Summer Wine

I do it thinking of how excited John would be to open the door and find me this way. I do it imagining how delightful it would be for me to be opening a door to find Jennifer in bed this way. I don't do it for Pete or Will or any of the other husbands, or the viewers, but I can't forget about them either. I can't prevent the flush of embarrassment in my cheeks, and can't quite overcome a shyness in my movements as I pack my clothes neatly and slip into bed.

So that's the sight that greets Pete: me bare-breasted in bed, reading a novel. Pretending to, anyway. There's a shelf of books in the main lounge, all erotic, from smutty cowboy romance to dark BDSM-obsessed billionaires.

"Well, don't just stand there," I say with a casual indifference. I can't quite bring myself to flirt with him.

He glowers at me for a moment, then decides to enter, to close the door. To be alone with me in my bedroom.

I am alone in my bedroom with a man. Of course the atmosphere is tense. Nothing about this situation makes any sense. The weight of anticipation from all those unseen watchers is almost palpable. They want us to fuck. They almost demand it.

"Don't get your hopes up," he says, and heads straight to the bathroom for a shower.

I do feel sympathy for him. He wants to be faithful, he expects his wife to be faithful, he values his marriage. But he, like John and I, has chosen to play this surreal game, and that makes him my potential lover. It makes him my enemy.

*

I have a naked man in bed next to me. Or almost naked. Pete has kept his trunks on, but I can't not be aware of his gorgeously muscled physique and my own naked proximity. He smells of man, but different from John. If John were here, I could coil myself about him for comfort and warmth, torture him with my cold feet, wrap my hand about his cock and enjoy its hard proof of desire. But John is elsewhere, in some other wife's bed. Perhaps he already has his hard, desirous cock buried deep in wet, eager pussy.

Pete keeps to his side, I to mine, and he's staring up at the mirrored ceiling, too awake to sleep. "Why are you here?" I ask. Here in this absurd gameshow, that is. "You clearly don't want to be."

For a long moment, it seems he won't answer, but then he sighs heavily. "Injuries," he says, still not looking at me. "I'm on the bench too often, not getting paid, can't keep up payments on the house and it's all... going... to shit."

"Still," I say, "you've got a beautiful wife who loves you. That's important."

"Yeah." Another sigh. "Except I don't know if she does love me. I haven't been as good to her as she deserves, I haven't always been exactly faithful to her."

I frown, genuinely disappointed in him. "You cheated on Jennifer?"

"Not... Well. Sort of. Last year we came top of the league. To celebrate, the team got together, there was alcohol, drugs, and we banged a couple of chicks. It ended up in the local news, and Jennifer... wasn't ecstatic about that."

"Boys will be boys."

"Yeah."

I guess he is quite handsome with his short blond hair and blue eyes. I've heard athletic types have a lot of stamina in bed, and it might actually be fun to find out. It would almost be a shame to have him in my bed and not take advantage of him.

Or worse. "I'm sure Jennifer still loves you. She said she won't cheat on you, even though all the men here would love to get their hands on her. Although I would, if I were her."

For the first time since getting into my bed, he turns to look at me, frowning deeply. "What are you saying?"

"Only that this is an adult game. The voters won't reward restraint. If winning big is important to you, and to Jennifer, then the least she should do is show off her beautiful breasts for the cameras. I mean, don't you have any desire to put your hands on mine?"

Of course he does. They're right there in front of him, and he's no saint. With a growl of frustration, he turns away from me, his back a forbidding wall.

"If I were Jennifer," I murmur, picking up my book again, "I'd wrap my tits about every cock I see."

*

In the middle of the night, I awaken to an unfamiliar arm about me, the bulge of a hard cock pressing against me, the heat of a man's chest against my back. He's asleep, and it's comforting, so I make no attempt to disentangle myself, and after a while I fall asleep again.

*

John is freshly showered when I see him at breakfast, and he has an air of guilty excitement about him. My suspicion that he did far more during the night than I did is confirmed when Lyn and Will stroll into the kitchen a few minutes later. The moment Lyn sees me, she flinches and her hands move reflexively to shield her face.

I've been asking myself all night how I'd feel at this moment, and I'm strangely happy, quite proud. It doesn't feel like he's cheated. It's not about love. John is playing the game we've both agreed to, giving the viewers a reason to vote for some less amorous couple. I resist the temptation to ask him if he enjoyed himself with her - and whether Lyn is a better fuck than me.

