Solo

This is a simplistic tale and at least in theory it shouldn't offend anyone. It was one of my first efforts and I still like it. The title is the one that I gave it long ago and I've stuck with that but perhaps a better name would have been 'Hank and Dolores',

When I first started submitting a collection of stories to Literotica, I said that all of my tales contained elements of truth. I'm afraid that claim is no longer true because for a long time I have needed to depend only on my imagination. However, I'm pleased to say is that this story is one of those originals.

My name is Jeff Purvis and I have been married for twelve fantastic years to Julie. We both work and although not what you would call rich, money isn't a problem. We have a pleasant house in a good area, a nice car each and we enjoy at least one fairly exotic holiday every year. The best part, from my point of view, is that Julie is an absolute doll, 5' 6" of delectability. A beautiful face, shoulder length honey coloured hair and long long legs that lead all the way to paradise. And her tits – I could write a whole chapter about her tits, round, full, firm, thrusting and all of this accentuated by a very narrow waist.

You will not be so interested in me but I will tell you all the same. I am 35 years old, (three years older than my wife), 5' 10 inches tall and of slim build. I am pretty fit, mainly because my job as a furniture salesman in a store keeps me on my feet all day with a fair degree of lifting and carrying. I also jog a bit when the mood takes me. Am I good looking? Modesty prevents me claiming to be so – but I cannot be too bad or I else I would not have pulled Julie in the first place.

I haven't mentioned kids because we don't have any. In the early years of the marriage, we were great friends with several other couples who were very like ourselves and there were some great parties with lots of laughs. Then one by one the others started producing offspring. When the first babies arrived, Julie got a bit broody, so we started trying too but without immediate success.

Gradually we noticed how the advent of children was affecting the lives of our friends so blessed. For a start their incomes were significantly reduced, the wives started looking tired and harassed, and their husbands both worried and distracted. So when the doctor said that my wife needed a small op on her tubes before my sperms could do their job, we decided not to bother. From then on it was paradise, no pill, no condoms, no diaphram – hey ho silver.

We liked to fuck. Any time, any place. In front of the TV, in the kitchen, on the stairs once just to say we had done it. We fucked anywhere that the mood took us and we both seemed to be always in the mood. The only thing that spoilt this idyllic situation for me was a reservation about the size of my dick. It was not small by any means, reading penis statistics told me that it was average but in all honesty I cannot even claim to be at all above average in that department. When I mentioned my worry, Julie came out with the old platitude, 'It's not the size that matters it is what you do with it that counts' but she then made it better by adding, "And boy do you know what to do with it."

When you screw as much as we did, no matter how inventive you are, you reach a point when it becomes repetitious even jaded. Well Julie and I had devised a trick to get over this that we called 'Situations' where we pretended to be other than we really were and the excitement generated seemed to carry on for quite a while afterwards. Part of the reason that this was so successful was because we took it so seriously, planning quite a way in advance.

We got hold of props and wore clothes purchased secretly that the other had never seen to make the situations as real as possible. To give an example - for the door-to-door salesman situation. I got hold of a seedy raincoat and trilby hat which I hid in the boot of my car together with a suitcase containing brushes and things. Then I said that I was going out to the pub and Julie went for a long hot soap in the bath. I changed in the car, waited for a while and then rang the bell to be answered by Julie, wrapped in just a towel and dripping wet.

In a variation as a vacuum cleaner salesman, I took our machine as my prop and was let back into the house with Julie wearing a low cut blouse. She leaned forward to examine the attachments giving me a good look at her tits and then, when instructing her on how to operate it, my touching her up quickly led to the inevitable. Sometimes it was my wife who left the house to return in the guise of either a masseuse or personal strippogram.

