Cindi and the Oil Room

Roger and I were hardcore swingers. We attended two parties a week during the two and a half years we were together.

We were going to miss this week's Saturday night party because we were on our way to a once a year, two-day Swing Party in southern Illinois. We'd never been to one before, but our friends who had said, "You have to go." When we pressed them for details, they were closed mouth and said, "Go. You'll never forget it, especially the Oil Room. Their reluctance to say anything more piqued Roger's and my interest, so I got the party's number, called, and spoke to a man named Wes.

Wes said, "He and his wife Susan, hosted the party at their home and asked how we'd heard about it. He also wanted to know how familiar we were with swinging and what parties we'd attended."

I said, "We'd been into the lifestyle over a year, which parties we attended, and how we learned about his party."

He seemed satisfied with my answers and told me the party's date and location. "He said, "There are no indoor sleeping accommodations, so if you want to stay overnight, you'll have to bring a tent or sleeping bags." Roger and I weren't into camping, but we did have sleeping bags.

Wes's last words before he hung up were, "Don't forget to bring a bottle of oil."

Saturday morning came too soon. Roger and I had partied harder than usual and didn't get home until after two. The nightstand clock read 8:11 when I dragged myself out of bed and into the shower. Boy, did I smell ripe? It was the era before condoms. I didn't mind the odor (neither did Roger), but the people at tonight's party might feel different, so the first thing I did was douche. Then I showered, shampooed my hair, and cleaned up the outline of my pussy hair. It was tinted bright red and shaved in the shape of a heart. I'd shaved my legs the night before. I was stepping out of the shower when Roger stepped in, kissed me hard on the lips, and slapped my ass. "Great party, it's too bad we had to get up so early."

It was a great party. I'd been fucked by three different guys, but I hadn't had my morning coffee, so I didn't feel much like talking. I mumbled, "Yea, it was," or something to that effect and headed for the kitchen. After two cups of coffee and a toasted English muffin (with honey), I felt almost human, but not overly ambitious.

Roger was fully dressed and smelled of aftershave when he strode into the kitchen twenty minutes later. "Com' on babe, get your ass in gear, we have a long drive."

I pulled myself together, and we were almost ready to leave by 11. We'd packed everything we thought we'd need (overnight kits, extra clothes -mostly sexy,-blankets, Vodka, Tequila, and sleeping bags) into the trunk of Roger's car.

"Did you pack the oil and weed?"

I patted my purse. "Right here."

It was a little after two when we pulled up to an old Tudor with sprawling grounds.

I was surprised to see so many people and so many tents. We parked in the designated area and asked a passing couple where we could find the host and hostess.

"You mean Wes and Susan? They're walking around here someplace," the man said. He told us what they looked like, and we set off. We found them talking to a couple around their age (late '40s) and introduced ourselves. Wes was about 5'10, a little shorter than Roger, with unruly brown hair and a two day's growth of beard. He reminded me of a pirate. All that was missing was the eye patch and sword between his teeth. Susan looked nothing like the wenches one associated with pirates. She was my height (5' 2") but a good fifteen pounds heavier, most of it around her hips. My weight was in my tits, 34 C's. Susan's hair, unlike mine (long and stick straight), was short and curly. She looked like a housewife. I looked like a bar girl or a hooker. I was wearing bright red lipstick (the same color as my pussy) and 'kick-ass' eye make-up. I thought, "Oh well, to each their own." Wes told us about the rules. Be friendly and treat people the way you want to-be-treated. The only addition was their house. It was off-limits.

"Any questions?"

After we said, "No," Wes volunteered to show us around.

Susan begged off and said, "I have to check on the food."

Wes pointed out the long tables and wooden benches for seating and the buildings where we could change, wash up, etc. The toilets were separate.

I pointed to a building near the back of the property. "What's that?"

"The Oil Room," Wes said.

So, that's the legendary Oil Room. It didn't look like much. It was the size of a three-car garage, with blacked-out windows and a bright red door. A small wooden table stood next to the door.

Roger stared at the weathered structure. "What's in there?"

"I'll show you later."

When the tour was over, we thanked Wes for his time, handed him our donation (cash only), and went to find a place to lay out our sleeping bags. We'd almost finished when Wes came walking our way.

"Got a minute?" he said.

Roger looked up from the joint he was rolling. "Got all the time in the world."

"I don't know if anyone's told you, but we have a tradition when it comes to newbies like yourselves and the Oil Room."

"What kind of tradition?" I said. Rodger continued working on the joint.

"It concerns the Oil Room and an initiation ceremony."

Roger finished rolling the joint, pulled a lighter from his pocket, and said, "Any rules about smoking?"

"No, but don't make it obvious. I don't want trouble with the police."

"No problem," Roger said. "Now, about this initiation ceremony. Who does the initiating?"

"Susan and myself."

I looked at Rodger, and he looked at me. "Sounds good to us. What do we have to do?"

"Meet Susan and me at the Oil Room in fifteen minutes. Leave your clothes and shoes on the table. If you want to smoke, do it before you go in."

"Where will you and Susan be?" I said.

"Inside. Oh, one more thing. Did you bring a bottle of oil?"

I took the bottle of mineral oil from my purse. "Is this alright?"