I am not without jealousy, but I recognise it's a choice, not an inevitability. I choose to trust in what John and I have. Pete, on the other hand, knows that he cannot trust, that he broke that trust himself. He and Jennifer are at a table by themselves, a frosty silence between them.

I direct a friendly grin at Lyn, letting her know I'm fine with her sharing my husband. Her embarrassment is quite sweet, and I keep trying to picture what her face must look like with her mouth full of John's thick cock.

"Good morning," I say as she and Will join us. "Sleep well?"

Up close, I can see the flush of embarrassment in her cheeks, but after a moment she laughs. "Yes and no. Who did you get?"

"Pete."

Lyn's eyebrows shoot up in surprise and she darts an unsubtle look at my sullen ex bedmate. "That can't have been much fun... or was it?"

"I can honestly say he was a perfect gentleman."

Lyn's opinion of this is given as a derisive snort. "He should have just quit yesterday instead of souring the mood for the rest of us. It's his wife I feel sorry for. All these men eager to have a go at her, and she has to deal with his fragile ego instead."

Will is nursing a mug of filter coffee, apparently indifferent to his wife's enthusiasm for this game of adultery. "Who did you get?" I ask him.

"Amayra."

"The Indian girl?" I haven't spoken to her yet, but she's very pretty.

"Her grandparents came from Sri Lanka. She's a nurse, and very skilled with her hands."

"Only her hands?"

Will's lips curl into a smile that he fails to conceal behind his mug of coffee. "Her rule, she says, is, 'No kissing and no pussy.' Pretty much anything else goes."

"Oh, wow," I say, feeling suddenly quite threatened. "Anything?" I really wouldn't have guessed that about her.

"Let's just say, it's a good thing the rooms come with a healthy supply of lube."

*

It has rained during the night, courtesy of some sprinkler system, and the ground is particularly muddy in the back garden. An obstacle course has been set out there, the kind that requires a lot of crawling under barriers and through tyres and up nets.

We gather there at ten. Ten couples at ten, very fitting. David and Alison, apparently, a Scottish husband and wife, spent the night together. I wonder whether that was a relief or a disappointment. They seem quite subdued, but then we all are. Husbands who have slept with others' wives, wives who have slept with others' husbands, what is the correct way to talk about that in a group?

Not, I'm sure, "Amayra, hi! I hear Will enjoyed your ass last night? You must be sore this morning."

What would she say? "Oh, it's okay, Honey. I have this soothing cream that's perfect for the anus. It really soothes the sphincter. You must try it. I hear your husband is very girthy."

Which is one reason I've never dared have anal with him. It's not something he ever pushed. "What if we have to do it in the game," I asked him a few days ago, back before the even more terrifying idea of offering my anal cherry to some other man.

John bought some toys for me: a beaded anal wand and a buttplug. The wand proved to be an intense and unusual pleasure, an introduction to a whole new realm of sensation. The buttplug I wore on our cinema date, and without underwear too so that the jewel might be glimpsed winking between my cheeks. Especially the way John kept grabbing my ass and kissing me, and I kept having to tug the hem of my dress down into place again.

But still, it's a big step from toys to thrusting cocks, and what was before just a possibility now feels like a certainty. (Did John fuck Lyn's ass?)

"Contestants," the Voice says cheerfully from the sky like God, "there is no public vote today, and none tomorrow. I hope you're all looking forward to tonight. We certainly are. We can't wait to see all the lusty, adulterous fun you sexy swingers and swappers get up to."

Is that what we are now? Swingers and swappers?

"So how about a game. Wives, undress! The first through the obstacle course gets to choose which husband will get the key to her room tonight. Hurry! Get those clothes off!"

Despite the Voice's encouragement, a few seconds of mutual incomprehension pass with us all looking around at each other before almost as one we realise the challenge has started. "Shit!" I hiss, hurriedly stripping off my T-shirt and skirt, kicking off my sandals.

John laughs. "Which man will you choose, if you win?" he asks.

Honestly, I have no idea, but I do know that I don't want Jennifer to win and choose Pete. Pete, clearly, does want that, cheering her on as she sprints into the lead.

The real point of the challenge, of course, is to get ten women naked and slippery with mud. I'm distracted for a moment by Jennifer's legs as she squirms beneath the plastic trunk of a fallen tree, giving me a very clear but too brief view of her pussy, a delicious sight indeed, and then I dive down after her.