However for our most successful situation, both Julie and I spent a lot of money to ensure perfection and the reverberations from it are with us still. It was a wife-swap situation. I was meant to have driven off to the other couples house, while she waited at home for the visiting husband to knock on the door. I really did drive away, to a single friends, flat where I had managed to secrete a complete outfit of clothes unlike anything that I usually wore. I had also taken the trouble to get a false moustache from a theatrical shop together with some special gel to hold my hair temporarily in a different style. When I was ready, I drove home slowly to let Julie set the scene and allow my anticipation to mount.

When she opened the door I could hardly believe my eyes. From somewhere she had bought a Latin American style dress that showed off her breasts to full advantage and with the short skirt cut into strips which revealed what she had on underneath, as they swayed. She was wearing virtually nothing underneath for her panties were little more than a thong. Over the years she had worn some very daring underwear but nothing like these exotic pants which must have come from a sex shop. Her makeup was the finishing touch, totally erotic and looking completely different to how I had ever seen her. If she had walked into a room unannounced, I would not have recognised her. Now you know how I feel about Julie but if she and another woman who looked like that had stood side by side, then Julie would not have got a look-in with me. We fucked right through that Saturday night and right through Sunday, stopping occasionally to grab something to eat and then fucking some more.

Monday morning we crept out of bed to go to work totally exhausted. That evening, we sat holding drinks both of us still too tired to talk much. After one long silence, Julie grinned at me. "We are never going to top that," she said.

"It was fantastic, the best sex that we have ever had," I agreed. "You know, all the time I really did believe that you were another woman – and what a woman."

"Same with me. I have to admit that over the years, I have often fancied going to bed with another man but now I feel just as if I have - well almost."

"How do you mean – almost."

"Well you looked so different and in my mind I could believe that you were another man but your dick was the same. I still enjoyed it, you know that I love your prick but all the same, that was what kept bringing me back to reality."

I was not sure that I was happy with remark and could not think of a suitable response so I said rather lamely, "Well you convinced me. I believed all the time that you really were another woman."

Julie became suddenly pensive so I remained silent rather disturb her train of thought.

"It was too good," she said at last.

"Too good? How can anything be too good?"

"It was perfect and that is the problem. How can you improve on perfection? If we try again, no matter how much effort we put in to it, I doubt if it can ever be quite so good again. We're bound to miss that first time spontaneity for a start. Also, if we do a wife swap situation again and it turns out to be a lot inferior then it will probably spoil the memory of this weekend."

She was talking a lot of sense. "So we have to resign ourselves that the high spot of our sexual lives is over?"

"Unless we do it for real," she said.

It slipped into the conversation as easily as that. Now I have to admit that the thought had crossed my mind as a possibility but not really a serious proposition. "Are you suggesting that we do?" I said.

I think my wife had seen more shock in my face that I really felt because she quickly back-tracked. "I didn't say that. I was only stating the logical way to avoid a downhill path from now on. If you asked me to do it I probably wouldn't agree to."

I din not know whether to pursue the subject or let it drop. My feelings were very ambivalent. On the one hand, I could happily imagine myself putting it around with a load of nubile willing females but on the other, I was distinctly uneasy at the thought of some lecherous bastard screwing Julie. Something about the brightness in my wife's eyes told me that this was a dangerous subject, so I said no more.

The enhanced sexuality of our pretend swap weekend carried over for nearly a fortnight before it began to pall. I took to hanging round dirty book shops after work. This was not so much to get aroused as in search of inspiration for a new situation. We definitely needed a spark but any situation that we did now was likely to be a disappointing anti-climax. Then I saw the contact magazine and on finding it was a wife-swap special edition, I bought it without having made a conscious decision to do so.

At home I left the magazine folded inside the evening newspaper on the hall table while I hung up my coat. Before I could retrieve it, Julie came up to greet me, picked up the newspaper and the magazine fell out. At the sight of the title an expression of surprise came briefly over her face but then she gave me a long level look. "Are you thinking of us doing it after all?" she asked.

