It's Complicated

SWING AND MISS Chapter 1

This idea came to me one night when I couldn't sleep. I had to laugh, the next morning, because it's not the type of story I would usually want to write. But there it was, the very next night, keeping me awake again. I ended up writing an outline of the key ideas, and a brief description of a few characters. The following day, I just couldn't stop adding to my notes - until I had about 35 handwritten pages. Okay, I thought: that makes it a story.

You'll be able to tell that I've been reading too many other writers' stories on Literotica: this won't be my 'usual' protagonist, and the story will have elements of Group Sex and even Loving Wives - NOT my usual genres. Hope it works for you anyway.

While I'm at it: thank you all for your supportive comments and helpful feedback. They're why I post my work on this site. Thanks also to Alianath Iriad and Lastman 416, who've been supporting me and improving my work for quite a while now.

***

Carol was from Northern California. After going to college there, she moved down here (mostly to get away from her family). We met at the University: she was doing Grad work in Mathematics, while I was finishing Law School.

We didn't hit it off right away. Both of us were dealing with our own issues.

Carol didn't like the way she looked. To me, she's always been attractive, though I wouldn't necessarily use the word pretty. Unless she wears her long hair in a particular style, to frame her face, it can look like her face is too wide: big cheeks, wide mouth, and square jaw. 'My fat face', she calls it.

I, for one, can't believe that she ever struggled with her weight. Fat face or not, Carol looks like the girl next door. She has dark hair, grey-green eyes, a few freckles on her nose, and a lovely smile. But she also has the body of a swimsuit model: great legs, a nice ass, and an hourglass figure topped by truly outstanding breasts. Heroic, I called them, once, which she quite liked. Her measurements are 36-25-33, if you must know.

Meanwhile, I was a crusty orphan who had clawed and scraped my way through college. You might say that I had a bit of a bad attitude - my goal was to make sure that I never had to work for anyone else. You may have heard the expression 'He doesn't suffer fools gladly'. That's close.

The truth is simpler: I don't really like most people. I wasn't prepared to give anyone the benefit of the doubt, either. I kept my expectations low, and most people lived down to them. There were exceptions, of course, and I kept a reasonably open mind - a few individuals gradually changed my opinion of them.

I met my best friend Andrew in Law School. We saw eye to eye on many issues, and disagreed vehemently on others. We both realized that that would make us excellent teammates, and eventually partners. We weren't opposites, or yin and yang, or any of that bullshit, but he could pour oil on the waters after I'd stirred up the shit (if you'll excuse the mixed metaphors). I also introduced him to his wife, Shelley - which turned out to be a very good relationship.

It wasn't as simple as bad cop-good cop, but we had a similar vision and the work ethic to make it succeed. Against the advice of everyone we knew, we started our own partnership, specializing in corporate and tax law. While it's true that large corporations hire the big, glitzy law firms, we could appeal to smaller, or up and coming companies who didn't care if I wasn't the 4th generation of my family to occupy the corner office. Our fees were more reasonable, too.

Andrew had the social skills, and we originally thought that he should find us new customers while I worked on their files. It took us a year to discover the counter-intuitive truth: the fact that I didn't give a shit about schmoozing became our calling card.

"I'm your lawyer - I'm not your friend" was my standard line. "You go play golf, and enjoy your game: I'll be working on your business plan." was another expression of mine that became well-known locally. Our clients could count on me telling them the truth, and Andrew could soothe their hurt feelings. We both looked after their interests.

I don't mean to suggest that I was hobnobbing with the rich and famous. But my partner and I created a successful business that didn't take up every waking hour of our lives. We'd agreed on that, too, before we started. I didn't golf, and I didn't do three hour lunches. Did that cost us a few customers? Maybe. But the clients we had were actually happy to know that I wasn't out on the links, or sipping martinis at Treadwell's.

As I said to one customer: "I don't want to be meeting you for oysters at 9:00 in the evening. I want to be home making love to my wife - and you should consider doing the same with your wife."

