Just a Swingin' Pt. 05

"Good morning, sleepy head," said Krystal, as Blake stepped through the sliding glass door onto the patio, "You feeling OK?"

"Yeah, I can't believe I slept this late," he said, relieved to see her in a bathing suit, rather than the birthday version, "So what's the plan?" he asked, taking the chaise next to hers.

She twisted in her seat to face him.

"You'll probably think this is a dumb idea, Blake, but would you consider taking a break from the craziness, and just spending the day with me?"

"I don't think that's a dumb idea at all," he said, leaning back, and crossing his ankles.

It was quiet for a bit as they took in the ambiance. Except for the 'Cuban' pool boy, the area was deserted, and absent the controlled frenetic chaos that would shortly materialize, it was easy to appreciate what would soon be just a memory - the air heavy with tropical fruit, the lush landscape draped with exotic birds, the sparkling waters of the Caribbean Sea beckoning from beyond the windswept palms, and the Manager's Chihuahua perched on a cabana bed, surveying the scenery as if smitten with it too.

"So, how do you feel about your week's experience?" she asked.

Blake sipped his coffee as he reflected on the casual but potentially weighty question.

"It was a week of firsts," he answered, deciding to stick to the facts and keep his feelings out of it, "And I never had straight-forward intercourse - not once."

"Well I blame YOU for that," she said, "Seemed to me you were doing your best to avoid it."

"I wasn't trying to avoid intercourse per se, Krystal," he said, treading carefully, "I was just trying to avoid full swap."

There was an awkward lull in the conversation, then Blake saved the day with the list of thrilling additions to his heretofore boring Cranbury collection.

"Now let's see," he said putting his index finger to his chin, "I got deep-throated and milked by an elf, who I rimmed. I ejaculated in my pants. I gave a nipple orgasm to a Wonder Woman doppelganger. I climaxed in public, twice - three times if you count the live streaming. And I was caged, spanked, tasered, and queened by an exotic alpha beast, who I scored my first anal with while on my back and bound to the bed. Oh, and how can I forget - I was inducted into the highly selective Circle K Club and branded as part of the ceremony."

Blake held up his coffee cup. Sufficiently stunned, Krystal was unable to toast to his dubious accomplishments.

"That sounds irresponsible and dangerous," she said, lips pursed, "Wasn't there a safe word? Isn't that how that BDSM shit works?"

"Well, that's how that BDSM shit is SUPPOSED to work," he said, "but no, there wasn't. Guess I figured 'No' was the safe word - silly me." He chuckled. "I was never in any danger, though. The branding was just a rubber stamp - semi-permanent ink. We had a big laugh after the show was over."

Krystal rolled her eyes.

"Yeah well I figured you were going to that freak show with those women; I saw the goofy getup in your gym bag," she said, "I had no idea you were that far out there."

Blake frowned.

"I'll have you know that goofy getup, as you call it, is haute couture for men on the FemDom circuit, and as for THOSE women, Kenya works for the State Department in D.C., and Tina is a Marine Biologist in Miami. They're part of a posse of Doms who meet here the same time each year, and they look for guys like me to play with."

"You mean mild-mannered men with Big Lebowskis and a fondness for degradation?"

Blake bristled with her snarky tone.

"It's just a kink, Krystal," he said, quietly, "It doesn't affect my daily life."

"Does Barb know about it?"

"Hell no," he said.

"Well, won't she see the branding?"

Blake spun sideways and looked directly at her to take her on.

"Let's just say TAINT nowhere ANYONE will see it."

She laughed out loud, and Blake joined in the hilarity, happy he'd relieved the tension mounting between them.

"So, Krystal," he said, tapping her arm, "Same question. How would you describe your Cupidity experience?"

"Full of surprises," she said, "I mean we weren't here more than a few hours before I got so horny, I did a Meg Ryan at the pool."

Krystal slipped her uber-glam sunglasses down to the tip of her nose, and raised and lowered her eyebrows at him.

"Yeah, that was wild," said Blake, leaning over to brush some non-existent sand from his feet to avoid blushing in front of her.

"You know what the best part of that was?" she asked, meeting his shy eyes when he lifted his head, "Watching you watching me."

Blake gulped, returned to his reclined position, and stared straight out to sea.

"And may I add, you've shown amazing restraint. I knew I could trust you to be a perfect gentleman."

She patted his knee.

The compliment stung like a viper. Why had he been so docile? It sure as hell wasn't out of a sense of duty to Ken or respect for the institution of marriage - no, nothing so noble as that. It was what it had always been with her and with women like her; it was the fear of rejection - the fear of failure to please.

