Wife Wants to Swap

"My wife never swallows, fuck, she rarely lets me come in her mouth."

"Her loss," I said, licking my lips.

I stood up, removed my bra and panties and lay on the bed with my legs spread.

"My turn," I said grinning.

He climbed onto the bed and crawled up until he was leaning over me, aiming his cock at my pussy.

I put my hands on his chest, and said, "Whoa, there, Cowboy. Aren't you forgetting something?"

He looked puzzled for a moment, then a light dawned.

"Oh, I don't do that."

At that moment I heard a scream and an "Oh, my God!" from the next room. I think Nora just found out what she'd been missing.

"What, your wife sucks your cock, if poorly, but you won't eat her pussy? Well, if you want to stick your cock there, you'd better stick your tongue there first."

He grimaced, but slowly lowered his head between my legs. When he audibly sniffed, I almost kicked him out of bed, but figured since I had gone that far, I would see it through.

He was basically just slobbering, making no attempt to get me going, I had to reach down and rub my clit to get my juices flowing.

"I'm ready, give me your cock."

As he moved up my body, he tried to kiss me, but I turned my head so that he just got my cheek. I normally don't mind kissing after receiving oral sex, but his face was so full of drool that I couldn't face it.

Fortunately, he was a competent lover; also, fortunately, my blow job enabled him to hold off long enough for me to have my orgasm just as he came.

"That was great," he said as he rolled off me.

"Mmm, mm," was all I could muster as he fell asleep.

I got out of bed and went to the bathroom to clean up as best I could, then grabbed a towel to go over the wet spot and went back to bed.

When I woke up, Nick was still snoring. I took a fast shower, put on a robe and went to the kitchen where Bob had coffee ready and was preparing breakfast.

"So, how was it?" he asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. "I've had worse. How about you?"

"Not exactly a rave review," he said with a grin. "About the same, I guess. She couldn't do a blow job to save her life, and I don't think she's ever had a good pussy eating."

"Yeah, I heard," I said laughing. "Maybe you should give lessons, because Nick has no clue."

At that point, Nora came in wearing a long t-shirt. As she yawned and stretched her arms up, I hoped she was wearing panties. Thankfully, the t-shirt didn't ride up enough for it to matter.

She walked over to Bob and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you for last night," she purred before pouring herself a cup of coffee.

Nick chose that moment to stumble into the kitchen wearing only his grubby tighty-whities, scratching himself.

"Nick," I said, "don't you think you should put some clothes on?"

"Why? It's not like you haven't already seen it all."

"That's true, but that doesn't mean I want to see it while I eat my breakfast."

He looked like he was going to argue, but Nora shot him a look and he walked out grumbling.

"I'm sorry about that," Nora said. "I'm afraid he can be a bit crude."

"A bit‽" I said. "The only way he could have been cruder would have been if he walked in naked playing with himself."

We were all laughing as Nick came back.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing," Nora said as we tried to stifle our giggles, "just eat your breakfast."

Nick looked annoyed, but realizing he wasn't going to get anything out of us, he sat down to eat.

We made small talk as we ate, and it was obvious that they wanted to set up another date, and we were just as obviously trying to deflect.

Finally, breakfast was over, and after the table was cleared, with hugs, kisses and handshakes all around, they left with promises to keep in touch that were never going to be kept.

I leaned back against the closed door and let out a deep breath.

Bob said, "I suppose that could have gone worse."

I could only laugh.

"Well, on the plus side, they've seen how good sex can be, maybe they learned something."

"Maybe," Bob said, "but right now I'd like a shower with my sexy wife," and he chased me to the bathroom.

We actually spent most of the time really showering before going to our room and making love. We totally missed lunch and went for a walk before having an early dinner.

We didn't speak about the elephant in the room until we sat down in the living room with our coffees.

"Well, what do you think? Was it all you thought it would be?" Bob asked. "Do you want to continue?"

"I suppose it could have gone better, but it wasn't a disaster. And we seem none the worse for wear. I think we should maybe take a break, then try again."

I think Bob was disappointed with my answer, but he nodded his assent, and after watching our usual shows we went to bed for more of our sweet loving.

