Couples Sharing in the Faith
Chapter 1

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

Desc: Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Two young married couples meet in church and become friends. As the friendship becomes more intimate the couples engage in shared sex then swapping. They meet Aggie Cosgrove, a widow who knew Penny's parents and she sells them her swinger friendly condo where the master bedrooms are connected by a walk-in closet. Soon Aggie is folded into the relationship which bring's Penny's parents into the relationship.

Gary and Charie Holbrook meet in college and resist having sex until marriage. On their honeymoon, in New York City, they go to an adult book store and movie house where Charie develops a desire to experience sex with more than one man. When Gary is transferred to Huntington, West Virginia they join a church, meet another young couple and begin discussing the topic of sex.

I had known Charie Carlisle for two years before we finally got together. I always thought she was just about as cute and classy as any girl I had met before. She was 5' 5" tall, had world class legs, a dynamite ass and a lithe figure. Her breasts were not large by any stretch of the imagination—I found out later they were 34B. She had wavy short dark brown hair, crystal clear blue eyes and a smile that was like the sun on a bright, cheery morning. I met her while working as a "hasher" (one who waits tables and washes dishes) in the sorority house where she lived. Though I had my eyes on her and seemed to have a warm, friendly relationship, she always seemed to be dating higher profile guys who seemed destined for moneyed careers. I never expected that she had more of an interest in me than friendship.

At the beginning of my junior year a fraternity brother and good friend, who years later became a high placed executive in a major food company, began dating Charie. He had the reputation of being a real player, usually going for "loose" women. This led me to consider that Charie as being 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 fucking broad. I've wasted two months, tons of dough, and haven't gotten so much as a hand-job from her!"

It was taboo for the girls in the sorority to come into the kitchen and socialize with the help but Charie always seemed to ignore the taboo. She would often come into the kitchen after dinner and talk with us as we worked. It was this "in your face" attitude that attracted me to her even more. I asked her out about two weeks after Garth's outburst at the fraternity house. When he found out that I was dating her he chuckled, "So you've got a thing for nuns, huh?" She was active in the Wesley Foundation, the Methodist outreach for college campuses throughout the country. Soon she pressuring me to go to church with her, which from time to time I did.

We didn't even kiss until our second date, which wasn't unusual in that era. Though it was just a peck I was surprised at how her breathing increased, almost to a pant. She always seemed to be such a demure girl; the kind of person one would think would always be in control of her emotions.

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. There was no question that she liked touching. At the same time she nudged my knees with hers and mover her body as close to mine as the armrest would allow. I remember thinking, well; at least she isn't a nun.

After the movie we pulled around the corner from the sorority house, parking the car in a dark, tree shaded area. We had only about fifteen minutes before the girls were required to be in the house for the night. This time our kisses were passionate; open mouthed and tongue-probing. By the time I had to take her in saliva was sagging 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 the caress of my hand on the outside of her breast. And, while necking during the fifth night out she even sucked in her chest to allow me to get my hand inside her bra. I remember how small and soft her breasts were, and how her nipples seemed to harden against the hollow of my hand. Also, as I fondled her breasts she was much more passionate, our kisses turning into a marathon of twisted tongues, moans and sighs where our noses served as snorkels.

To me, when I slid my hand up her thigh, it seemed a natural segue that wouldn't be denied. She was wearing a dark blue pleated skirt and knee socks, her legs bare from her knees to her panties. When my hand reached the warm dampness of her panties she jerked it away and said "no!" After being quiet for a bit, keeping her head down, she looked up with her wide eyes, smiled, kissed me passionately then took my hand and put it back between her legs.

Vagina, pussy, twat, cunt: all the words that I could imagine flooded my mind as my fingers felt her moist and flaccid lips. When my middle finger slid inside the most marvelous tunnel in God's creation it was all I could do to keep from cumming in my pants. As we kissed, her moist and spongy walls grasped my tingling finger. I didn't know about female orgasms at the time, had no idea what a clitoris was, or what I should do with it if I knew it was there. All I knew was that when she gasped and her body froze into a spasm, I loaded my shorts with cum.

It was the first time my finger had been inside a girl's pussy. 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. Sucking my finger into my mouth as I drove, I fucked it as I relived of our love-making.

It was the night before we left to go home for Christmas vacation, just a month after we had first started dating. She would be driving back to Virginia for the holidays. Charie was the last one in the sorority house, planning on driving home in the morning. We exchanged gifts and then made love in the car, kissing and caressing; my finger sliding in her pussy again. I would take it out and hold it under my nose when we kissed, sure that she wasn't aware of what I was doing.

Romantic music played on the car radio, its light casting a green shade on Charie's bare legs above her knee socks. I had never done it before, but since sucking my finger after having fingering Charie's pussy the first time; I had the urge to get close enough to her pussy to smell it. In the late 50's none of my fraternity brothers ever talked about eating pussy—except maybe Garth. Oral sex had not come into the popularity that we know today. But I was more than ready to break new ground.