I did alright with the ladies. They say that confidence is attractive; it's interesting how much 'not giving a shit' resembles confidence. I don't mean to suggest that I didn't care about women - but remember the part about 'not suffering fools gladly'? Yeah - that applied to women, too. I wasn't about to tolerate a blithering idiot just for the sake of a one-night stand.

What? Do I hear you asking 'what on earth is wrong with that fool'?

There was a guy in law school with us. Derek. One of the female undergrads was suggesting that she would happily provide me with sexual services - no strings attached. That was a lie: she expected a higher grade. I told Andrew and Derek about the encounter.

- "Fuck her!" said Derek. "I would."

Andrew and I just looked at each other, and shook our heads.

Yes, I asked Carol to marry me. We dated for six months, and then were engaged for another nine. She had tremendous faith in me (and Andrew), and was willing to hitch her wagon to mine. Our business was beginning to prosper, and Carol got a job teaching at the local community college.

I've mentioned her smile, and her incredible body. Carol was also modest, and we shared many common interests and attitudes. On top of that, she had a sex drive to match mine.

For the first three years of our marriage, we made love every day - sometimes several times a day. To accomplish that while she was finishing her studies and I was launching a new business... I consider that an achievement.

Carol knew the moment I got home. Our first house had a very noisy garage door. She would be waiting for me at the door, or in our bedroom. The sight of my lovely wife kneeling on our bed, naked, with her incredible bosom heaving... well, that was usually the beginning of an evening that involved a very late take-out meal.

She had the most wonderful orgasm face, accompanied by little huffs and grunts. I loved her for her personality, for her essential goodness, and for how good a match we were.

We took a two-month holiday (thank you, Andrew), and went to Greece. We flitted from island to island, and Carol wore bikinis that she would never have dared to put on at home. I thought she'd never looked finer. She let me take a few nude photos of her after a swim... I look at them now, and can't believe how good she looked.

Then she was offered a job at a more prestigious community college, in the state capital, some three hours away.

Decision time. She was 32; I was 34.

- "I don't have to go." she said. "Not if it impacts your business."

- "But you'd like it."

Carol didn't answer. It would be a much more prestigious position, for considerably more money. How much we get paid does influence our own valuation of our self-worth. Of course she wanted to go. One of her best friends lived there, too.

As it happened, Andrew and I had been talking about expanding our business.

- "You could go and get us started." he said.

- "It's too early." I said.

- "Six months early." he agreed. "But aren't you the guy that told me to look after my wife, and that everything else would work out?"

- "I also said 'Fuck you and the horse you rode in on'."

- "I have selective hearing. I just don't listen to you when you start spouting nonsense."

- "I don't know, Andrew. I want to go with her, but..."

- "'Nuff said. We'll make it work."

Is it any wonder that I loved my partner?

Carol was over the moon. She knew that I worked hard, and that I valued my partnership and our business. Yet here I was, making a major accommodation for her.

- "I love you." she said.

- "You better."

We found a house, a bit outside our price range. We both agreed that we would make a serious effort to pay off the mortgage as quickly as possible. Carol understood (and shared) my distaste for paying interest.

She was super-energized. Many people would have focused on the their new job, and neglected their partners. Carol didn't. If anything, she stepped up her attentions to me. It was her idea to 'christen' every room in the house.

Obviously, that included our new master bedroom and king-sized bed. I came home to find Carol sitting on our new bed, naked, with her long hair thoroughly combed, and her incredible breasts thrust out.

The next night she was waiting for me in our guest bedroom. She must have been inspecting the thread count of the new sheets - again, in the nude. Her naked ass was pointed at the doorway, while her huge tits swung beneath her.

We fucked on the floor of the third bedroom, before it had been converted into a study for her. I was happy with the 'den', a smaller room on the second floor that was obviously intended to be an office; it was too small for anything more than a single bed. Carol dragged me in there, and had me fuck her while holding her up against the wall.

Kitchen table. Powder room. Main en suite bathroom. Walk in closet. Staircase to the second floor. She and I ticked them off one by one.

Carol also shaved her pussy, for the second time. She'd found it easier to simply trim and maintain, but she now reverted to a clean shave. As a dedicated muff diver, I had no complaint.

