Chapter 7: Swinging, success on TV, high speed abduction, pregnant, happy ending

The house was in Sykesville, Maryland. It was new, large and mostly brick, maybe five or six thousand square feet. It sat on about ten acres of land that was half grass and half wild forest. There were multiple levels to the house, and to the walkout decks and patios, that all interconnected both inside and outside the residence.

Marjorie knew the couple who owned the house, and consequently who ran the relatively small swinger's group called Sensations. Their names were Frank and Alice Hunt. They were in their late thirties, had two children who they'd farmed out to friends so they could host the party this time around.

Marge had arranged for all of us to attend, even my brother who flew in from Chicago. So six of us trooped in to join the other guests: Carrie, Marjorie, Emma, Doug, Jerry, and me.

Offsetting the six of us were about twenty other men and women, mostly married couples, but there were some singles who knew the Hunts well. One by one I met each of them as we circulated. Alice did a great job of keeping us moving so we didn't get bogged down in one group and not meet everyone. This was to be a social event in every meaning of the word.

No one made a fuss over Carrie. I worried that her reputation would be sullied in some way by our attendance and participation, but Frank and Marjorie assured me that what happened in the house, would stay in the house. There were strict rules about no photos or videos, and no mention of names or the kind of entertainment that took place. Carrie was more comfortable with that than I was.

We met at six o'clock, for a potluck cookout. The weather was autumnal, with temps in the sixties, but we were all dressed appropriately for the October evening. Each of the girls had brought a dish for us: large salad, Swedish meatballs, and a huge pile of chocolate chip cookies that started to disappear as soon as they were set on the table.

Carrie chose to stay close to me, playing the role of wife beautifully. We met the other couples, and most of the singles. Only one other couple talked about her newly won fame as a super-hero, and we didn't mind how the approached the subject in the least. As darkness prevailed, we migrated inside the beautiful home. The furniture in one room had been pushed aside leaving a large dance area. Some sexy and romantic music was playing, and the lights were dim and inviting of intimacy with our new friends.

Carrie and I danced one of the slow sexy numbers. I asked her, "You happy with what you're seeing? Is this what you want? Do you like the people?"

She grinned at me and nodded. "Yes, this'll be fun ... for you too. There are lots of sexy women here, like the blond in the slinky green dress."

Now I had to smile. I did have designs on the blond, but if Carrie or Marjorie were squeamish about staying or the sex, I could easily have been persuaded to leave.

The song ended, and we broke apart. A man named Dean swept up Carrie in two seconds for the next dance. I went and met the blond – Sheila Winters. We got into a sexy dance, and this time the dance turned into a bit of a make out session right on the dance floor. I liked how Sheila kissed, and I apparently rang her chimes too. Soon our bodies were grinding together at the hips in mock anticipation of a similar act without clothing.

Sheila and I swapped French kisses. When we were both panting, Sheila pulled me along to the stairway, and we went upstairs to what was principally the bedroom level. She said with a smile, "I like how you kiss, and I know I'm going to like how you fuck."

I noticed that the doors to all the rooms were open. Sheila read my mind. "Sort of an informal house rule that the doors stay open; it's very erotic to hear others fucking, plus it always gives the women a sense of safety. Come in here."

"Do people come and watch?" I still didn't know all the ground rules for the swinger'sparty.

"Yes. I think we all have an exhibitionist kink inside us. You get used to it, and even perform a little."

"Do others join in?"

"Maybe, if we ask them. That'll be up to you. I like both kinds of threesomes, but for right now, I just want to be with you so we can focus on each other."

We kissed some more as our clothes became a pile on the floor. Sheila was spectacular, and I thought I recognized her from someplace, but I didn't want to use the trite pick-up line, 'Don't I know you from some place?'

Sheila was exceptionally skilled at blowjobs, and I proved my true mettle when I ate out her pussy, and brought her to three back-to-back orgasms in a short time period.

After the Hat Trick, Sheila said, "Put your hand inside me. Fuck me with your hand. I'm flexible and can take it. I like to be fisted."

I worked three fingers in her and then four, forming a cone with them. I tucked my thumb in, and soon could slide my entire hand deep inside her cunt.