Now it was my turn to be cautious. "I just bought it on the spur of the moment. Actually, I thought that for a future wife swap situation it might make it better to pretend that we were real people."

Her "Oh" sounded non-committal but it might have contained just a hint of disappointment. However, I had dawdled too long in the porn shop and my evening meal was ready so it was not until afterwards that we sat together on the settee looking through the magazine. To be frank, the bulk of the couples pictured were not particularly attractive with many being fat, or old, or both. Also the pictures ranged from the tastefully photographed to the downright crude – with the more unattractive the couple the lewder the pose.

Julie summed up my own feelings. "I would not like to get anywhere near most of these," she said but then added,"One thing, whether they look gross or not they all look very happy doing it."

"So?"

"Well the propaganda says that people who get into this scene are all twisted and basically unhappy but if all these pictures are realistic than that is not the case at all."

I was not quite sure what exact point Julie was making so I tried to turn it into a joke. "That makes sense. We're not twisted or unhappy and we are considering it."

"Are we?" she said.

"No, we are just looking for people that we would like to do it with if we were."

"If that is all we are doing then let's get on with it," she grinned.

So we worked through the pages, each of us pointing out couples where both the male and female were presentable. There were some women I really fancied but as the man was an obvious no-no I did not bother bringing the pair to Julie's attention and I think she selected on the same basis. Right through to the end, we did not agree on a single pair. I would point out one and she would say, "I don't fancy mine." She would make a selection and I say "Pretty face but no tits.", I pick a sexy looking woman to which Julie responds, "Is that her husband or her father?"

The exercise over, Julie got up and went into the kitchen to make some coffee. As soon as she had gone, I flicked back to couple number 69 and gazed at the woman portrayed in the centre of the page. She was a dream. Long very blonde hair framed a sublimely beautiful face that had both the freshness of youth and a knowing maturity. The eyes grabbed me, brown, deep and holding so much promise. She was wearing a one piece black bathing suit that accentuated the perfection of a body which in contrast made Julie look almost like a boy. I secretly vowed that before the magazine was thrown away, I would cut out this picture and hide it somewhere. This woman was so desirable that I got stiff just looking at the picture and that has not happened to me since I was a schoolboy.

So why had I not drawn my wife's attention to this couple. Because I did not like the look of the man – he was of a type that I have a particular aversion to and I could not see him appealing to Julie either. He had a very broad chest but was stocky and his bulk probably made him seem shorter than he really was. He looked like a navvy, with a hard, weather beaten face – and he looked about 45 years old. The picture of him was full length and showed him wearing scruffy looking blue jeans and a check open necked shirt.

When Julie returned with the coffee, I hastily shut the magazine and dropped it by my side. "I've been thinking," she said handing me a mug. "It was a mistake looking together because we have both been looking for a couple that would suit us both and there does not seem to be one. I suggest that we look through separately. You pick three women that you really fancy, ignoring their partners and I will do the same with the men. Then, if we do another swap situation, we will both know what we should try to be like."

I looked through first while she read the newspaper. I made 69 my first choice then selected another two. During my turn with the newspaper, Julie made her list and then we compared.

We laid our lists side by side to see that they were different, except that both were headed by couple number 69. Now we turned and looked at each other and, without a word being said, both of us knew that we were really going to do it. Next moment we were fucking like crazy on the floor in front of the settee.

Some time later when we were again sitting decorously side by side on the settee with the picture of couple 69 in front of us, I asked, "If you fancy him, why didn't you point them out because she is certainly a bit of all right?"

"That is the reason, "Julie confessed. "I think she is better looking than me. I didn't want to be outclassed and it made me jealous thinking of you with her. Anyway, you are as bad. Why didn't you point her out?"

"Same reason. I didn't like the thought of you with him – and I honestly did not think he was your type. You have got to admit that he does look a bit rough – and older."

"Women like a bit of rough you know."