"What else did you do?" he asked, dismissing the bothersome notion.

"Dickie and I diddled each other in the supply closet behind the bar," she said, matter-a-fact.

"WHAT?!"

"Well, we got so hot watching Cassandra get you off, the closet was convenient, although not so conducive to the task. We knocked down a tower of shelving and got pummeled by paper towels and toilet paper. My purse went flying and the vibrator, butt plug, and cherry-flavored lube spilled onto the floor. Dickie's zipper had broken open and my panties were down around my ankles when the bartender heard the commotion and opened the door - said it looked like a trailer park after a tornado."

"That's a good one," laughed Blake, "but I still win, unless you've got something else to add."

Krystal considered her answer, and Blake waited for her to confess the beach blanket tango with Bruce.

"I kissed a girl, and I liked it," she said.

"Do tell," said Blake, surprised at her answer.

"Last night while you were on man-whore alley, I met the Doolittles at the tiki bar. At first they seemed disappointed you wouldn't be joining us, but it didn't take long before they talked me into going to their room. I was half in the bag and figured why not - it'll be my first threesome, but I was wrong; it was a ménage-a-deux. Turns out Dickie likes to direct."

"Girl-on-girl, huh?" said Blake, relieved it wasn't another banana in her fruit salad. Still, Dickie was one lucky son-of-a-bitch.

"It started so suddenly," she said, "We were standing there with a drink in our hands talking politics, and then Dickie plopped down in a corner chair, put his feet up on the ottoman and said, 'OK ladies, let's get this show on the road.' I turned to look at Cassandra for an explanation, and she started undressing me. So, I'm standing there naked - and this is kind of weird, Blake - she walks me over to Dickie and sort of presents me to him."

"And did he approve?" asked Blake, shifting in his seat to scratch the sudden itch.

"Not right away," she said, "He told me to turn around, bend over, and try to put my palms on the floor, keeping my legs straight. Like I said, weird, but oddly arousing."

Fuck, thought Blake, I'm going to get hard. I am fucking going to get hard! He put his coffee cup in his lap.

"I'm not as limber as I once was, so I had to spread my legs a little, but I did it," she said, smiling. "He said something like, 'Very nice,' and when I stood up, Cassandra was naked, and Little Dickie had his little dicky in his hand."

"Be right back," said Blake, bouncing into the room, "You want another coffee?!" he shouted, as he struggled to make one without spilling water all over his hand.

"No thanks! I'm good!" Krystal yelled, and as the coffeemaker snorted out his second cup, Blake managed to compose himself.

"You were saying?" he said, taking his seat.

"So, Cassandra led me to the bed and we got on it on our knees and started kissing and touching, putting on a good show for Dickie, and she maneuvered me into a 69."

"You 69ed with her?!"

"Can you believe that, Blake?" she said, slapping his thigh, "I haven't done 69 in a decade, and in a decade, I'll BE 69! BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Blake flushed as his fire-breathing dragon roared silently to life.

"And then we scissored. Now THAT was a real first."

"Scissoring, huh?" he said, feigning mild interest, "How does that work?"

"Well," she said, spinning to face him, "We laid on our backs and intertwined our legs, and we held hands and pulled so we could keep our pussies mashed together. But what really put it over the top was Dickie stroking and dirty talking us through it."

Krystal tucked in her chin and jerked her fist up and down in her lap, as she mimicked Dickie's sultry growl.

"Oh yeah - that's it - that's it baby. Make Krystal cum for daddy."

"DAMN!" said Blake, jumping up, tearing the towel from his chair, and placing it in his lap, "I spilled my coffee," he lied, rubbing at himself. He was harder than hammer hell, and so jealous of Little Dickie, that if Krystal would have left the room, he would have taken the time to throw a tantrum before masturbating.

Suddenly, Krystal bent forward and put her hands behind her back.

"This new suit is cutting into me," she said, unfastening her bikini top and casting it aside. "So anyway, Dickie came first - walked to the side of the bed and shot his wad of monkey butter on my tits."

"Ahhhhhh, that feels better," she said, kneading her breasts, then shaking her shoulders and setting them in motion, each one in turn transferring it's kinetic energy to the other, like those metal clacker balls one sees on an executive's desk.

"DOUBLE DAMN!" said Blake, jumping up again, the towel pressed against his groin, "I was supposed to text Brianne about some numbers about something someone wanted."

