A few weeks ago, I received an Email from a young man who was a graduate student at a University in a city a few hours from where I live. He said that he is an avid fan of my stories that are posted in alt.sex.stories. He and his girlfriend read them all. In fact, they have been sharing them with a group of friends at the University. This isn't just any group of friends-they are a sort of club that engages in mate-swapping and group sex. There are twelve of them all together, all couples. So they have taken to reading my stories out loud at the beginning of their gatherings as a way to get into the "swing" of things (no pun intended). According to Tim, who is the fellow who emailed me, my stories have had quite an effect on the group. Apparently, things have become a little placid for them, since they have been meeting for over three years. That is a little hard for me to believe, since I can't see how that kind of group could ever be boring. In any case, my stories have gotten them all very aroused, and they have determined to be more creative about their interminglings. The past few months have made them all big admirers of my stories.

I wrote Tim back to thank him for his support, and I told him that I found it to be exciting to imagine them all together reading one of my stories, and then imagining what happened when the pages are put down. I asked which story they liked the most. Within a day, I received another note from him. Their favorite story was "Slippery When Wet," partly because it involved college-age men, and partly because they were intrigued with my fascination with large amounts of semen all over my body. Tim said that this story had led the group to experiment with having several men ejaculate onto one of the women. The experiment was a success, and they concluded that this line of exploration warranted further investigation. Those were his words exactly. It was obvious that he and his friends were graduate students in science. But it was hard for me to imagine nerdy science students being liberated enough to be into group sex.

In my next message, I challenged Tim about the reality of his swingers group. His response blew me away. His group was going to prove to me that they existed. One week from the date of his message, I was invited to join them. He gave me directions to the apartment where they were meeting, and they made sure that I could retain my complete anonymity. They also assured me that they were all completely well behaved ladies and gentlemen, and that my safety and well- being were assured. In fact, they adored me for the inspiration that I had given to the group, and that my presence at their gathering would be a wonderful honor for them.

I decided to attend. It was hard to let go of my fear of strangers, but quite frankly, these people seemed totally benign and genuinely friendly. And my curiosity was piqued. I wasn't sure if I would actually engage in their sexual activities, and I wasn't even sure if actual sex was on the agenda. Maybe this would be kind of like a book-signing party or something. Lots of talk and congratulations and the like.

Today is the day. Before I left home, I put on a long back dress, velveteen lined with satin. It has spaghetti straps and it goes down to my ankles, with slits up each side that reach halfway up my thighs. I never wear a bra, and the vee neck of the bodice extends deep into my modest cleavage. Well, maybe modest isn't the best description. What I'm trying to say is that my breasts aren't so large as to leave a Grand Canyon between them. But there is enough to provide a nesting place for the long string of fake pearls that drapes around my neck and falls into the valley, accentuating the mounds of my breasts. For panties, I chose scarlet satin panties with black lace around all the edges. All of this was rounded out by shiny red pumps, with no stockings. I was trying to play the part of a writer of titillating erotica out to meet her fans. It was a bit like dressing up for the prom.

So now I've driven all afternoon. Fortunately, the weather today was warm enough so that I could drive with the top down on my Miata. It felt great to let my blond hair stream out behind me, and the wind blew into the top of my dress, sort of inflating it and pulling it away from my chest. The breezes whipped across my nipples for all that time on the highway. It was the most slow and gentle and effective kind of stimulation, and my nipples never lost their hardness for the entire trip. I had given myself plenty of time to find my way, but nevertheless, I got lost. So here I am on the doorstep to the apartment, and I'm almost an hour late. Oh well, hopefully, they haven't given up on me. So I ring the door chime. My heart is beating a little fast out of nervousness. I have never actually met any of my alt.sex.stories readers. Maybe I should have kept it that way. Maybe Tim's invitation was a scam, and behind the door are a bunch of macho, sex-maniacs who intend to include me in some sort of nc, sm, bd episode that they can write up for the Internet. That is not my cup of tea at all, and I suddenly decide to turn around and flee this potential fiasco.

When I have wheeled around and taken a couple of steps toward the elevator, I hear the door open. Should I run for it? Before I can decide, I hear a sweet and delicate woman's voice asking if my name is Sue. When I turn my head back to the door, I can see the woman, and I can only feel silly for being afraid of the occupants of the apartment. This person is hardly menacing. She is short (maybe 5 foot or so) and pretty and I guess the best way of describing her would be to say that she is demure, even timid. She seems more nervous to be meeting me than I am in being met! OK, I'll go through with it, so I turn around and walk back to the door and into the apartment.

In the living room, all of the seats are taken, and other people are seated on cushions on the floor. When I enter, they all stand up and welcome me in. Crowding around me, they are effusively thanking me for coming. Tim introduces himself to me, and then to everyone else. All the names escape me, going in one ear and out the other. I've never been so much the center of attention, and I found my focus wandering from person to person, responding to their questions with simple yes and no answers. My head is swimming. Eventually the woman who opened the door (this is her apartment) recognizes my bewilderment, and offers me a chance to wash up in her bathroom. That sounds great. The three minutes in there give me an opportunity to settle my nerves and get back into the role of vamping queen of erotica that I had chosen for myself. Now I'm ready, so I rejoin the group.

