tagGroup SexLoving Wife Ch. 01

Loving Wife Ch. 01

byTara_Neale©

Eleanor stared in the mirror. At thirty-three, after three children, she was not the beautiful young cheerleader that Stan had met in high school. Was that what this was all about? Swinging? Just the word made her cringe. A swingers' party no less. Not something this soccer mom would have ever thought about.

But what choice did she have? Stan made it perfectly clear...she was no longer enough. He did not want to lie and cheat. If they both knew what was happening, both participated, then it was not adultery, right? Except to Eleanor that argument seemed weak and self-serving.

She went along though because she always had. Because her marriage meant everything to her. Because her vows said...until death do us part. And because she did not want to be alone. Did not want to be a single mother the way her mother had been. She would do anything to avoid that. Even this.

She adjusted the corset that she hoped made the most of her thirty-eight C-cup breasts and wide hips while minimizing the cellulite and stretch marks of three pregnancies in five years. She pinched her cheeks though she probably needed to be slapped to bring any real color into her horrified features. Oh well, if not the cheeks then an extra coat of candy apple red lip gloss would just have to suffice.

She squared her shoulders and held her head high, the last thing she wanted to do in this place. She took a deep breath and turned the knob, throwing the door open upon a houseful of aging couples and a few stray geeky guys. It seemed as if all eyes were on her in that moment.

It was not what she had expected but she had been hiding out in that bathroom for close to forty-five minutes. Stan had knocked on the door four times, each one more agitated than the last. She scanned the room looking for him. She finally found him over by the bar, talking to a slightly older but very well preserved woman and a much younger black guy.

Eleanor made her way very slowly across the room. The ridiculously high heels that Stan had spent god only knows how much upon slowed her progress, but what she did not realize was that they did exactly as her husband had hoped, putting a gentle sway into her lush hips, a siren's call of hidden sexuality that had every male eye and more than a couple of female ones turning in her direction.

It seemed to take forever but she finally managed to make her way through the room with a dozen or so 'excuse me, pleases' that were met with lewd stares and even lewder comments until that color she had despaired of flamed in her cheeks, adding to her allure. Eleanor was fast becoming the fresh, sweet smelling rose bud in this garden of lust.

She forced a smile up at Stan as she joined him. His face was tight and he smelled of alcohol already, "Took you long enough," he whispered when he bent to kiss her cheek. But just as quickly he turned back to the unusual couple that he had been talking with, "This is my wife, Elle," they had agreed it was best not to give anyone their real names, not at first anyway.

Eleanor smiled and held out her hand to the woman. She was tall, an inch or so taller than Stan's five foot eleven, but some of that height came from heels that were taller even than the ones Eleanor wore. Her lips were scarlet red and pursed into a tight smile of distaste that only made the wrinkles around her mouth more pronounced. Her shoulder length hair was dyed an unnaturally blue-black and she wore the tightest red dress that showed off a body that had obviously never born children and spent hours in the gym every day.

Eleanor felt a stab of pain and jealousy as she watched her husband of twelve years fawn over this woman. For a moment she wanted to run and hide back in that bathroom, pretend none of this was happening. She felt the tears begin to cloud her vision but she knew that she could not run in those shoes so she brushed them away, pretending that smoke from the numerous cigarettes had gotten into her eyes.

"Hello, beautiful, I'm Ray and this is Tricia. Your husband has been telling us all about you. Though I see he did not do you justice," the young black man took her hand and brought it slowly to his full lips. She stood mesmerized as she watched the play of colors...her pale finger tips, the bright red nail polish against the deepest darkest rich chocolate brown that she had ever seen. She swallowed the nervous giggle that threatened to erupt from her throat.

His partner shot him a look that could have killed and wrapped her muscular, gym arms about the broadest shoulders that Eleanor had ever seen. "I don't know, Ray. Average soccer mom seems about right to me?"

Eleanor felt that painful jab like the worst of labor pains that threatened to rip her soul to pieces rather than her body. She looked to Stan but he was smiling at the vicious woman and gulping down another drink. She was about to excuse herself when he spoke again, "So pretty lady, would you care for a dance?"

