Couples Sharing in the Faith
Chapter 1

Copyright© 2011 by Peter Duncan

Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Two young couples meet in church and form an intimate relationship where they share each other's spouses. On a fluke they meet a widow (Aggie) who was formerly in a swapping relationship with Penny's parents (See All for One and One for All). On their third Christmas they visit Penny's parents where they enjoy a familial swap. Before the holiday's over Penny's swapping friends join them before Aggie shows up to join party.

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   mt/ft   Ma/ft   Fa/Fa   Consensual   Romantic   BiSexual   Heterosexual   Fiction   Sharing   Incest   Mother   Father   Daughter   Group Sex   Swinging   Interracial   Analingus   Oral Sex  

At five feet five inches tall she had world-class legs, a dynamite ass, and a lithe, athletic figure. Her breasts were petite—34B. She had wavy, short deep brown hair, clear blue eyes, and a smile that was like the sun on a bright, cheery morning.

I knew Cherie Carlisle for two years before we finally started dating. She was as cute and classy as any girl I’d ever met. We met while I worked as a “hasher” in the sorority house where she lived. Though I had my eyes on her and seemed to have a warm, We had a friendly relationship, but she always dated higher profile guys, ones who seemed destined for careers with higher incomes.

At the beginning of my junior year a fraternity brother, who years later became a high-placed executive in a major industry began dating Cherie. He had the reputation as a player, usually going for “loose” women. So, I figured that Cherie must have been one of those. One night about two months into their relationship I was proven wrong when Garth came storming into the fraternity house shouting, “I’m through with that fuckin’ broad. I’ve wasted two months, tons of dough, and haven’t even gotten so much as a HAND-JOB.”

It was taboo for sorority members to socialize with kitchen help. It was one of those status things, even though the “help” consisted of young men attending the same college. But being more independent Cherie always ignored the taboo. She would often, in my case a member of a fraternity. But Cherie often came into the kitchen after dinner and talked with us as we worked. She enjoyed flirting with us, an “in your face” attitude that attracted me to her even more. About two weeks after Garth’s outburst at the fraternity house I asked her out. When he found out that I was dating her he chuckled and said, “So you’ve got a thing for nuns, huh?”

Cherie was active in the Wesley Foundation, the Methodist outreach for college campuses throughout the country. Not long after we started dating, she began pressuring me to go to church with her, which from time to time I did. She was demure; the kind of person one would think would be in control of her emotions. We didn’t kiss until our second date (standard practice in the era of the late 1950s and early 1960s).

On our third date, we went to a movie. When I put my arm over her shoulder, she took my hand and rubbed the back of it against her cheek, she liked touching it. At the same time, she nudged my knees with hers and moved her body as close to mine as the armrest would allow. I remember thinking at least she isn’t a nun. After the movie we pulled around the corner from the sorority house and parked the car in a dark, tree-shaded area, it was 10:45, fifteen minutes before the girls had to be in the house for the night. This time when I kissed her, she opened her lips and accepted my tongue. By the time she had to go in saliva sagged down both of our chins. As I remembered Garth saying, “I’ve wasted two months, tons of dough and haven’t gotten so much as a hand-job from her,” I thought she doesn’t seem so frigid to me.

The fourth time we went out she welcomed my hand on her breast and didn’t stop me when I slid it inside her bra. I remember how warm and soft her breasts were and how her nipples seemed to harden against the hollow of my hand as I fondled them. When I massaged her breasts, she became more passionate, and our kisses turned into a marathon of twisted tongues, moans, and sighs. Our noses acted as snorkels, mine breathing in and hers breathing out at the same time. It was a natural segue to slide my hand up the inside of her thigh. She wore a dark blue pleated skirt and knee socks (high style at the time), and her legs were bare from her knees to her panties. When my hand reached the warm humidity of her panties, she jerked it away and said “NO!”

After keeping her head against my chest and remaining quiet for a bit she looked up with her wide blue eyes, smiled, and kissed me passionately. Taking my hand, she put it back between her legs.

Vagina, pussy, twat, and cunt, all the words I could imagine, flooded my mind as my fingers smoothed over the panel of her panties and pressed the fabric so far so good. Pulling her panties aside my middle finger slid between her warm, moist lips and then penetrated her vagina which seemed to wrap around my finger like a wet soapy sponge. It felt like I was exploring the most marvelous tunnel in God’s creation.

It was the first time my finger had been inside a girl’s pussy. It felt like she was purposely squeezing her pussy muscles to make it tighter. I didn’t know about female orgasms at the time ... had no clue what a clitoris was. Had I known that it was there I certainly wouldn’t have known what to do with it. All I knew was that when her pussy clasped my finger so tightly, she gasped and froze into a spasm. I was so excited that I loaded my shorts with sperm.

