Fun House Mirrors

So, we kissed and made out for a few minutes, and Richard kept breaking the kisses to tell me how happy I'd made him, until I got tired of hearing that and shut him up by saying "Why don't you just fuck me." As he pushed his dick into me, the realization that I was being fucked be two guys in the same night, that he was pushing his dick not only into my pussy but into Robert's cum, made it more exciting than any fuck we'd ever had before then.

The next afternoon, while Richard was in class and Donna was at work Robert came to our apartment and we fucked again. "Why not?" I thought, given the night before, including Richard's joy and excitement? That evening Richard went down to Donna's apartment to fuck her while Robert came up to our apartment and fucked me yet again. We continued to swing with them for about a year after that, at which point they moved away. I'm sure that I was never into swinging with them as much as Richard was. He and Donna were definitely attracted to each other, and I'm sure that he got more joy from fucking her that I got from fucking Robert. Mainly I think I was just going along for the ride (more like to be ridden) to keep him happy. Yes, the sex was good; but no, it wasn't as fulfilling for me as it was for people to whom sex is an end in itself. I still need love to make it all that it can be.

After that Richard tried for a while to get me to consider some more swinging with people we knew, or to join a swingers' club. I told him I just wasn't into that, and though I did have a one night stand a few years later when I was on a business trip, I didn't enjoy it enough to want to repeat that sort of experience, especially after AIDS entered the equation . So we agreed that we'd have an open marriage, where either of us could screw around on the side as long as we didn't bring anyone or anything home. Long story short, he did, and I chose not to.

I had pretty much buried the memory of the Donna and Robert episode until I came across Richard's "story" last week, while going through his papers after the funeral. I think I never completely got over the idea that, whether I had actually been set up or not, I had been forced into a decision that I would not have made had I not been drunk and under a lot of pressure in advance. I admit that it was my decision; I am woman and I am strong and all that sort of shit. But still it rankled a bit, so for the next 40 years the best thing for me was to think about it as little as possible. Even so, at this moment I think I'd be willing to fuck all the Troopers in the Household Cavalry if that would bring Richard back to me for even one more day.

Why Don't You Just Fuck Me? -- Mirror Story B

I recently came across Richard's "Why Don't You Just Fuck Me?" so-called "story" while going through his old papers. Of course it wasn't a story at all, but his account of what happened not too long after we had been married. If he'd asked me about it, I'd have been able to fill in a few things. Better late than never, I guess.

As Richard said, we were very young back then, and had been married for just 3 years. That we were virgins when we met was more or less true. He said he was and I am pretty sure that he was telling the truth; his love making certainly got better over time. As for me, while I'd never consciously slept with a guy, I am pretty sure that my former boyfriend had date raped me one night when I was passed out drunk at his place. All I know for sure was that the morning after my pussy was sore and he kept going on about how we "were one," with this big shit-eating grin on his face. He wasn't my boyfriend for much longer after that.

When Richard and I had sex for the first time, he was surprised that he was able to enter me without any resistance. When he asked me about it, I told him about my ex-boyfriend and my suspicions about that night. I could have lied to him and made up some story about a bicycle accident or some such; that sort of thing really does happen. But I didn't feel like lying, and I wanted to know up front if this was going to be a big thing for us, so that I could dump him if he was that sort of asshole.

He said that it wasn't a big deal for him, and it never seemed to bother him as he never brought it up after that first time. I guess that since he said in his story that we were both virgins when we first went to bed with each other, he figured that being raped by my ex-boyfriend when I was unconscious, if that's what really happened, didn't count.

Richard was right when he said that from not long after we got married, he had been trying to get me to go to bed with other guys. I think he wanted to feel that it was okay for him to tomcat around, but he wasn't sure that I would be okay with it unless I was playing around too. Maybe also he was just too insecure or too lazy to go hunting for sex on his own, and he figured it would be easier to swap than to swing solo. This hurt my feelings, because I felt that sex was something that you did with someone you loved, and I didn't want either of us loving anyone else. But Richard was way different on this, and I was smart enough to understand that he could separate the sex from love in a way that I couldn't, or at least didn't want to.