She started to shake her head 'no' but the young man used the hand that he had never released to draw her protectively against his side and maneuver them the twenty feet or so to the make shift dance floor that would probably become a family dining room after the dust cleared tomorrow morning. Eleanor was not certain whether to be angry with the young man for his brash behavior that had drawn even more attention their way...or to be grateful for helping her to escape.

Once they were there, he drew her fully into his arms. She held herself stiffly for a long moment as the music played, uncertain still what to do or how to act in a world that had been tilted upon its axis. "Relax," that deep baritone caressed her mind. She wanted to fight it but something inside of her could not as she laid her head on those wide shoulders and closed her eyes.

She felt him stiffen a bit and did not even want to think about what else she felt stiffening as he began to speak again. "Just lean against me and relax for a moment, pretty lady. You don't belong here and we both know that. If I could I'd take your old man out back and kick his selfish white ass for doing this to a nice lady like you, but that won't help anything either. So you are going to listen to old Ray and we are going to teach that asshole a lesson he will never forget. You hear me?"

She nodded her head against his shoulder but kept her eyes closed. She tried very hard to pretend that she was somewhere else; that it was Stan holding her close like this, but she could not remember the last time that he had.

The song came to an end and she pulled back, but the young man was not letting her go. He bent and kissed away the tear that she had not realized had escaped from the corner of her eye. "Bastard," was all he said as he pulled her back into his arms as the next song, an even slower more soulful one began.

They danced for a couple more moments in silence. Then he spoke again, "Your husband wants in Tricia's pants, but it doesn't work like that with her. That woman doesn't share with no one. She likes to come to places like this to show off, to make herself feel superior...younger and prettier. And to show off her property...me...to all the envious other women."

His hand slipped lower on her back then, drawing her closer against him. She swallowed as she could no longer deny the evidence of what their closeness was doing to him. Or more surprisingly to her, "But your old man ain't got what it takes to get anywhere with that one. Aging high school quarterback?" he asked.

"Yeah," Eleanor answered nervously.

"Figures," said the man. "He just can't let his glory days go, realize it is time to grow up and appreciate what a lucky bastard he is. I see them all the time in my line of work and when we come to these places. And usually I just shake my head and ignore the pathetic bastards. But it always makes me mad how they treat their loving wives."

He placed his dark, strong fingers beneath her chin. The gentle touch did something funny to her tummy, making butterflies that she had thought long since dead take to flight again.

"So, pretty lady, what you say we fight back this time? What you say we teach those two a lesson about taking people for granted?" His lop-sided boyish grin made Eleanor feel a connection with this man that she recognized might be dangerous to her sanity. But she found herself nodding her head anyway.

He bent and softly kissed her lips then. The kiss was so light and soft that for a moment she was not certain that their lips even touched. It was more a game of how close could they come without truly meeting. A game of chicken. Maybe that was all this was...a game of chicken? A very bad one.

Eleanor was terrified to move, to breathe even. If she moved in the least then she might come into full contact with this man. And that would be disastrous...for her sanity. Instead she stood there frozen for all eternity or that was how it felt.

He was close enough that she could feel the hot air of his breathe caress her skin. Smell the fresh clean scent of him. Almost hear the pounding of his heart...or maybe that was hers? But she could not taste him or feel the strength that had pulled her away from the embarrassments that her husband and that woman heaped upon her head.

What was she doing here? For the first time since Stan had brought the topic of swinging up, she found her voice, herself. What the hell was she doing in this place with these people? Oh, she was not going to judge them, god knows she was not without sin. But she was not like them. The idea of sharing her husband or even of being shared held no excitement for her.

She truly believed her vows when she had said...forsaking all others. Even incredibly hot and sweet young black men that did funny things to her tummy. For the first time she realized, how can breaking one of the central tenants of her marriage save it? And even if it did for a time, was it worth it?

She stepped back then and smiled at the young man, "I'm sorry. I don't belong here."

He chuckled in that deep baritone and the butterflies did a loop-de-loop in her stomach. "Exactly, sweet lady. But walking out now will only lead to a fight." He brought the back of her hand to his lips again, "Trust me, my way is much better."