After kissing her goodnight on the porch of the sorority house as I drove back to the fraternity house my left hand was on the wheel and the middle finger of my right hand was under my nose. It was as if I were sniffing a fine Cuban cigar. The delicate smell, coupled with a faint hint of urine made me hard again. As I drove, I relived the memory of our lovemaking and sucked my finger into my mouth, fucking it while it imparted the incredible scent and taste of her sex.

It was the night before we left to go home for Christmas vacation, just a month after we had first started dating. Cherie would be driving back to Virginia for the holidays. Being chaperoned by the house mother at the sorority house she was the last one left before she would drive home in the morning. In the car in the driveway of the sorority house, we exchanged gifts and then made love, kissing and caressing; my finger sliding inside her pussy again for the fourth time since we had been dating.

Romantic music played on the car radio, its light casting a green shade on Cherie’s bare, white legs above her knee socks. I had never done it before but since sucking my pussy-essence finger that first night of finger-fucking I had the urge to get close enough to her pussy to smell it. It was the late fifties, and I had never heard any of my fraternity brothers talk about eating pussy. Oral sex had not come into the popularity that we know today. But I was more than ready to break new ground.

Lifting her skirt, I could see her white lace panties being washed in the green light of the car radio. Lowering myself to my knees I spread hers. There was no resistance. Like a photographer taking a group picture, I pulled her skirt over my head. Then resting my cheek on Cherie’s soft abdomen, I could hear the grumbling inside her stomach and wondered if it was a sign of her excitement. It was heaven to be close enough to smell the delicate aroma of her femininity. For me, I was about to do something I imagined she had never dreamed of. I had only just been dreaming of it myself.

When I pulled her panties aside it was as if the music from the beginning of the movie A Space Odyssey 2001 blared in my ears. Chestnut brown hair—curly, deep brown hair—covered not only her mons but her puffy labia as well (Women, didn’t trim their bushes back then). I squeezed the cheeks of my ass tightly together to keep from popping my load. Convinced that I was going to fuck her that night I didn’t want any mishaps along the way.

As I parted her lips with my fingers, I heard the most marvelous wet “click” of her opening pussy. Resting my cheek on the inside of her thigh I could see her labia glistening in the ambient, green light of the car radio. Extending my tongue, I licked just where the top of her clam came together. I must have touched her clitoris (though I was yet unaware of what it was) because she winced so hard that her pubic bone hit my nose (I thought it would bleed but didn’t). As my tongue slid through her moistened, aromatic groove it tingled. I’d never done anything like this or tasted something so exciting. in the mists of my memories, the taste of my beloved Cherie’s pussy equaled Ambrosia of the gods.

While opening and closing her thighs her hands pressed against the back of my head and she ground her bottom against the seat as her quiet “Oohs” sounded like the purring of a satisfied kitten. Suckling her warm, wet lips with mine I wondered how I was going to get my swollen cock inside my love’s tight pussy. Unzipping my fly, I worked my near nine-inch cock out of my pants then took her hand and wrapped her fingers around its swollen girth.

In awe and amazement, she said, “It’s HUGE.”

My fraternity brothers always joked that I had the biggest cock on campus. Raising her ass, I held it while spreading her lips with my finger and thumb as much as I could and tried to put my engorged head against them. Moving it through her slippery groove to lubricate it I tried to find the entrance of her pussy.

“NO GARY.” She snapped. I ignored her plea and I continued pressing, beginning to open the portal into her body.

Grabbing my cock, she pushed it aside and commanded, “Stop Gary, I said NO!”

While fighting her I remembered my mother’s lecture on respect and relented. With disappointment and embarrassment, I sat back in the seat and said, “I’m sorry, Cherie.”

With a choke in her voice, she stammered, “It’s ... it’s ... it’s just that I’m determined to remain a virgin until I’m a married sweetie.” With tears welling in her periwinkle eyes, she said, “I want you inside me so BADLY.” She blinked. “But I’m scared honey. And you’re so BIG.” As she pressed her head against me, I could feel her tears wetting my shirt. “I need more time baby,” she murmured. Hugging me she sighed and said, “I want to do this with you so badly. Oh, this just isn’t FAIR.”

Disappointed that I hadn’t experienced getting my cock into the girl I loved I respected her even more. It was the first time that I knew for sure that she was going to be my wife. I pouted a bit in male indignation but felt good that I honored her wishes and hadn’t hurt her in any way.

Are you all right Gary?” she asked. It was as if she was considered that she had denied me too much. Wrapping her hands around my erect penis she was looking at it with a sustained sense of awe, “You are SO big, baby.” After thinking for a bit, she asked, “Are all guys’ penises this big?”