As I lifted 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, resting my cheek
on her soft abdomen. Taking the grumbling inside her stomach as a sign of her excitement I breathed in deeply.

It was heaven to be so close, smelling the delicate bouquet of her femininity. For me I was about to do something that I imagined she had never dreamed of. I had only just recently been dreaming of it. 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. Curly, dark brown hair covered not only her mons but her puffy labia as well (Women, at least young women, didn't trim their pussies back then). I didn't cum in my pants, but my balls were working on it. It was only because I squeezed the cheeks of my ass so tightly that I pop my load. I was convinced that I was going to fuck Charie that night and didn't want any mishaps along the way.

As I parted her lips with my fingers I heard the most marvelous "click." I could see her labia glistening in the ambient green light of the radio. Extending my tongue I licked her just where the top of her clam came together. I must have touched her clitoris because she winced so hard that her pubic bone hit my nose, almost causing it to bleed. As my tongue slid through her moistened, aromatic groove it tingled. I had never done or tasted something so exciting. I suppose my first taste of ice-cream might have come close. But in my memories the taste of her pussy was ambrosia of the gods.

Charie's hands pressed against the back of my head. Her quiet "oohs" reminded me of a kitten purring. Her legs opened and closed against my head and face as she writhed in her seat. As I sucked her warm, wet lips in and out between mine, I wondered how I was going get my swollen cock inside her.

Unzipping my fly I flopped my nine inch cock out of my pants then took her hand and put it on its engorged bulk. In awed amazement she said, "It's huge!" My fraternity brothers always joked that I had the biggest cock on campus. Raising my ass I held my cock, spread her lips and put the head against them, moving it through the slippery groove, finding the indentation of her portal.

"No Gary." She gasped. Ignoring her I continued to press, opening her hole slightly.

Grabbing my cock she pushed it aside. "Gary, I said no!"

I fought her a little. But remembering my mother's lecture on respect I backed off and sat back in the seat. "I'm sorry, Charie."

With a choke in her voice she stammered, "It's just, it's just that I want to be a virgin until I'm married sweetie." As tears welled in her blue eyes she said, "I want you inside me so badly." She blinked. "But I'm scared honey. 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 hugged me and sighed, "I want to do this with you so badly Gary."

Disappointed that I hadn't experienced my first fuck with the girl I loved I knew that she was going to be my wife. I pouted a bit but felt good that I hadn't hurt her in anyway.

"Are you alright Gary?" It was as if she had considered that she was denying me too much. Wrapping her hands around my erect penis said, "You are so big baby." After thinking for a bit she asked, "Are all guys as big as this?"

Taking this as a compliment I wondered How does she know what big is? I knew that beside me Garth was a peanut. There were few secrets in the fraternity house. "What about Garth Anderson," I asked.

She was in complete control, moving the loose skin up and down on my turgid bulk, 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 told her what he said about her. She giggled saying, "hand-job, what a quaint way to describe what I am doing." She knew I was almost out of control and did it faster until I shot a long rope of cum that landed across her legs and panties. "Eew," she marveled, this is nasty. Reaching for her purse she pulled out a hanky and wiped my semen off her legs and tried to clean it from her panties.

Just as she was getting out of the car she kissed me and said, "Have a merry Christmas baby." She kissed me again. "I promise you baby, the night we get married and for the rest of our lives, I'm going to want you to put that big thing inside me anytime you want." She giggled. "And you had better want to do it a lot."

Marrying a year and a half later we honeymooned in New York City. As she promised we fucked many, many times, sometimes when my cock was so sore that I didn't think I could. She had always been an incredibly horny woman, but one with a tremendous sense of self control. Visiting Times Square it was Charie who insisted that we go into an adult book shop. It was there where Charie saw her first porno flick, actually masturbating while she watched, climaxing several times, getting me off three times, once by way of a fabulous blowjob.

The film was of two men on one woman. With her eyes as bugging out as if she had just discovered America she said, "Gary, I've never even considered something like this."

The men were both hung, much like me, so, having been with only one man (having forgotten about Garth's small pecker when he flashed it) and seeing the large endowment of the actors, she thought that this was normal for all men. Many times after that, when I was ramming my cock into her new penetrated cunt, she wondered out loud what it would be like to be ravished by more than one man. I found the conversation very stimulating. But I never imagined that anything like that would ever happen to us. From my own point of view, now that I knew what sex was like with Charie, I often found myself looking at attractive women, becoming aroused and wondering what sex with them would be like?