"Wait, I almost forgot," said Krystal, "I went for a ride on the beach - on a guy's face."

She snorted.

"That was my week." She shrugged. "I never had intercourse either."

Confused, Blake sat back down.

"But I heard Bruce say, 'Oh baby let's fuck.'"

Krystal crinkled her brow.

"I saw you that night," he said, slumping, "Not going to lie; it hurt to see you with him."

"I'm not going to lie either," she said, squeezing his forearm, "I wanted to, but he didn't have a condom - he only rides bareback. I wouldn't take the risk with him. Hey, I want to see it."

"See what?" asked Blake, stumped by her sudden U-turn.

"The Circle K brand."

"No way, José," he said, rising to return to the room.

"Oh come on," said Krystal, following him, then unexpectedly, she yanked his bathing suit trunks down to his knees.

Blake gasped, struggling to pull them back up, and Krystal pushed him face first onto his bed, then pounced like a leopard leaping out of a tree onto her pray.

"CHRIST ALMIGHTY!" he shouted, fighting back against the unnecessary roughness, as she clawed at his waistband, determined to make her way to his tattooed taint. He managed to flip onto his back, and grab her wrists. Then he rolled on top of her and pinned her with her arms above her head.

"Get off me!" she said, bucking up and laughing hysterically, "I order you . . . you . . . you sissy boy!"

"You've got a kink too, Krystal," he said, humming it in her ear.

"That tickles!" she said, bending her head to stop it, "And no I don't!"

"You love being sexual, and you love being seen being sexual. You're an exhibitionist, and that, my dear, is a category of kink."

"OK. You got me," she said, with a quiet smile, "Now please let me up."

He didn't want to. He wanted to kiss her - her lips, her neck, her breasts, her belly button, her-

"WELL?" she barked, brows raised.

True to form, Blake retreated, offering his hand to help her. But as soon as she was vertical, he was horizontal again - face first on her bed.

"I want to see it!" she shouted, laughing, as she tore the trunks clean off him, and Blake scrambled off the far side of the bed, streaked the short distance to the bathroom, then locked the door and turned on the shower.

********

Krystal rinsed off under the rainhead, as Blake reflected on their last day at Cupidity. It had been nothing short of vacation perfection - throwing a Frisbee, playing beach volleyball, and goofing through 18 holes of miniature golf. She'd been topless for most of it - her profoundly full moons unaffected by Newton's Law of Universal Gravitation, but as she smoothed her hands over her bronzed body to remove the salt and sand, he realized something had changed. It wasn't indifference to her, but rather a newly detached and controlled admiration. It made him feel stronger, more confident, and able to exist in her naked orbit without becoming embarrassingly aroused.

"I'm so hungry, I could eat a frozen dog," he said, when she joined him at the tiki bar, and rather than returning to the room to dress for dinner, they ordered there - Blake in his swim trunks, and Krystal adorned only with a towel - on her head.

"So tomorrow - D-Day," she said, between big bites of grouper tacos, "Ken's going to be there to meet the plane. You're going to have to hang back and wait for us to pick up my bag and leave."

"I could do that," said Blake, picking the jalapeno peppers from his ceviche, "Or we could act like it was just a coincidence, because if he or Barb ever found out we were on the same flights, and we didn't say anything-"

"You're right!" she said, slapping the bar, "OK, that's how we'll play it - a happy accident. Hey, how about a movie?"

But bone-tired from the day and facing the uncertainty of the next, they opted for an early goodnight. Unfortunately, it wouldn't come, and after an hour of tossing and turning - thinking about things that happened and things that might:

"You awake?" she whispered.

"Yeah."

"I was wondering," she said, tentatively, "if you would like to join me."

Blake hesitated as he considered Krystal's request; was it what it felt like? Did that matter?

"Yes, I think I would," he said, stepping over his half-packed suitcase and slipping in beside her. She scooched back to spoon against him, and his body stiffened with knee-jerk nerves.

"This week didn't turn out the way I expected," she said, "I thought you and I were going to spend more time together."

"I'm sorry if I disappointed you," said Blake, taking her tacit meaning, "but we should have been honest with each other up front. I knew you wanted to have sex with other men, but I didn't know I was supposed to be there for it. And you know by now why I came here."

She chuckled.

"We weren't honest with anyone we met, either," she said, "I guess under those circumstances, it's difficult to make any lasting connections."

"Oh, I don't know," he said, smiling to himself, "I did manage to configure my contact information on Kenya's phone, just in case she wants to call a meeting of the Circle K Club. I think I could be persuaded to engage in some gentle body worship."