"Rich women being screwed by lorry drivers, I know that but I always thought that you liked your men a bit civilised. He looks positively primordial."

"That is his appeal. I think he has a kind of animal magnetism."

My wife's statement triggered another moment of unease but by now I was so preoccupied with thoughts of getting it up this fantasy woman that I discounted my jealousy. For the first time we read the details under the pictures and this was a big plus. I personally did not like the idea of going with a hard bitten experienced couple who would take our swapping cherry, so to speak and then spit us out. The words read, 'Hank and Dolores, new to scene, looking for pleasant introduction'. It was ideal – they sounded very much like us and would make an ideal couple for our first experience.

On having a sudden idea I jumped up and fetched out big magnifying glass, then held it over the pictures. Julie wanted to know what I had spotted. "Nothing," I replied. "I thought that I could see her nipples through the swimsuit, the print quality is not good so I was checking to see if I could."

"You are sick, do you know that?" she said with pretended contempt but then grabbed the glass and started peering at the pictures herself.

"They are her nipples, but you have got to look against the light to see it," I directed.

"I am not looking at her stupid. Hank has got a rather intriguing bulge in his jeans. It's making my mouth water just looking at it."

I grabbed the glass and checked the so-called bulge. "You are fooling yourself. That is just a crease in his jeans anything else would be ridiculous."

"If you say so," Julie conceded but sat back with a very satisfied gleam in her eye.

The fact that my wife was taking so much pleasure contemplating another man's dick both annoyed and exited me. Very quickly we were at it again, both there and in bed but somewhere in between; we composed a short letter on my PC. It said simply: 'Julie and Alan, also beginners and very willing to learn with you.' We included a photograph of ourselves together at a dance, with Julie in a Latin American dress not unlike the one she used for that pinnacle role-play.

I made a special trip into town to catch the Sunday post with our letter and this diligence was rewarded with a reply landing on the mat on Wednesday morning. It said that out of a rather large response, they had selected us, not for our similar inexperience but because our letter and photograph had been restrained. It seemed that most of the others had included pornographic snaps of the prospective couples and letters phrased in the crudest terms. Hank and Dolores lived about 100 miles away and said that due to house renovation, they would be unable to host a meeting for a month or two. Also included were several different snaps of Hank but only the original of the picture of Dolores printed in the magazine – but this one not cropped at the knees. They key item was the inclusion of an E-mail address.

I was quickly on my PC sending a message saying that we were happy to accommodate and asking when they would like to meet us. The reply gave some background information on them as a couple and said that any Saturday that we were free would suit them. I of course, not bothering to conceal our eagerness said that the coming Saturday would suit us fine. All of the replies were sent in Hanks name and this one confirmed the date but also included a special message from Dolores to Julie. This read: 'You have a rather lovely body and that is one of the reasons that I want to meet you. I hope that you and I can become special friends'.

Julie insisted that I leave the room while she sent a reply to Dolores. I was happy to comply, knowing that I could read what she had said from the archive – but when I checked later, I found that my wife had been clever enough to delete it.

All week, inspired by this new adventure in our lives. Julie and I had been at it like knives but in bed on the Friday, by unspoken agreement, we just went to sleep with both of us saving ourselves for the morrow. During Saturday, Julie was busy preparing an easily served but appetising meal but I was left rather at a loose end. I spent too much time referring to the picture of Dolores, had a permanent hard on and positively ached for the arrival of my dream woman. I also took a closer look at the picture of Hank. He was swarthy or at least the kind of man who needs to shave more than once a day. There was a look of confidence about him, (or was it arrogance), and quite honestly, had I not been already so besotted by his wife then I would not have let him within a mile of Julie.

The bell rang within five minutes of the agreed time. We rushed to the door together to find Hank standing there and we both scanned round for the approaching figure of Dolores, I more anxiously than my wife. "I am afraid that Dolores can't come," Hank said apologetically. "I've only come to tell you that the evening is off. "