It was hard to find couples to "play" with, but we did manage a few more swaps, but it seems we were the victims of bad timing. It seemed that if I had a good time, Bob didn't, or vice versa.

Sometimes, if it wasn't for the thrill of the forbidden, there was no thrill at all.

I did have one guy, if I wasn't happily married, I might have tried to steal him away, but he was hopelessly devoted to his wife anyway. I had to ask him to not talk about her so much, he was killing the mood.

He was a practiced masseur; we had to change the sheets when I had an orgasm just from him massaging my back.

I'll never tell Bob, but he was even better at oral sex than Bob, and Bob had been the best I ever had, even better that when I "experimented" in college.

Unfortunately, his wife was a dud, and there was no way that Bob would have them back.

The one that almost halted our games was Jane and Steven Butler.

Steven was a joke; you'd think that he was a high school virgin, it took all of my womanly charms to get us through the night, and it was a relief to see them go the next morning.

"Ugh," I said, "What a loser. How was Jane?"

Bob had a guilty look on his face.

"Come on, spit it out, I can take it," I said.

"She was great! She was almost as good as you at oral."

I had a feeling that he was down-playing her skills to make me feel better, which while I appreciated the thought, I was disappointed that he felt that he had to do that.

"Just what does she do that's so special?"

Bob was sweating nervously, he had to gulp a few times before he could speak.

"She... she can deep throat. I mean really easily, no gagging at all, and she does this thing with her throat muscles that got my cockhead tingling. Do you think we could see them again?"

"Sorry, I don't think so; he was just hopeless."

I could tell that Bob was disappointed, but he agreed.

We decided that it just wasn't meant to be, and we went back to our satisfying love life.

Things were sailing along nicely when we had a climactic event in our life.

We were enjoying an evening of dancing at Club Veronique when we were approached by an attractive couple.

The man spoke first, with a slight French accent.

"Hello, please excuse the intrusion, I'm Phillippe Bonaparte, no relation as far as I know, and this is my wife, Channelle. We've been watching you, and besides being a most attractive couple, you dance very well. We were wondering if we could join you, maybe swap dance partners?"

Bob and I exchanged glances hearing him say "swap," even though he was talking about dancing, but who knows?

"Sure thing," Bob said, "have a seat. Shall I order a round of drinks?"

"Please forgive me," Phillippe said, "but I'm afraid I was a bit presumptuous," and he signaled to a waiter who brought over a bottle of champagne with four glasses.

The waiter poured the four glasses and withdrew, leaving the bottle.

Phillippe raised his glass.

"To new friends," he said.

"To new friends," we repeated, clinked our glasses, and sipped our champagne. I'm no wine expert, but even I could tell that this was good champagne.

The band started up again, and Phillippe stood, extended his hand to me and I took it as Bob and Channelle copied our actions.

Phillippe was an excellent dancer, and glancing over I saw that Channelle and Bob were holding their own. Of course, I knew that Bob was a good dancer.

The music changed to a slower number, and Phillippe pulled me in close. He wasn't crude about rubbing his erection into me, but I could still feel it.

After a few dances we returned to the table to cool off with some more champagne. For some reason, the chairs were shifted around so that Phillippe's was up tight against mine and Channelle was snug against Bob. I had enough of a buzz from the champagne that I didn't give it a thought until Phillippe dropped his hand onto my thigh, and I saw Channelle's hand dip below the table. Almost as if our minds were linked, Bob and I gently removed their hands, although I was already thinking about the possibilities.

A few more rounds of dancing, working on our third bottle of champagne, things were loosening up. Both Bob and Phillippe were holding Channelle and me closer, and Phillippe didn't need to rub his erection into me, I was rubbing into it.

We were pretty danced out as we finished the champagne, and ordered coffees to help make sure we could drive safely.

It was Phillippe who finally broached the subject.

"I don't think it's a secret that I find Abby very attractive, and if I may be so forward, I believe those feelings are shared by everyone at this table."

There were murmurs of agreement.

"I hope that there will be no trouble if I suggest that Abby come home with me, and Channelle goes home with Bob, or some similar arrangement."

"As it happens, Bob and I have done this sort of thing before. I think that I can speak for Bob that we are interested, but may I suggest that each couple goes to the woman's home. I believe that women are more comfortable in their own environment, plus we'd have access to more..."things" that might enhance the experience."