After our first year of marriage I was transferred by my employer to the city of Huntington, West Virginia. It was 1964. Charie found a teaching job there. There were no children in our marriage with none planned for the next five years. Settling into the new community we became members of large Methodist church, something she had always insisted upon. As we had done in our last community we became active. Charie taught Sunday school. I joined the governing board. We both became members of the choir.

The choir director, John Chapman, was a handsome man with penetratingly blue eyes. Standing about 6'2" he had been a football star at one of the church affiliated universities in Kentucky and kept himself fit. His wife Penny, a stunningly attractive, vivacious blonde, was the church organist, playing the piano and accompanying the choir as well.

One night, after choir practice, as we walked out of the church together Penny looked at John in a questioning manner. He looked at me and asked, "Do you and Charie drink?"

It has always been of interest to me that while most people drink, those involved in churches south of the Mason-Dixon often make a big deal of it. Many of those kinds of church people go to the extremes in hiding their liquor in their homes so other church members won't see it. Since many people of the same persuasion seem to do the same it has always appeared to me as one of the great hypocrisies. Huntington was a "dry" town. There were no bars. No restaurants served alcoholic drinks. If one wanted to drink alcohol it could only be purchased at the State Store.

"Yes," I replied, wondering what the word "club" meant.

Both John and Penny seemed relieved at my answer. "You and Charie are the only people in this church who are close to our age. We would really like to get to know you better."

As we were looking for friends also we were pleased at the invitation by such an attractive young couple. "So," I said, "If we want to go drinking does that mean we have to go across the river into Ohio?"

"We can do that if you want," John said. "But we belong to a club that allows drinking. Would you guys like to go there with us Saturday night? We could go out to dinner first then to the club afterward."

Looking forward to the evening we were excited that we might have something in common with these attractive young people. Both of us were young couples in the midst of a middle aged world. I never mentioned it to Charie but I couldn't help but look at Penny in a lustful way. She had such wonderfully round breasts that I couldn't help but imagine how they would look in the raw. Larger than Charie's they appeared to be perfectly formed. I imagined large, walnut sized nipples.

Although it seemed strange not being able to order wine with meals the restaurant was delightful. We talked about how we met our spouses, the fact that neither of us wanted children until we had been married at least five years, and about how stuffy the church congregation seemed. Charie brought eye-rolls and giggles when she said, "Reverend Haglin and his wife Bertha are so fat that I wonder if they have ever had sex." Even without alcohol our laughter made us completely at ease. We looked forward to going to the club for drinks, hopefully getting a little buzzed.

The "club" concept in dry states was entirely novel to us. West Virginia, like many southern states at the time, wasn't peculiar in that way. There were a couple of "key clubs" in town. where you could by liquor off premises, bring it to the club and drink on the premises. These places offered a personal locker where each member kept the liquor that he had bought at the State Store, a comfortable candlelit room with white table cloths and background music. John handed the key to the waiter who took it to his locker, opened it then took the personally labeled bottle to the bartender, who mixed drinks. It was a bizarre, new experience for us.

I couldn't resist making the comment, "I had a different opinion of what a key club is."

John said, "You mean like the Playboy Club in Chicago?"

"Well," I said, "when Charie and I were on our honeymoon in New York we went the Playboy Club there. You need a key to get past the door." Both Chapman's rolled their eyes and smiled. "My boss gave me his key. Actually it was just made of paper like a business card. But it was shaped like a key."

John and Penny were both wowed that we had actually been to the famed Playboy Club.

"I was referring to the kind of key clubs where couples meet in friend's homes and mix their car keys in a bowl. Then the women are blindfolded. One by one they pick out a set of keys. If the keys belong to their husband they have to put it back and choose another set. After all the keys have been chosen each woman goes home with a man who isn't her husband."

Charie kicked my leg and gave me a scathing look for bringing up such a risqué subject. To John and Penny she said, "My husband Gary has forgotten that the Chapman's are people with whom we go to church, who we hardly even know."

But, ignoring Charie's comment It was Penny who seemed to get the conversation going when she said, "Do you think they have any of those key clubs in Huntington?" She laughed nervously and blushed.

Noncommittally John glanced at her. Looking at us he shrugged his shoulders as if to say, "My blonde wife."

"I read a book about it," Penny continued. "It seems funny, but all of the characters in the book were normal people just like us. They were just curious what it would be like to go to bed with another person's husband or wife. It's probably something lots of people at least think of. I mean ... I'm not suggesting that we ... I mean..."

Charie cut off her in midsentence. "Well, maybe if their husbands or wives were taking care of them in bed they wouldn't be so curious." Reaching for my hand she gave me a smug smile that seemed to be making a statement about our sexual happiness as a couple.

John looked at me and I shrugged as I was thinking, Sure Charie, and you're the one, after seeing a porno flick in New York, who keeps talking about being fucked by more than one man.

