Chapter 3

“Have a little sleepover, did we?” Cindy waited until Mike and Marcie were gone to make her snarky comment. I turned red-faced and avoided eye contact. I think Steve was proud of himself and basked in his glory for a little while as I made myself scarce.

That evening we were talking about what happened. “Are you up to do that again, my little slut?” Steve mounted me in bed. He wasted no time pushing his cock head up into my crack to fuck my ass.

“I liked it, but what if they didn’t? They haven’t called or anything,” I probably sounded like a nervous teenage girl wondering if the boy that I liked at school liked me back. Steve assured me that we’d see them again.

My husband began to thrust his cock into my ass without priming me. It was hard for me to get used to it but I liked how was just taking me like I didn’t have a choice in the matter. It was different – not like him. He praised me for how well I obeyed him and made him feel powerful.

He admitted that at first that he was concerned about sharing me with Mike. “I got turned on because I knew Mike wanted you and I had you. You belong to me,” Steve told me.

“I do, I do,” I giggled playfully as I writhed on the tip of his cock and tried to masturbate. He slapped my hand away from my clitoris and told me that I needed permission to get off.

“Even in bed?”

“Always, you are much more fun when you are horny! Trust me,” Steve rode me by laying on top of me while he penetrated my asshole. I didn’t care for the dick in my ass, but I liked how hungry Steve was. I felt like a sheep being devoured by a wolf that wanted to consume me completely and it made me feel wanted and alive.

I would have liked it if he rimmed my asshole the way that Mike had the previous night! I was such a dirty slut, and I hated to admit it to myself!

“I’d like to keep doing the game we are doing. Whatever it is called, all the time if I could,” I told my husband with a wintry smile. He could tell that I was sincere about wanting to keep this up but that I had a real concern. He pulled out of my asshole and began to play with me while I stroked his cock. “It’s just that we have kids, and jobs and real lives, bills and groceries that have to be taken care of. We must have made a lot of noise last night. Fucking Marcie was screaming like a banshee in heat,” I whispered somberly.

I could from the look on my husband’s face that he was hearing me but disappointed by my reaction.

“This is a fun fantasy, but what would our kids think of us if we start having more people sleep over? They had to know we got up to something last night,” I said.

“They are teenagers growing up in a fucked-up timeline where they see wild stuff on the Internet, they aren’t toddlers,” Steve was very cavalier about our kids finding out we were swingers. He said there were only two possible outcomes if they knew or suspected. “They can make up a bunch of weird theories that are likely not true, or we can have an honest and open conversation with them. We can tell them we love each other and are in a committed relationship, and that doesn’t change. If they want to know more then we can cross that bridge.”

“I am glad you think it is just that simple,” I kept pulling his cock and playing with it. I tried to imagine having an uncomfortable conversation with my own parents about their private business. It just wasn’t done and the kids shouldn’t know about it.

“Look, do you want to keep having mind-blowing sex and doing what I tell you?”

“Yes,” I giggled a little. I wiped his cock clean with my fingers and began to suck on it. I was trying to figure out how Marcie made it disappear down her throat without choking on it.

“Then you have to TRUST me. If you don’t trust me to make the right decisions then you can’t surrender. You are just taking suggestions until you get one you don’t like to hear. I want to hear you tell me that you will do what I tell you, when I tell you, and how I tell you.”

“You mean sexually? The game? Or with money?” I was half-teasing. I didn’t want Steve to go out and splurge and buy a new car or something without informing me.

“In everything, we’ll take care of the groceries and the bills and keep the lights on. We’ve raised some decent kids and we are a lot better than our parents ever were. My dad was a drunk and yours is an asshole and a racist.”

That was true. My Dad really was openly racist, and I hated that, but I still loved him.

“Okay, yes, Steve,” I agreed. We fucked like it was our wedding night and it was splendid. It wasn’t as life altering as the huge pile-up of writhing bodies the night before. That was a hard act to follow. I kept thinking about how Mike man-handled Marcie. He grabbed her chin and sometimes choked her or pushed her mouth down on his cock. Even though she could swallow it was like he wanted to make her gag. It had to be annoying but there was something primal about how he smacked her ass and pulled her hair and tossed her around the bed. The way he just laid pipe into her pussy or ass without even warming her up and she backed into it and thrust up and down whichever hole he chose to enter.