Sheila groaned, "Oh, so fucking good – such a turn on."

I twisted and turned my hand a little, but I was afraid I'd hurt her.

Sheila finally said, "You won't hurt me. Find my G-spot." She pointed, "It's right behind my mons and clit, right about there only inside. Rub that."

I followed her advice, and Sheila soared into orbit, moaning loudly as two more climaxes hit her. My hand, her pussy, the bed, and a good part of us were soaked in her juices that flowed from her like an open spigot.

Sheila reached down and held my hand motionless inside her. She said, "I'm going to show you something only a few men in the world know. It's called an A-spot, and if you stroke that area, I'll cum like a screaming banshee, probably squirt, and rape you when I come down from my orgasm."

"You can't rape the willing," I chortled.

Step-by-step she coaxed me along to her A-spot, an area just in front of her cervix and even deeper inside her. My long tapering fingers were proving to be a huge asset. I got a solid lesson in the interior physiology of a woman, but ended knowing where and how to find the small area.

I started to stroke Sheila's most sensitive spot, and she started to writhe and moan. I noticed another couple at the door watching us. The man was behind the woman obviously fucking her as they watched us.

Sheila started to pant, and then gasp for air. I didn't let up. Barely under her breath she got into a string of dirty talk: 'Oh, you are so gonna make me cum really hard;' 'your cock is going to be pasting your cum all over that spot in a few minutes.' 'I hope you like to fuck for long time periods, because I may just fuck you the rest of the weekend.' 'I like people watching us – watching you put it to me, fucking me with your hand, and soon putting that large cock inside me.' She was good, and I got and stayed hard.

Sheila came like the crescendo of a symphony orchestra at maximum volume. The sounds and passion built and built, until I thought she'd fly into orbit. She screamed her climax, and then creamed the two of us as her body ejected her juices at the height of things.

Sheila collapsed into a pile of used sexual mush right before my eyes. She had that 'rode hard and put away wet' look, and she was soaked. Her eyes were closed and she could barely breathe.

"You are a fabulous lover," she gasped. "You're a natural. You knew exactly how to play me once you got the idea of what was supposed to happen. I've never cum so hard as I just did with you, and I've cum a lot. We are so going to do this again."

I changed position so I could kiss her. "You inspired me. It's easy to be romantic and passionate with you."

We lay there and I toyed with her full breasts. Eventually, Sheila moved and mounted me on the bed. We started to fuck, only now she was playing me, getting me right to the edge and then backing off.

I asked, "How do you know when to stop or slow, so that I don't fire off into you?"

She kissed me hard, "I watch your eyes and face. When you look desperate to cum, I know you're at the edge. But that's over now. I want you to fill me with you jism. I want to be dripping the rest of the night with what you give up."

I blasted a load of premium creamy man cum into Sheila a minute later, enjoying my own soaring orgasm and the slow afterglow as my physiology returned to normal.

As Sheila and I kissed, she said, "You made me cum too. I don't normally cum when I'm fucking, particularly someone new, but when I felt you start to shoot off inside me, it was so hot, so sensual, and so stimulating. You cum hard, with a lot of squirt power behind it."

A few minutes later, we got up and sauntered into the kitchen. A few others were there, also nude, and enjoying some liquid refreshment.

Sheila led me around the house. I saw Jerry and Doug double-teaming a cute brunette in another bedroom. She was sucking on Doug as Jerry pumped into her from the back doggie style.

Marjorie was with an older man, her pert boobs alluringly oscillating as she rode him. A nice looking guy was fucking Carrie in the missionary position; she had her legs wrapped around his upper body to maximize the pleasure she was getting. In the next bedroom Emma was being fucked by one of the single men, as one of the single women sat on her face to be eaten out. They all looked and sounded to be having a more than satisfactory time.

Sheila led me outside. The temperature had to have dropped another couple of degrees since we'd come in after sunset, but I was so physically hot from our playtime, that I barely noticed. She had me sit on one of the picnic tables, and she started to work my cock as I leaned forward to fondle her tits, an activity I discovered she liked.