By the time I'm through and back on my feet, I'm streaked in mud from breasts to toes. Ahead of me are the tyres, three only, each with a muddy female figure struggling through it. I run up and snatch hold of Jennifer's ankle, but it's slippery with mud and she escapes with a kick and a laugh.

She doesn't race off, though. She kneels there grinning at me. "Come on, then," she says.

Not questioning this sudden change, I squeeze my arms and head through the tyre, eager to reach her. My nipples brush painfully against the hard rubber, and it's a relief when my breasts are through.

I scream as hands grab my ankles and start pulling me back again. Jennifer takes my hands and suddenly I'm the rope in a tug-of-war, kicking in a desperate attempt to free myself.

When I do free myself, I'm pulled abruptly through, into Jennifer's arms, both of us falling to the wet ground with her pinned beneath me, our bare, muddy breasts pressed together.

"Um, hi," I say, in no great hurry to release her.

"Hi," she says back, not trying to escape. "Did you sleep with my husband?" There's no anger in the question. No accusation.

"Sleep? Yes. Fuck? No."

"What did you say to him? The first thing he did this morning was grab my breasts and sniff them."

I can't resist ducking my head to sniff them myself, but I can only smell mud. "Mmm, dirty."

"What's dirty is you staring at my pussy last night."

"No, what's dirty is you letting me."

"What would be really dirty is if you kissed me."

"Here?"

"Now."

"In front of Pete?"

"In front of everyone - especially Pete."

It isn't like either of us has a chance of winning the challenge. At least five women have run past while we talked. And I do really want to kiss her. I'm pretty sure John won't mind, not with his dream of one day having a threesome again. And anything that makes Pete more jealous is a good thing...

Lying in the mud, in the garden, watched by our husbands and millions of others, we kiss, soft and tentative at first, increasingly with real heat. I've never kissed a woman before. It's different to kissing a man. Sweeter, softer. It stirs up butterflies of excitement within me.

"Are we doing this for us?" she asks quietly, "or for the viewers and votes?"

"I want you for me," is all I can think to say. And it's true. I love John, but I want Jennifer.

She kisses me again, a soft, lingering kiss, almost a promise. "My marriage is broken," she says. "Maybe it's time to stop trying to fix it."

*

It's wonderful to be clean again, to get all the mud out my hair and out of places mud should never go. John demonstrates his approval of my sexy mud wrestling with Jennifer by pushing me against the wall in the shower. I coil one leg about his waist as we fuck in this awkward position. It's my first fuck since we started this adult game, and I'm glad it's with my husband.

"I want her," I tell him as his thick cock stretches me sublimely. "I want you to want her too. I want her to be ours."

"I didn't know you were bi," he says, undeterred from this hot, brutal fuck.

"I think I've always been attracted to girls. I just never let myself believe it."

There are mirrors in the bathroom, in the shower space, no doubt microphones too. I am being watched by countless eyes as John's cock forces cries of pleasure from my lips, and my intimate confession is being heard by all of them. How perfect that they watched Pete do nothing in my bed last night and it's his wife I'm crushing over.

John is close. I can feel it. "Wait," I say urgently. "Wait." I kneel and take his beautiful cock between my breasts. He's so close to finishing that he needs little encouragement, and he sighs happily as his cum spurts against my chest, making a creamy mess on my clean skin.

But I don't return to the shower. I massage the cream into my skin, knowing full well the distinctive smell of cum will not go unnoticed in the mansion.

Now, that's dirty.

*

I don't see Jennifer or Pete again until the evening. They join the rest of us for dinner, but they have the air of a couple weary from arguments.

Amayra won the challenge. Rishith, her husband, is very unsubtle about his claim on her, kissing her on lips frequently, slipping a finger or two into her pussy every chance he gets. Amayra neither welcomes nor rejects this possessiveness; a calculated indifference, perhaps, that makes me think their whole cuck-and-whore act is one they began long before this seductive gameshow.

Lyn has been by the pool all afternoon, bathing beneath the fake sun, nude of course. Keeping her distance from me. She doesn't seem happy when John and I sit with her and Will. "Did I do something to upset you?" I ask. If anything, I'm the one who should be upset; Lyn slept with my husband.