She shook her head and was about to turn and run from this place when suddenly she felt Stan's clammy hand about her waist. She turned to see that his face was tight. He looked angry. As angry as he had been all those times when she refused to come to this place. It made no sense.

Then the woman had wrapped herself around the young man and was suggestively slithering against him. She supposed it could be called dancing but it seemed too pathetically needy to be that. "Come on, Ray. Let's dance. Just the two of us."

The man shook his head, "Sorry, Tricia. I promised the sweet lady that I would show her around this place. You know how daunting finding your way around can be the first time. We can't be rude now can we?" he smiled charmingly.

The woman turned to her and glared. Her dark eyes that bore way too many fine lines and more than her share of not-so-fine ones too raked from the top of Eleanor's head to those five inch heels and back up again. She stared at Eleanor as if she had let one of her eldest son's stinkiest farts. Right in the middle of class.

Eleanor turned back towards Stan for support but his eyes were on the door and the couple that had just entered then. She could see him appraising the woman, trying to decide if she met his standards, if she would be trading up enough. Eleanor pulled out of his embrace with disgust. "Yes, please, Ray," she tried to remember her high school drama classes, make this performance her best, Oscar-worthy even.

He smiled. A genuine one or so Eleanor thought though she did not know the young man well enough to say for certain. She willed herself to relax, to play her part in all this. He was right, if they left now, like this, it would just be another fight. If he thought his plan was better, then it was worth a try, right? She tried desperately to convince herself.

Stan turned back to her shaking his head. For perhaps the first time, she noticed the receding hairline and balding patch in the back. The tiny lines about his mouth that denoted his dissatisfaction with this all. She saw her husband then, really saw him. Not the man that she had married. Not the father of her children. But the man that he had become. And she was not certain she even liked him.

Eleanor wanted to run from this place. Wanted to hide from what had become of her life, her dreams, and her happiness. It was as if she had suddenly awoken from a dream, as if she were Rip Van Winkle, arising from her years of slumber to a new and shocking world. A man she did not even know and definitely did not like enough to get to know him.

Suddenly Ray stepped forward and replaced Stan's arm with his own. She was glad for his strength too. She allowed herself to slump just a bit against this kind stranger. He bent low as if to kiss her ear and whispered, "Play along with everything, pretty lady."

She nodded her head in agreement and watched the silent rage grow on both her husband and the woman. "Where to first?" she smiled.

"Well, this is the main room. It serves as buffet, bar, dance floor and place for couples to chat and get to know one another. Make certain that they are compatible." He turned up that smile then; a hundred watt bulb would have dimmed, "Like we did." He brought her hand to his lips yet again...and her tummy did a flip-flop.

He used it to pull her further down the long corridor. "You know these are the changing rooms." He winked, "You hid in there long enough." His dark eyes scanned her full figure, "Although the wait was certainly worth the effort."

Eleanor giggled. She truly giggled, not play acting as she had determined to, but genuine delight at the simple compliment.

Ray tugged her hand again and she followed his deeper into the maze. She noticed that both her husband and his partner tagged along looking less than thrilled. Ray opened a door on the right, "This is the toy room. If a girl does not find anything she likes, she can always come here to play by herself." He looked up at his date, "Tricia usually spends most of her time in here. Don't you, darling?"

The woman glared at him once more, "Yes, well, one must have one's standards, mustn't they?" Her dark eyes turned to Eleanor once more, "Or maybe not."

Stan spoke up then, "Yes, I must say I am a bit disappointed with the type of guests here. I thought..." His voice trailed off then to nothingness.

Ray chuckled, "What man? You thought all the women would be straight out of the pages of Playboy? Hot young things like you spend so much time watching on pay-per-view Internet porn that no one knows about?" He shook his head and laughed, "And what if they were? They would be with hot young studs then. Not the middle-aged men round here. No, this place is full of real people. Genuinely nice folks that you might like if you got to know them."

He shook his dark head and turned back to the room as a middle-aged and rather rotund naked woman came forward. "Hello, Ann. How are things tonight?" he asked as he pressed a chaste kiss to the woman's blushing cheek.

