Chapter 8

We saw Michael and Joan frequently after that first evening of group sex and the sex became better and better, free and easy; it reached a point in which we had to plan our evenings carefully so that something more than sex happened. We went to movies, plays and bowling, then we went to either their apartment or our house and fucked.

And always when we returned home after we have switched and fucked and each couple went to our respective homes, Lizbeth and I would make love, these times more tenderly turned to the other than we had been before.

Still, our groupal sex, good as it was never reached again the heights of the first time. That seduction, that loss of "virginity" couldn't be repeated. We, Lizbeth and me, talked more and more about swinging and the magazines of the swinging action. If a little variety had and was good, we thought more variety would be better. But even then, we wanted more than just sex for its own sake. We wanted to like the people we screwed, be able to talk with then before and after, be able to go out to dinner and dancing with them, to be genuinely friendly with them.

We studied the swinging magazines for ads that seemed interested in that sort of relationship; there weren't many, just a few.

"Let's answer one of the ads" I said Lizbeth, "what's the harm in it?"

"Who knows what those people are like?" my wife said objecting, "They could be real weirdoes, or the ads might be phonies; who knows, there might be ads by rapists or blackmailers."

"Rapist?" I questioned her, "You must be kidding. Not unless it's part of the game; besides, what would you do if someone would try and you were raped?"

Lizbeth shrugged, "Depends on who the guy is, I guess."

"Exactly, and I just think you are rape proof, after all you have to be unwilling to be raped in this circumstances."

Lizbeth socked me playfully in the arm.

"If you want my opinion" I went on, "the people who advertise in those magazines are exactly like us—except they are advertising and we are not."

"You may be right, but I still don't know." She said doubtful.

"Ok if you don't want we don't ad but I think we should answer some of the ads, we could keep our last names out of it and set up some neutral place where we could see if we liked each other. If we didn't that would be that, if we did we could set up a meeting at their place or ours."

"Maybe" She said and I could see my wife was still unconvinced.

"Tell you what honey, you pick out the ads we should answer-- five of them—let's say, there are plenty in the New York area to choose from, then, when we meet the people I'll leave it up to you if you want we have sex with them or not."

"Okay, you win."

"No my love it's not I win, or you win, in this we are together, I win if you win, if not I don't."

True to her word Lizbeth poured through the magazines picking out ads. Of the five she choose, three had pictures of the female half of the couple and all said they were looking #not only for sex partners but also close friends"#. In all the couples were about our own age; four out of the five lived in Manhattan and all sounded sensible and respectable. All the ads had the caption #no kooks or weirdoes, no B&S or M."

I got the pictures I had taken of Lizbeth from the photo shop two days later and promptly sat down to write the responses to the ads, I write five nicely worded letters with the pictures of Lizbeth endorsed. I put them in large envelopes and sent them to the swinging magazine.

"I bet we never hear from even one of them." Was Lizbeth comment.

"Bet we hear from all of them" I countered.

Actually four of the five couples answered our letters. The first couple, Ed and Sarah, lived near Manhattan and we arranged to meet them on Saturday for lunch. It was a minor disaster. We were nervous; we both dressed a bit and talked incessantly about what the couple we were meeting might be like and what in hell they would say them. Their ad had said # beginners in swinging, looking for same # which was what had attracted Lizbeth through I would had preferred someone with experience.

We got to the restaurant early, just early enough to grow even more nervous. At the appointed hour the other couple showed up; Ed, it turned out, was ten years older than he said he was and bald; his wife Sarah was tall and gawky. I took a look at her and wished I was somewhere else, and Sarah seemed scared to death for her part.

Forty-five minutes of broken and awkward conversation followed broken only by the arrivals and departures of the waitress. At the end of the meal both couples promised to call the other soon but it was clear nobody believed it.

That could have been the end of our swinging scene, except that when we got home there was a letter awaiting us, it was in answer at other of our responses. This time the couple was named Harold and Ruth, the letter contained pictures of them both and they seemed quite attractive.

"Can't we just forget about the whole thing?" Lizbeth asked me.

"It wouldn't be polite." I insisted, "We owe then at least a phone call."

So, I called. I got Harold on the phone and had a lively conversation with him, and then he asked if he could talk to Lizbeth and soon he had her laughing. Before we hung up we both had talked to Ruth and liked her.

Two nights later we visited Harold and Ruth at their apartment. There was almost immediate comfort between us. Apparently we, both couples, had a lot in common and making conversation was easy. We had an early rapport and I could see Lizbeth and Harold were comfortable with the other as we, Ruth and me, were. There were just a little inconvenience; Ruth was in the last stages of pregnancy and swinging would have to wait for a few months.

The third couple to answer our response to an ad was Herbert and Cookie. After two brief phone conversations we accepted their invitation to their apartment. a new disillusionment, Herbert turned out to be a rather stout man in his middle fifties going fast to sixty and Cookie was near forty and with indistinct signs of wear. Both had been in the swinging scene for years. They tried to convince us to swing with huge amounts of food and drinks but one glance between my wife and me convinced us they weren't our style.