Everyone was agreeable, the men exchanged contact information, and with kisses and hugs between the married couples, the new couples headed out.

Phillippe drove a Corvette that he was inordinately proud of, but I found it awkward to get in and out of with my LBD, though Phillippe was reasonably discreet as he helped me in and out.

Driving to the house, Phillippe showed a side a bit different from what we saw at the club, not exactly obnoxious, but certainly full of himself. We had barely pulled out of the garage when he started.

"This is going to be so wonderful for you, Abby. I'm going to make love to you like you've never been made love to before."

"Bob's no slouch," I said, "and I've got a few tricks of my own."

"Aah, but you've never been made love to by a Frenchman. They don't call French "The Language of Love" for no reason."

"Well, hit me with your best shot, Frenchie, we'll see who cries uncle."

I don't think he liked me calling him "Frenchie," but at least he was quiet for the rest of the trip.

When we kissed, I was impressed. He was a really good kisser, even better than Bob, and that's saying something. When many guys French kiss, they just jam their tongues into your mouth, but Philippe was very gentle, he just flicked the tip of his tongue around mine, teasing it, making mine reach out to his for more. I was getting damp, and wasted no time in taking him to the guest room.

We didn't do any dramatic undressing, just took our own clothes off and got down to business.

As soon as we were naked, he picked me up, lay me on the bed and proceeded to kiss and caress my entire body. This was another good sign. Many guys want to go straight to a blow job, I guess to help them hold off later. Phillippe had no such concerns, and I was soon arcing my body in need as he sucked first on one nipple, then the other. They seemed to stick out another half-inch, and were so hard I was sure they could cut glass.

I whimpered in need as he abandoned my nipples to move down my body. With just a short detour at my belly button, he was soon face-to-face with my dripping pussy. With just a gentle swipe of the tip of his tongue up my slit, he gave a lick around my clit before going down on me in earnest.

He gently spread my lips with his fingers and began licking up and down the inside of my lips, with an occasional thrust of his tongue deep inside.

I was moaning in my need to be fucked, and finally cried out, "Fuck me, Phillippe, fuck me!"

The bastard teased me for a few more moments before moving up my body, putting his hands beside my shoulders.

His cock was like a guided missile, and needed no help in finding its target.

He was a respectable size; he wasn't going to win any competitions but he would get the job done. He was a little thicker than Bob, and stretched my pussy erotically.

He started at a slow pace, and I thrust my hips up at him eagerly. I soon grew impatient and was humping at a faster pace, and started grunting out orders, "Faster, harder, harder, faster," until I came like a freight train and went limp.

I looked up at Phillippe who had a loving smile on his lips as he continued gently sawing in and out of me. I just then realized that he hadn't come yet, and tried to push him off me, but he was too strong.

"What's the matter, Cherie?" he asked, still moving in and out of my pussy.

"You, you haven't come yet," I cried.

"So? The night is still young, we have plenty of time."

At that moment, without any warning, I had another small orgasm.

With a soft kiss on my lips and a big smile on his, he rolled off me onto his back with his hard cock sticking straight, glistening with my juices.

I wasted no time and attacked his cock like a ravenous beast. I licked up one side, down the other and around the base, then around each of his balls before taking the head into my mouth. Feeling it twitch, I knew he wasn't going to last long and took in as much as I could easily fit. This wasn't the time for practicing my deep throat technique.

I moved up and down the end of his shaft, swirling my tongue around the head, alternately gently blowing on his cock and sucking hard.

I was soon rewarded with a mouthful of his cum and swallowed. I didn't make a big show of swallowing, I figured that he knew, and that was all that mattered.

I lay back with my head on his shoulder, when he just had to ruin everything.

"I'll bet Bob's never fucked you like that, non?"

I rose up on one elbow and hit him with my best death stare.

"You know, for a good lover, you're awfully fucking insecure. There's nothing wrong with Bob's loving."

"Then why are you here with me?"

"Maybe for the same reason that Channelle's with Bob!" I snarled as I got out of the bed. I left him with his mouth open as I went to the bathroom. I let him cool his heels for an extra ten minutes as I calmed down.

