesitancy. Now I was eager for him to fuck me.

Roger was draped over my back kneading my breasts, having just planted the full length of his cock inside me, when I saw the couple approaching us. They were walking down the narrow path between our porch and a rail fence. Unless they turned back, they would pass close enough to reach out and touch us.

They were newbies. That much was certain. You could tell as much by the way they were dressed as by the awestruck expressions on their faces when they saw us fucking in the open. They could have turned around and walked away, but that would have been even more awkward than continuing to walk down the path.

I acknowledged their presence with a nod of my head. With my breasts continuing to slap up against the railing with each of Roger's thrusts, it should have been clear to them that we weren't bothered by their presence.

Not all the regulars at the campground ran around naked. The dress code (if you want to call it that) was relaxed. No one put much thought into what they wore during the day. Jeans, shorts, t-shirts, tank tops. Sometimes just the top. Sometimes just the bottom. The evenings were different. Elaborate preparations went into making a statement at the parties. But no one swam or lounged on the settees by the pool unless they were naked. Nothing officially was posted. It was just one of those unspoken rules that had happened naturally and then become the custom. So, none of the regulars would have brought a swimsuit to the campground. The younger couples' swimsuits were one clue that they were newbies, although that fact was even more obvious by their expressions on seeing us.

They fit one of several profiles for couples curious about swinging. Married in their 20s. Now years later, they found themselves in late middle age. Maybe even over 50. The last of the children would have left their home for college or jobs. The conversation could have started when they were watching porno together in an empty house and wondering if they still had the spark for a licentious adventure. He would be the one to bring it up. It usually was the husband who made the suggestion. He would have found the website of the campground and showed her the photos of the pool with naked couples smiling and waving at the camera. She would be demure. Well, maybe we can just look around, she would say. And then they would make the reservation. They wouldn't have talked about what they wanted to do, because they didn't really plan on doing anything. They had fantasies but that's all. Just fantasies. That's what they would tell themselves.

Roger's gentle kneading of my breasts lulled me into a state of bliss. I moaned softly in contentment as his cock probed deeply into my pussy and his hands cradled my breasts. There was no rush to orgasm. His tempo was languidly sensuous.

Her voice broke my sexual reverie. I had temporarily forgotten about our voyeurs. When I opened my eyes, they were so close I could have reached out and touched either one of them.

"Ben, I don't think they want us to stare," she said, although her tone of voice was tentative, like she wanted to be reassured that, yes, it was OK to stare.

More than being OK, having audience was just what I needed to build my confidence. What higher complement could a naked woman want than to have an attractive younger couple want to stare at her while she was being fucked. If his cock was starting to strain to get out of his swimsuit and her pale chest was starting to flush with arousal ... well, that was just more confirmation that I was still desirable.

There was no way I could speak while Roger was continuing to slide his cock in and out of my pussy. Fortunately, Roger had more control of his arousal and spoke my thoughts without any prompting on my part.

"Oh, I think she likes to be watched. Don't you Ellie?"

I nodded and mouthed a 'yes' with only a low moan passing through my lips.

Roger had amazing control. Without breaking his rhythm, he asked the husband, "I think your wife would like to be up here getting fucked. Would you like to watch her?"

The man shifted nervously. He probably wasn't even aware that half of his cock had poked up through the waistband of his swim trunks and was dripping cum.

Roger turned to the man's wife. I did my part by looking like I was really enjoying the fuck and the attention we were attracting ... which I was.

Roger continued speaking to the woman without changing the rhythm with which he was fucking me. "That's his fantasy isn't it? To see you fucked by another man. Don't be scared. It's probably the most common fantasy for first time swingers, and it really is a sign that he loves you."

"That's what he said. But it's so weird. I don't know if I believe him." She spoke, but could not bring herself to look at us directly in the eye as she spoke.

Roger continued, speaking directly to her as if her husband wasn't there.

"And you? Would you like to be up here getting fucked while your husband watched?"

Roger had pushed my legs together after he penetrated me so the shaft of his cock was massaged by my thighs with each stroke. The sensation was pleasurable for both of us, but didn't give them the best view of what we were doing. I lifted one leg up onto the lowest of the railings so they both had a clear view of where my pussy was milking his cock.

The woman gasped at our wanton display, but this time she did not avert her gaze.

Most people have never seen another couple fucking. At least, not in real life and close up. This was surely a first for her.

She turned her head slightly in a gesture that was at once coy and seductive. We could see them warming to the idea of swinging as they watched us.

"Maybe?" was all she said, but it was enough.

Her husband moved behind her. She let out a startled cry when her bikini top fell away revealing hard nipples jutting out from her small breasts. Her husband jumped away from her laughing while holding tightly to the string of her top.

"Ben!"

The woman playfully took a swing at her husband when he pulled her bikini top out of her reach. With her husband's hands high above his head, she took the opportunity to grab the waistband of his swim trunks and pull them down to his knees. Freed from the constriction of his swimsuit's waistband, his cock sprang out into the open. She had chosen her husband wisely. His cock was thick and long.

My hesitancy was gone. I was greedy. Even as Roger's cock was inexorably driving me to a climax, I wondered what Ben's cock would feel like inside me.

Watching the new couple was as much an aphrodisiac for us as watching us was for them. Roger had lost his previous restraint and was thrusting with a force that shook the railing. I gripped tighter and pushed back as hard as he thrust. Our skin glistened with the sweat of our exertions. Our breathes were ragged. The small audience no longer mattered. All of our awareness was concentrated where our bodies were joined in carnal pleasure. I heard my voice shouting obscene encouragement to the man fucking me but I was so lost in my own world that it didn't seem like it came from me. With one final thrust, he inserted himself as deep as the length of his cock would allow and held me rigidly in his grasp. I felt the pulses of his cum flood my womb as my legs went weak. Warm cum was dribbling down my thigh before his cock began to go soft and fall out of my pussy.

I finally came down enough to be aware of my surroundings.

I looked around for the couple who had been partners in our pleasure. They were a few steps down the path moving away from us. They were walking hand in hand looking lovingly at each other. He was holding the two pieces of her bikini and she was holding his swim trunks.

I hoped we would see them again in the evening ... and, maybe? Another shiver of orgasm overcame me as I considered the possibilities.

Part 3. Steve Narrates

I had used all my powers of persuasion to get my wife to return to the campground, and that was only possible because we had enjoyed being there before her hip started to bother her. Her agreement had come without a promise to swing.

With the agreement to go still somewhat tentative, I was not going to quibble over what she put in her bag. I was just quietly disappointed when I saw her take a short black dress off the rack in her closet. The dress complimented her figure and showed -- actually, just barely suggested -- her ample cleavage, but she had actually worn that same dress to a New Year's Eve party we had celebrated with friends who would have never guessed that we also accepted invitations to parties where it was perfectly acceptable to have sex with the host or hostess without offending any of the other guests who might be watching. Appropriate dress for a swingers' party was meant to be sexier than being naked. A short black dress would have been a slow start for an evening spent with friends who swing.