I found it hard to open up to Steve and ask him to be rough like that with me. I didn’t want to sound like I was criticizing or trying to get him to behave as Mike. I knew that Steve would take that the wrong way. Instead, I would casually put my ass in his face and shake it so that he might slap my butt. I’d try to present opportunities for Steve to grab my hair and even strangle me. It was awkward because at times I felt like Steve was going a bit too far and even being mean. It was different and not quite what I expected.Steve was much more frisky and imaginative in bed after our encounter with the other couple. He wasn’t rough physically like Mike but I loved his vulgar dirty talk. It shocked me to hear the man I love call me a dirty cum slut, whore and even a cunt.

I think that is what turned me on the most about it. He’d invent elaborate scenarios during our love-making and breathlessly whisper them into my ear. “I’ll take you to get a tattoo and make you blow the guy” or “We’ll go out to Applebees and you’ll offer to fuck the waiter”.

I was able to see the fantasy unfold in my head. It didn’t matter how over the top or improbable the fantasy my husband described was. They frequently involved me being a total whore, humiliated and even shamed and ridiculed. It was like I was an observer to what was happening to me when my husband described these things and it excited me!

I found myself frequently whispering “What happens next?” to my fictional alter-ego in these imaginary scenarios. It was intense!

We continued our games that week, and Steve stepped things up. It seemed like every few hours he was coming up with something for me to do around the house that was naughty or humiliating. He started to make me do aerobics around the house.

The kids saw me doing exercises. I’ve done fad diets and made New Years resolutions to lose a few extra pounds before. They thought it was just one of those silly mid-life crises that I start and never continue.

It was just me being “goofy” as far as they knew. I was basically hiding my fantasy in plain sight and that made it all the more fun to be told by my husband what to do.

At first, I could wear sweats and a loose tank top but then he wanted me in skintight stretchy pants that showed off my butt. I felt like my camel toe was easily recognizable but even Cindy wasn’t going to call me out for that.

Marcie and Mike finally broke their silence. I had been trapped in anticipation wondering if we offended them, scared them off or even bored them. It turned out that they wondered the same thing and were more than happy to come over to our house again for a repeat performance the following weekend.

We went to bed EARLY that night and got right to it. There was no awkward fooling around in the beginning where tried to figure out boundaries. We tore into each other and fucked our brains out.

She lent me a ‘butt plug set’ and explained how they worked. She told me that I would need to practice with the smallest one and work my way up. My husband’s cock was longer than the plug but not nearly as wide. Steve loved telling me to sit on it and practice wallowing and grinding my body down on the plug. He thought the faces I made were amusing and they probably were.

I have to admit, I didn’t enjoy training my ass with the plug, but I did love the attention and time my husband was spending coming up with little tasks or assignments for me around the house. It was sexy and our little secret game. The kids had no idea that I served them dinner with a plug up my ass.They saw me wearing sexy outfits and exercising but other than that – this was my dirty little game I was playing with my husband. Even Mike and Marcie didn’t know that my husband and I were playing all of the time.

A week flew by and we had arranged for another ‘sleep over’ with Mike and Marcie. I didn’t feel I needed to explain it to the kids that we were swingers. In my heart I think they kind of knew what we were all going to be up to later that night.

The sex with Marcie and Mike was fantastic!

Marcie enjoyed bossing me around in bed, perhaps more than Mike and Steve did. She was much more verbal about it. They liked to point and shove and force my head in different directions. She liked to talk like a stone cold bitch and demand that I get her off. I felt compelled to do as I was told – and that was the game anyway. I was supposed to follow my husband’s instructions.It felt natural to follow the Flynn’s instructions as well while we were in bed together.

My friend often told me to eat her out, but she never made the same demand from the others, and she didn’t reciprocate by going down on me. She seemed to enjoy getting a rise out of me by telling me lick her pussy and watching my reaction as I rolled over and began to slurp and lick her clit. She had no qualms about giving head, and I have to admit that watching Marcie helped me learn to do anal and give blowjobs like a porn star.