"Is this a private party, or can anyone join? ... Oh, a nice cock. Will you share?"

The female joining us was a pretty brunette named Wendy. Wendy had a lot of moving parts, and they were all shimmying and shaking as she put on a little show for me. If I hadn't been hard before, I was fifteen seconds after staring at her.

Sheila laughed, "Yes, I'll share. Did you meet Jim? I spent a very worthwhile hour with him, and I think he's all recovered now, so why don't you enjoy him. I'm going to find his friends Jerry and Doug. Maybe they'd like to try me, hopefully at the same time."

Sheila planted a kiss on my lips and walked away with a sexy wiggle in her ass. Wendy slid in between my legs and kissed me. I got to toy with her erect nipples as her mouth sampled my cock, picking up where Sheila left off.

I asked, "You a little cold?"

Wendy looked down at her nips that were rigid in the chilly air. She rubbed both breasts in a sexy way. "Now, whatever gave you that idea?"

I tweaked her left nipple, and Wendy squeaked. "Yes, let's go in. I prefer beds to picnic tables."

As we passed through the kitchen, I noted that Sheila had my brother Doug in a lip lock that suggested that he was about to get laid again. Jerry was at the living room bar. He had a redhead sitting on the bar with her legs over his shoulders as he munched away at her pussy. I liked that this group of new friends were as exhibitionist as we were.

Sunday afternoon the six of us sat around in our family room: Carrie, Emma, Marjorie, Jerry, Doug, and me. We were all casualty dressed in jeans and t-shirts. Each of the men had one of the women curled up in a cozy way as he had his arm around. I had Marjorie, Jerry had Carrie, and Doug had Emma.

Carrie asked, "So what was your peak experience last night at the swing party?" She looked at her sister.

Emma said, "Definitely the little gangbang that Mr. Stud Muffin here arranged around nine o'clock. I think I had a dozen cocks in me in twenty minutes. That was hot, and it appealed to my inner slut." She turned and kissed Doug who she'd decided was her Stud Muffin for the weekend.

Doug looked pleased with himself. He said, "I was being a bit selfish. I have some porn that I like – gangbangs – and I'd never participated in one. The opportunity was there when Frank, our host, set up the massage table in their playroom."

I teased him, "You'd never even dreamed of group sex until you let me talk you into coming with us on our honeymoon!"

He blushed, "You're right. I was pretty straight laced. I thought that kind of stuff only happened in porn flicks, and I didn't watch too many of those either. You've all totally corrupted me. I was such a good boy, and now I'm a devout hedonist."

Carrie leaned next to her on the sofa and poked a finger into his ribs, "Oh, you were a good boy last night. I think I got about eight inches of good boy from you at one point, and I loved every beautiful millimeter of it." She reached down to the crotch of her cutoffs and rubbed her pussy through the material. I loved how my princess had become so carefree and sexual.

Doug blushed, and Emma hugged him. She said, "You liked fucking my sister, didn't you?"

Doug nodded enthusiastically.

Jerry moved to defend Doug. "Well, I'd never been in a gangbang either, and I thought I'd been around the barn a few times." He looked at Emma, "So, did you like it?"

"Like it? I loved it. I've probably been more thoroughly corrupted by the lot of you, especially my sister, than the rest of you put together. Being fucked by over a dozen men within a few minutes just seemed like the ultimate satisfaction to me. You've made me realize that I have a sexual nature and I love it. I think I was a secret nymphomaniac, but now you've brought that all out in me. Barely a minute goes by that I don't think about having sex."

Doug ventured in mock sarcasm, "And there's something wrong with that?"

"No," Emma said after kissing his hand, "it's just that I thought of other, more socially acceptable things before falling into your lot. Now, every male is a potential fuck buddy or lover, and most females near my age hold some attraction too. I wonder what some guys cum or some girl's pussy juice might taste like. I wonder how talented a lover they might be. I wonder what turns them on, and what they know or could do that might turn me on. See! I'm crazy. I'm also a slut, but we'll keep that under wraps."