You've got to remember that this was the early 1970s, right in the middle of the sexual revolution that had been helped along greatly by the introduction of the birth control pill in the early 60s, and that it was a decade before anyone had heard about AIDS. Sex was everywhere. Playboy had been around since the early 1950s, and its circulation peaked in the early 1970s only because of the advent of Penthouse, Hustler and other magazines, not because people were less interested in sexual liberation. Sexploitation films were being churned out like mad, and serious cinema included the likes of "Bob and Carol and Ted and Alice" and "Last Tango In Paris." What I'm trying too say is that if you weren't young then, you probably can have no idea of how much pressure all of this generated on people to see sex as play rather than sex as love.

As I said, this caused a problem for Richard and me, because what he saw as liberating I saw as an assault on the values that I'd been raised with. Maybe I was just brought up differently, or was more naïve then, but I felt that I should be enough for him, and he should be enough for me, and that sex without love was cheapening. Maybe I was just a prude. In any case, about a year or two after we had been married, I finally let him talk me into going to a bar once by myself. But I still felt hurt that he'd asked, and cheap when I went. The first guy who wanted to buy me a drink kind of creeped me out, so I left. It wasn't just because I thought that letting myself get picked up in a bar was a cheap or slutty thing to do. Remember that I was pretty sure that my old boyfriend, who I knew and who was supposed to have loved me, had gotten me drunk and raped me when I was passed out. The idea of getting boozed up and then going home with some stranger, without anyone knowing where I was, just didn't seem like a good idea. Richard didn't hide his disappointment very well when I came back early, but at least he gave up on that idea. He's always been pretty straight about "just try it and if you don't like it we'll drop the whole thing." I'd tried it, so that was that.

Now we come to the Robert and Donna part of the story: dinner, their place, downstairs from our apartment. As far as I knew, this really had started out as just an invitation to dinner from neighbors, so we were wearing what we usually wore at the time: shirts and jeans. This was the 70s and I had small breasts, so as usual I went without a bra.

I'm pretty introverted and I was the youngest at the table, so Richard was doing most of the talking from our side, while Robert and Donna were both pretty chatty. Mainly I ate (like Richard, Robert was a very good cook), answered when someone asked me something and, as dinner progressed, drank more and more of the red wine that kept finding its way into my cup. Richard was clearly impressed with Robert, not just because he was older and more self assured than Richard was but, of all things, because he was a maintenance man in some apartment complex.

Richard's dad had died when he was young, and he and his younger sisters had been brought up by his mother, so he never had worked on a car or fixed a lawnmower or built anything with his hands outside of a shop class he took in the ninth grade. All he'd ever done was go to school, and now he'd finished his Masters and had just started working on a PhD. He was good at what he did, but it seemed like he had this notion that what Robert did was better because you could see the results and get paid for it. And then there was the matter of sex. As the evening went on and the wine flowed, the conversation got more and more into sex and Robert and Donna's sexual escapades. Poor Richard; since he was so shy as a teenager he'd only had me to sleep with, while it sounded like Robert had had dozens or maybe hundreds of women. It occurred to me that Richard was a Robert wannabe, and I began to wonder if this evening was the innocent dinner with neighbors that had been billed.

If Richard was clearly in awe of Robert, he was even more obviously in lust with Donna, I guess with more than ample reason. Where I had small breasts, a shyness almost as deep as Richard's, and sexual experience that had progressed slowly from zero all the way to one, Donna oozed sexuality, had a sexual history as big and even more varied than Robert's and, as the old joke about the Pope sort of went, "she'sa gotta hava beeg tits."

Richard says that he wasn't sure how much I was picking up on the hints about swinging that Robert and Donna were dropping into the conversation. Well, I was not as far gone with the wine as he says he thought I was, so I was picking up plenty. I was also picking up how Donna was playing up to Richard's ego by comparing his education to her lowly status as a secretary and a bit player in the local rep theater. And I was picking up on how she kept grabbing his arm when set talked to him, and how she let those big tits of hers brush across his arm when she reached across the table to fill my wine glass. I would have had to be passed out already not to pick up on it, things were so thick and obvious.