Just so you know: we may have fucked in every room of the house, and we certainly weren't averse to a quickie every now and then. But Carol and I had established a bit of routine when we came to lovemaking. I almost always started by going down on her.

As a super-breasty young woman, she wasn't surprised when men immediately grabbed for her tits. Don't get me wrong: I loved her boobs. But I wanted to make sure that she knew they weren't the be-all and end-all. I generally went for her pussy first.

One orgasm for her - at the very least. Then she would suck me (or at least slather saliva all over my dick so that we could have intercourse until I came - by then she might have had a second or third orgasm). On a good night, we would couple twice, or even three times.

I couldn't get enough of Carol. After four years of marriage, I still drove home with a boner, knowing that she'd be there waiting for me.

We didn't know many people in the city: there was one of her cousins (whom we both preferred to avoid), and her best friend Mona, who'd been a member of the bridal party at our wedding.

Mona had been a good friend to Carol, while they were at Grad school. She'd taught my wife to use less makeup, but more tastefully, and how to style her hair to minimize the width of her face. I only met Mona for the first time at the wedding, but I liked her right from the start.

She was part Venezuelan, and part something else (her father didn't stick around long enough for her mother to learn much more than his ethnic background - Armenian). I was astonished by how attractive she was; I saw light brown hair and eyes, a perfect nose, and a beautiful mouth. I was not the only male who noticed her, but they were all going to be disappointed, because Mona had brought her girlfriend as her date.

She was easily the nicest of the people I met at the wedding, and I was glad that she and Carol kept in touch afterwards. Mona lived about three hours' drive away, so the girls visited each other a couple of times a year.

It was natural, then, when we moved to the city where she lived, that Mona and her partner would immediately offer to take us out to dinner.

- "Is she still with... was it Pat?"

- "No, she and Pat broke up a few months ago. She's been with Rob since then."

- "Wait - Rob? Is that short for Robin? Or Roberta?"

Carol just looked at me. "As far as I know, it's short for Robert."

I was stunned. "Mona is with a guy?"

- "Why is that such a surprise? She was with Pat for over a year."

- "Pat was a guy?"

- "Oh my God, Chris. Did you think that Mona only went out with women?" Carol was laughing. "You thought she was gay?"

- "She brought a woman to our wedding. Then she was with Lisa for two years. I never met Pat - I though it was short for Patricia."

Carol was still laughing.

"It's not like the subject ever came up." I said. "I don't remember you ever telling me that she was bi."

- "I thought you knew! It doesn't bother you, does it?"

- "Bother me? No. It's still Mona, either way. Look, just don't bring it up at dinner, okay?"

- "Rob knows."

- "Still."

So of course Carol brought it up at dinner. She laughed again, and Rob laughed along. He was a handsome fellow, and seemed decent enough, if a bit shallow. I just don't trust first impressions, and I don't usually warm to people quickly. Mona was one of the exceptions.

- "Does it make you see me differently now, Chris?" she asked.

Carol answered for me: "No - that's the thing. I asked, and he said 'It's still Mona, either way'."

Mona smiled. "That's a very nice thing to say."

At one point, Rob excused himself to use the washroom.

- "So..." said Carol. "Is this Mr. Right, at last?"

- "No." said Mona. "Not even close, unfortunately. But the sex is good. I guess he's 'Mr. Acceptable for now'."

- "That's a bit harsh, isn't it?" I asked.

- "No. He knows it. We've talked about it. I know what I want, Chris. I'm not going to settle for less. Rob gets it. When he finds someone better for himself, I'll be happy for him."

We parted with an exchange of hugs and kisses. Mona insisted that we would have to see each other much more often.

- "I'm glad that Mona will be here for you." I said, on the way home.

- "Me too."

Carol was especially amorous once we got back to the house. She rode me for a while, and then rolled onto her back and pulled me atop her. We got to sleep quite late.

***

You don't want to hear about my business. I made slow, but reasonable progress over the first few months. Meanwhile, there were some small changes in our lifestyle. They didn't happen all at once, but incrementally, over a period of weeks, things shifted.

It started with Carol's wardrobe.