"I know it's not considered normal in our society," Penny said, "but maybe some people just need more. Or maybe they are just insatiably curious."

Charie responded, "Curious, or just insatiable?" It put a bit of a hush on the conversation. She looked at me then at Penny and then John, her face coloring pink.

"I meant," Penny continued, "I've heard of women who are nymphomaniacs, girls who just have to have lots of sex."

With a quick glance to her husband she went on, "I know that I shouldn't be saying this to church members, but have you ever looked at a man who just turned you on, and you wished that you could have sex with him?"

John and I looked at each other. He shrugged. I rolled my eyes. I was amazed that the conversation was going this way. But, even though I was a bit uncomfortable, I hoped it would continue. I found it both interesting, and, exciting.

John rolled his eyes again announcing, "the blonde wife syndrome."

Charie said, "I can't imagine having sex with anybody else but my husband."

I thought it sounded a little too defensive. She kept looking at me, almost pleadingly. She fidgeted with her hands. It was obvious to me that Penny had struck a nerve.

"Well," Penny said, "I guess I shouldn't have been talking this way Charie. We've only begun to know you and already I've managed to upset you." While looking at John for forgiveness she said, "I apologize."

That night when we went to bed Charie was distant. As we lay side by side I asked, "Did Penny really upset you that much honey?" She was silent. I didn't want to say anymore to upset her.

We had been still for so long that when she burst out I almost jumped. "You would hate me Gary if I hadn't said that I couldn't imagine having sex with another man ... wouldn't you?"

"You mean you have baby?"

Silent for a long she finally gave me a sheepish answer. "Yes."

I smiled to myself then said, "Well sweetie, I've thought of having sex with a lot of women but haven't."

"Guys are supposed to think that way honey. For that matter you're supposed to fuck as many women as you can get away with. I'm not saying that I agree with it. But Mother told me that men were. I think Daddy might have been. But a woman can't admit that to another woman, especially to another woman who she doesn't even know. It would make her sound like a slut. I feel ashamed Gary. Do you hate me?"

It seemed strange to me that penitence came after a full year of my wife talking about how she wondered what another man's cock would feel like inside her. I was aroused at the club with all the conversation about sex. But when Charie seemed so turned off by it my libido became squelched. As my cock started rising again I asked, "Who have you imagined having sex with sweetie?"

"You're angry with me Gary aren't you?"

Taking her hand I wrapped her fingers around my substantial erection and said, "If I were mad baby do you think that I my cock would have gotten this hard?"

Laying her head on my chest, the air from her nostrils washing my bare skin (I always slept in the nude). She took a firmer hold on my cock and began stroking it. I knew though that something bigger than my cock was on her mind and I said, "You didn't answer my question baby." As she jacked me I was imagining the man sitting across the table from me earlier that night. In my mind he was spreading Charie's legs and mounting her, sliding his cock in and out of her cunt. "Baby?" I hoped her answer would be John.

Not disappointing me, Charie's voice was like a little girl who had done something wrong. It was as if she were confessing to her father. "I've been thinking about John Chapman."

With air escaping from my lungs I totally lost control. My balls let go with a force I hadn't experienced since I was thirteen. As my wife lifted her face in the moonlight I could my glistening load sagging from her forehead and dripping off her nose.

Stifling a sob her body went rigid and quivered as she gasped, "Oh, darling. You're excited about it too!"

My initial explosion was a preamble to a long and passionate night. In the morning the sheets on our bed were all bunched. They were still damp from the soaking that came from our spent bodily fluids. Charie's hair, ordinarily soft and silky, was matted and stuck together, like she had sculpted it with Mousse. The large lips of her pussy were red and puffy, almost raw. My cock was chaffed and burning. My testicles felt like they had been squeezed in a vise. Our love making had been so greedy that we smelled like athletes after a long and hard fought contest. Saturday evening and the conversation that followed in bed led to wild animal sex. We had both had an epiphany that transported us to an insatiable lust. And we were both exhausted. It was Sunday morning and neither of us felt like going to church.

Since the porno shop in New York City my wife lived with a constant curiosity, the curiosity of what another man's hard cock would feel like inside her. Having never discouraged the fantasy I never expected it to be more than that. But when fantasy had the chance of touching reality the mere suggestion of sex with real people sent us into passionate sex that we pursued with the wildness of intoxicated savages.

Even though our conversation with John and Penny might have been just that, the raw lust we pursued all of Saturday night left us with feelings of insatiability. Just the same, unable to deny our of guilt, we thought that by attending church maybe some of our misplaced thoughts and desires would be lessened.

To a certain extent the coffee and hot showers mitigated our sluggishness. But, as we drove to church that Sunday morning we were groggy and worn out. Besides, the car seat was irritating our tender parts. We really needed to take the day off, lie down apart from one another and let our bodies recuperate from our sexual wounds...

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