"Gentle my ass!" blurted Krystal.

"Gentle FemDom is a thing, Krystal," said Blake, feeling his body begin to relax against hers, "And you should know there's a lot of us out there - men who are attracted to women who know what they want and aren't afraid to ask for it - demand it even. Kenya and Tina took me out of my comfort zone - that's for sure - but hey, I came here for an adventure, and I don't regret anything that happened. If I have any regrets, it's because of what didn't."

Krystal knew what he meant, and Blake knew she knew and was glad of it.

"Well, I don't understand this whole BDSM thing," she said, "I mean, if I was a Dominatrix, what would you do for me?"

"The question is: what would you WANT me to do?" said Blake, sweeping her hair from her swan-like nape and resting his chin on her shoulder.

"Make me your Submissive," she said.

Blake's brain strained to understand the implications of her answer. He'd never switched roles - he was strictly a Sub, but as such, it was his nature to please, so if SHE wanted to be the Sub, the only way to please her was to switch roles!

HOLY BDSM PARADOX BATMAN!

"Are you serious?"

"Yes," she said, flipping to face him, "So, how do we start?"

"Ummmm . . . get naked I guess?" he said, like a dope.

Krystal jumped out of bed and enthusiastically discarded the sleepshirt.

"Wait!" she said, hands on hips, "Don't we need a safe word?"

"Sit!" he said, pointing at the edge of he bed.

"Sit is the safe word?!" she said, laughing at him.

"Sit down," he said, "The safe word is um . . . Oklahoma."

"OKLAHOMA?!"

"It's my favorite musical," he explained, "and when I think of it, I feel safe."

"Oh my God - too funny," she said, shaking her head, "OK, now what?"

How can I unfuck this? Blake wondered, knowing if their experiment would be remembered for anything other than an insult to BDSM, he'd have to be a helluva lot more convincing as a Dom.

"GET ME HARD," he demanded.

"Whoa Sailor," said Krystal, smirking, as she gazed up at him. She eased his boxers down to his knees and shook his limp biscuit before putting it in her mouth.

Blake blinked as he brought the blonde head on his Bob Dole into focus, and the full weight of what was happening hit him so hard, he had to fight to keep his knees from buckling.

"How's that?" she asked, peering up at him, a trail of saliva swinging from his tip to her bottom lip.

Long pause.

"THAT WAS A QUESTION, BLAKE!"

"Ummm . . . open wider," he said, palsied as he pulled on the back of her neck, "Take me all the way."

"You're too big," she said, gagging and giggling.

"And you're no Tina," he responded without thinking.

"DAMNIT! Sorry Krystal, I shouldn't have said that; it sounded so mean. Let's try something else. Lie down. That's a girl."

That's a girl?! What the fuck, he thought, I sound like an idiot! But when he laid down beside her, the humidity rising from her camel mohair wafted up his nostrils, making his mouth water, and giving him an idea that would surely satisfy them both.

"You know, I've dined on some delicious um . . . um-"

"Pussy? Is that the word you're looking for, Blake?"

"Well, I was trying to think of something more subtle - more literary," he said, trailing his trembling fingers down her torso, "Now, you take Tina - Tina is floral and fruity."

Blake crept his middle finger past Krystal's cleft and pressed into her, finding the soft wrinkly peach pit on the front wall of her vadge and interrogating it. She moaned in response and splayed her legs, and he took that as a very good sign.

"Kenya, on the other hand," he said, nibbling at Krystal's roseate nipple, "She tastes like juniper berries - candied and aromatic."

"Climb on top of me," said Krystal, slipping out of submissiveness, but Blake stuck to his improvised script.

"Now you, Krystal," he said, thumbing her budding clitoris, "I think you might taste like-"

She slapped the mattress.

"You're driving me crazy, Blake! I just want a straight-forward fuck, and I want it now!"

He was about to give up. After all, he never had a chance as a Dom when up against a natural like her, but when he heard the room attendant laughing with some staff in the hallway, he was suddenly struck with an idea and re-inspired.

"Don't make me beg!" Krystal barked.

"You don't know what begging is," he said, reaching into his suitcase, "but tonight, you're going to learn."

There was a struggle, but Blake managed to get the bungee cord wrapped tight around Krystal's wrists and looped through the heart-shaped cutouts in the carved mahogany headboard. She yelled and yanked at the unyielding restraint, as Blake pulled on his boxers, grabbed his wallet, and ran to the door.