She always dressed professionally for work, favouring loose blouses and sweaters that concealed her bust. When we worked out together, she usually wore loose track suits.

Now she had new workout gear that was more form-fitting. She looked great in it; that wasn't the issue. It was all of the attention she got when we went for a run together. A lot of guys (and a few women) stopped whatever they were doing so that they could check her out.

I wasn't sure how I felt about that. On the one hand, I didn't care for having a lot of strangers perving on my wife. On the other hand, Carol was so turned on by the time we got home that she went down on me in the shower and sucked me off.

She wasn't done there. While we were preparing a light meal together, she started losing pieces of clothing. Simple, blatant, but highly effective nonetheless. I ended up eating and then fucking her on the kitchen table.

We had Mona and Rob over for dinner, and to see our new house. Carol surprised me again by wearing a casual dress - but one that left her shoulders bare, and dipped a little low in front. On top of that, she was wearing a new bra that provided support - meaning that it lifted her breasts and squished them together, so that they were nearly popping out of her dress. She was only revealing a few inches of cleavage, but this was something she really hadn't done before.

Mona congratulated her on 'the new look'. Rob had a bit of trouble looking anywhere else than at Carol's chest. She obviously enjoyed the attention.

It turned her on, too. After our guests left, we skipped the dishes and went straight to bed. There was no need for foreplay; Carol was positively dripping. She wanted it doggy-style, and she wanted it right away.

A few days later, we went out to dinner - just the two of us. I was a bit surprised by the dress that Carol chose to wear to dinner. It left her arms bare, and was held up by straps around the back of her neck. It also revealed a fair bit of cleavage - more than I could ever remember her showing. It also showed a lot of leg.

- "Another new dress?" I said, with a raised eyebrow.

- "Do you like it?" she asked, performing a little twirl for me.

- "A bit... daring, wouldn't you say?"

- "I know. But we won't be with anyone we know, at the restaurant. Think of it as a private show for my hubby."

- "Semi-private." I muttered.

Carol distracted just about everyone in the restaurant. We got excellent service: at least three waiters hovered around our table, and the wine steward visited us three times. I thought that he was going to drown in Carol's tits.

I wanted to talk about it.

- "Don't you like the way I look?" she said. "And the attention I'm getting? The waiter can only look, but you get to take me home and do... all sorts of things with me..."

We weren't really able to discuss it, because there was always a member of the wait staff loitering nearby. I can't say that I enjoyed the meal. Carol had a good time, though, which made wonder - where had this come from?

This was new. I asked her about it on the way home.

- "What do you mean?" she asked.

- "New wardrobe, new behaviour. I just wonder where this all came from."

She pouted a little. That was new, too. Carol wasn't a pouter.

- "I just... I just want to know that you still find me attractive. That you still think I'm sexy. And that... you still want me."

What was she talking about? I never failed to tell Carol how attractive she was, or how much she turned me on. We still made love five days a week. It would have been seven, if not for our busy schedules. I may not have been a great lover, but I was attentive and caring, and made sure that she came at least once before I did.

Where had this come from? Carol was a bright woman, but I wouldn't have called her imaginative. Had she read an article? Then an idea popped into my head.

- "Is this Mona's influence?" I knew that the two of them had been having lunch at least once a week.

- "Well... a bit." she said. "But it's mostly me. I mean... I don't want to wake up one morning and find that you're taking me for granted."

That was ridiculous. But I knew better than to say so. Something was slightly off. You might think that I should've just accepted it, especially since I was benefiting sexually, in terms of her increased ardour. But I don't like not knowing the answer to a question - and this was definitely a question.

Two weeks later, Carol suggested that we 'spice things up' in the bedroom. My antennae went up at that one.

First of all, we'd had sex all over the house - not just the bedroom. We were still having sex at almost every opportunity, often several times a day. Over the years of our marriage, we had tried costumes (lots of fun), blindfolds (a definite yes), and light bondage (not my favourite). Those were all my ideas. Carol drew the line at anal, which didn't bother me. I'm not against it, but it isn't high on my list of things to do. I had stipulated, from the very beginning, that we weren't going to do anything involving blood or bodily waste.