One of the first things that I am asked is whether I have written anything new. Well, I haven't, and they seem a bit disappointed. Tim asks if I will read them one of my previous efforts. When I tell him that I would, I also want to know which one they would like to hear. Several people chime in that they would love to hear "Slippery When Wet" again. I suppose I should have anticipated that, from what Tim had told me.

I have now figured out that my hostess is Jill, and that she is Tim's girlfriend. They are all exactly as I might have pictured them. Not exactly nerds like the caricatures in the movies. But definitely intensely academic grad students. Of the twelve of them, only two aren't wearing glasses. Most of the men are wearing Dockers type pants and button down shirts (a couple of them even have those pocket protector things) and most of the women are following the lead of Jill. They have on unpretentious and wholesome outfits that seem like they come from the Eisenhower era. Pigtails and braids, blouses buttoned up to the neck, white socks... the works! I'm not trying to portray them unkindly. Really, they are all totally likable and earnest. But I still can't make this image of them jibe with the fact that they are apparently wild-and-swingers. They look more like a meeting of "Catholic Virgins Anonymous," or something!

Jill is handing me a printout of my story. The pages are kind of worn and dog-eared. This copy had been reread many times. Someone vacates a big overstuffed wingchair for me, and I settle in and start to read. There is a total of 18 pages, so it takes a while. During my recitation, they all sit around me with rapt attention, eager smiles on their faces. But despite their enthusiasm, they show little sign of the sexual stimulation that might be expected from Tim's Email. The predominant thing that they are doing is simply sitting still with their hands folded in their laps.

On the other hand, this story is getting to me. I hadn't reread this one in a long time, and it is actually pretty sexy. And having an audience had a funny kind of stimulating effect on me too. I've been reading and writing stories like this for a while, but saying the words out loud is somehow very different. I have never done that before. It is making me physically warm, and sexually hot. I even feel a bit lightheaded, almost intoxicated. As I approach the end of the story, we reach the part where the four men are holding me afloat in the big Jacuzzi, and I'm sucking on the balls of one, jerking off two of them, and the forth man is plunging his huge cock into wide-spread cunt. They all spray their come onto my wet heaving body as I too have my orgasm. This image is an incredible turn on for me. Usually semen is available in such small quantities. In this story, the jets of string stuff are splattering onto me in wonderful abundance. As I read, the listeners surrounding me become imperceptible as my imagination focuses wholly on the cinematic images that are brought up by the words that I mindlessly (yet passionately) read aloud.

The story ends. I let the sheaf of papers fall to the floor and take a deep breath. I am almost drunk with arousal. I can't see how my new friends have stayed so still and calm.

Ah, but that is not the case. Jill stands up and tells us all that she doesn't care what they agreed on before, she needs to do something to deal with how turned on she is. Now they all start talking. It turns out that they had decided in advance of my arrival that it would be rude to have an orgy with me there. Somehow, they had felt that I was "above" that kind of thing, and that they should be well behaved and proper with me, their special guest, in attendance.

And Jill isn't the only one who wants to abandon their rule for the evening. So then Tim tells me that they obviously can't restrain themselves, but they would fully understand if I choose to leave the party now. They have no desire to hurt my feelings, but they now want to take care of their "more important needs."

I ask them if they are encouraging me to leave, or if it would be all right if I stayed. Their faces light up when I ask that, for certainly, they would like that more than anything else. They had just been too timid to ask. I realize that this is my chance to live out a bit of a fantasy that I had been playing with in my day dreams recently. The "Slippery When Wet" story involved four men spurting their semen onto me. Why not more. After all, Tim's Email said that their group had been experimenting with this kind of thing. So this is my opportunity. Yes, I'll most certainly stay and join them. I have one request for them. Would it be all right if I get to provide them with the basic scenario for our group play?

They are thrilled that I will stay, and more thrilled that I will direct them. Somehow, they have built me up in their minds into some kind of guru of uninhibited sexuality. I am far from that, but what the hell. If they want to think of me that way, who am I to argue.

They push all the furniture over to the walls, leaving a wide space in the middle of the floor. The couch and three big arm chairs are all on one wall, with a big coffee table in front of the couch. Jill has gotten several bath towels that she has spread in layers onto the table, making for a comfortable position. Now I tell them all to undress. I myself remain fully clothed (for now) in my provocative outfit. My full attention is on the twelve bodies being transformed from conservative to libertarian dress code. I notice at once that the plain apparel that they wore in public is only a cover for an array of more interesting underwear. Most of the men are wearing tight bikini pants in dark colors. One of the guys is has his cock encased in a tiny strip of a cod-piece, held up by string straps that circle his hips, with a single string disappearing into the crack of his ass. The women are similarly attired in sexy panties and bras that cry out with bright reds and neon greens. A couple of them have nylons and garters, and Jill has a black strapless push-up bra that cuts across her large breasts, creasing deeply into her wide, brown areola and leaving her nipples exposed. And she has crotchless panties, which I notice when she puts her foot up onto the arm of a chair to remove her white sock. This spreads her thighs apart, and her entire pubic area bulges out of the crotch. She has an incredible amount of hair around her cunt, and it is dark reddish-brown, like her head hair. This provides a great contrast to the shiny black of her panties.