"Good, good. Crowd is a bit small, but that happens sometimes with the weather," she smiled. "Who are your friends, Ray?" she inquired as politely as you might of a new family at a children's soccer game. After the initial shock of the woman's lack of attire, Eleanor decided the best option was to look the woman in the eyes.

"This is Elle and her husband, Mac, was it?" Stan nodded his head as he scanned this room too, looking for something of interest. Eleanor could almost feel his disgust at the naked and half-naked women around them.

She cringed as she remembered his years of hurtful comments about the ten stubborn pounds that her pregnancies had left around her middle. She suddenly felt sympathy for these women and his judgmental attitude. But looking around she noticed that these women did not even seem to notice him or his attitude. They seemed 'comfortable' in their skin...and it was Eleanor that was a bit envious then.

The woman smiled at her, "Welcome, sugar. I am Ann and my husband, Herb, and I own this dump. Ray is a good guide, but just let me know if you have any questions. For lots of people there first time is a bit daunting but don't let that bother you. We are just normal people: doctors, lawyers, even teachers and police. We just have a few kinks that we let out every now and then. We know this lifestyle ain't for everyone, but we try to provide a safe place for those who do need it."

Eleanor smiled at the woman, who reminded her a bit of her Aunt Molly. For the first time since Stan had brought this all up, it made sense. This woman had made it all sound as plausible as her own desire for monogamy and fidelity. And who was she to judge these people? Especially in light of her own failing marriage. "Thank you," she replied.

"Is the Sybian working tonight, Ann?" asked Ray with a smile.

"Of course, it is, sugar. Do you think we would have one of these little parties without our special friend?" she smiled meaningfully. "Better fuck than even you, ain't it Tricia?" she chuckled.

Tricia took her opportunity to gloat, "No recovery period."

But Ray refused to be baited, he only smiled at Eleanor. "Why don't you demonstrate it then?"

She turned on him, "I am not here to be your personal show."

He laughed again, "Nope, I am yours." But just as quickly the clouds passed and he turned back to Eleanor and Ann with that smile, "The Sybian is a vibrator to end all vibrators," he explained.

Ann laughed; a sound that reverberated off the walls, "Only a man would call it a vibrator." She turned to Eleanor and winked, "It is technically called a 'fucking machine' and it deserves the title. Ain't no man, no matter how pretty can live up to that thing." She looked to Tricia, "If you ain't ready for a good come, then I am."

With that she walked over to a rather odd looking machine in the corner. It looked almost like a smaller version of a mechanical bull that Eleanor had seen in the movies. Except for the huge dildo that jutted proudly from the saddle. Ann straddled the thing and as determined as she had been to keep her eyes on the other woman's face, Eleanor could not help from looking as she spread her thighs and seated herself upon the contraption.

For the first time, Eleanor took a good look at the woman. She was at least a size sixteen, more likely a twenty. Her breasts were large with huge nipples and areolas in a dark pink. Her hips were wide as if she too had born children. A hypothesis that was further born out when Eleanor looked at her rolls of fat about the middle which was lined with silver stretch marks. This woman was real. And more amazingly she was at ease in her body. Something that a much younger and thinner Eleanor could only hope to achieve.

The woman smiled at her as she understood perfectly everything she was thinking. "Now to show you what this thing has got," she pronounced as she picked up a small black box and hit a button. Her ample chest heaved as she drew in a great gulp of air. She exhaled it in a long moan, "Oh yes!"

Eleanor bit her lower lip and shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, aware once more of the impediment that was her high heels. She dropped her eyes just a bit, but could still watch the other woman as she straddled the thing. She had never seen another woman come. Hell, she had done all she could to look away at the gym when other women paraded around naked.

But certainly she had never seen this. The way that the woman's body moved against the thing, taking it deeper and deeper. Her sighs and moans. Her sounds of ecstasy. Eleanor noted that first her chest, then her neck and face colored with a pinky, rosy glow. Did she look like that when she came? Not that she had much chance to do so as infrequent as their sex life had become the past couple of years.

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byTara_Neale© 9 comments/ 76717 views/ 30 favorites

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