It became clear to me as the conversation focused more and more on sex that Robert and Donna were inviting us to swing with them. Clearly Richard was willing; the big question was whether I would be. I tried to think it out rationally. Maybe I was the one out of step with the times. Maybe I should, as Richard kept suggesting "just try it and if you don't like it we'll drop the whole thing." Maybe I should find out if Richard really could separate love and sex the way he said he could, and find out if he still loved me after I'd slept with another guy. After all, Robert was a good looking guy, he was clean, he was articulate, he was educated way above what his job indicated, and he'd lived so much more than either Richard or I had to that point. So I began to think along the lines that maybe I should see if I also could separate sex and love like everyone else seemed to be doing at the time.

Definitely the wine had its effect, as my inhibitions were considerably suppressed by the time we moved into the living room. I was not as "woozy" as Richard described me in his story, though I let it appear that I was farther gone than I actually was. Probably this was for two reasons. First, I was still the most prudish person in the room, and I saw a difference between going with the flow and actively encouraging it. Second, I'm basically insecure and if I was wrong about the signals I was getting any move that I made might be one that everyone else would have thought was comically out of place. So, I opted for the more passive role, and figured "What could be more passive than appearing to be damned near passed out?"

Being drunk didn't keep me from noticing that Donna had sat down on the sofa next to Richard, and that she soon had her hand on his thigh and continued to brush him with her big tits from time to time. I decided that the best way to find out whether this was really going to go where I suspected was for me to get into a different room from them. So, I let my head fall forward and when Donna noticed this she got up and took me to the bedroom. After she'd put me on the bed she left and I got up and groped my way to the bathroom to pee, because my bladder was about to burst from all the wine I'd consumed. Then I got back in bed and drifted off.

At some point I was awakened by someone kissing me on the lips. At first I was confused about where I was and I thought I was back in our bed in our apartment, and that it was Richard who was kissing me. When I got my senses around me enough, I realized that the person kissing me was Robert. What's more, I noticed that we were on a bed in a dark room and that we seemed to be the only ones there. I wasn't sure what to do at this point. I was still pretty drunk and at first I was startled to find myself in this situation. So, for a minute or two I just lay there and let Robert kiss me, without kissing him back, but also not doing anything to stop him. But when I felt Robert start to unbutton my shirt, I figured that doing nothing wasn't going to be an option for long.

Maybe I'm remembering this in way more detail than it actually happened; certainly it takes longer to write it out that it took all of these thoughts to go through my mind. Maybe I wasn't thinking as clearly as I say here, and was just reacting emotionally. After all, is a deer frozen in the headlights of an approaching car really thinking? But this is the way I remember it. I figured that if I did nothing I was, effectively, about to get raped -- again, if my suspicions about my old boyfriend were correct -- and I knew that I didn't want that. If I started crying for help, it might or might not do any good. I didn't know where Richard was; probably off somewhere fucking Donna seemed like a good guess based on the evening so far. At best, even if he were close enough to step in, it could produce a very messy situation, maybe even a violent one. Then I recalled all the times that Richard had tried to talk me into sleeping with other guys and my thinking at supper about actually going along with the program to see whether I liked it or not. So, finally, I decided "Okay, Richard, you asked for it. I'll let this guy fuck me, and then we'll see how each of us likes that." At that point I started kissing Robert back.

I'll say this for Robert, he was a pretty decent kisser. The rest of his technique was okay too, as far as I was concerned. When he got my shirt open, he started licking and sucking on my nipples, which felt good until he started using his teeth a little too forcefully. I've never been into pain much, and apparently my nipples are very sensitive. I was happy when he returned to kissing me and started to use his hand to unbutton my jeans.