When I came out, Phillippe seemed suitably chastised, and we made love a few more times, but all the excitement seemed drained out of it. I slept with my back to him, and rejected his attempts to spoon.

I got up early to shower and get ready for breakfast, and the coffee was ready just as Phillippe shuffled sullenly into the kitchen.

We were on our second cups of coffee, and I was wondering if I should wait on Bob and Channelle before starting breakfast, when I heard the front door, signaling the arrival of Bob and Channelle.

Bob came bouncing into the kitchen with a shit-eating grin.

"Good morning, good morning," he practically sang. "How is everyone this glorious morning?"

The stony silence he was met with finally penetrated his skull and he got himself a cup of coffee just as Channelle walked in, or should I say floated in. She had such a glow that I thought I'd need my sunglasses.

She was better at reading the room than Bob was, and silently poured herself a cup of coffee.

I fried up some bacon and eggs and we all did a recap of the previous night's activities. Bob and Channelle carried most of the conversational burden while Phillippe and I made the usual responses as needed.

Against my better judgment, we arranged for another session the following weekend at their house, hugs and kisses all around and they were off.

"You and Phillippe were awfully quiet this morning. Didn't things go well? They couldn't have been that bad if we're going to do it again."

"The sex was fine, even great, Phillippe is a wonderful lover. Unfortunately, he's an egotistical asshole who had to keep trying to get me to draw comparisons between him and you, and not favorably to you. It sucked all the energy out of the room."

"Do you want to cancel next weekend?"

"No, let's do it, maybe he's learned his lesson."

The following Saturday we went to their house. Channelle cooked dinner. She's a marvelous chef, better than me, damn it, and we had to sit around their living room with after dinner drinks to let dinner settle.

Unlike us, they had no problem with Channelle and Bob using the master bedroom, while Phillippe and I used the guest room.

The sex was every bit as good as the first time, but it was like we were walking on eggshells, avoiding the elephant in the room. Phillippe was obviously biting his tongue to keep from saying the wrong thing, and except for the usual sexual expressions nothing was said, and I did cuddle with Phillippe when we went to sleep.

We had a few more sessions, but for me and Phillippe it was almost just going through the motions, while Bob and Channelle were getting increasingly excited, they even started talking about swapping for an entire weekend.

When Bob wanted to get together socially, not just for sex, I decided things were getting a little out of hand.

"Bob, don't you think you're getting a little too close to Channelle?"

"No, not really. What makes you think that?"

"Oh, nothing special, just the way you look at each other, the way she touches your arm. The other night at dinner, you had your hand on her thigh,"

Bob laughed out loud.

"Abby, you do realize that I'm fucking her, and you're worried about a hand on her thigh?"

"Yes, and I'm fucking Phillippe, and to coin a cliche, 'it's just sex,' but the looks, the touches are signs of an intimacy that should only be for me."

"I think I understand, and I'll try not to do it, but you have to realize that we are sharing an intimacy. I'm sorry if you don't feel the same with Phillippe, do you want to call things off?"

"No, no, at least not yet, but let's drop the weekend swap idea, and maybe reduce the frequency of the swaps?"

I could tell that Bob wasn't thrilled with the latter suggestion, but he agreed.

The swapping went on for a few months, doing it once every three or four weeks, but for me, it became almost like a chore. Phillippe was uncomfortable, feeling like he had to watch what he said, so he wasn't happy either.

Meanwhile, Bob and Channelle were back to acting like a happy couple, and it irked me. Finally, I had had enough.

"Bob, I think we should stop playing with Phillippe and Channelle. Let's make this next time the last time."

You'd think that I had just shot his dog.

"But...But we're having so much fun!"

"No, you and Channelle are having fun. I'm not, and I don't think that Phillippe is, either."

"This was all your idea."

"Yes, and it's my idea that we stop it."

We argued back and forth all week, but I finally got him to agree, if grudgingly.

Our next swap was that Friday night, and we went to their house after dinner. I definitely wanted it to be at their house so that we could leave if they were reluctant.

Bob and I kept exchanging nervous glances over breakfast when Channelle spoke up.

"All right, you two, you look so nervous like you're going to jump out of your skin. What's going on?"

Bob looked at me and nodded. The ball was in my court.