Taking it as a compliment I wondered if she had not Garth. I knew from seeing him come out of the shower that Garth was a peanut. There were few secrets in the fraternity house. “What about Garth Anderson,” I asked to make sure.

In complete control now she moved the loose covering skin up and down on my turgid shaft, studying it as she manipulated me. Laughing she sneered, “Garth Anderson, what a creep. He pulled his penis out of his pants the last night we were together, and I slapped his face. I didn’t see any more of it than the pinkness of his skin.” When I told her what Garth had said about her not giving him a “Hand-job,” she giggled and said, “‘ Hand-job,’ what a quaint way to describe what I am doing.”

Somehow, she knew I was out of control, my perceived excitement causing her to double her effort. Jerking me faster I shot a long rope that landed across her legs and panties. “Eew,” she reacted, “this is nasty.” Reaching for her purse she pulled out a hanky and wiped my semen off her legs, trying to clean it from her panties. As she was doing it, she chuckled and said, “I guess I’m not the first girl you’ve done this to.”

Embarrassed, I was proud of being assessed for at least having experience. “I ... I’m sorry to have made such a mess Cherie but I want you to know that the first time we French-kissed I was so excited that I did the same thing in my underwear.”

Quiet for a moment, she said. “Well, I guess that’s a compliment anyway. Did your other girls mind as much as I did when you ejaculated on them?”

I made matters worse by replying, “I’ve never shot on any other girl, but I’ve come in my pants before.”

Our parting was cooler than I would have hoped. Just as she was getting out of the car her kiss was perfunctory, “Have a Merry Christmas Gary,” she icily said, “You don’t need to walk me to the door.”

Christmas vacation was not as happy as I expected it to be. Thinking my relationship with Cherie was over I was in a two-week sulk. Ordinarily, we would have exchanged phone calls, but I was sulking. She was doing the same. We had gotten so serious that she was using the vacation to assess whether to call the whole thing off.

When I got back to school, I went back to hashing at the sorority house. When Cherie and I saw each other, she looked at me with either angry or hurt eyes. She didn’t come into the kitchen for three days which made my funk deeper.

On Thursday she called me on the phone: “Hello, Gary?” She sniffled. Though it hurt to know that she was sad I greeted her more apathetically than I should have. “I guess you must think I’m quite a prude,” she said. I told her that wasn’t true. “Over the holidays I talked with my brother about what happened, and he said I was being a jerk.”

I didn’t know whether she was, or she wasn’t. I knew I was.

“It’s nine o’clock Gary,” she went on. “I must be back in by ten. But could you come over and talk to me ‘til I must go back in?”

Just after hanging up the phone, I was in the car for the seven-minute drive. She was waiting on the front porch of the sorority house. Having parked the car in our secluded spot I walked around the corner and met her on the porch. We kissed passionately in that public spot and then walked together back to the car. Getting into the back seat we proceed to make more passionate love than we had before. I’m sure that I could have fucked her, but I didn’t try.

As we kissed in the car, she eagerly struggled to get my cock out of my pants. Kissing my knob she said, “I’m glad you came on my legs and panties the night before I left to go home darling.” She looked up. Looking up and said, “You nasty boy.”

Surprised that she used the word “came” instead of “ejaculated” I kissed her even more passionately and was quickly finger-fucking her pussy while she furiously jacked me off. She broke the kiss, reached inside the long sleeve of her sweater, and pulled out a hanky. With my heart in my throat, I hoped I was right about what she was going to do. And as I added another finger inside her more now supple cunt, she put the hanky over the head of my cock with the other hand while stroking me in an almost spastic rhythm.

While I dug my fingers inside her, not knowing what I was digging at, I purposely worked to keep from popping my wad. Then, as I blasted three long ropes into the hanky Cherie froze in an orgasm of her own.

As we came down from our exertion she said, “I promise you this baby, from the night we get married and for the rest of our lives, I’m going to want you to put this big thing inside me anytime you want.” She gave my deflating cock a good-natured tweak then giggled. “And you had better want to do it a lot because if you don’t, I’m just going to have to find somebody else.”

We were married at the end of June of 1962, just two weeks after our graduation from Ohio University in Cambridge, Ohio. Like so many college graduates at the time, we expected to be hired by large companies and work there till we retired. retire from our careers there.

Wherever we moved to Cherie would convince me to join a Methodist Church where we would join the choir and be considered by the older members of the congregation as that “darling” young couple. I expected that we would be an average couple and that we would lead a long and satisfying life. Had anyone ever suggested that we would take the fork in the road that we did Cherie, and I would have howled at that person’s strange sense of perspective. I can’t keep the smile off my face as I write these words...

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