"Perfect. We'll see you at two fifteen."

Roger looked at his watch. 2 pm. "Great, we've got fifteen minutes to get high."

After two hits, we headed for the Oil Room. It was 2:10.

I was more than a little unsteady.

"Are you okay, Babe?"

"As long as we don't get stopped by a cop and he makes me walk a straight line," I slurred. "That's not the stuff we usually smoke, is it?"

"Nope, it's new. I picked it up from Tony yesterday. He said to go easy because it can knock you on your ass."

"Thanks for letting me know."

With Roger's help, although he wasn't all that stable himself, I managed to make it to the table. I steadied myself, took off my clothes, piled them on the table, and stepped out of my sandals. My mind was drifting and playing tricks. I thought I saw a tall black man with a huge cock coming toward me. I blinked, and he was gone. Oh boy, this is going to be interesting.

Roger opened the bottle of oil and applied the sensuously warm and slippery liquid to my back, arms, legs, and chest.

After he finished, he handed me the bottle. "Now, do me."

It sounds easy, but it's not when you're swaying from side to side and can't see straight, but I managed.

"Ready?" Roger said when I'd finished.

"I'm not sure. I'm having a hard time focusing."

"You'll be okay once we get inside."

"I'm glad you're so sure."

"Take my hand. I'll lead you."

"I took Roger's hand. He pulled the door open. We stepped inside. Light from the open door reflected off the sheets of black plastic covering the walls, windows, ceiling, and floor.

"Close the door," Wes yelled.

Roger pulled the door closed. The darkness was total. Not midnight darkness. Or, movie theater darkness, but deep cave blackness. It was scary, and the effects of the pot didn't help.

A female voice said, "Take my hand, Roger."

Roger's hand slipped away, and he was gone. I was alone and waiting. For what—I had no idea.

I sensed movement behind me. I was turning when I felt a pair of large, smooth hands roaming over my shoulders, back, and ass. "Stay the way you are."

"Wes?"

"Don't talk! Don't think! React!"

Wes's hands went around my hips and tried to pull me closer, but his erection stopped me.

Don't think! React!

I reached back, encircled the long, thick shaft, and began jerking with short, swift strokes.

Without warning, Wes pulled away. His hands went from my hips to my shoulders and turned me around.

"Get down on your knees."

His erection, slimy with pre-cum, slid over my nipples, my face, and onto my lips.

I knew what he wanted and opened my mouth.

His scent was musky, sensuous, carnal. His pre-cum tasted salty, sweet, pleasant.

My tongue began licking, circling, probing. I started nibbling and biting gently.

"No biting!"

No biting.

Wes pulled back, then pressed forward. His cock filled my mouth and throat. I gagged and tried to pull away, but his hands held me fast. The onslaught continued until he yanked his cock from my mouth and said, "Turn around but stay on your knees. Lean forward, raise your ass and spread your legs."

I obeyed and rested my forehead on the plastic. It felt cool against my face. My ass, like a bitch in heat, was high in the air. Wes's cock was pressed tight against my pussy. His hands were roving over my back, gently kneading and massaging. Slowly, methodically his hands pressed harder, relaxing muscles I never knew I had. His cock found my opening and slipped in. Not far, just the head. I tensed, its size felt frightening, but I wanted it all. I thought about what Wes had said. "Don't think! React!" It worked. His cock slid deeper as his hands continued their manipulations. When I took all I could, Wes rocked back, pulling his cock almost out. I waited for what seemed like forever. Then he rocked forward, driving his cock deep. I screamed in pleasure and pain. The deeper the penetration, the firmer the massage. When Wes withdrew, the manipulations grew less. Back and forth. Firm and then gentle. The feelings of being deep fucked and massaged at the same time, combined with the residual effects of the pot, were incredible, nothing I'd ever felt could match it, and I'd been with a lot of guys.

I prayed it would go on forever, but it wasn't to be. When I heard Susan screaming, I imagined what Roger was feeling, and my body took over. I pulled my hips forward, then jammed back, devouring most of Wes's cock. Forward and back. Each backward thrust drove Wes deeper into my throbbing and pulsating pussy. My climax was fast approaching.

Wes felt the contractions because his cock grew bigger. He rocked faster.

His fingers dug deeper.

The throbbing and pulsing grew in intensity until violent, uncontrollable spasms racked my body and numbed my mind. Wes's frantic movements continued until he filled me with cum seconds later. My arms and legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the plastic. Wes's magnificent cock, drained and spent, slid out of my pussy and hung limp and lifeless between my thighs. Warm, soothing cum pooled beneath me. I didn't want to move, think, or act.

I was brought back to reality by someone knocking on the door. "Can we come in?" a man's voice called out.

"Give us a couple of minutes," Wes yelled. He pushed himself up, ran his fingers lightly over my pussy, and said, "Are you okay?"

I thought, "He has to be kidding. It was the best fuck of my life". I struggled to my feet and said. "Aside from being wasted, I'm great."

Roger and I spent the rest of the afternoon reliving the experience, smoking weed, and meeting other swingers. I thought it best not to go into too much detail with Roger about Wes's cock. We went to dinner at 5, and that's where I met Jason and went on a cave tour. But that's a story for another time.