I couldn’t talk dirty like Marcie, but I was growing more ambitious and enthusiastic in bed with them and when I was alone with my husband.

It really paid off that I had been practicing with the butt plug set that Marcie lent me. I doubt I could have kept up with her if not.

My husband LOVED anal sex once the flood gate was open, and I allowed him to do it to me. I’d only ever allowed fingers before we started swinging. After watching Mike and Marcie, I was an ass slut just like Marcie.

I made a valiant attempt to make it seem like they had just drunk too much, and we let them sleep in our room. It was a plausible cover story, and I doubted my kids bought it but they didn’t tease me much about it when Mike and Marcie left.

They seemed to like coming to our house. I wondered if it would be easier if we spent the night at their house or I would feel a sense of shame and embarrassment around Marcie’s sons when I left if they suspected I had made love to their parents the night before.

We invited them back over on Sunday afternoon. It was probably too much to have them back over to play again but It was my husband’s decision, and I had agreed to let him make those decisions. I coordinated it with Marcie.

This time they came over to go swimming and have some beers. Steve put on some Jimmy Buffet and country music and fired up the grill. It was like any normal get together except we were swinging partners with the other couple. They brought their kids over.

They had two sons around Teddy’s age named Jimmy and Joseph and a stuck up blonde daughter named Tiffany.

Marcie’s kids didn’t seem even the slightest bit embarrassed or shocked when Marcie changed into the skimpiest bikini I had ever seen. It was basically a string that ran around her hips and through her legs and then two small hammocks that held her tits in place.

My sons DEFINITELY noticed. “Steve asked me to bring you one of my wicked weasel bikinis. See if this fits,” she tossed me a slinky little fluff of Lycra material.

“Where is the rest of it?” I half joked. I knew that was all there was. My sixteen year old daughter Cindy could have worn this bikini to the beach and caused a bit of a scandal. It was certainly made for a body built for speed.

I definitely didn’t feel I could pull it off, but my husband reminded me that I had agreed to follow his instructions, and he wanted me to wear the bikini. He also wanted me to flit around, giggle and bring him and Mike beers while they talked.

“Oh yes,” I giggled like a bimbo-barbie sarcastically. He smacked me on the bottom and told me that he wanted me to act just like that. The audacity of it! I couldn’t fit my pubes completely into the thong, even though I did my best to tuck them in and shave them back. I was red-faced as I stepped out on the pool.

Marcie’s sons may not have thought twice about their own mother, but their eyes followed me everywhere I walked. I felt like life support for two big floaty balloon tits and two big buttocks. I wanted to at least jump into the water where I could hide my lower half. Steve wasn’t having it.

“Bring some Miller Lite and put a six pack on Ice, Dear,” he instructed me. I smiled at him flatly. I’d let him have his fun. It felt kind of good to be his trophy wife that he wanted to show off.

Yet, at the same time I couldn’t help but feel like a “second place trophy” compared to how natural and breezily Marcie sauntered around the pool like she owned it. She reminded me of a stripper stepping up on to the stage to perform her show. She had all this confidence, and she had to know that all eyes were on her body hanging out of the bikini that she wore.

It didn’t seem to bother her. I wanted her confidence and swagger. She looked at me as if she was better than me, and I wanted her to see me as an equal.

We didn’t have sex that afternoon. I gave Mike head and Marcie gave my husband a hand job in the house before she left. It was a little disappointing but we couldn’t just leave our kids with theirs and abandon them for a few hours. We said our goodbyes and they went home, but Marcie let me keep the bikini.

I TRIED to give it back.

“Oh no, it’s way too nice, I want you to keep wearing it!” Steve implied that I’d be wearing the bikini well after swimming was over. I smiled and agreed. This was our ‘game’ or whatever it was now. He was the boss, and he had given me an implicit instruction. He had done it right in front of my kids as he often did. He did it discreetly so they didn’t think he was being mean or strict. However, it was obvious that I didn’t have a choice in the matter.