I speculated, "If you're crazy, then the rest of us are too, and a huge chunk of the world's population. I think you're quite normal, especially for a mid-twenties woman. As for being a slut, I like something I read where the word slut – S. L. U. T. – stands for sexuality, loving, understanding, and tolerance. Those are pretty nice characteristics for someone to have in my book."

Carrie puffed out her chest, thereby displaying her hard nipples through the thin material of her t-shirt, "I'm a slut too. God, less than a year ago I was a virgin. Now, ... oh dear, I've lost count of how many men I've fucked. Wait, I think I can remember them all. I think I'll write their names down later. I don't know some of their last names though."

Marjorie had been laughing at the discussion. She piped in, "Well, I've been fucking longer than any of you, and I love it too. When I first discovered sex in high school, I did practically fuck any male that I fancied, and in college I got only slightly more selective. I don't remember all the men, and a few times I never got anybody's name – first or last. So, I'm a charter member of the slut club in this household."

Emma announced, "I'm horny." She turned to Doug and planted a wet kiss on his lips. He responded well. She took his hand and slid it up under her t-shirt. "Let's go make love."

Doug looked a little embarrassed at the public invitation, but by then Emma was pulling him into a standing position, and starting to herd him towards one of the downstairs bedrooms. As they went in, I noticed they left the door open.

Carrie kissed Jerry, and said, "That sounds like a good idea to me. Shall we join them or do you want to play in private?"

Jerry stood. "Let's go play with them."

As they disappeared into the bedroom with Emma and Doug, Marjorie pulled her t-shirt over her head exposing her full breasts. I'd been toying with her nips through the material so they were nearly at full attention. She unbelted her cutoffs, and let them slide down her legs. She'd gone commando, and so her svelte and sexy form was readily available.

I didn't waste any time joining in her nudity or in much foreplay before we got down to the main event. I loved my girlfriend, and we'd been enjoying foreplay all day.

Carrie said, "What could we do about Emma? She really wants to be with us all the time." I could tell she'd been brooding about her sister since Em returned to the U.K. a week earlier after a teary departure from our bed.

Marjorie laughed, "She could marry Doug or Jerry..."

I raised an eyebrow at that. I wasn't sure that either of them was ready to tie the knot with anybody, regardless of their situation.

Marjorie continued, " ... or maybe we could get one of the single guys in the swinger's group to take her on as a wife and solve her visa problem. Hey, wait, why don't I move to a state that allows lesbians to marry, and I'll marry her."

This time both Carrie and I looked askance at Marge.

I said, "If you're serious – and Emma wants to be here, why doesn't she just apply for a visa. I think they give out several thousand a year to U.K. citizens who want to migrate here. I know two of the requirements are they have some money and can show they'll contribute to society in some way. If she had a statement from a bank or someone important that would support her case ... of course, she's important in her own right."

Marjorie adopted a serious tone, "If she leaves the U.K. she'll be condemned and scorned by her countrymen. One sister leaving is one thing, but two; that'd break the camel's back. The rest of your family would have fits all around."

Carrie nodded, "I know, that's why I'm trying to think of some way to resolve this."

We temporarily set the 'What to do about Emma' issue aside, but having learned how Carrie thought, I knew we'd be coming back to it until we could find some resolution.

We spent Thanksgiving with my parents in Massachusetts. While there we played tourist and went to all the sights like Lexington, Concord, Bunker Hill, and other places where the revolutionary war had been fought. We had fun teasing each other about the war. Carrie pledged to continue on her ancestor's behalf. My parents were more politic, and avoided the subject.

For Christmas, we went to Marjorie's parent's home in Syracuse. Our first night there the whole area got eight inches of snow. We had fun making snow angels and throwing snowballs at each other. Snow was a rarity for Carrie who'd mostly grown up in and around London.

To give Carrie a taste of driving in snow, the next day I took her to an empty church parking lot and taught her about steering into a skid, the poor braking action, and how to take turns on slippery roads. Later in the winter when Washington got some snow, she praised my foresight in teaching how to cope with the white stuff.

My brother came and went a few times at our home over the winter. He'd taken over some new job responsibilities for the consulting firm he worked with, and one of his clients was on the beltway.