She stares at me coldly. "It's bad enough that I have to compete against no-lips-no-pussy sluts like Amayra, I don't think it's fair I have to compete against lesbians too."

"I'm not a lesbian," I point out irritably.

"Even worse, a fake lesbian. I don't care how much the viewers like girl-on-girl, I'm not doing it, and don't see why I should. It's not like the men have to suck each other's cocks, is it?"

She has a point - or maybe not. No one has actually said they can't or shouldn't, and the throuple rule says nothing about whether there are two husbands or two wives.

I stand up and address the room. "Is any man here willing to suck my husband's cock?"

"Honey!" John hisses, trying to force me back onto my seat.

No volunteers, unsurprisingly. "What about you, Pete? I know you're not squeamish about other men's cum." Of course, I know he probably is, unless it's in some lucky girl's well used cunt.

"Fuck off," he growls, but Jennifer's expression of shocked delight is all I could ask for.

"Rishith will do it, if you're serious," Amayra says.

I let John force me into my seat. "Next time," he moans, "just pour a bucket of ice on my lap. It will have the same effect."

I press my lips to his ear and whisper, "I bet Jennifer and I could breathe fresh life into it."

Lyn scowls at us from across the table. "All you did was prove my point," she says.

Perhaps, but either way it's a useful reminder that this is a competition, that we will all have to be whores if we're serious about staying in the competition. "Good boy," I murmur, stroking my husband's cock. "Good boy." He's hardening up nicely.

*

At ten o'clock, I'm naked in bed with my book again, amused by the fantasy of having two cowboy brothers compete over giving me the most orgasms, when there's a knock on my door.

Which is unexpected, given that I'm expecting some random man with a key to get in. Politeness, I guess. "Come in!"

"It's locked," she says. Jennifer.

I spring out of bed and hurry to let her in. She has been crying. She's still crying. "It's over," she says between sobs. I catch her in an embrace, hold her tight, make soothing noises.

The door opens. It's David. The Scot. Looking quite startled and confused about the scene he just walked in on. "Can you come back in an hour?" I suggest. He nods and departs with obvious relief.

"I'm just so tired," Jennifer says. "Tired of everything. The lies, the justifications, this absurd show. I can't remember the last time I was happy, and now that I actually have a reason to want to be here, he quits. I know it's not fair to ask like this, but can I stay with you? And John? As a throuple? I know it's stupid -"

"Of course you can," I say quickly, and bring my lips to hers. "John and I talked earlier, and we both agreed you should join us if Pete left."

"I can stay?" she asks, astonished.

"You can stay," I say sincerely, and kiss her again.

"Oh." She bursts into fresh tears and clutches me in a tight embrace. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"

I wait for the tears and shaking to subside, then push her gently away. That she's here is wonderful, absolutely wonderful, but the timing sucks. "If you're staying, understand that John and I are playing to win. Are you with us?"

She nods with determination.

"Good. Then get your clothes off, have a shower, and come join your new wife in bed. David will be here soon. Let's show him that two wives are better than one."

*

It's not fair. I don't want to share her with a stranger, I want her all to myself, and then to share her with John. It feels like we're embarking on a whole new adventure and my insides are swirling with excitement.

But there's a game to play and this is only the second night of eleven. What I want right now is secondary to keeping the voters happy, and what the voters want is adultery. Any lesbian action is just an appetiser for them, certainly not the main course.

When David opens our bedroom door for the second time, he finds us both in bed, both quite naked, blonde and brunette, white and brown, and the two nicest pairs of tits in the mansion in full view of the doorway. "Come in, David. Thank you for giving us time."

David is short for a man, with a wiry, muscular frame. "Why are there two of you?" he asks with the rapid delivery characteristic of Glaswegians. "Not that I'm complaining or anything."

"Pete quit the show," I explain, "and Jennifer's now in a throuple with John and me. Do you think you can handle two women at once?" I smile to let him know I'm just teasing.

"Oh, aye. Mind, it's my first night, really, seeing as I was with my wife last night, and I don't know that I like being unfaithful to her, though we did both agree that we would give it our best and see how it goes."

I shrug. "Technically it's my first night too, since I was with Pete last night and he didn't want to do anything."

"I gave Rishith a blowjob and let him return the favour," Jennifer volunteers.

Wow. I did not expect that. "And after assuring Pete you would remain faithful. I'm so disappointed."