When Robert got my jeans unbuttoned and unzipped, he slipped his hand inside my panties and I felt his finger slip easily into my pussy. I guess I was kind of wet, and I got even wetter as he slid his finger in and out of me and rubbed it around my clit. I guess I forgot that I was supposed to be an insecure prude. In fact, I don't think I was doing a lot of thinking once his fingers -- he now had two if them in me -- started working slowly on my clit while he continued to kiss me. Like I said, he was a good kisser, and he also knew how to finger fuck a girl.

After a little while Robert got up and started to undress me. After he'd gotten my shoes off, he started to pull on my jeans. By then I was actually very excited and looking forward to being fucked, so I raised my ass up off the bed to help him pull them off more easily. Then I dropped back down on the bed and lay there with my legs a little open, waiting to see what he would do next.

What he did next surprised me. I'd never had my toes sucked before. It gave me a little tingle in my pussy kind of like having my nipples sucked, but not as strong. Then he started licking his way up my legs, first one leg up to the knee, then the other all the way up to my pussy. I was about to tell him to stop because for some reason I've never liked it when Richard licked my pussy, and I didn't want Robert to do it either. But before I could say anything he tongued his way back down my thigh and then started up the other thigh. All of this felt okay, but it worried me that he was going to start lapping at my pussy, so when he was almost there I said "Why don't you just fuck me?"

Apparently he couldn't think of a good reason not to, because he immediately hopped off the bed and started getting undressed. There was a little light coming into the room from the hallway, so I was able to look at him while he was doing that. When he dropped his boxers, his cock was standing straight out. It was circumcised, like Richards, but it didn't look as long or as thick. Maybe this was because Robert was shorter than Richard, I don't know. Anyway, I was halfway expecting Robert to try to get me to suck his cock. Richard certainly likes this and my earlier boyfriends had asked me more than once to do that when I wouldn't let them have intercourse with me, so I guessed it was something that all guys wanted or even expected. But I'd turned them down and, at least as far as I know, Richard was the only guy to get his cock into my mouth.

Robert didn't want a blowjob, though. He just spread my legs out more, raised my knees a little, climbed between them, and lowered himself onto me. Suddenly, I could feel the head of his cock pushing against the lips of my pussy. I don't know for sure what I was thinking then, waiting for that first strange prick after my husband's to enter me. I don't recall any sense of dread or of elation. If anything, it was more like anticipation or maybe "Wow, I'm actually going to do this." I do recall that Robert had fingered me nearly to the point of orgasm, so I was probably just wanting him to get on with things so that he could finish getting me over the top sooner rather than later. All I remember for sure is that he entered me slowly, and that it felt good, even if his prick was a little smaller than Richard's. Richard says in his "story" that I gave out a little sigh and a moan. That sounds right to me.

Richard described Robert as an experienced cocksman. I'd have to say yes, he was. He might not have been as big as Richard, but he knew how to use what he had to the best effect. He continued to fuck me slowly, and I experienced a little orgasm that I muffled by biting his shoulder. It was, I guess, a surprisingly gentle fuck, almost like making love, rather than anything so crude as a self-centered "wham, bam, thank you ma'am" fuck, or the rape that it could have been if I hadn't decided that I wanted it. Because of this, and the booze, and the fact that I was now feeling very, very good from the friction in my pussy, I had no trouble getting into it, wrapping my legs around him, kissing him, swinging my hips up to meet him thrust for thrust, moaning and gasping as I usually did when Richard was making love to me..

This must have gotten to Robert, because he then began sawing back and forth fast across my clit, slamming his prick into me so hard that I could hear his balls slapping against my ass. I was getting closer and closer to a really big orgasm, moaning and gasping faster, more loudly. After the first couple of times that Richard and I had sex, I'd had no trouble achieving multiple orgasms, so if Richard says that I had two more of them before I hit the big one and Robert came in me, that's probably true. I wasn't counting. All I know is that the last one was mind blowing enough that I wasn't thinking or emoting or doing anything but feeling every nerve in my body for at least the next minute.