Jerry, of course, was a regular visitor too. Every time he came to the house, he did a circuit assessing our progress in installing vastly improved home security systems. Gradually, most of his recommendations got implemented. Marjorie and I were glad, and Carrie was resigned to a necessary evil that frustrated her attempt to be 'normal.'

Emma came and visited us for New Years. Our swinger friends held a party that eve, so we all brought the New Year in with a 'bang.' This time, Carrie opted to be 'Super Slut, ' as she called it. She got twenty guys to share their cocks with her during the evening, expanding the number of men she'd had sex with during her lifetime to twenty-nine. She explained that I had the privileged position of Number One on her list. I appreciated the veneration.

Emma spent two weeks with us, and much of the time outside work hours was in bed with Marjorie, her sister, or me – or all of us. I started to believe her when she described herself as a newly minted bisexual nymphomaniac. Jerry helped out on quite a few occasions too, and Doug went out of his way to attend to her too.

In March, a week after Emma returned, Doug came by for two nights while he spent the days at his Beltway client. The last night, he blew us away with his plans for the next two or three years, and maybe longer.

Doug said, "My consulting firm has asked me to relocate to London and help set up an office in the U.K. I have to help hire some local staff over there, and even find an office head, and then I'll be coming home to the U.S. They want me over there at least for two years, and possibly three or more."

Marjorie, Carrie, and I looked at each other and simultaneously said, 'Emma!'"

Doug had a comfortable relationship with Emma, although they didn't see each other all the time as only one or the other might be at our house. A few times they synced, and the two of them connected – mind, body, and spirit.

Doug was so busy with work he still hadn't gotten a steady girlfriend. One of his old girlfriends had anointed him her 'fuck buddy, ' and that took care of some of his physical needs when he was in California, but he'd told us he really liked Emma and even thought of her as a longer-term special girlfriend.

After our realization that Doug might be the solution to the 'Emma Problem, ' Carrie laid out the situation with Emma to him during one of his visits.

Carrie said, "Emma wants a connection to all of us, and you can become that connection. You're being in England will mean she has somebody there all the time that provides her a link to us."

Doug looked skeptical, "But she wants sex with you."

I laughed, "So, you'll have to pick up the slack. I can't be in two places at the same time, besides I think Emma has a crush on you too. When she finds out you're going to be over in the U.K. she'll be over the moon. In fact, I bet you that she wants to move in with you."

"Emma? You mean the beautiful girl who describes herself as a bisexual nymphomaniac slut who is also oversexed, and who we double-teamed two weeks ago while she kept yelling faster – harder - more?"

"Yep, that one," I chortled about his quoting her lurid description of herself.

"Let's see how it plays out. Next time I see her I'll let her know I'm going to be an ex-pat in her home country."

The next time turned out to be three weeks later.

Emma sat stone-faced as Doug told her about his overseas assignment. She slowly turned to me, and then Carrie, and then Marjorie. We were all looking at her to see what her reaction would be. Gradually, she broke into a huge grin, but she got choked up. She said, "This isn't a prank of some sort is it? I mean the four of you aren't having it on at my expense are you?"

I shook my head, "Nope, this is real."

Emma launched herself into Doug's arms, "Oh, this is the most wonderful news I've had since my sister married your brother."

Doug tentatively said, "I've got to get a flat, I was thinking in South Kensington."

"Oh, that's so tony. Yes, that'd be nice."

Doug timidly said, "I was kind of hoping that ... well, maybe that you'd stay with me once in a while?"

Emma pulled away from him. "You don't want me around all the time?"

Doug said softly, "Actually, I do, but I figured you'd have to be with your parents ... or be doing princess business ... or other stuff."

"NO. If you'll have me, I'll live with you all the time."

"What will your father say about that?"

"Father – smather. He doesn't get to say anything. I'm twenty-six and run my own life. I will have to coordinate with my security. If you think you have freaks and stalkers in this country, you should try England." Emma paused, looked at each of us, and added, "Is that OK? I mean, my moving in with you full time?"

Doug smiled. "You'll make me very happy if you do that – very very happy."