Later Lizbeth said, "Three strikes and you are out."

"Maybe" I admitted almost defeated, "on the other hand we still have to responses out. Who knows?"

"I know, I tell you we're just not going to find anyone we like through these ads."

"What about Harold and Ruth?" I said my wife challenging her although I was disappointed.

"They are a possibility, but don't hold your breath you may die suffocated."

Three days late there was another phone call, I answered and it turned out they were couple number four, Carol and Larry. It was Carol on the line and we talked for twenty minutes about how difficult it was to tell anything about someone through ads, letters or phone calls; we talked about sexual freedom and new morality etc.

Later I told my wife about, "You know, I like her, she seems to be bright and she has a sense of humor. Of course, she'll probably turn out to be a pig but I have a feeling she won't."

Next Friday night we went to meet Larry and Carol at an East Side bar. Caro turned to be a smashing brunette with big eyes and big tits and Larry was—in my wife words—tall and ruggedly handsome. We liked them immediately and the feeling was obviously mutual. We talked for hours in that bar, about marriage, sex, love, friendship and meaningful relationships and where swinging fitted in; we agreed to meet at our house three days later.

We took off work that day to prepare the house as we had done for Michael and Joan months ago, but this was going to be different. No seduction was necessary, Larry and Carol were as eager as we were. Carol and Larry was a half an hour late -- a nerve wrecking half hour-- during which we wondered if our guests would be showing up at all. But show they did.

We were at the door to receive them when the bell rang. Carol was wearing a crocheted miniskirt under her coat that hid practically nothing; her tits were clearly visible through it and so was a dark patch of crotch hair and I had an instant hard-on. Larry wore knit bell bottoms pants and a jersey shirt with most of the buttons open; I saw my wife's lust filled eyes open.

"Hi lover," was Carol's softly greeting as she looked at me with those huge beautiful brown eyes. She put her arms around me and pushed her body close in a gesture that could have meant only one thing then she kissed me long and lingeringly. We broke apart and I saw her husband and my wife had been greeting the same way.

"Now, that's a nice way to say hello." I said warmly.

"I agree, want to do it again?" asked Carol.

I'm not made of stone, so I took Carol on my arms and kissed and hugged her hard and passionately.

Then we went to the living room and sat down. We talked, smoke some grass and nibbled at the snacks we had prepared for more than two hours as if we had no hurry. When it began to look as through nothing was going to happen I got up went over and sat next to Carol putting my arm around her, she leaned against me languorously and Larry got up and went to sit in my place next to Lizbeth.

"Would you mind if I took your wife to the bedroom?" I asked Larry politely.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," he answered, "That should give you a pretty wide latitude."

I took Carol's hand and led her out of the living room. I had such a hard-on I was afraid my clothing would be permanently stretched out of shape. I was flying high, very high. Even before we had gotten to the bedroom Carol had her hands all over me, she was feeling my cock and fondling my balls, I pulled her close and she rubbed her nearly naked tits against me. I pushed my bulging cock into her crotch and she wormed her hands under my trousers from behind, sticking one soft feminine finger down the crack between my ass cheeks and titillating my anus.

"You know what I want?" she breathed in my ear.

"What?"

"I want you to fuck me, I want you to shove that big thing you have down there..." and she rubbed her crotch against my erect cock, " ... as deep into my pussy as you can get it."

In my mind's eye that's exactly what I wanted to do and my entire body broke out in a sweat, "You are very convincing." I told her and pushed Carol toward the bed and then onto it, in a minute I was onto her both of us still clothed.

For several minutes I dry humped her, she responded to each of my movements as if she was reading my mind. And each time she moved she let out a little animal cry of desire. I had never, outside my wife, been with a woman so responsive.

At this rate clothing couldn't last long—and it didn't—as I unbuttoned Carol's crocheted dress my hands on her tits as much as they were on the buttons, while she unbuttoned my shirt and unzipped my fly, often pausing to fondle my organ and my testes beneath.

I got up for a second and turned the bedroom lights low, just to be able to see Carol as a was screwing her; when I returned to the bed what I saw didn't disappointed me, Carol had long, gorgeous, well-shaped legs, a neat trimmed patch of golden hair at her crotch, a remarkable slender waist and full rounded tits that stood out straight in arrogant defiance to gravity ... If I could have eaten her whole I would have done it right then and there.

Carol also seemed to enjoy what she saw as she run her fingers slowly over my entire body. Carol caressed me lightly touching the hair on my chest, kissing my nipples and licking my bellybutton and then running her fingers thorough my pubic hair, touching my balls and finally running her tongue over my cock as she hold it in a circle of her fingers. I had visions of penetrating her, fleeting feelings of that moment when my cock would enter her body.