So a month later, Doug started spending time in the U.K. He and Emma did get a flat in South Kensington or SW3 part of London. Doug's new office was in Mayfair, a short bus ride or a couple of tube stops away from home. Emma's bodyguards were able to let the downstairs flat in the same building, so they weren't too intrusive on the pair.

Marjorie had a trip to California to do some interviews for a special she was hosting for NBS. Over the time she'd be gone, Carrie and I flew to London, and spent a week with Doug and Emma. Of course, we also saw her parents and stayed two nights in the royal palace. I was suitably impressed, but could also see how that way of life could be oppressive.

Of course, the tabloids picked up the visit and sensationalized the visit of Carrie and me to Doug and Emma; one headline read 'Brothers and Sisters: What goes on behind closed doors?'

Actually, a fair amount of fucking was going on behind closed doors; however, the media hyped up that Carrie and I were coaching my brother and her sister in the ways of a serious relationship, and that we were urging them to marry one another. Although we never discussed those things, the thought had more than just crossed my mind.

I was exceptionally pleased and flattered when the monarchs were quoted in response to a question about their opinion of a relationship between Doug and Emma. Her father said, "Well, if Doug Westerly is as capable, genuine, supportive, and loving as his brother is to my other daughter, I'd be hard put to recommend a better suitor to her."

He was asked if it bothered him that both his daughters were apparently in love with American men (as opposed to men from England). He responded, "We live in a small world. The large differences people used to see when distances were long have all but disappeared. We are neighbors with the world community. So long as they're happy, I am a happy man, and my wife is equally joyful."

I about dropped my eyeteeth at both comments. I'd been led to believe he would be staunchly against another daughter tying into a Yank.

I hoped her parent was sincere and not just politicking, because the way it was looking by the time Carrie and I flew home, was that Emma and Doug would be together for the rest of their lives. They might not wed, but they sure wouldn't be apart too much.

Carrie shifted into high gear at work, as the first two of her hour-long TV specials came together. They addressed climate change, presenting the cases various politicians used for and against, presenting the various attempts at legislation, examining the cost of failure to take action, and then chastising the governments in a dozen leading countries for their lack of action. The two back-to-back specials would be highly controversial, and poke a stick in the eyes of practically every politician in Washington, London, Paris, Beijing, Moscow, Berlin, Rome, and many other cities.

She arrived home one day and announced they were complete, and that they would be aired two and three weeks hence in prime time, plus she had her own byline on the series: Climate Change Crisis, or C-cubed as she called it. The show had been syndicated by NBS; plus BBC and BFM-TV in France had already subscribed, although their airings were slated for a month or more in the future.

Carrie was positively itchy for the two weeks leading up to the Wednesday evening airing of the first special; the second half would follow a week later. She was like an expectant mother feeling the first twinges of labor pains. A huge amount of advanced press had been created by WDC-TV and NBS about the specials. Some even had clips of Carrie interviewing some politician, Al Gore, environmental leader, or noteworthy scientist.

WDC-TV decided to host a viewing party that night at the station, so Marjorie, Jerry, Carrie, and I showed up and joined about forty others, many of whom had been involved in the filming, research, editing, and other production parts for the specials. Many had their spouses or significant others with them.

The station had put on a huge spread of food and ran an open bar for the event. We'd gotten a limousine, so we didn't have to worry about a DUI.

At eight o'clock, the lights in our party room dimmed and the huge screen lit up with a video of Carrie talking about the environment and climate change. As she talked other clips of melting glaciers, mammoth storms and tornadoes, and record droughts, floods, and snowstorms led into the meat of the broadcast.

Carrie blew me away. She was professional, pretty, knew her material flawlessly, conducted good interviews, and carefully led the viewers through the complex logic of her subject and her thesis that government inaction was creating major problems for future generations.

At the end of the hour, everyone in the room applauded everybody else who had worked on the series. A second part would view in the same timeslot a week later, but the case had already been made. The second part would be additional information, and the icing on the cake, so to speak.

Carrie was asked to say a few words. She stood, and thanked everyone, person by person, for his or her hard work and perseverance on the project. After that, the party broke up, and we took our limo home.